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.

Sermon - Reformation Day (Observed) - Psalm 46

 

This Reformation Day we take a closer look at the appointed Psalm for the day, Psalm 46.  “God is our refuge and strength.” “The God of Jacob is our fortress.”  These words in particular inspired Martin Luther to write his great hymn, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.”  The hymn is a sort of paraphrase of Psalm 46, and a profound sermon in its own right.

God is our refuge and strength,
    a very present help in trouble.

A refuge is a place where you go when the going gets tough.  That’s our God! A place of safety in a time of danger.  He is our strength – that is also to say that we, ourselves, have no strength to speak of.  When trouble comes, He is our help – our only hope.  But he is present with us, not far off, but ever near.  By his word, and in his sacraments, he is with us always, even to the end of the age.

² Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
    though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
³ though its waters roar and foam,
    though the mountains tremble at its swelling. 

This world is a scary place, because it’s broken by sin.  We, ourselves, are broken by sin.  The creation, the earth, the mountains, the seas – all of it seems against us.  If the very ground beneath your feet isn’t a sure place to stand, then, what?  If the mountains themselves tremble when the flood waters threaten, then how can we survive?  But we will not fear.  Because God is our refuge and strength.  And he who created earth and sea and all that is – he is our help in time of trouble.

⁴ There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
    the holy habitation of the Most High.
⁵ God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;
    God will help her when morning dawns.

And now a picture of a better place, a peaceful home – the city of God.  The dwelling place of God with his people.  It has a river, it has everything we need.  Most importantly, God is present there with us, in the midst of her, ready to help when morning dawns.  Just around the corner.

The Book of Revelation keys in on this imagery, too.  It pictures our eternal home, our heavenly dwelling, as an idealized Jerusalem.  The city of God in which there’s no suffering or fear or anything impure.  More than just a safe place to hide, it is a place to delight and rejoice.  And with all the earth shaking and quaking and mountains quivering like pudding, the people of the city of God shall not be moved.  What a contrasting picture.

⁶ The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
    he utters his voice, the earth melts.
⁷ The Lord of hosts is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress. 

But it’s not just the creation that is against us – the mountains and seas.  The nations rage.  There are enemies out there, angry and raging foes who would take our lives.  Enemies of the church.  Enemies of the Gospel.  Ready to ridicule and ostracize, persecute and oppose.  That’s why even Luther had to hide out in the Wartburg Castle for a time. 

And even worse, our real struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the spiritual forces behind the scenes.  Kingdoms and powers, devils all the world may fill, all eager to devour us.  And of course, they work under the influence of the Old Evil Foe himself, who wants nothing good for us, only death and despair. Deadly woe.

But God is our refuge and strength.  Therefore we shall not fear.  Our Old Evil Foe is judged, the deed is done, one little word can fell him.

⁸ Come, behold the works of the Lord,
    how he has brought desolations on the earth.
⁹ He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
    he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the chariots with fire.

You think the fearsome armies of evil have the upper hand?  Oh, no.  Come behold the works of the Lord.  Look, just look and see what our God does to them.  He brings desolations on the earth.  That is to say, he destroys our enemies in the most decisive fashion.  He makes wars cease, even to the ends of the earth.  He even destroys the weapons of war, the bow, the spear, the chariot, so that no further war can be made.  The enemy is utterly undone, by the Lord, the God of Jacob, our helper in time of trouble.

But look what Luther does with this in his hymn:  He further describes and identifies the Valiant One, whom God himself elected.  Our champion in the fight!  Our representative on the field of battle!  The one, the only one who can and does bring us the victory.  Ask ye, “who is this?”  Jesus Christ it is!  Of Sabbaoth Lord, that is, the Lord of the heavenly armies.  With legions and legions of angels at his beck and call, an army far more fierce than anything the old serpent can say.  This is not even a fair fight.  Christ wins the victory, he wins it for us, and he holds the field forever.

And ask ye, how does he do it?  How does our Champion defeat the Old Evil Foe, and all the raging nations, the angry fallen nature and the sin at the root of it all?  With one little word, the word of the Gospel.  It’s not the usual weapons of war, or the every-day way to fight a battle.  Our Champion wins by losing his life.  He defeats death by dying.  He destroys the forces of evil by taking all sin on himself, and submitting to destruction on the cross.  And thus he rescues us from sin, death and the power of the devil.  Thus he secures for us an eternal victory. 

So, we too must let the one little word remain – the word of the gospel – the little word that can fell the ancient dragon.  It’s why we Christians need no take up spear and bow, or sword or gun.  Christ fights the battle for us, and only calls us to hear and believe the word.  There’s not fevered anxiety about this fight.  There’s a calmness in the midst of it – even if the enemy rages and arrows are whizzing by our heads.  He says:

¹⁰ “Be still, and know that I am God.

Profound and simple words of faith.  Be still.  Trust.  He’s got this.  No sin can condemn you.  No devil can vex you.  Not even death can end you.  Be still.  And know, be certain and confident, that he is God.  He’s your God.

    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth!”

The final victory is his.  He, our God, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, is exalted among the nations, as the Gospel goes for the and disciples are made by baptizing and teaching.  He is exalted in the earth, when on the last day he returns in glory, and ushers in the new heaven and new earth, the eternal home for all who belong to him. 

