Sermon - Christmas Eve - Isaiah 9:2-7

 

Isaiah 9:2-7

We live in a time of relative peace and prosperity.  But the people of ancient Israel – not so much.  They were surrounded by hostile nations, enemy armies, and rival kings who brought them all sorts of trouble.  Syrians, Assyrians, Babylonians, Philistines and Midianites, to name just a few.  They brought fear and hardship, they brought violence and death.  Garments rolled in blood.  Oppression.  Death.  Darkness.

There were many hard times, and the people of old suffered under the cruel rod of oppressive tyrants from their own nation as well as from others.  But there were also better times, too.  That’s why, in part, anyway, they so regarded the reigns of David and Solomon.  Those were the glory days.  Then, we had it good!  The borders of the kingdom were vast.  The economy flourished.  The temple was built.  The other nations gave us respect.  And above all, the people enjoyed peace.

But it wouldn’t last.  The good times never kept on going.  Darkness came again.  The nation crumbled under the next empire, and the next.  The same old story of hardship, trouble, defeat, and death came to pass.

You and I live in a world of darkness, too.  It’s not warring nations, so much, that cast a shadow over us.  It’s not even poverty and disease.  The people walk in darkness today, same as we always have, because of sin.  It takes different forms.  Now, we have different battles, but the real enemy is the same.  Now, we suffer in different ways, but the enemy’s goal is constant.  He wants to destroy any goodness he can find, but most of all, faith in Christ. 

We walk in the darkness of a world in which marriage and family are disregarded and redefined, children are abused and confused, and even something as basic as gender is fluid and subject to whims.  We take the life of the most helpless and call it a choice.  The weak and poor struggle, and are taken advantage of.  The rich and powerful get away with murder.  

But the darkness isn’t just out there.  It’s in here, too.  We harbor anger in our hearts toward our enemies, or even just those with whom we disagree.  Our own homes become battlegrounds, and fault lines rear their head even more over the holidays.  We sell our souls to work, our health to pleasure, and our hearts to secret perversity.  The Old Adam brings his darkness even to Christians, for we all have him.  And he loves to operate in the darkness.

You have come this evening to a service of light.  We start out with a candle, and a hymn about the light.  We have come to the setting of the sun, and we look to the evening light.  Jesus Christ is the light of the world!  The light no darkness can overcome.

More than that, It’s Christmas Eve, and we’ll soon hold our own little candles and sing about a Silent Night long ago.  There, on a dark Judean night dawned love’s pure Light. 

And this is the joy, the miracle, the blessing, the wonder of Christmas  The light has dawned.  On us who have walked in the darkness of sin – the light of Christ has dawned.  Isaiah saw it coming 700 years away:

The people who walked in darkness

have seen a great light;

those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,

on them has light shone.

No more sitting in darkness, walking in darkness, or dwelling in darkness for us!  The light has dawned.  Christ is born!  All the darkness scatters away. For to us a child is born, to us a son is given!  And the government shall be upon his shoulder.

But wait a minute.  Wasn’t it governments that started so much of this trouble?  Corrupt kings and foreign nations invading and oppressing the people?  Not government per se, but sinful man corrupting powerful institutions to try and get his way and exert his will over others.  We are familiar with that same old tune, for it’s still being sung today.  And woe to the Christian who seeks the solution to his life’s problems in earthly government.

Psalm 146 warns us: 

Put not your trust in princes,

    in a son of man, in whom there is no salvation.

4 When his breath departs, he returns to the earth;

    on that very day his plans perish.

But in the light that has dawned this day, here comes something different.  Here comes a different kind of prince.  Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

The worldly powers run by power and force.  This prince rules in humility.  The worldly powers seek their own will.  He seeks his Father’s will.  They rule for their own sake, their own ends.  He lays down his life for the sheep.  They fancy themselves little gods, and crave the worship of other men.  He alone is God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God.

The Light of the World, Jesus Christ, comes to bring us out of the darkness.  And he does it by taking on the darkness head-on.  The one who appeared in the manger is the same one who goes to the cross.  On that dark day the light of God’s love shined the brightest, though even the sun darkened.  And in the bright Easter morn we see not only his victory but our own bright future- life that conquers death.

He is the light that destroys the darkness of sin and death and hell and devil.  He brings the light of God’s grace and truth to shine in every corner of our darkness.  He forgives your sins.  He loves you in spite of yourself.  He brings you the only hope that conquers despair.

Of the increase of his government and of peace

there will be no end,

on the throne of David and over his kingdom,

to establish it and to uphold it.

Here’s another way the Prince of Peace is different.  His government, his kingdom, has no end.  All the earthly powers will cease, one way or another.  Either a bigger, badder king comes along with a bigger, badder army, or that king dies and the next king rises.  Your party wins the election this year and loses the next.  Nations rise and all.

But the word of the Lord endures forever.  The light that has dawned upon us is an everlasting light.  And of the increase of his kingdom and of peace there will be no end. You can rely on him always.  You can trust in him forever.  He will not fail you.  And not even death can stop his plan for you.

This is why, my friends, we’re still gathering and singing and celebrating the birth of a baby boy 2000 years ago.  This is why we still cling to him for hope and joy and peace.  This is why Isaiah had hope for the nations who walked in darkness, and for us who still fumble in the shadows of sin.  The light has dawned.  And that light will never go out.  His kingdom will not end, from this time forth and forevermore.  Amen.

Sermon - Midweek Advent 3 - Mount Carmel

 

Mount Carmel

1 Kings 18:16-40

When the King calls you a “troubler of Israel”, it’s no idle insult.  But Elijah was ready for trouble, and so he threw down the gauntlet of challenge.  “All right, King Ahab, send your prophets of Baal.  Have them meet me at Mount Carmel, and we’ll have a contest to see whose god is God.”  The crowd of onlookers gather for the main event.  On the one side 450 prophets of the Canaanite fertility god, Baal.  On the other side, lone Elijah, prophet of Yahweh.  Lines are drawn.  Tensions build.

The rules of the challenge are simple enough.  Each side builds an altar, offers a sacrifice of a bull, and prays to their god to send down consuming fire.  Everyone agrees and the challenge is afoot.  The prophets of Baal spend all morning, until midday, calling on their false god.  But because he is a false god, “there was no voice, and no one answered.”  How embarrassing.

