Sermon - Last Sunday in the Church Year - Mark 13:24-37

 

Verbum Dei Manet in Aeternum – one of our favorite Latin phrases around here.

Abbreviated:  VDMA.

It’s on one of our church banners (one of the red ones).

I’ve even seen some Christians who bear it as a tattoo.

“The word of the Lord endures forever!”

Jesus’ words in Mark 13 speak to us on this last Sunday of the church year, reminding us that “heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.”

Last week we heard Jesus prophesy about the destruction of Jerusalem and the tearing down of the temple – that not one stone would be left on another.  This largely came to pass in 70 AD, not a generation after he spoke those words.

But the destruction of Jerusalem was a sign, pointing to the wider destruction that is in store for all of creation.  And so Jesus speaks about both together – what happened in 70 AD, and what will happen on the last day, when he comes again in glory to judge the living and the dead. 

Just as Jerusalem and its temple had to pass away, into destruction, so this corrupt world must also pass away, into destruction.

He chooses, for example some of the most reliable fixtures of all creation – the heavenly bodies – Sun, Moon and stars.  He shows how even these will give way on that final day.  Until that day, they move like clockwork, governing the day and the night, given to us from the beginning of creation for the telling of times and seasons.  Morning and evening, on and on it goes.  Until it doesn’t.  Until the creation passes away.

It had to happen.  Because it was corrupted early on.  When Adam, the head of creation, into whose care had been placed all of creation, when he fell, all creation fell with him.  Paradise was lost.  Pain and toil followed.  And eventually, always, death.  The wages of sin for Adam meant not only his own physical death, his own spiritual death, but also the eventual death of all creation, which fell when he fell.  Even Adam’s children, and their children, to every generation, would inherit sin and death and follow in the footsteps of our first father.

But God is merciful, and patient.  It didn’t all happen at once.  Adam would live for 930 years.  This creation is still going. But we can see the signs.  We know it’s got an expiration date.

Look at the fig tree, Jesus says.  You see when it sprouts those tender leaves, and you know that summer is on its way.  We can look at creation, and see the signs of what is coming.  As he mentioned in last week’s reading – wars and rumors of wars, earthquakes and famines, and the persecution of Christians.  These are the signs.  The end is coming.  It’s closer now than it ever was.

Heaven and earth will pass away.  You, or at least your flesh, will pass away.  Either way, we don’t know when, but God does.

And it would be so final, so sad, such despair, if we didn’t have the words of Jesus.  For his words do not pass away.  The word of the Lord endures forever.

And he doesn’t just mean his words here, in this chapter, or in this conversation.  Every word that Jesus speaks for you and me is a word that endures forever.

Just as death couldn’t hold him, and the grave couldn’t end his story, but he rose to life again – so his words also will never pass away, will never be nullified or made void, his promises will never be undone.

And what a great hope this gives us! 

When Christ comes in his glory, it’s not all bad news.  It’s not all destruction and judgment.  In fact, for his own people, for us Christians, it is a day of glorious victory.  Just look what he promises:

He will send his angels to gather his elect, his chosen, his people from all over the world.  Gathered to him there is always safety and blessing.  None of the destruction out there can harm us if we are with him.

Then will come true, finally in their fullest sense, all his words of promise to us:  He who believes and is baptized will be saved.  I am with you always, even to the end of the age.  He who believes in me, though he dies, yet shall he live!  I am going to prepare a place for you.  It is finished!  Behold, I am coming soon.

What we know from his word, now, by faith, we will see with our eyes on that day.  The day of salvation!

The word of the Lord endures forever.  Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.

But it’s not just the red letter words in your bible that are his words, they are all his words – and they will all endure forever.  Every word that proceeds from the mouth of God – by which man lives, and not bread alone.  His words are spirit and life.  And it is by his word that we know him and are saved.

But since we do not know the day or the hour of his return, Jesus encourages us to stay awake, and to be ready.  But how?

By remaining faithful to his word, of course.  The word which orders our days, gives shape to our life.  The word which calls us to love God and love neighbor.  The word which calls us to repentance and calls us ever to faith.  The word which brings comfort, hope and peace.  The preaching of Christ crucified for sinners, the very heart of our faith. The word of God, living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword.  The word of Christ.  Abiding in that word, we are truly his disciples.

