Sermon - Midweek Advent 3 - King Solomon

1 Kings 8:12-21

John 2:13-22

We’ve seen King Saul, a coward and ultimately unfaithful king who stood as a foil for both David and Jesus.  We’ve considered King David, a man after God’s on heart, not because he was perfect, but because he humbly confessed his sins.  And now, on to the first “Son of David” to be king and inherit his father’s throne – King Solomon.

Solomon, the son of Bathsheba and David, had many hopes riding on his shoulders.  God’s promises about the Son of David were freshly made, and I’m sure all eyes were on Solomon as he took the throne of his great father David.  Solomon had some big shoes to fill.

Solomon is perhaps best known for his wisdom.  God had appeared to him in a dream and offered him a wish – any desire of his heart.  And Solomon didn’t ask for riches, or fame, or the defeat of his enemies.  Instead he asked for wisdom to do his job as king, and rule the great people of Israel.  God was so pleased with Solomon’s request that he not only made him the wisest man ever to live (apart from Jesus), but he also added to him fame and fortune and success.  Solomon had it all, basically.  All that his father David had and then some.

But perhaps his greatest achievement as a king was building the temple.  Here’s the backstory:  God’s “throne”, the Ark of the Covenant, was kept in the tabernacle since the days of Israel at Mt. Sinai.  For some 500 years, the dwelling of God on earth in this special way – was in a temporary shelter – a tent, really.  And while they Israelites wandered it made good sense, for they could move the Tabernacle, the Ark, and everything else with them as they traveled. 

But now they were settled in the land, and under David enjoyed a time of peace and permanency.  David established his capitol at Jerusalem and even built himself a palace there.  But then David thought, and you can understand the thinking, “Hey, I’m living in this nice palace, but Yahweh is dwelling in a tent!  Let’s make a grand palace for him, a house fit for a king – a temple!” 

The Lord heard David’s idea, and didn’t totally dismiss it.  But it would not be as David planned.  “David, you’re a man of war, with blood on your hands.  It’s not for you to build me a house.  But instead, I will build YOU a house.”  And of course, by that, God didn’t mean a temple, but a dynasty.  Thus he promised a descendant of David would always rule on the throne of his father.  And then, he ordained that David’s son, Solomon, would build the temple.  And there our reading today picks up.  Solomon had completed the job, and now dedicated the temple. 

This temple of Solomon would stand for some 400 years, and there God made his presence known.  But when the people of Israel turned to false gods, the patience of the true God eventually ran out.  Yahweh withdrew his presence from the temple, and thus also his protection of the people.

And he allowed the Babylonians to destroy that temple and take the people into captivity.  After their mourning in exile, God again showed mercy, and the people returned to rebuild the temple under Ezra.  Later, under King Herod the Great, this second temple was renovated and expanded.  But in this second temple the presence of Yahweh, enshrouded in the mysterious cloud, would not be seen.  The sacrifices had resumed, but the glory had departed.

Until one day a couple from Nazareth brought their infant child to the temple for a blessing.  And old Simeon took the babe in his arms and sang the Nunc Dimmittis, “my eyes have seen thy salvation, and the glory of thy people Israel”.  In the Babe of Bethlehem, the Glory of God had returned to the temple.

Boy Jesus would also visit his Father’s house, and grown-up Jesus also spent much time there, teaching the people, and even cleansing his temple as we heard in John 2.

What famously got him in trouble, though was his statement, “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it up in three days”.  You can see how the Jews were a bit touchy about the temple being destroyed.  But of course, the temple he spoke of was his body. He would die, be destroyed, but then be raised to life in just three short days.  Jesus, you see, is the true temple, the dwelling of God with man.  Not in a tent or a stone building, but in the flesh.  He’s not just a geographic dwelling with us, he is Immanuel in the deepest, most profound way – God with us, uniting his divine nature to our human nature in the person of Jesus. 

Now what do we make of all of this?  How does it relate to us?

David’s inclination to build the temple and do something nice for God wasn’t what God wanted.  Instead, God was going to do something for David, and really, for all people.  It’s the same old pattern, isn’t it.  We think we have something to offer him, do for him, give to him… but God is the giver of all good gifts, and he takes the initiative when it comes to our creation and our salvation.  He builds his temple, he builds his church, he accomplishes the salvation of the world through the Son of David – not Solomon, but Jesus.

Second, God doesn’t need a fancy building or a grand palace in which to live, but he comes to us to dwell among us on his own terms – humbly to meet the humble, lowly to mee the low.  Yahweh dwelt in a tent for all those years by his own choice, perhaps partly to show that he was accessible to all people, not just kings and the well-to-do.  Likewise, when Jesus appears, it is humbly, laid in a manger, attended by shepherds.  He comes and meets us where we are, and that is, in the flesh.  And even today he comes to us humbly in the sacraments – simple water, humble bread and wine, they are where he may be found, according to his promise.

Third, God keeps his promises, but not always the way we think.  Yes, David’s son would inherit his throne.  Yes, David’s son would build the temple.  Yes, Davd’s son would be a wise and great king.  But Solomon, for all his wisdom and glory, did none of these, fulfilled none of these, as well as the greater Son of David, our Lord Jesus Christ.