But Elijah isn’t silent.  He stands there mocking the false prophets.  The sarcasm drips.  “Hey cry louder, fellas.  Surely he’s real.  I just KNOW he will hear you.  Oh, wait, maybe he went to the bathroom.  Maybe he took a trip.  I know, he’s sleeping!  You better wake him up!”  This really is some of the best humor in the Old Testament.

They cry louder, and resort to more extreme measures, they even stoop to cutting themselves and shedding their own blood.  What a mess.  But the end is the same:  “There was no voice. No one answered; no one paid attention.”

And then it’s Elijah’s turn.  He reverently repairs the altar of Yahweh.  Then he drenches it with water (3 times!) to make what’s about to happen even more convincing.  And then the lone prophet simply prays, asking God’s answer, “For I have done all these things at your word”.

“Then the fire of the Lord fell and consumed the burnt offering and the wood and the stones and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench.” What a dramatic moment.  What an answer to prayer.  What a demonstration of Yahweh’s divine power and faithfulness.

It sort of reminds you of when Moses threw down his staff, which became a snake and devoured the snakes of the Egyptian magicians.  Yahweh proves he is God and the pagan gods are really nothing.  Or when the ark was captured by the Philistines and the statue of their god Dagon was found in the morning fallen on his face before the Ark of the true God.

Consider also the many furious efforts of the false prophets.  They cry and wail, the limp and dance, they even shed their own blood all in futile efforts to make something happen.  To get the attention of their god who is no god.  Just as false religion always does – the efforts of man never avail to call down blessings from gods that don’t exist.  In fact the efforts of man don’t avail with the true God either.  Elijah didn’t do any of that mumbo jumbo.  He just followed God’s word.  He trusted in that word and knew that his God, Yahweh, would always keep his promises.

And even though it all ended badly for the false prophets and the false gods, that doesn’t mean that sinful man doesn’t keep trying.  It doesn’t mean the devil gives up in trying to deceive.  It doesn’t mean the contest is over between the true God and the false gods.

In this Advent season the world wants to compete with Yahweh and with his Christ.  The false prophets of today flail their arms and do their jigs all trying to squeeze some joy out of their secular Christmas festivities.  They’re busy as ever with their shopping and parties and soup kitchens and clothing drives.  The hustle bustles and seems almost as much of a frenzy as 450 prophets slicing and poking themselves silly and bloody.  Their god gave them the goods, or so they thought.  And the gods of this age also promise the goods, or the good vibes, the warm fuzzies. Idols of a different sort but idols nonetheless.  And sometimes Christians even get caught up in it all.

But Advent calls us to quiet all that, and stand like Elijah at the altar.  Offer a humble prayer.  And do according to God’s word, for we, like Elijah, trust that word.

It must have been quite a sight to see the flames come down and burn up the sacrifice, and the water, and even melt the rock.  But Yahweh doesn’t do things half-way.  Elijah trust that God would act, and do what he said he would do.  And he was not disappointed.

But remember these scriptures testify to Christ.  And so we must see Jesus in them.  So where is he?  He’s certainly not missing in action like Baal.  He’s not silent or distant or apathetic to the pleas of his people.  He is the true God, Yahweh, who answers our prayers (though not usually in as much of spectacle as at Mt. Carmel).

And he, Jesus, is also the sacrifice that is consumed by God’s wrath for us.  That wrath so hot, that anger at sin so fierce, an all-consuming fire that left nothing unpunished.  At the cross Jesus wins the once-and-for-all contest with sin and death and devil.  At the cross, Jesus proves God’s word from of old is true.  At the cross, Jesus delivers, and does not disappoint.  But that doesn’t always make it easy.

Elijah’s mountaintop moment, as dramatic as it was, didn’t last.  If you know the rest of the story, wicked queen Jezebel wasn’t too happy about her prophets of Baal being put to death.  And so, like a mob boss, she put a hit out on Elijah, calling for his life.  And Elijah, who stood up to the king, who faced off against 450 false prophets, now ran away scared from the wrath of the evil queen.

He goes to another mountain, Horeb.  There he sulks in the cave, feeling sorry for himself.  “I’m the only one left, and now they’re going to kill me too”.  Boo hoo, poor me.  But God answers him.  Not in the earthquake, the wind, or the fire.  Ah yes, the fire.. God had just sent down a fire to help the prophet at Carmel.  But no, now God isn’t in the fire either.  He’s in the small voice, the whisper.   

What are you doing here, Elijah?  Get back to work.  Go anoint Hazael, and Nimshi as kings – I’ll work through their swords to punish the wicked.  And then anoint Elisha as a prophet to take your place – because my word will continue to go forth. 

Dear Christian friends, consider the highs and lows of the prophet Elijah.  From spectacular fire from heaven and triumph over his foes, to cowering in a cave in fear for his life.  From the miraculous and glorious fire from heaven to the word of quiet whisper.  Is Yahweh some sort of erratic and unpredictable God who deals with us in strange and terrifying ways?  Certainly it’s true that in many and various ways God spoke to our fathers of old.  The common thread however, is the word.  It is the word that Elijah followed and trusted at Mt. Carmel, and that word which did not fail.  It was also the word of God in the quiet whisper outside the cave, and that word did not fail.  Elijah would hear the word, trust the word, follow the word, and proclaim the word. 

And in many and various ways, Elijah prepared the way for the coming of the eternal word made flesh. A second Elijah was to come, this one with a watery word of baptism, for repentance and forgiveness.  John the Baptist had his highs and lows, too.  John was also, like Elijah, on the wrong side of powerful people.  John, too, would hear the encouraging word brought back to him, not in a cave, but in a dungeon.  Nonetheless - the good news is preached to the poor!  The Messiah really is among us.

And so with us.  Christ comes to us, quite often, in the still small voice of the word – whether preached or taught, read or prayed.  He comes in the waters of baptism, and the remembrance of it – a daily washing of rebirth and renewal.  He comes in the Supper, his body and blood hidden under earthly forms.  So mundane, yet so powerful.  The word is at work.  God’s promises are kept.  The devil is defeated.  Sin is wiped clean.  And even death brings no more fear.  You’ll have your ups and downs, maybe not quite like Elijah’s.  You’ll have your mountaintops, and you’ll have your dark caves.  But nonetheless, Yahweh is with you.  Christ’s word of promise will not fail you. 