The word of the Lord endures forever, and we, called by that word, live by that word, and according to its promise – we also will live forever, in Jesus Christ the living word. 

For just as this creation will give way to the new heaven and earth, so also our mortal bodies that perish will be raised incorruptible on the last day.

Behold, he is coming soon!  The creation is groaning.  The signs are all there.  Stay awake!  Watch!

(Check out https://www.adcrucem.com/ for some great "VDMA" artwork)

 

Sermon - Pentecost 26 - Mark 13:1-13

 Pentecost 26

Mark 13:1-13
“Saved in the End”


You see this fancy temple? It's toast. You see these tall pillars? They're coming down. The Holy Place? Scrap it. The Holy of Holies? First they'll tear it down, then it will become a trash heap, then a shrine to a false god, and then, along with every other once proud and impressive location – everything will be destroyed. Not even one stone left on another.

Are you impressed by the things of this world? The Sistine Chapel? The Great Wall of China? Mt. Rushmore? None of it will last. Even the Pyramids, which have stood perhaps the longest – they'll be gone, too. Your house, your neighborhood, the Taco Bell. Your school, your workplace, even your church building.

It's that time of the year again, the end of the church year, in which the lectionary, for several weeks, sets before us these readings which point to the end. Call it the judgment day, the last day, the second coming of Christ. Or use the fancy term, “eschatology” from the Greek word “eschatos”, which means, simply, “the last things”.

Here in Mark's Gospel, were are again in Holy Week. Jesus is with his disciples in the temple, like so many others who have come to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. Jesus has already been welcomed on Palm Sunday and greeted with “hosannas”. He's turned over temple tables, and his teaching is overturning the hopes and expectations for Jewish national glory.

Not only is Jesus not the military messiah so many expected, here to run out the Romans. He's the bearer of bad news: This place is going down. And so it came to pass. In 70 AD, not even 40 years after Jesus speaks these words, Roman general Titus puts down a rebellion in Jerusalem.
And he destroys the temple. Jews still mourn this event every year. Titus would go on to become Roman Emperor, and the arch which tells of his glorious victory in Jerusalem still stands in Rome to this day. But the temple, the temple into which so many Jews put their hopes for the future, has been reduced to one lone exterior wall.

So how can Jesus say “not one stone will be left” if, in fact, a whole wall remains? Because the prophecy isn't finished yet. The destruction of the temple was but a foretaste of the final destruction for which this corrupt world is destined. All of it will pass away. Vanish like smoke. Be rolled up like a scroll. Scripture tells us, and Jesus tells us, of a time to come when he will bring about a new heaven and new earth, and the old will pass away entirely. For us it is a day of victory and celebration.

But before that day comes, he has more bad news. There will be other calamities. And what a list it is! Wars and rumors of wars. Earthquakes. Famines. And maybe worst of all, false teachers.
Do not be led astray! Jesus warns us to watch out, especially, for those who would falsely come in his name. But this isn't just about crackpots who claim to be Jesus in the flesh yet again (though surely there have been quite enough of those!)

This is also about all who would come and teach falsely concerning him. Anyone who teaches against his word. Anyone who points you to yourself for your own salvation. Anyone who teaches you that his grace is not enough, and that you need to add your own work, your own decision, your own acceptance to the mix. Anyone who teaches you to despise his gifts given in water and bread and wine, and not receive them as he intends, for the forgiveness of your sin. Anyone who would teach that Christianity is all about Gospel apart from Law, or vice versa. Anyone who adds the teachings of man to the revealed Word of God. Even those who would cheapen God's grace in Christ by claiming that this sin or that sin doesn't matter, or isn't that sinful, and who call good evil and evil good. Beware! Watch out! Do not be led astray! Many will come, teaching all this and more, but they are not Christ. And it is not yet the end.

He warns the disciples of persecution. That they would be arrested and beaten and delivered over to death. Even families would be torn apart in all of this. And all who are with Christ will be hated for his name's sake. What an uplifting picture of the future Jesus paints for them, and for us.