Christ, whose wisdom exceeds all – is the very Word of God made flesh, the wisdom of God in a person.  Christ, the Son of David reigns forever – though Solomon reigned and his son after him, but the line of Davidic kings became lost to history.  Christ will reign forever and ever, and rules over not just Jerusalem, but over all things – all authority in heaven and on earth is given to him, and he will put all enemies under his feet – even death itself.  And he will also give us a share in his reign in his eternal kingdom.  Thanks be to God!

And yes, the Son of David, Jesus Christ, who was welcomed with palms on a Sunday and crucified on a Friday, crowned with thorns as the King of the Jews, enthroned upon his cross… he would build that temple of his body once more, never to be torn down again. In a glorious resurrection our True Temple now stands as an eternal dwelling of God with man, he the once and for all sacrifice for sin, he the one who brings our prayers before the father, our Great High Priest, our Prophet, our King.

None of these three kings of old was perfect, far from it.  Saul a coward, David an adulterer and murderer, and Solomon – who started out so wise and good, it seems fell from the faith late in his life.  While David had 500 concubines, Solomon had 1000, and many of them pagans who eventually led him to fall away from the true God into idol worship.    We read in 1 Kings 11:

Now King Solomon loved many foreign women, along with the daughter of Pharaoh: Moabite, Ammonite, Edomite, Sidonian, and Hittite women, 2 from the nations concerning which the Lord had said to the people of Israel, “You shall not enter into marriage with them, neither shall they with you, for surely they will turn away your heart after their gods.” Solomon clung to these in love. 3 He had 700 wives, who were princesses, and 300 concubines. And his wives turned away his heart. 4 For when Solomon was old his wives turned away his heart after other gods, and his heart was not wholly true to the Lord his God, as was the heart of David his father.

A sad ending, a tragedy, indeed.  But our Son of David, Christ the King, is a faithful bridegroom who is devoted to his one and only, the church.  And he will bring her to the Father, not away.  And he will remain faithful forever, to the church as a whole, and to you, his dear child.  His story has a blessed ending, a joyous conclusion, at the marriage feast of the Lamb in his kingdom which has no end.

And so, let us celebrate with joy the coming of the king – remembering his birth in Bethlehem, in the City of David.  And looking forward in hope to the return of the king in glory, with all his angels, to bring abut a kingdom that has no end.

In Jesus’ Name.  Amen.

Sermon - Advent 3 - John 1:6-8; 19-28

 

Last week we heard from St. Mark’s Gospel about John the Baptist.  Today we hear from St. John’s Gospel – also about the forerunner of Christ.  Here, there are questions posed to John, and he gives terse and vague answers to the Jews who tried to grill him.  Let’s consider the testimony of John, then, and how he shows that it’s not about John, and it’s not about you.  It’s always about Jesus.

 

“Who are you?”  It’s an innocent enough question.  You might answer first in terms of your job or your family, where you come from or what’s unique and special about you.  What little paragraph summarizes you in a just a few words?  I’m a retired bricklayer from Miami who likes baseball and fly fishing  I’m a mother of 3, a grandmother of 7, and I spend most of my time babysitting them.  Fair enough.  John might have said, “I’m a prophet, the son of Zechariah the priest, and a cousin of Jesus Christ.  My favorite foods are locusts and wild honey, I enjoy long walks in the wilderness, and calling sinners to repentance.”

 

John could have made it all about him.  But he didn’t.  He knew the question behind the question. They didn’t want you know, “Who are you?”  What they really wondered is,  “Are you the Christ?”  And so he answered,  “I am not the Christ.”  Simple as that.

 

But now they seemed curious about John.  And with each of the next questions he seems to grow more frustrated.  “Are you Elijah?”  “I am not.”  “How about the Prophet?”  “No.”  “Well, who then?  You’ve got to have something to say about yourself!  Who are you that we can pin you down and make sense of you?  Who are we up against here?  What claim are you making?”

 

But John, who is not the Christ, only wants to talk about the Christ.  He’s only there to point the way, to make straight the path, to cry out in the wilderness.  John is all about Jesus, not himself.  And what a lesson we can learn from that.

 

The Christian faith is not a me-centered religion. It’s about Christ.  It’s not about who you are, or who you want to be.  Where you’ve come from or where you’re going.  It’s not about the work you do, or should do, or must do.  It’s not about your qualifications, your achievements, your prayers, your faith, your love.  John said, “I must decrease, that he may increase”.  And we say the same.

 

If it is about you, then it’s a sad case indeed.  For we can all answer the question, “who are you?” like this:  I’m a sinner.  I’m not worthy to be a slave that takes off the Master’s sandals.  I’m corrupt by nature, and my corrupt nature likes it that way.  I’m a poisoned apple that hasn’t fallen far from the poisoned tree, like my father Adam, before me.  I’ve never met a command of God that I don’t want to break.  I’ve never desired to submit and obey and do my duty.  I want to call the shots, set the rules, be like God.  That’s the story of my sinful nature, my Old Adam. That’s who you are, that’s who all of us are, apart from Christ, if we can even admit it.

 

But after John comes another preacher, another baptizer.  John was getting people’s attention, and drawing great crowds – but one was coming who would draw all people to himself, far greater crowds than John’s little gatherings.  The One greater than John is who John really wants to talk about, and who we poor sinners need to hear about – Jesus, who is the Christ.