And so, we’ve now been to Mount Moriah and seen Christ in the obedient son, Isaac, or the substitute sacrifice of the ram – the mountain points us to Christ.

And at Nebo, when Moses gets the wide vista, one final view of God’s promised land, and we too take in the view of all God’s promises in Christ.

And at Carmel, where God gives Elijah victory over false religion, by accepting his sacrifice – or as he reassures him at Horeb in the cave of fear and despair – Christ is also with us by his word, in all the ups and downs we face.

In many and various ways God spoke to his people of old, but now in these last days, he has spoken to us by his Son.  Come quickly, Lord Jesus.  Amen.

Sermon - Midweek Advent 2 - Mount Nebo

 Deuteronomy 34:1-8

When a great person dies, we usually hear about.  It’s on the radio, on the news, in the social media.  Whether the Queen of England, who reigned the longest, or some famous singer whose music you really loved, or a comedian or actor.  People say nice things about the person who died, and ponder their significance.  Articles are written.  Maybe the funeral is even televised.

Today we come to the death of Moses, one of the towering figures of the Old Testament.  We can’t cover all the mighty deeds God accomplished through Moses, but let this summary suffice:  Moses stood up to Pharaoh, “Let my people go”.  He saw the plagues.  He saw the Passover.  He saw the parting of the Red Sea.  He led the people to Mt. Sinai, where he met God at the top of the mountain.  He received the 10 commandments and the entire sacrificial system.  They built the Tabernacle.  They ate the daily manna God provided. And all the while Moses led the people, serving as a sort of a prophet, priest and king – a Christ figure.  The one through whom God had chosen to save his people. Moses even wrote the first 5 books of the Bible, the Torah, the “Law of Moses”.

But Moses also sinned.  In Number 20 we read about the incident at the waters of Meribah.  When it came to the water pouring forth from the rock, Moses disobeyed God’s word.  Instead of speaking to the rock, he struck it with his staff. And what might seem like a minor mis-step to us drew a harsh reaction from God.  Perhaps because here Moses seemed to be taking credit for God’s work, rather than letting God be God.  The punishment for Moses was this:  “Because you did not believe in me, to uphold me as holy in the eyes of the people of Israel, therefore you shall not bring this assembly into the land that I have given them.”

Well here we come today to the death of Moses, and to the second stop on our Advent journey through the Old Testament mountains.  Mount Nebo was here God told Moses to go at the end of his life.  Moses would not go into the promised land.  But there on the mountain, God gave him a wonderful view of the land.  From Nebo, a summit in the Pisgah range, Moses could look across the Dead Sea from the east, and see Jericho and onward – the whole land of Israel that was promised to Abraham, and which the people of Israel would soon inherit.  I’ve seen that view myself from the other side – from Herod’s mountaintop fortress by the Dead Sea.  It’s a view to remember.

Some have interpreted that what God showed Moses there was much more than he could naturally see, even with a mountaintop view.  That he showed him the “whole land” in some mystical sense, and even perhaps across both space and time.  Whether God did that or not, spiritually speaking that was in a way the point of this exercise.  God was reminding Moses of the fulfillment of his promises.  Soon Moses would be gone, and Joshua would lead the people across the Jordan and take that first city – Jericho.  One by one the Canaanite nations would fall to the true heirs of this land, as God drove them out.  And the land flowing with milk and honey would come into the possession of the children of this promise, the Israelites.

But the promises to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob didn’t stop at just the land.  He promised many descendants.  Moses had already seen that begin to come to fruition, as he led the mighty nation of Israel out of Egypt.  He, himself, was one of them – part of this fulfillment.  But the descendants of Abraham would be far more than those who could trace ancestry down their family tree.  The children of Abraham are all those with the faith of Abraham in the God of Abraham, heirs to the same promise of righteousness credited from faith.

And of course, of course, the promises to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, indeed the promises to Adam, and to Moses and David and all the other Old Testament people – are fulfilled not just in land and descendants, but most fully and perfectly in Jesus Christ.  He is the one through whom all nations are blessed.  He is the reason God built a nation and planted them on a land – to bring forth the fulness of his grace in the incarnation of his Son.  Without Christ, the land of Israel and the nation of Israel would be nothing more than another collection of dirt and cadre of people.  Insignificant in time or place, heritage or history.  But in Christ, they are of the promise, because Christ fulfills all of God’s promises.

My friends, I think we can relate to Old Moses.  Some of us, perhaps more than others.  Though none of us as reached the age of 120, but we are all creeping closer.  Perhaps our eyes are not so undimmed and our strength is not so unfailing.  Some of us, perhaps more than others, feel the time of our lives running short, and we can imagine standing with Moses, looking back on our journey with all its ups and downs.  Seeing God’s hand in the good, and yet also regretting our own times of failure and unfaithfulness. 

And perhaps as death draws nearer to us, we, like Moses, peer out on the broad vista before us and consider the future.  What do the days ahead hold for our family, our nation, our world?  Will God continue to bless?  Will he bring repentance?  When the Son of Man comes will he find faith upon the earth?

While Moses was denied entry into the promised land, he was welcomed into the greater promised land of heaven.  And while God doesn’t always answer your earthly requests with a yes, your heavenly destiny is just as sure as that of Moses.  You may not have all the good things you want in this life, but if you are in Christ, great is your reward in heaven.  God may not heal you of this disease, it may even lead to death, but whoever believes in Jesus lives even though he dies.  And unless Christ returns first, all of us will one day join Moses in the grave.  And yet our eyes of faith can see the vista of a better country that yet awaits.

We can see then how God cared for Moses’ body, burying it himself – though no one knew where.  And this one of Scripture’s great mysteries.  Perhaps God did this so that no one would be tempted to come to his grave and worship Moses. Perhaps also a reminder that God cares for the body, and even in death, the body is to be treated with dignity – for this same body will be resurrected to glory at the last day.