Church history tells us that all of the 12 Apostles met a martyrs death, except for John – who was also persecuted and imprisoned. Jesus rightly prepares his disciples for the trouble that would follow them, even unto death. But these disciples, too, are but a foretaste of the persecution of the church and the birth pains of creation that would continue from then until the very end.

And we, too, live in those times. Yes, we are in the end times. The times of the birth pains. We hear of wars and rumors of wars. We see earthquakes and famines and false teachers. We see families torn apart and Christians hated for Jesus' name. The church has always faced these things, in one measure or another, in fits and starts, just like a woman in labor. When the birth pains come, then they recede, then they come again in greater force, then recede. We know how this goes. We know that the end is coming, it's on the horizon, it's getting nearer. But we can't say exactly when.

But Jesus doesn't tell us all this to scare us. He knows well enough that we have enough fear living in this fallen world. He's not simply trying to get us to wake up and shape up, and live a good life with the short time we have left. As if threats of the law could do that anyway.

But it should drive us to repentance. Repent of your attachment to the supposedly impressive things of this world, which is passing away. Repent of your adherence to anyone who teaches falsely in Christ's name. Repent of your fears of what may come, of who may oppose you, and your lack of trust in Christ. Repent, and believe in Christ!

And hear that Jesus is also speaking words of comfort to his dear flock, not one of which he means to lose from his hand.

“The one who endures to the end will be saved”. In other words: have faith. Have trust in me. For I have come to save. No matter how bad it gets. No matter what troubles may come. No matter what armies march into your backyard and destroy your homes and burn your churches. No matter what natural disasters befall you. Though the earth shakes it all down and the fields dry up and waste away. I am with you to the end. So endure to the end. You will be saved. I won't let you fall. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies. And he who lives and believes in me will never die.
Jesus endured all of this and worse, for you, on the cross. He knows what it is to suffer all, and to see your world come crashing down before you. He suffered the wrath of God for the sins of the world. Every injustice against every innocent. Every violence, every cruelty, every hatred – this man of sorrows carried it all on that wooden cross. And his sacrifice was for it all. The sins of the world. To save the world.

Though false teachers will come and give false words about him, his word, and his work. Yet he promises that his faithful people will not be without his Spirit. And that Spirit will give us even the words to speak before councils and synagogues and even before governors and kings. That word never changes. That word of the Gospel which shows Jesus Christ crucified for sin, to save the world. And that Gospel must be preached to all nations.


So rather than worrying about when all this will happen, it is enough for us to know that it will. And that Christ knows it, and is still going to save us. No matter how bad it gets, no matter what you must suffer now or in the future – Jesus suffered all, and has gone before you to save. He faced death, but conquered it. And now you share in his victory. He has saved you. And he will save you, even for all eternity. Cling to this word. Even to the end. Believe it for Jesus's sake. Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 25 - Mark 12:38-44

 

On one level, today’s reading is very simple.  Jesus teaches us to beware of the scribes, but commends a poor widow.  These two couldn’t be more opposite.  The wealthy and powerful scribes, probably well known and well regarded, and the poor widow who exists on the fringes of society.  The scribes made a show of their wealth, their status, and even their religion. 

But they are not truly righteous.  It’s all a big show.  When no one is looking, they take advantage of the weak, and devour even the houses of widows, making their profits and greedy gain at the expense of the poor and lowly.

The widow, on the other hand, poor as she is, does what these muckety-mucks do not, and cannot.  She gives all that she has.  And Jesus commends her for it.  He doesn’t care about the amount.  He is impressed by the proportion, that she gave ALL that she had to live on – 100%!  A far cry greater, in a way, than even the massive sums the scribes gave in their prideful showiness.

So, be like the widow, and not like the scribes, might be one way to read this account.  A simple contrast and a moral encouragement toward sacrificial giving.  Get out your checkbooks, and make them payable to:  Messiah Lutheran Church.

Or is Jesus going after something far more here?

It is rather convicting, if we are honest, this comparison between the scribes and the widow.  Sure, we’d all like to think we are like the commendable widow in the story, but maybe we’re a lot more like the scribes than we’d care to admit.

They loved to be regarded by others, and yet, don’t we?  Imagine how you might feel if you go to a party, for instance, and everyone else is introduced to the host except for you.  You’re left standing in the corner alone.  How dare they not regard me!