 

It's all about Jesus.  There is no other name given under heaven by which we must be saved.  There is no other savior from sin and death and devil and hell.  No guru or wise man before or since.  No pope or bishop, prophet or pastor.  No king or president, rock star or supermodel. Only Jesus can save.  Only Jesus is the Christ.  And only Jesus is worth preaching about, pointing to for salvation.  When the smoke cleared on the mount of Transfiguration, and Moses and Elijah had gone, the disciples saw only Jesus.  When the hot air clears from every Christian pulpit, may it be the same – that it’s always, only Jesus.

 

Only Jesus can do what the Christ must do – stand in our place.  Only Jesus could bear the sins of the world.  Only Jesus could defeat the devil and all his wiles.  Only Jesus could fulfill the Father’s will and every speck of the law.  Only Jesus could lay down his perfect, blameless, spotless, life, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.

 

John couldn’t do it.  But Jesus can, and Jesus did.  That’s why John points to Jesus.

 

But for Jesus, it’s all about us.  Jesus does speak of himself quite a bit, but always in terms of what he has come to do for us.  What he has to give us.  What his mission is to save us.  Even from the cross, Jesus’ first words were about us – “Father forgive them…” And so the Father does.

 

No, John is not the Christ, but Jesus is.  And John is all about Jesus, and Jesus is all about us.

 

And that changes things for us.  For we are no longer about ourselves. Who are we now? We are no longer just an Old Adam, self-absorbed and self-consumed, living for our own desires and concerns.  We are baptized into Christ.  We come confessing our sins, and are forgiven.  We are a new creation, the old has gone, the new has come.  We are not who the law says we are, who are sins say we are.  We are not really even who we see in the mirror.  We are who God says we are:  his children.  Beloved.  Blessed by the father.  Sheep of his pasture.  We are his friends.  We are his people.  We are the body of Christ. We are living stones in the temple of God.  We are a royal priesthood, a holy nation.  We are his own treasured possession.

 

And we have a future.  What we are now is not what we will become – for when he comes again in glory, we will be glorified.  Changed, resurrected, shining like the sun forever.  We will be like him, for we shall see him as he is, at his great and glorious advent.

 

Until then, we wait, and we hope, and we pray, and we serve.  We are not the Christ, but we can share Christ’s love with others.  We are not Jesus, but we can make him known, in word and deed.  We, like John, bear witness to one greater than ourselves, greater even than John, who we are not worthy to undo his sandals, but has given us an example of loving service by washing his disciple’s feet.

 

Who is John?  Not the Christ, but Jesus is.  Who are you?  A sinner who needs Jesus, just like John, just like everyone. But a sinner who is baptized and forgiven, a child of God in Jesus Christ. Who is Jesus?  He is the Christ, the one who came to save us, die for us, rise for us, and who will come again in glory, for us.  It’s not about you.  It’s all about him, for you.

Sermon - Advent Midweek 2 - King David

 2 Samuel 11:1-5, 22-27; 12:1-7a, 13-14

John 8:1-11

There she was in all her beauty, for David’s lustful eyes to see.  But that beauty brought on the ugliness of David’s sin, and he took Bathsheba, another man’s wife, for himself.  Sin is always ugly.  Sin is always selfish.  It lurks just beneath the surface, but here it was in all its naked glory.

There are so many stories from the life of King David through which we can learn about the Son of David, Christ our king.  But this one… this one about his great sin with Bathsheba, perhaps stands most starkly as a contrast to the promised king who is to come.  It perhaps shows most clearly the real blessing of Christ’s kingly mercy, forgiveness, and faithfulness.  It reminds us that even a great man like King David is a terrible sinner, and as are we, we need an even better king to deal with our sin.  And that’s Jesus.

This story shows us how sin tends to lead to more sin.  There was first the lust, then the adultery, then the attempt at a coverup that failed (we skipped over that part).  Then, there was the conspiracy to commit murder, and make it look like an accident.  Uriah was put at the front lines of battle and, like David planned, he was killed.  And now David even gets to look like the good guy – taking in the poor grieving widow as his own, what a guy!  Long live the king!  But God cannot be mocked.  The truth must come out eventually.

So God sent Nathan the prophet to tell David about a certain case that needed to be judged.  The king, you see, was the final judge of difficult cases.  The final arbiter or right and wrong in the land, and the one to mete out just punishments for the wrongdoers.

Only it wasn’t a real case, it was a parable for David’s own sin.  And when David issued the right and just verdict, “This man must die!” he rightly condemned himself with his own words.  He only needed Nathan to connect the dots.  “You are the man”.

Friends, you are the man.  You are the men and the women who also stand rightly under the king’s just decree of death.  You have sinned before God and one another.  You and I, too, are no better or worse than King David on that account.  We have hit ourselves with the ugly stick of sin, again and again.  We sin, then try to cover it up, then excuse it, then make it look like a good deed after all.  We lust and lie and cheat and steal and murder, all in turn.  From the greatest of us to the least of us, there is no escaping this fact.  As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die.

We issue the right and true verdict upon ourselves when we confess our sins.  We deserve God’s temporal and eternal punishment.  That means we deserve death, right now… and forever.  Let’s not let those words pass our lips without thought, week in and week out. 

The Son of David is not like his father David.  He is, rather, like his Father in heaven.  He sees the bride, the woman whom he would love, and though she is ugly as sin, he loves her.  He goes to her and seeks her to be his holy bride.  With his own blood he bought her, and for her life he died. 