Oh, and one more connection to make.  Though Moses didn’t set foot in the promised land before his death, he did…. one day…. make an appearance there, on yet another mountain.  In the Transfiguration.  There, he, along with that other towering Old Testament figure, Elijah, appeared and spoke with the transfigured Christ.  We are told the content of that conversation – that they spoke about Jesus’ own exodus (that is, to say, his “going out”, his upcoming death on the cross).  Peter was so impressed with Moses and Elijah he wanted to build little tabernacles for them.  But when the cloud broke and the voice from Heaven spoke, “This is my Son, Listen to him” they were left with only Jesus.  And only Jesus is all they needed, and all we need.

Moses did make it, finally to the promised land, but only with Jesus.  And we can never hope to have a share in God’s promises without Jesus.  He is the greater Moses.  He comes not to give the Law, but to fulfill it on our behalf.  He comes not to set up a sacrificial system, but to be the once-and-for-all sacrifice for sin.  Jesus comes, not to dwell among us in a tent, but to tabernacle in the flesh, truly incarnate God taking on our very nature – not just to die, but also to rise and live forever as the God-man who saves us. 

Moses died with his life-long mission just out of reach because of his own sin.  Not even a great man like Moses could do it on his own.  But Christ dies, accomplishing his mission fully and defeating all sin.  It is finished, in Christ.  And Jesus doesn’t go alone into that promised land, committing his spirit to the Father.  He brings others with him – to paradise, and eventually to resurrection.  So Moses is not without hope.  Even the thief on the cross is not without hope.  You, Christian, are certainly not without hope.

Through Christ we enter all the promises of God, are incorporated into the New Israel, his church, and lay claim to our own inheritance – all the riches of heaven.  A land flowing with much more than milk and honey – for there in our eternal home is even the tree of life, and the water of the river of life.  There the dwelling of God is with man.  There no sun or lamp is needed for God will be our light.  And there, he himself will wipe every tear from our eyes.

My friends, Christ is coming.  We stand at the summit and see the view, the broad expanse of God’s promises.  Christ is coming, and coming soon.  Like a thief, unexpectedly.  As a king, in glory.  Triumphant and having salvation, our king is coming and coming to save us.  And when he comes, he will take us to be with him in that great and heavenly kingdom, that final promised land, the mansions of heaven, the place he’s been preparing for us.  We soon celebrate his first coming.  We soon will celebrate his second.

Take in the view with your eyes of faith.  Look back.  Look forward.  Look always to Jesus Christ our Advent Lord.  Amen

Sermon - Midweek Advent 1 - Mount Moriah

 

Genesis 22:1-19

If you’ve ever been to the top of a mountain, you know it’s hard to describe the experience.  I remember once going with a youth group to Pike’s Peak in Colorado, and how it almost seems like you’re on another planet as you stand there and take in the view.  There’s a reason people talk about “mountain top experiences”.  And Holy Scripture seems to key in on this, too.  Some of the most important, and also most interesting events in the Bible take place on a mountain.  Perhaps chief among these are Mount Sinai and Mount Calvary.

This Advent, for our midweek series, we’re going to survey some of the lesser-known mountains, especially of the Old Testament.  Advent is perhaps the most Old-Testament-y time of the year.  In this season, we emphasize the long-suffering patience of God’s people who awaited the fulfillment of God’s Messianic promises.  We sort of mourn in lonely exile along with them, and empathize with their eager expectation. 

So, to help us do that this year, let us go to the mountains:  Mount Moriah, Mount Nebo, and Mount Carmel, in order.  And through Abraham, Moses and Elijah, we too can get the mountain view of the coming savior.  So get your mental hiking gear ready and join me today as we climb the slopes of Mount Moriah in Genesis 22.

Abraham is one of those foundational characters of the Bible.  The first of the Patriarchs. The Father of Many Nations, and especially of the Israelites.  Some 2000 years before Christ, he answered God’s call and left his homeland for the land God had promised him.  Time and again God repeated his promises, his covenant he made with Abraham.  The land, the many offspring, and that the whole world would be blessed through him.  Abraham believed God, and God credited it to him as righteousness.  And so Abraham becomes, also, a model and example of faith - the father of all the faithful.

But he was also the father of his own son – Isaac.  And what happens in Genesis 22 is a story that might shock us at every turn.  But most of all, it points us to Christ, the fulfillment of Abraham’s faith, and of ours.

Does God really want Abraham to sacrifice his son, his only son, his beloved son Isaac?  Of course we know, this was only a test.  But Abraham didn’t.  God doesn’t every tempt us to sin, but he does sometimes test our faith – and the two things can look much alike.  Abraham reasoned, we are told in Hebrews, that God would raise Isaac from the dead!  And so he proceeded to follow the instructions, step by step, even to grabbing the knife to slay his son.

Ponder, Christian:  would you and I pass such a test?  What if the Lord asked you to give up something near and dear to you?  Your beloved people or things?  Your darling?  What if Jesus tested us like he did the rich young man, “Go, sell everything you have and give it to the poor”?  Abraham was a rich man in his day, but God took what was most valuable to Abraham in this world, his son, and called him to give him up.  Jesus tells us to hate father and mother and son and daughter and follow him.  Drop you nets.  Leave your tax collector’s booth.  Follow me.  Don’t bury your father first or kiss your family goodbye.  No one who puts hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom.  Don’t let anything in this world get in the way of your love for God and your faith in him.  Not possessions, nor work, nor even family.  Abraham shows the way of faith on this one. 

But there’s more to the story here than just a test of faith and the example of Abraham.  There’s more than just the example of a man who trusted God against all appearances.  There’s a bread crumb trail that leads us to Jesus.  There are hints and glimmers of the coming fulfillment of God’s salvation.  Perhaps you’ve noticed some of this already.

Abraham was faithful to the end, trusting God would provide a resurrection if necessary.  For Isaac – it might as well have been a resurrection, as close to death as he was.  But God saved him by sending the angel, and providing a substitute.

And, of course, God does provide a true resurrection.  For us, he sends Christ – who rises from death himself and promises us a resurrection of our own. 

But there’s more Jesus yet to uncover here at Mount Moriah. 

Abraham and Isaac set out on a three day journey to Mount Moriah.  And on the third day, they arrive.  The third day might remind us of what Jesus did on the third day.  He conquered death. But there’s more.