We all love compliments.  Nice shoes.  Nice haircut.  Nice sermon, pastor.  We all want others to think well of us, notice us, and treat us with respect.  Not that those things are bad in and of themselves, but they are a temptation toward pride and self-righteousness.  If other people like me, I must be good!  If other people respect me, I must not be so bad!  If someone tells me that I’m great – well then – there must be some truth in it.

And it can even lead us to do things, or not do things, to be regarded by man – and not by God.  To do what makes us well liked and accepted, and not necessarily what is moral and good and godly.

Even our religious life can fall into this sort of temptation.  That we would show off just how Christian we are, much like the long and pretentious prayers of the scribes, so are we tempted to put our supposed good deeds on a pedestal.  Rather, ought we not practice our good works in secret, and not let even our left hand know what the right hand is doing?

And worst of all, these supposedly outward fine upstanding citizens, they had a dark secret.  They devoured the homes of widows.  And it doesn’t seem like that bothered them a bit.  They surely rationalized it as legal, so it must be moral.  Appearing on the outside as pillars of the community, but truly just predators out for their own selfish gain, at the expense of even poor widows.

If we are truly honest, we must admit the darkness of our own hearts, that we can be just as selfish, that we can rationalize our own lack of kindness and disregard for others.  We like to look good on the outside, and cover up the darkness of sin that lurks in our hearts.

But there’s this lowly widow.  And Jesus commends her offering – that it was all she had – as greater than any of the great treasures offered by the wealthy.  She gave all she had to live on – which implies a different motivation as well.  She gave out of her faith.

She trusted, we must conclude, that God who had cared for her thus far, would continue to provide for her.  After all, those two small coins wouldn’t buy much food anyway.  And God had cared for her thus far.  So she gave out of faith.  Trusting that the same loving, caring Lord would continue to regard her in his mercy.

The reality is, this widow’s great faith also convicts us all.  We must admit, none of us gives as we should.  None of us trusts as we ought.  We forget that we, too, live each day by his grace, and that even our daily bread comes only from the hand of our generous Father.

This whole scene takes place, we might note, during Holy Week.  On Tuesday, in particular, and we all know what was coming on Friday.  Jesus was about to go to the cross.  After the scribes and Pharisees had him arrested, put him on trial, had him mocked and spat upon and struck.  They would turn him over to Pilate and lobby for his death.  They would take everything from him, his freedom, his dignity, and finally his life.  Or rather, he gave it.

Our Lord Jesus gave all that he had – not earthly wealth in the temple offering box – but the far greater riches of his holy precious blood – shed on the cross – for the sins of the world.  He gave all, even his very life into death.  He gave all, held nothing back, and thus gave more and better than anyone could imagine.

He did none of it for show, but all of it for our good, for our salvation.  He did it not for his own righteousness, but for ours.  He did it to give us all the treasures not of earth, but of heaven.

The truth is none of us gives as we should.  Not as much, not as joyfully, not as intentionally.  Our own works are always tainted by selfishness and sinfulness.  Even if we could give all, everything, it wouldn’t be enough.  But Christ gave us the gift of himself.  And that makes all the difference.

If God gave up his own Son for us, if Christ gave himself completely for us, then can’t we trust him to graciously give us all good things?  And if he cares for us so well, then we can trust him to always provide for our needs of body and soul.  Such faith is really the starting point, you see, for our entire life as Christians – whether it be service to God or love for our neighbor. 

It is from faith, out of our trust in him, that all our good works flow.  Such as they are.  Maybe just a couple of mites.  Maybe a little more than that.  But thanks be to God that Christ has given all – that we might live in him.  Rich or poor, husband or wife, widow or orphan.  All we have is from him, and all belongs to him.  Thanks be to God that he given so much to us, and for us.

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

 

The readings for All Saints day remind us, in various ways, of our identity as the people of God.  Even though we are all sinners, yet we are, indeed, all saints.  Blessed by God, as Jesus puts it, so poetically, in the Beatitudes.  We are those who have washed our robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb, as John saw the picture of the church in his vision.  But that same apostle John also wrote the words of our Epistle reading today- which reminds us that we are children of God.  Let’s focus on this theme this morning.