Jesus does well where David fails.  Jesus had no ugly sin of his own, but he took ours from us.  And he took the ugly sticks of the cross and used death itself to bring life, used condemnation to bring forgiveness, used the unjust verdict of guilty to justify us as righteous and holy forever.  He turns it all around.

Nathan confronted David with his sin.  And here we see perhaps the best example of David, and why he’s a man after God’s own heart.  We see how he is different than Saul and all the wicked kings.  David confesses his sin.  David repents.  Nathan accuses, “You are the man!”  and David confesses, “I have sinned.”

What a dramatic moment!  David could have balked.  He could have blamed.  He could have denied it all and thrown impudent Nathan into prison or worse.  He could have explained away his sin or given some lame excuse, but he did none of that.  He simply confessed it.  Humbly.  Honestly. Directly.  I have sinned.  There is much to learn from this, dear Christians.

And Nathan, for his part, played the faithful pastor.  He neither condemned David, but absolved him.  You will not die.  A word of forgiveness and comfort.  The first words out of his own mouth.  However there was still a consequence.  The child of this adulterous union, the son of David, would die.  And seven days after being born, that’s just what happened.  Surely Nathan was pointing to this – but also to much more.  Surely this also points us to Jesus.

Jesus, the Son of David, dies so that we do not face death.  He, innocent as he was, even more innocent than the child of Bathsheba (who was conceived in sin).  The innocent dies for the guilty. 

And out of his great mercy, he provides that you will not die.

In our other reading tonight, we see Jesus confronted with a woman caught in adultery.  She, too, was dead-to-rights and almost dead herself as the crowd began arming itself for an execution by stoning. 

The crowd was ugly with self-righteous indignation.  What blood lust clamors for the condemnation of others?  The kind that is blind to, or wants to obscure its own sin.  Put that spotlight on that adulterer over there, and not on the one right here, winding up to toss the rocks. 

Jesus knows better.  He doesn’t deny the ugliness of the woman’s sin.  He doesn’t condone it.  Rather, he has mercy on her.  He calls off the dogs that are slobbering for her punishment by turning the spotlight of law back on them.  He goes all Nathan on them.  You are the man!  Look at yourselves! Whoever is without sin among you cast the first stone.  And all the stones drop from all the sinful hands, at the word of the only one without sin.

Who condemns you now?  No one, sir.  Then neither do I condemn you.  King Jesus comes not to be the judging king that dolls out punishment.  He comes, rather, to be the one to bear that punishment himself.  He comes to doll out the mercy, freely, far and wide, the water of life without cost, and bread from heaven without payment.  He gives a burden that is light and a yoke that is easy.  He gives, he gives, he gives his own self.  He gives his back to the scourge, his face to those who pull out his beard.  He bows his head to receive a crown of thorns.

Not that you are free to go on sinning, oh, no.  For as he said to the woman, “now go and sin no more!”  So he calls us to live for him and our neighbor, not for self.  He doesn’t ignore or wink at sin, and sweep it under the rug.  He takes it so seriously he dies for it.  And he forgives it.  His kingly decree declares it is finished.

This advent, as always, we eagerly await the coming of Christ our king.  We transport ourselves back to walk with the saints of old as they anticipated his first coming.  And we turn our eyes to the blue skies in eager anticipation of his second coming.  We know that David’s son and David’s Lord is not a man after God’s own heart, but the God-man that shows us God the Father’s great love.  He calls us from the ugliness of our sins to the beauty of his grace, and a blessed union, a fellowship divine. 

Sermon - Advent 2 - Mark 1:1-10

 

John the Baptist makes his appearance among us again this year.  The voice crying in the wilderness sounds forth each and every Advent, and calls us to prepare the way of the Lord.  John’s baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins is not all that different from our own baptism – by which we daily drown the Old Adam in repentance and faith.  All the more, then, in this Advent season, let us repent of our sins, and find the forgiveness that God gives us in Word and Sacrament for the sake of his Son, Jesus Christ.

John is the last of the prophets.  He is the crescendo of a symphony of voices that proclaimed both the wrath and promises of God.  And what a voice he is.  Jesus says about John that no one greater has been born of women.  That John is a prophet, and more than a prophet.  That he is, if you can accept it, Elijah who is to come (that is to say, he comes in the spirit of Elijah).

And much like the prophets who went before him, John’s ministry and message are met with mixed reviews.  Some hear and repent and believe.  Others see John as a threat to be dealt with, and want to silence that voice in the wilderness.

But John also comes in the spirit of Isaiah the prophet.  In fact it is this passage from Isaiah 4 that is given as the basis for John’s ministry. 

Comfort, yes, comfort My people!...

Speak comfort to Jerusalem, and cry out to her,

That her warfare is ended,

That her iniquity is pardoned;

For she has received from the LORD’s hand

Double for all her sins.

The voice of one crying in the wilderness:

 

‘Prepare the way of the LORD;

Make straight in the desert

A highway for our God.

Every valley shall be exalted

And every mountain and hill brought low;

The crooked places shall be made straight

And the rough places smooth.

John was, like Isaiah, ultimately, a preacher of comfort.  Though we think of him as harsh, as fire-and-brimstone, and remember his catch phrase, “You brood of vipers!”.  Nonetheless John brought forgiveness, and so there was comfort.  John brought Gospel healing as well as law.  And like any good preacher worth his salt, John’s main thing was to point people to Jesus – the one greater than John – the one John only came to herald and proclaim.  Jesus, the only and ultimate source of comfort.