Isaac was Abraham’s his son, his only son, his beloved.  Sure Abraham had Ishmael with the servant Hagar.  But God is quite specific here, he means Abraham’s only true son, his darling, his legitimate son and heir, Isaac.  The sacrifice will be not just any, but the highest and the best.  So too, our Lord sends and offers his beloved one, his only begotten Son, the one with whom he is well pleased, his beloved.

They were accompanied by “two young men”.  Jesus himself is often flanked by two men – whether thieves crucified with him, or two young men (angels) who attend his empty tomb, our numerous other examples from Scripture in which we always find Jesus at the center.

They went to Moriah, we don’t know exactly which mountain, but the region is the same area as Jerusalem, where Jesus accomplished our salvation.  Indeed, they even took a donkey.  Our Lord rode a donkey into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, to make a sacrifice of his own.

When they arrive, Abraham and Isaac go forward, side by side.  Some have made note how this shows Isaac’s willing participation in the whole thing.

Indeed, consider that Isaac carried the wood for the sacrifice, and our Lord Jesus Christ carried his own cross.

Isaac was no dummy.  He noticed that Abraham had well prepared everything for the job – the wood, the fire, the knife.  All that was missing was the sacrifice.  He innocently asked his father, “Where is the sacrifice?” And Abraham told him, “God will provide it”. The word of his father is good enough for him, and he carries on.  The word of God was always enough for Jesus.  And even though he asked for the cup to pass from him, he nevertheless submitted to the Father’s will.

Furthermore, young Isaac could surely overpowered old Abraham, and yet, he dutifully and obediently submits to being bound and laid out on the altar.  Thus he foreshadows the humble obedience of our Lord Jesus Christ, who was also obedient unto death, even death on a cross.

When our Lord Jesus Christ says of the Old Testament Scriptures, “These are they which testify to me”, he really means it. 

And yet there is still more.  The sacrifice of Isaac is stopped at the last minute, by the Angel of the Lord (which is really God the Son himself in Old Testament form).  And so the pre-incarnate Christ is the one who rescues and delivers and provides the substitute.

And behold!  Over there, caught in the thicket, a ram.  God provides a substitute sacrifice.  Even the horns of the ram are crowned with twisted thickets, and we are reminded of the crown of thorns worn by our Lord Jesus.  He, the true and ultimate substitute, not just for Isaac, but for you and me.  He takes your place on that altar.  He takes your place on that cross.  He sheds his innocent blood for your guilty blood.  He gives his life to spare you from death.

Faith is hard, my friends.  God calls us to give up our idols and trust in him alone.  The First Commandment is perhaps the most broken, even by us.  But rather than demand we pay for our own failings with our blood or the blood of our children – our gracious God provides a substitute, a sacrifice, in the person of his own beloved Son.  Thanks be to God who foreshadowed all this on Mount Moriah, and who accomplished it on Mount Calvary, in the person of his Son our Lord Jesus Christ.

Amen.

Sermon - The Last Sunday of the Church Year - Luke 23:27-43

 

The Last Sunday of the Church Year.  Sometimes called, “The Sunday of the Fulfillment” or “Christ the King Sunday”.  We come to the climax of our readings from Luke’s Gospel, and we find ourselves at the cross.  It’s a good place to be, with Jesus, on Good Friday.  It is Christ the King in the fullest and deepest and most profound sense, enthroned as he is on the cross.  The King of the Jews.  The Savior.  The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  If you want to end your church year on a good note – you end it with Jesus, and his cross.

Of course we have 2 of Jesus’ 7 words from the cross in this reading – and we will take them up shortly.  But even before that, some precious red letter words of Jesus as he speaks while carrying his cross.  To the women that followed him, he redirects their mourning.  “Don’t weep for me, weep for your yourselves and children.”  Even in his suffering, with death looming over him, its hot breath down his neck, Jesus thinks of others.  The man of sorrows laments Jerusalem, and the destruction he knew would come to his beloved people who rejected him.  If they do this now how much worse will it be that day?  If the cruelty of the Romans is on display with Jesus and two thieves who are crucified, how much worse will it be when God’s wrath is poured out by the Romans on the entire city?

The Jewish historian Josephus tells us about that day.  When the Romans finally had enough of Jewish rebellion, and decided to destroy Jerusalem and its temple, they encamped around the city.  In 70 AD, as the siege wore on, hunger gripped the people.  Josephus writes:

Throughout the city people were dying of hunger in large numbers, and enduring unspeakable sufferings. In every house the merest hint of food sparked violence, and close relatives fell to blows, snatching from one another the pitiful supports of life. No respect was paid even to the dying; the ruffians [anti-Roman zealots] searched them, in case they were concealing food somewhere in their clothes, or just pretending to be near death. Gaping with hunger, like mad dogs, lawless gangs went staggering and reeling through the streets, battering upon the doors like drunkards, and so bewildered that they broke into the same house two or three times in an hour. Need drove the starving to gnaw at anything. Refuse which even animals would reject was collected and turned into food. In the end they were eating belts and shoes, and the leather stripped off their shields. Tufts of withered grass were devoured, and sold in little bundles for four drachmas.

He goes on to tell of a woman who even cannibalized her own son.  Over a million Jews were slaughtered.  The city was burned.  The temple was plundered and destroyed. 

And Jesus, knowing it would happen, grieved.  He mourned for his people.  Even on the road to his own death, his own cross bearing down its weight upon him, he cares not for himself.  And that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

As vicar said last week, the destruction of Jerusalem, as bad as it was, was only a shadow of the wrath of God that will be revealed against all the nations who despise him and reject his Son.  We might add, that all the physical and earthly terrors of the end are also themselves a shadow of the true suffering and torment that waits in eternity for those who are finally and forever separated from God.

And that would be you and me, too, were it not for Jesus. 

His first word from the cross is shocking.  For one, that he even has the strength to speak at all.  But that his word is not a word of wrath, but of love.  No condemnation of his foes, no shriek of terror for his own life.  None of that.  But a kind plea to the Father:  forgive them.  They don’t know what they’re doing.  They don’t know they’re putting to death the Lord of Life.  They don’t know they’re trying to extinguish the Light of the World.  They don’t know their own hand in this divine plan.  This is God’s gracious purpose unfolding.