See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.

John begins with the reason we can be called children of God – and that is the love of the Father, given to us.  Some translations render it this way, “See what kind of love the Father has lavished upon us.”  See.  Take note.  Mark it well.  It is great, exceeding, over-the-top love from God the Father himself that makes us his children.

God’s love is sometimes called “grace”.  That is to say it is a love that we cannot expect by rights.  It’s a love that we haven’t earned.  In fact, if anything, just the opposite.  Sin makes us un-lovable.  It is a rebellion that separates us from God.

But like the Father welcomed back his prodigal son and lavished upon him shoes, fine clothing, a ring, and threw him a party – so does the Father give us great and undeserved love far too much to fully describe. 

It’s a love that is manifested to us in the person of his Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.  For God so loved the world, God loved the world in this way, that he sent his only Son, that whoever believes in him has eternal life.

And it is by this love that we are called children of God.  In fact, it’s more than just a moniker or a label.  We’re not just called “children of God” in an abstract or symbolic sense.  So we are!

The love of God shown to us in Jesus Christ changes our reality.  It puts us in a whole new category:  Child of God.

“Children of God” is a phrase that is thrown around these days, even by the secular world.  Sometimes it is made as an offhand remark, to claim that all people are equal, or equally valuable, that we are all created by God and ultimately part of the same human family.  That’s ok, as far as it goes, but that is not what John means here.

When he says we are called, “Children of God” he means it in contrast to those who are not children of God.  The unbelievers.  The wicked and the scoffers.  The followers of false gods or no god at all.  When you become a child of God in Jesus Christ, you are set apart from all of that, set into the very family of God by grace, through faith.  And the difference could not be any more stark.

For one, as a child of God, he regards you differently.  He hears your prayers favorably, through Christ.  There is no such assurance for an unbeliever.  He forgives your sins – he doesn’t hold them against you!  But for those who reject his grace, a reckoning is coming.  And, as one belonging to his very family, your final destiny is sure.  You’ll be with your Father, and with your Brother, Jesus Christ, in the eternal joy of his kingdom.  The unbeliever will be condemned in the final judgment, and suffer eternal punishment.

No, it’s far better to be a child of God by faith in Christ than the alternative.

And yet, even God’s children must suffer the world until he takes us from it, or until Christ comes again in glory.  John continues:

The reason why the world does not know us is that it did not know him. 

When John says, “the world”, he typically means, “the unbelieving world”.  The world does not know us, the children of God, because it did not know him, Jesus, God’s only begotten Son.  But it’s not just that the world considers us strangers – there is real enmity here.  For just as Christ was despised and rejected by the unbelieving world – both Jews and Gentiles – so we, God’s children, will also face persecution.  Jesus reminds us of that at the end of the Beatitudes.  They’ll persecute you the same as they did the prophets – but great is your reward in heaven.

In other words, don’t see the world’s persecution as a sign of the Father’s disapproval.  Don’t think for a moment that the loving Father who lavishes so much love on us will ever forget his beloved children.  And always remember that though we may suffer now for a little while, better days are coming.  God’s children have a future.

Beloved, we are God’s children now, 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.

We are, in this world, even now, God’s children.  We may not always seem like it.  We certainly don’t always act like it.  But his word of declaration and the very blood of Christ have made it so.

 We are God’s children, even now.  We don’t have to wait till we die.  It’s a present reality.  We already have his love, his promises, his salvation.  And yet.  There’s more to come.

“What we will be has not yet appeared.”  What will we be?  Glorified.  Resurrected.  Changed from perishable to imperishable.  Made incorruptible.  Ready to live forever in Christ.  For when he appears, that is, when Christ comes again in glory, we shall see him as he is – and we shall be like him – and we will live with him forever.

And everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure.

This is the hope of God’s children.  To see Christ when he comes again in glory.  To be raised from death to a glorified, eternal body, like his resurrected, glorified body.  This is our hope, and it is in him.

And it is in this hope, this faith, this lavish grace of God, that we are purified.  Our robes are washed and made clean in the blood of the lamb.  We are blessed.  And we will live in righteousness and purity forever.