Now, for Isaiah, that didn’t go very well.  His message of comfort wasn’t so well received by everyone.  I guess one man’s comfort is another man’s discomfort.  A mountain leveled here is a valley filled there.

And so faithful preacher Isaiah, so the tradition goes, was put to death by a wicked king who had him sawed in half.  Hebrews (11:37-38) alludes to this: 

They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword. They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, mistreated— of whom the world was not worthy—wandering about in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.

Oh, they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute and mistreated?  That sounds like John the Baptist.  Camel’s hair and a leather belt – simple clothes.  Locusts and wild honey – simple food.  Whatever was available as he wandered in the wilderness.  And John, finally spoke truth to the wrong power – Herod.  And he, also, like his forebear Isaiah, was cut in two – beheaded – by that wicked king.

John is the last of the prophets who prepared the way of the Lord. And he is sometimes also called the forerunner of Christ because he went ahead of Jesus to make his path straight.  He’s thus a very “Advent” figure, one who helps us, too, prepare the way of the Lord.

For though John and so many others had their voices silenced by martyrdom, yet through the church their deathless voices continue to rise and proclaim repentance and comfort for God’s people.

The Word of God will not be silenced.  It will endure forever.

That word calls us to repentance.  For we, too, need pardon for our iniquities.  We need the rough places of our heart smoothed out, the valleys of despair filled, the mountains of pride leveled.  You may not be so comforted when John’s message of repentance hits your teetering conscience like a wrecking ball.  You may feel that it’s war!  That the satanic forces of accusation are lining up against you.  That even God himself will meet you on the field, and that the wrath of his sword will be unleashed against you.  The letter, that is the law, kills.  And it’s supposed to.  That is it’s job.

But John, by the Word, proclaims to us comfort.  Comfort that the warfare is ended.  Oh the battles may rage here and there, even in the heart of every believer.  But the warfare is over.  The victory is won.  Jesus declares, “it is finished”.  And he proves it by rising to life again.

Comfort overflows when iniquity is pardoned.  When the verdict of “not guilty” is rendered.  When we know God’s love, and we know it so well that it overflows in us and we, too, become witnesses and heralds of the God of all comfort.

 And though every Christian is not called to public proclamation, or to the office of prophet, we are, all of us, witnesses of the hope and the comfort that is within us.  That’s not so much a command as it is a promise and a fact.  For when you know Christ’s love, you simply can’t help but to love others.  When you have the forgiveness of sins, you relish the thought of showing other sinners where to find the comfort you’ve found.  And when you repent of your sins, and abhor evil, the evil will often notice, and abhor you for it.

You might be the next one to receive a prophet’s reward.  You might be the next one to be persecuted for righteousness’ sake.  You might follow John and Isaiah, and so many other faithful pastors and believers in that great and noble throng called the martyrs. 

It may not be suffering to the point of shedding blood, like Isaiah or John.  I mean, look at Elijah, he didn’t even die in the end but was taken to heaven in a glorious fiery chariot!  But for anyone who follows the crucified one, there is always your own cross to bear, there is always your own burden to shoulder.

The comfort is this:  Jesus has gone before.  He has gone before John.  He has gone before you.  He has even gone before Isaiah and all the prophets, the believers of New and Old Testaments.  Jesus is, as John rightly calls him, the Lamb that Takes Away the Sin of the World.

He who pardons iniquity, and restores us double for our sins doesn’t just wait around for us to find our comfort in him.  But rather he sends out preachers.  His word goes forth and never returns void.  He pipes up in every wilderness in this broken, cursed, world.  And lifts his voice in comfort.  Comfort, yes, comfort, my people.  So says our God.  So say his faithful preachers.  So says Jesus, himself the incarnation of God’s Son, and he embodiment of comfort for all who have ears to hear and hearts to believe.

Thanks be to God for the one who went before Jesus, and still calls us to repent and be forgiven.  Thanks be to God for the Comfort Jesus brings, and is, for us and all people, making us his people, through the power of that might word of forgiveness and comfort.

 

Sermon - Advent Midweek 1 - King Saul

Text: 1 Samuel 8:4-22a; 9:1-2; Matthew 21:1-9

This Advent, we will examine three of the most notable Old Testament kings:  Saul, David, and Solomon, in turn.  Advent has an “Old Testament” flavor, as we take our place alongside the people of Israel who waited and prayed for the coming of the Messiah, the king.  And so it is fitting to dig deeper into the Old Testament as we prepare to celebrate our Lord’s birth.  Through these three kings of old, we will examine the coming king that is Jesus Christ, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Be careful what you wish for.  That’s about the gist of what Yahweh said to the people of Israel when they clamored for a king.  “We want to be like the other nations” they whined.  “We want a king!”

Ah, but they already had a king.  Yahweh himself was their king.  And what a good king he was!  Just, but also merciful.  A king who had brought them out of Egypt.  A king who had provided for them through 40 years in the wilderness.  A king who brought them to a land he had promised them, a land flowing with milk and honey.  And the king went before them to clear the way, even fighting the battles for them.  He brought down the walls of Jericho.  He drove out the Canaanites before them.  Each of the tribes had its own portion of land, and was settled, and possessed it.  And there was peace.