And so, Jesus’ words drip with mercy for others, even as he himself is doomed.  What a contrast, what a joy, what a blessing.  In the midst of a horror show of blood and sweat and jeering enemies, as the earth shook and the sun failed, Good Friday shows us that glimmer of purest hope in the words of Jesus which give meaning to it all.  Father, forgive them.  And the Father does.

“If you are the king of the Jews….” They mocked.  The sign written by Pilate echoed the same, “This is the King of the Jews”.  But he is more king than they can fathom.  And not just of the Jews, but king of kings.  And his kingdom of power and grace and glory will have no end. 

The tongues that now mock will one day be silenced.  The subjects that have been scattered will be gathered.  Books will be opened.  The king will judge the living and the dead.  Here, at Calvary he’s about as far from kingly glory as the world can imagine. 

But here, crowned even with thorns, our king is precisely glorified, his power made perfect in weakness, his shame for our honor, his pain for our joy.  His death for our life.  He saved others, indeed, he saved us.  But though he could, he would not save himself.

Then there’s the thieves.  Two criminals who are crucified with him. There had to be others to fulfill the Scripture:  he was numbered with the transgressors.  But those two stand for us all.  We deserve our condemnation.  Here’s a picture of what our deeds deserve. 

But they also serve to show the contrast of the righteous and the wicked. 

Some, encounter Jesus like the one thief – they mock and jeer, even with death looming.  Some, today, do the same.  Impudent and defiant till the end, some cannot help but spit at the one who could save them from death, and instead go down swinging fists of rage at God and never giving a thought to repentance. 

But that other thief.  He sees it.  Death has gotten his attention.  He rebukes the other one.  Don’t you fear God?  We’re under the same sentence.  We are getting what we deserve. Soon we’ll face the judge.  This thief knows his sin, and confesses it.  He agrees with the just sentence of death he has earned.  He despairs of his own devices, but he does not despair fully. Because there’s Jesus.  And where Jesus is, there is always hope.

He turns and says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom”.  What a prayer!  He acknowledges that Jesus truly is a king.  Against all outward appearances at the moment.  But for the one who has faith, the deeper reality can be seen.  The outward appearance isn’t what matters most. 

He calls Jesus’ name!  We, too, call upon that name – the only name given under heaven by which we must be saved.  The name at which, at the last, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess him as Lord.  The name that means, “God Saves” and so succinctly tells what he is all about.  He’s the savior sent from God.  He’s the way God saves us.

And his request is beautifully stated, too.  “Remember me”.  A humble petition.  Not asking to be spared from death on this cross.  Not asking to be vindicated and made victorious.  Nothing fancy or over the top.  A simple, “remember me”.  Implicit in this cry is that Jesus knows best how to help.  Jesus knows best what to do.  And as long as you remember me, Jesus, I know it will all be ok, because I trust you, even in this dark hour.  This is the prayer of faith.  Similar to the prayer of so many, “have mercy on me”, he prays, and we can pray, “Jesus, remember me”.

And then, the Lord’s loving and beautiful response.  An immediate and direct answer of yes that goes far beyond what the thief could have hoped for.  A promise.  A sure and certain promise he could cling to as his life slipped away:  Today you will be with me in paradise. 

No waiting around, wondering.  The time for that is over.  Today, Jesus says.  This thief’s time was short, but he didn’t need to wait for his salvation. 

You will be with me, Jesus says.  He’s with Jesus now, and he will be with Jesus then.  Jesus is Immanuel, God with us, after all.  And he is right alongside that thief who suffers just as he’s with us in all our suffering, trial, and trouble.  He’s the God who gets down and dirty.  He’s the Creator who dies with and for his creatures. And so to be with him is always a good thing for the faithful.  So he promises to us all.  I will be with you always.  I will take you to be with me where I am going.

And paradise.  Paradise the blest!  The reward for those who die in Christ.  The nearer presence of God.  The place of peace and rest in his loving care.  In Christ, we, too, can commit our Spirit into the Father’s hands.  In Christ, we know when we die, we rest in peace.  In Christ, we know death is not the end of us, but a slumber from which we will rise in a resurrection like his.  But until that day – for us – and for the thief – it’s paradise. 

An opposite picture from the terrors of a world under judgment.  Paradise.  A throwback to that day when Adam and Eve had not yet sullied the earth with sin and death.  A perfect existence with nature and each other and our Creator.  Paradise it is for those who are in Christ, peace and rest, until that day when ever more glory shines forth in the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.

And so we close the book on another church year.  We’ve followed the life of Jesus – from his Advent to his birth and his epiphany.  We’ve observed the fast of Lent and the poignant days of Holy Week.  We’ve marked his Ascension.  Celebrated his Pentecost.  And sat at his feet through the time of the Church.  We’ve sung our Reformation hymns, honored and given thanks for all the saints.  And now we end as we began, with Jesus. 

May our Lord, our king, who holds our days and years and moments in his hands, ever keep us.  Through whatever turmoil this world makes us endure, let us grieve and repent, knowing how much worse we truly deserve.

May he forgive us, for we know not what we do.  May he remember us in his kingdom, and bring us, with him, to paradise, and finally to the full measure of joyful resurrection. 

And may we be ever assured of his promises, even as he is with us today in his meal.  A meal which, today, brings us a taste of paradise. A meal which brings us Jesus, and his forgiveness.

 

 

Sermon - All Saints' Day (Observed) - 1 John 3:1-3

 

A Blessed All Saints Day to you.  As one of my pastor friends put it, this is the Day of Pentecost in the Fall.  And I think what he means by that is here, today, we have an emphasis on the church, the people of God. All who belong to Christ are, properly speaking, saints.  They are the holy ones of God.  Holy, not because of anything we bring to the table, and merits or worthiness.  But holy, only because the Holy One of God, Jesus Christ, makes us holy by his blood.  So even though it is a day highlighting the people of God, the saints, it is always first and foremost about Jesus.

Over the years I have preached on the reading from Revelation 7 more than a few times – focusing us on that picture of the church in glory – a multitude robed in white, washed in the blood of the Lamb.  It’s a beautiful picture of the saints in their heavenly splendor.