But they were slow to learn.  Through the time of the judges, the people fell into the same old patterns – the same mistakes – and history continued to repeat itself.  They would fall into sin, turning away from Yahweh and following other gods, each doing whatever was right in his own eyes.  God gave them over to some enemy, and they suffered oppression.  Each time, the people repented and God raised up a deliverer for them, a judge, to lead them to victory and peace again.  God wasn’t the problem, though, in all this, he was the one to deliver them.  But still they wanted a king.  They wanted to be like other nations.  In effect, they were rejecting God as their king in favor of a mere man.  Not a good idea.  And it didn’t turn out very well.

God warned them, through Samuel, just what a king would mean for them.  A king would assert his rights over them.  A king would conscript their sons for battle, and make their sons and daughters work for his purposes.  A king would take taxes, too, a portion of their crops and vineyards and animals.  You will basically become his slaves.  And when you cry out for relief from such a king, the Lord will not answer you.  Consider yourself warned.

But. They. Did. Not. Listen.

And so they got Saul.  And look what we know about him – he’s tall!  He’s handsome!  Is that what you really want in a king?  Outward beauty, but inwardly lacking – cowardly, and eventually downright evil.  Saul stands as a stark contrast, a foil, if you will, to the king that would follow him – king David.  In fact, Saul was jealous of young David and tried to kill him.  David was far from perfect himself, and we will consider him more closely next week.  But David was, at least, a man after God’s own heart.  He was a man of faith.

But Saul is also a contrast to both David, and the Son of David, Christ the King.  Saul was handsome, one of the best looking guys around.  Surely that would make for a good king, right?  Easy on the eyes.  But we are told that Jesus “had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him” (Isaiah 53:2b) Jesus, especially at the apex of his ministry, would have been horrible to look at – a man of sorrows, beaten, bloodied, humiliated, shamed.  Ah, but there at the cross was his true beauty, for there, at the cross, “it is finished”.

Saul cowered in fear, from the day of his coronation to his confrontations with enemies.  It was Saul, really, who should have stood up to Goliath, but did not.  But nothing caused our Lord Jesus to waver – not powerful men, not jeering crowds, not even the devil himself could shrink Christ from completing his mission – and going to his cross. 

Saul fell from grace, fell from faith, and died in shame, defeated in battle, died by his own hand.  On the eve of that fateful battle, Saul went to see the witch of Endor, and called up the spirit of Samuel from the dead – only to receive the dread prophecy that he and his sons be defeated in battle and die the next day.

The King of the Jews who was crowned with thorns also died in shame, but not for his own sin – rather he was bearing ours.  Not a suicide, but a sacrifice, our king Jesus laid down his life for his friends, the shepherd dying for the sheep.  It was a death that he, Jesus, predicted himself.  He knew, and foretold, who the perpetrators would be, the method of execution, and even the time of his rest in the grave, but also his ultimate resurrection.  And as Saul’s sons met the same fate as their father – defeat and death – so do those who are in Christ follow him into resurrection.  Thanks be to God!

Saul couldn’t ultimately save his people from their enemies, but King Jesus destroys our ancient foe the devil, he wipes the slate of sin clean, and he even defeats death itself – trampling the grave in a glorious victory we call Easter.

The warning, then, to us, is not to reject the king we have because we want to be like the world. 

The people took their eyes away from the many blessings Yahweh had bestowed.  They forgot the greatness of their king.  The despised his word and promise, and doubted and denied his provision.  They sold their collective birthright for a poor facsimile of the real thing.  And they suffered for it.

So, people of God, look to no other king but Jesus.  Put your trust only in him.  Have no other savior but Jesus, your king.  Let him be who he is.  You can’t be king of yourself. And no man, no earthly prince call fill those shoes or sit on that throne.  Give us only Jesus as our king, our master, our Lord.  And we will be in good hands.

The people rejected God as their king, but merciful, loving Yahweh did not reject them.  Instead, he continued calling them to repentance and faith, and throughout the next several hundred years of earthly kings, would continue to patiently do so. 

And finally, he would send his Son, the Son of David, to Jerusalem, to suffer and die.  “Say to the daughter of Zion, ‘Behold, your king is coming to you!’ ” Thanks be to God for the righteousness and salvation he brings.  Hosanna to the Son of David.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Sermon - Advent 1 - Mark 11:1-10

 

A blessed Advent to all of you.  As we take these few weeks of solemn preparation for our Christmas celebration, it might strike us that the church is a bit out of step with the world.  And that really shouldn’t surprise us.  For as Christmas celebrations creep earlier and earlier every year, the Church holds on to the season of Advent, a time of preparation. 

We put ourselves in the shoes, as it were, of the Old Testament people who waited longingly for the Messiah to finally arrive.  We sing songs like, “O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel – that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear”  Christ is coming.  Throughout the Old Testament God reiterated his promise to send the seed of the woman that would crush the serpent.  And slowly he revealed more and more of this plan – born of a virgin, born in Bethlehem, meant to suffer for the sins of the people, to die – and to rise again.

By the year 33 A.D., the sense that God’s Messiah was coming had reached a bit of a fever pitch.  The air was electric and thick with expectation.  But many expected less a savior from sin and more a savior from foreign oppression.  Judas Maccabeus had led the revolt against the Seleucid Empire just some 200 years prior, and many thought he was the Messiah.  But their hopes were dashed, when once again Israel fell under the rule of another foreign power – the Romans.