And then there’s also our Gospel reading, in which Jesus sets forth some beautiful and profound poetry in the Beatitudes.  Blessed are the saints, in so many ways, in Jesus Christ our Lord.

But today let us look at the Epistle.  I don’t believe I’ve preached this text before, and if so, not in a while.  From John’s first letter, it’s a short reading, and it certainly appropriate for All Saints’ Day.  But instead of describing the people of God as saints, or as holy and blessed ones, or picturing them as a multitude robed in white: John takes another approach.  Those who are loved by God in Jesus Christ are called “children of God”.  Let this be our theme today.  Children of God.

Here's one of these Christian expressions that the secular world seems to have picked up on.  It’s not uncommon to hear someone with little to no connection to the church, and certainly with very little grounding in the theology of Holy Scripture make a statement like this:  “We’re all God’s children!”  But consider the source of such a statement and consider the context.  What does a worldly person mean when they say such a thing?

It's often not because they’re trying to confess the truth of Scripture, but sometimes quite the opposite.  “We’re all God’s Children” is true in one sense – that all humans are created by God.  We all bear the image of God, though marred by sin.  We all have a certain dignity and value as humans, by virtue of this fact, that God made us, and even that Jesus died for us.  And if that’s what that person means, then, so far, so good.

But just as often, “We’re all God’s children” is a slogan used to wash away distinctions that really do matter.  It is used to silence those who would call for moral standards or doctrinal truth.  Far be it from you, Christian, to say that anything or anyone is ever wrong – dontchaknow we’re all God’s children!  It becomes a little saying to propound a sort of universalism and to wash away biblical standards and distinctions.  And nothing could be further from the truth.

In fact John makes it crystal clear that there really are two kinds of people  there are children of God, and those that are not – he calls them “the world”.  And he does not have nice things to say about the world.  Sinners, unrighteous.  Haters of God and of his church.  Anti-Christ.  He minces no words in his letters, and in his Gospel.  St. John is no peddler of feel-good bumper sticker theology.  He is a preacher of the truth.

But he also brings great comfort in that truth.  From his Gospel, chapter 1:

He came to his own, and his own peopl] did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.

Here’s the good news, friends.  We are children of God!  Not born of the flesh, but of the will of God.  Born of God in holy baptism.  Born of God in the faith that comes by hearing the good news of Jesus.  Born anew – and set apart from the wicked world that is doomed for destruction.  We are born of faith, and we live by faith in Jesus Christ alone.  That’s what it means to be a child of God, and a saint!

But the picture of children is a strong one.  Children are dependent on their parents – a human baby cannot survive long without that care and nurture.  Wild animals are born, and often can walk right away and survive fairly well.  But humans are particularly dependent.  For all our powers in this world – we are vulnerable.  And perhaps this is a lesson for us.  That as children of God, we depend entirely on him.  Our life, our righteousness, our daily bread, and our hope for the future – all depend on his love for us, his dear children.

And what kind of love is a match for the love of a parent for his or her child!  So primal and instinctual.  Parents will go to the greatest lengths for their own children.  Of course, this, too, is by design.  That even unbelievers love their children.  Even you who are wicked, Jesus said, know how to give good gifts to your children.  How much more the love of the Father for us, his children in Christ.  See what kind of love!

And one more thing about the picture of children…. It implies also that we are a family, not only with God, our Father, and our brother Jesus Christ, but with all the saints who also share in the Father’s love.  We are the family of God. This is why we Christians not only call each other “brothers and sisters” in Christ, but we love each other like a family, for that is what we are. 

And all the more true in this local expression of the church, this congregation called Messiah.  Every family has its quirks, its personalities, its crazy uncle and such.  So too, we at Messiah have our own ways, our own struggles, our own unique flavor.  But we are a church family.  And God has called us together in this place as His children.  We ought to consider well the implications.  This isn’t just another customer in the same business, a diner at the next table in the same restaurant.  Look around you and see the people who are united with you by blood – not human bloodlines – but the blood of Christ.  A strong family tie indeed.

We are children of God, right here and now, John says.  But that’s not the end of the story.  Children of God have a future.  We have a hope.  We are children now, but we will be something quite more in the kingdom that is to come:  “and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.”

Jesus has died and is risen and is glorified.  Death has no more sway over him, but is an enemy long defeated.  And because Christ lives and is glorified, we too have a resurrection to look forward to.  We too will rise from the grave into a glorified body that will be, somehow, like his.  Death will have no more sway over us, either.  For we will be ever with Christ, sharing his victory, enjoying eternal communion with him and with all of God’s children.  An everlasting family reunion full of peace and joy and love.

And everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure. Everyone who has hope in Christ, that is sure and certain hope.  And everyone who has this hope in Christ stands purified in him.

As great as it is to be a child of God, John teaches us that even better things are yet to come.  For we are children now, but what we will be is yet to be revealed.  One day, when Christ appears again, at the Second Coming, it will be made clear.  We will be like him, for we shall see him as he is. 

In other words, we children of God look forward to the glory that we will share at Christ’s glorious return.  Whether we are raised from the dead in glorified bodies on that day – or if we are still alive at his coming – Paul tells us we will be changed in a moment, in a twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.  Either way we will receive a body and soul free from sin and never subject to death again.  We will be like him, Jesus, who ha conquered death.  We will be like him, for we will see him as he is.

What a blessed reunion that will be – a family reunion of all the children of God.  A gathering of all the saints from all times and places, from every tribe, nation and language. We will be together with our Lord Jesus Christ, and with each other, forever.

In a few moments, we will get a foretaste of all that in the Holy Supper of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Here we gather, not just with our church family, not just will all Christians everywhere, but with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, in a foretaste of the feast to come.  A little slice of heaven, here and now.  And one day, we will see it in all its fullness. 

See what kind of love the Father has given to us?  You children of God, you saints of God, in Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 21 - Genesis 4:1-15

Cain and Abel

The oldest story of sibling rivalry.  The first murder.  A study in contrasts between acceptable and unacceptable worship.  And, finally, another striking glimpse of God’s mercy for the sinner.  The account of Cain and Abel this morning gives us much to consider.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  Adam and Eve’s firstborn son, Cain, became a farmer like his father.  Only it soon becomes clear that Cain also inherits the sin of his father.  Here we learn the first lesson from this passage – that we are sinners. That we, too, inherit sin from our fathers.  When Adam fell into sin, all his future children were also doomed, like Cain, to suffer the same corruption.  And how quickly the sin goes from simply eating a forbidden fruit – to premeditated murder.   We often like to think we are better than previous generations – more enlightened, more civilized, perhaps even with better morality.  But none of that is really true.  We’re cut from the same contaminated cloth of sin.

And of course their second son, Abel, was a shepherd.  But Cain and Abel are different for more than just their profession.  When it comes time to worship God, another difference becomes clear.  God accepts Abel’s sacrifice.  God has no regard for Cain’s offering.

At first blush we might not understand why.  After all, grain offerings are just as acceptable throughout the Old Testament as animal sacrifices.  Both can be appropriate ways for God’s people to show him thanks.  It’s not that God preferred them because of what they were.  As if he needed either.  As if he needs anything from us.  He of course doesn’t.

So why was Abel’s offering accepted and Cain’s was not?  Here’s a clue in the text.  Cain gave some of his harvest.  Abel gave the first and the best.  Cain gave a portion, but it seems, nothing special.  Abel gave of the fat portions.  Abel gave from the firstborn of his flock.  And now it begins to become clear.  The book of Hebrews makes it even clearer.  Abel’s sacrifice proceeded from his faith, whereas Cain’s did not.  Abel gave from the heart, Cain gave for show.  Abel gave in true thanksgiving, Cain gave for other reasons – whatever they were.  To get something from God?  To keep up appearances of piety?  So that everyone would think he was good and faithful like Abel?

God cannot be mocked.  He sees through the outward appearance of religiosity and straight to the heart.  Let Cain stand as a warning to us all, first of all, not to consider our own works, even our worship as pleasing to God apart from faith in Christ. 

You can see why this Old Testament reading was paired with this Sunday’s Gospel, too.  You have the comparison of two men who bring and offering, and two men who pray.  Cain is like the Pharisee – coming in pride, trusting his own devices.  Making worship to be seen, and not in genuine faith.  Abel is like the Tax Collector, bringing what pleases God – in Abel’s case his best and first, and in the Tax Collector’s case, a contrite and broken heart.  This is worship that exhibits faith and righteousness, not the showboating of the Pharisee or the half-hearted offering of Cain.

And then, when Cain’s offering was not regarded by God, when it was not accepted as Abel’s was – however he knew it – Cain became angry.  Angry with God, perhaps.  Angry with his brother, for sure.  Anger in the heart is a hothouse for breeding other sins.  It often bubbles over into sharp words, and even violent actions.  Jesus warns us of anger and hatred in our hearts – and shows that words and thoughts of anger are sinful just as actions of violence and murder.

But Cain’s indignation was misplaced.  If he had done well, he’d have no problem.  It’s his own fault.  He should blame himself.  But that’s rarely what prideful sinners do.  Let Cain stand also for us as a warning against sinful anger.  And when we find our own faces falling let us beware, lest sin come and crouch at our door.

And so Cain’s problems started long before he talked his brother into going out into the field.  But it’s still shocking.  Here we are in the second generation from paradise.  Not so long ago everything was very good. The world fresh, new and clean.  Death was unheard of.  And now.  Death comes through violence at the hands of another – a brother killing his own brother – premeditated.  No remorse shown.  And when questioned, “where’s your brother?” the murderer arrogantly thinks he can get away with it.  But not so fast.  Abel may be dead but his very blood cries out from the ground.  Calling for justice!  And God is just… so….

One of our hymns does a nice job of finding the Christological connection here.  “Abel’s blood for vengeance, pleaded to the skies, but the blood of Jesus for our pardon cries”.  Yes, Jesus is the greater Abel!

Abel was a shepherd, Jesus the Good Shepherd.  Abel offered a sacrifice of a lamb.  Jesus is the Lamb of God who is sacrificed.  Abel was killed by his own brother.  Jesus is killed by his own people.  Abel’s blood cried for justice – but here’s the glorious twist – Jesus’ blood speaks a better word (says Hebrews).  Christ’s blood is poured onto the earth to save and redeem and pardon the whole world.  Jesus cries for our forgiveness, even from his very cross.

And while Abel stands as the prototype of all the martyrs – all those whose blood is shed by violent men, yet kept the faith unto the end.  Cain stands as a figure of all Christians who have blood on our hands and yet find mercy from a the one who by rights could condemn us.

Cain faces the consequences of his sin – the earth no longer yields its strength to him (for that’s where his brother’s blood was shed – out in the field, onto the ground).  And Cain, rather than living off the land shall wander the land in exile.  And for Cain it all seems to much – even though by rights he ought to have been struck dead himself.  Even in this punishment, God is showing mercy.

But in answer to Cain’s pleading, he shows even more.  “Whoever finds you will not kill you, Cain, for I’m putting a mark on your head.”  And who knows what that mark was exactly, but I like to imagine it as a cross.

God protects Cain from retribution, and threatens to punish anyone who kills him with vengeance 7 times over!  7 is God’s number.  It reminds us of God’s work of creation.  This is no small promise God is making to Cain, a promise Cain in no way deserves.

Dear Christian, you, too, have been marked by God.  You too, have a promise of God’s protection.  All new-born soldiers of the crucified bear on their brows the seal of him who died.

At your baptism, you received the sign of the holy cross, both upon your forehead, and upon your heart, marking you as one redeemed by Christ the crucified.

You were sealed in those precious waters with the promise of God’s protection.  You are God’s own child – so gladly say it!  Though your grave stares at you open-eyed, even there you’ll sleep secure.  For not even death can conquer those who have overcome by the blood of Christ!  We are under his protection.  No harm will come to us from sin, death or devil.  All our enemies were Christ’s enemies, and he has defeated them all.

So what is left for us to do but give thanks?  What is left for us but to remain faithful, and to express that faith in worship of God and love for neighbor.  Yes, we too give gifts of thanksgiving to God.  And may we render them in faith, like Abel, always giving of our first and our best.  But when sin crouches at our door, and even if it overcomes us, let us live as Christians and repent – ever to find that forgiveness and mercy in Christ.  God be merciful to me, a sinner.  And he always will, in Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.