This Jesus, he was causing a stir.  He was doing some amazing feats, miracles, even raised Lazarus from the dead!  Might he be the one?  The promised Messiah?  The Son of David?  And as another annual Passover feast rolled around, and the population of Jerusalem swelled with pilgrims, Jesus made his entrance – and we know it so well, on Palm Sunday.  His Advent, if you will, to his Holy City.

Of course they welcomed him as a king and a savior, the Son of David, even. They praised his name with their shouts of “Hosanna!  Save us!” But little did anyone seem to know that he came to save them by dying.  That he came to save them from sin and death, not Romans and Herodians.  That this Jesus was a miracle worker – but perhaps not the kind of miracles they wanted, or expected.

We might be able to relate.  We know Jesus is the Savior, but from what do we wish to be saved?  Stress at work?  Money problems?  Grief?  Pain?  Anxiety?  Depression?  Fears about tomorrow?  Fears about today?  Loneliness?  Worries about our loved ones?  Something else?

We may not have the boot of the Romans pressing on our neck, but we have many and various problems and troubles, what preachers used to call, “felt needs”.  Ask a random person on the street, “What’s your biggest problem right now?” or to put it another way, “What one thing would make you happy?”  Or, if Jesus comes to “save us”, from what do we really need saving?

Sing your Hosannas, today, Christians, for the Son of David comes to save you from sin and death and devil.  Sin, that corruption that touches every corner of our existence, which infects our thoughts, words, deeds, our very nature.  Sin which has also dragged down this creation with it.  And it, and we, each of us, need saving.

And death – the wages of sin – the caboose on the sin train.  It always follows.  It cannot be avoided.  Death is always hanging around, hovering over us, waiting for that one moment from which there is no return.  And like sin, its dark tendrils squiggle their way into every corner and crevice, “change and decay in all around I see”.  We need saving.

The devil?  Not so easily seen, but pulling what levers he can behind the scenes.  Cheering us on in our sins, tempting us away from faith, hope and love.  Working through his proxies and levying his accusations – “Your sin is too great to be forgiven.  Not even God could love you.”  Or else, trying to lull us into false security, “It’s not really a sin.  God doesn’t really care.  You will not die.”  Save us from these lies, these accusations, these temptations, oh, Lord!  And only Jesus can.

Hosanna, Save us!  And he does.  He comes to save.  He came to Jerusalem to save his people not from Rome, and not from their felt needs, but from their deepest need, and their true enemies.

So too, for us.  He comes. He comes to save.  But not as some might expect.

Jesus did a miracle in his advent to Jerusalem.  He exercised just a bit of divine knowledge and authority by sending his disciples to go get that donkey.  Maybe this miracle gets lost sometimes in the fanfare of the palms and shouts of “Hosanna”.  But let’s not pass it by.

The Lord of Creation knows exactly what is required.  He tells his disciples exactly what they need to know, and what to say.  He even selects a particular donkey to ride, a colt, on which no one has ever sat – a sort of a firstfruits fit for a king, reminiscent of the new tomb in which no one had ever been laid.  But Jesus goes first, into death, and into resurrection, to chart our course of life and salvation.  The beast of burden carried the Christ into his holy city.  But only the Christ could shoulder the load of all sins, as he carried his cross outside the city, and in his body put all sin to death. 

Save us.  The king comes to do just that.  But today, among us, he comes not riding a donkey, nor swaddled in a manger.  Today he comes humbly, but hidden, in simple bread and wine.  He comes just as surely to save us from sin and death and devil.  He comes according to his words of promise, “This is my body.  This is my blood… given and shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins”  That’s how he saves us, by forgiveness.  A forgiveness won at the cross, and freely given at the altar, and at the font, in the absolution pronounced and the gospel proclaimed.

And yet, we still wait longingly, we still mourn in exile here.  We still look forward to the coming of the king.  Yes, our sins are forgiven.  Yes, salvation unto us has come.  Yes, God has answered our prayers of Hosanna in the one who died to save us.  But we still labor.  We still suffer.  The flesh still clings to us, with all his warts and fusty uncleanness.  We’re still feeling needs.  And so we look forward to Christ’s coming in glory.

We pray, “Hosanna” and look for his coming in the clouds.  We pray for his Second Advent, “come quickly, Lord Jesus!”  We are anchored in the hope of that day, when Christ returns to judge the living and the dead, to raise the faithful to glorious life, to dissolve this broken world and bring about the new heaven and new earth, and to sound the dinner bell for the marriage feast of the Lamb in his kingdom which has no end. 

Blessed is the kingdom of our father David, that has come in his blessed son, Jesus Christ.  And blessed is the kingdom to come, when he brings this age to an end, and makes all things new.  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest.  Amen.

Sermon - Last Sunday of the Church Year - Matthew 25:31-46

 

The Parable of the 10 Virgins taught us to be wise and ready for Christ’s return.  Faith fueled by the means of grace is the only thing that makes and keeps us ready. 

The Parable of the Talents teaches us that we are entrusted with gifts, and that while we wait for his return, we are to put those gifts to use!  The greatest of these gifts is the Gospel, which is to be treasured, but also shared.

And now, the third Parable of Christ’s return in glory – the Sheep and the Goats.  Although, its’ not really a parable, per se, like the others.  It is rather a description of how the Son of Man will judge the peoples of the earth.  As a shepherd separates the sheep and the goats.

This may well be one of the most terrifying thoughts, as we ponder the Last Day.  When Christ judges the world – on which side will I stand?  How will I be judged? 

It is clear that his judgment is pass or fail, there is no sliding scale, no gray areas.  You are either a blessed sheep, or a cursed goat.  You either enter in the joy of the Father, and inherit the kingdom, or you are sent away to the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.  There is only weeping and gnashing of teeth.

The picture Jesus paints here is something we confess in the creeds, “he will come again in glory, to judge the living and the dead.”

And you might expect that the judge would hear evidence and testimony.  You might think he would look at peoples’ lives and how well they did, compare their thoughts, words, and deeds to the holy law, or the 10 commandments.  Some might even think that their good deeds would offset their bad ones.  That he would weigh it all out and come to a just conclusion.  But that’s not how Jesus describes it.

While he spends some time pointing out the works, the good or bad works, of the sheep and the goats – take careful note of the first words out of the King’s mouth:

“Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”

There’s no judging here.  There’s no interrogation.  He doesn’t check their references of their qualifications.  He already knows who the sheep are, and they simply belong to him.  He invites them to receive their inheritance, and a blessed one at that!

It’s only later that he goes on to point to their works.  After they are invited to their reward!  So these good works of visiting and feeding and clothing and welcoming… they are not the basis of sheepliness.  They are merely evidence of it.  That the sheep are the sheep is already settled.

This comports with the way Jesus speaks of himself in John’s Gospel as the Good Shepherd.  “I am the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep”  “My sheep know my voice.  I know them, and they follow me”  “I am the gate for the sheep.” Et cetera.

You see, they don’t just become his sheep on the last day.  They have been his sheep all along.  They become his sheep by the gift of faith, by the water of baptism, and by the power of his Holy Spirit.  They, you, already belong to him and on the last day it is simply revealed who is who.

This is a great comfort for us, Christians.  We are sheep because the Shepherd has died for us, laid down his life for the sheep.  The Shepherd knows his sheep.  And we know his voice.  We’ve been following him all this time.  Of course we will also follow him to glory.  That’s been his promise to us – abundant life, forgiveness of sins, rest from our labors.  The voice of his word makes us these and so many more promises, and faith rests secure in them.  Our works have no place in the equation of salvation.  On that account, the Shepherd has done it all.

But at the judgment, he will commend his sheep also for their good works.  And here it gets very interesting.  Because as he lists out all that they have done for their neighbors in need, even the least of these, the sheep seem to have some form of amnesia.  They don’t recall, they don’t know about all this supposed good they have done.  When did we?  We did what?

And here we might note two things.  For one, true sheep that belong to the Shepherd, that is to say, Christians, don’t concern ourselves with cataloging our good works.  We don’t keep a careful record of our good deeds and philanthropic ventures – because we don’t have to!  Since we are saved by grace through faith in Christ alone, we have no need to track and measure our works – because they don’t matter a bit for our salvation. Christ has done it all! Both his sacrificial death, and his perfect life of love – all that he has done, he has done for us. 

And so, secondly, whatever works the sheep lack, Christ has fulfilled.  Wherever we have failed to feed and clothe and visit and welcome and love, Christ has done it for us!  And to the extent that we do such works out of faith, he esteems them greatly, as even done for him, to him.  We serve others because he has served us.  And when we serve others, it’s as if we are serving him.

He knows the sheep, he welcomes and blesses the sheep, he commends the sheep for their evidence of faith.

And only then he is on to the goats.  He doesn’t leave the sheep waiting around to hear their verdict, but deals with his own first, kindly.  He is both just and merciful, but his preference is mercy. 

Now the goats are condemned for their lack of works.  And much like the sheep, they are surprised by all this.  They don’t seem to know how bad they have been.  They certainly don’t think that any of their failure or neglect was against Christ himself!  But in much the same way, Jesus holds them accountable, collectively, for failing to do what they should have.  And he can do this, judge them collectively, for they share the same sinful nature, and stand even now in those sins.  They do not have a savior to cover their sins, a shepherd who knows them as his own.  They do not hearken to his voice. 

And even if they do serve their neighbors, or do good works before man, it doesn’t matter in the end.  Surely, many non-believers do what the world would recognize are “good works”.  And there are many charitable and philanthropic agencies both secular and religious apart from the church.  Your non-Christian friends and neighbors are likely good citizens who love their families and are generally nice people.  But none of that counts in the end.  All have sinned and failed and fallen short.  None has loved as he ought, even our best works are as filthy rags before God.

If you rest on those works – however good they may appear before man – you will be sadly surprised with the goats at the final judgment.  But if you know the Shepherd, and rely on his good works, you will be blessedly surprised with the sheep on that day.

So, here stands for us a warning – that there will indeed be a judgment.  But that judgment is not what it may seem on a cursory reading.  We are not judged based on our works.  If so, we’d all be goats.  But here also stands for us a promise.  We, the sheep, are saved by grace through faith in Christ.  We are credited with works that we haven’t even done, but that Jesus has.  We are covered by his righteousness, given life by his death, and made heirs of the kingdom by our thorn-crowned king. 

We come to the end of this church year, and consider the end of all years, when Christ comes in glory, as king and judge.  Thanks be to God he has made us his sheep!   Let us continue to trust in him and love the least of these his brothers, looking forward to that inheritance of eternal life.