¹¹ The Lord of hosts is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress. 

The refrain repeats, the same words that began the psalm.  The Lord of hosts is with us;  we are not alone.  He and his heavenly forces stand with us.  And we stand safe and secure in him, our fortress.  A mighty fortress is our God.  And Christ holds the field, for us, forever.  The kingdom ours remaineth.

Amen.

 

 

Sermon - Pentecost 22 - Matthew 10:23-31

 

Today's Gospel reading follows immediately after last week's, when Jesus lovingly tried to call the rich young man to repentance. “If you want to enter the kingdom, go sell everything you have” and the man went away sad, for he was very rich. And now, Jesus comments on the incident, and on the broader problem of those with great riches entering the kingdom. And his disciples are amazed.

Why were they amazed by this? Perhaps because then, like now, we look at those with wealth and riches in a certain light. We see wealth and riches as a mark of success and perhaps even a sign of God's favor.

We Americans are especially susceptible to this kind of thinking. We are the world's superpower, and even in a down economy, the wealthiest country in the world. Our standard of living is among the highest, and we enjoy many physical blessings just by living here. Even our poor people are quite well off by a worldly standard. So the easy thing to think is, God must favor us. He must be rewarding us, as a nation, for our great values on freedom and equality. We're so wonderful aren't we? God must really love this country the most.

Well maybe you're not so convinced. But what about when we look at worldly success in the church? Look at the churches that are successful, and have it made – in terms of money and people. The happening places, the bigger the better. Yes, they have the nicest buildings, the best parking lots, the newest sound systems. And the people are going there in droves – look they have so many young people and now they need to build and expand again and.... you might think... that God is really blessing that congregation because of its worldly success, its wealth. A sign of God's favor. But be careful. Bigger isn't always better, more isn't always more favored, and these outward trappings of success can easily be as much a sign of problems in the church.

Or even as an individual. Even when we look at ourselves. For many others might consider us to be wealthy. But don't we think we've earned it? Don't we tell ourselves we deserve all the nice things we have? We've worked for them. We take care of our things. We give back... somewhat... We know how to handle money. We have lots of handy reasons and rationalizations- but in the end it's the same lie – that God likes me better, that he's giving me all these good things because I deserve them. That whatever success and wealth and “stuff” I have in life is mine and I earned it.

But Jesus throws a monkey wrench in all that. For those rich people, for those successful people, and even for you and me. How difficult it is to enter the kingdom of God! And if you're rich – well – all the more. It's easier for a camel - the largest animal (perhaps they weren't familiar with elephants and dinosaurs) to go through the smallest opening. It's a ridiculous thought. It's physically impossible.

And notice the disciples' reaction. “Then who can be saved?!” See, it's not that they considered themselves rich, but they thought that wealth was a sign of God's favor. And if even the ones God blesses with riches can't enter the kingdom, than what about poor little old me? If those who are successful can't even do it, then what about me – I struggle from day to day. I can't keep my ducks in a row. I can't handle my problems. I can't even control myself. I'm a mess. I'm a sinner.

This is what Jesus is looking for. They are starting to realize the problem. They need him. You need him. Despair of your own efforts, your own works, your own value and worth. If even the rich and powerful and successful and glamorous are shut out of the kingdom, if not even those far “better” than you and I can get in... then we are sunk. On our own, we are lost. Without God, it is impossible.

“With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God.”

Once the despair starts to set in, the helplessness and hopelessness of their situation, Jesus starts to open the door for the Gospel. He begins to explain that while yes, it is impossible for you, even for the rich man, to enter the kingdom... with God, it's possible. It's possible, and it's a reality, in Jesus Christ... but first Peter interrupts....

“Lord, we've left everything to follow you...” Maybe this is the trick, Peter reasons. Maybe it's not being rich, but being poor that earns God's favor. Maybe it's leaving everything behind. Maybe it really is selling all your stuff and going to live in a monastery, or serving amongst the poor of Calcutta. 

But it's not that either. It's never been about having the things or not having the things. It's never been about being rich or poor, successful or not. Or about where you live and how big your house or small your checkbook. God desires all men to be saved. God blesses rich and poor alike with the blessings that truly count. It's about the heart, it's about the faith, it's about Jesus.

Jesus, who truly left everything behind, when he left his throne in heaven to be born a lowly human and laid in a lowly manger. Foxes have holes and birds have nests, but the son of man had no where to rest his head. He had no wealth or beauty that we should regard him, but humiliated himself – stricken, smitten, afflicted, chastised and condemned. Even his garments were stripped from him at the end. A man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief. Hardly a worldly success story. He who was first became last of all... at the cross.

This is how God does the impossible. This is how God gets the rich and the poor and even you through the eye of the needle into the kingdom of heaven – through the cross. Through the impossible thought of God becoming Man, and the Creator dying for the creature, the one without sin, taking the sins of all. And through death, bringing forth life. Impossible? Not with God. Not with Jesus Christ. Not with silver or gold, but with his holy precious blood.

And this faith will lead us who believe to fear, love, and trust in him above all things. Above all material wealth and riches. It may mean literally leaving some things behind. Or it may mean simply repenting of putting these idols before the true God. Christ is worth far more to us than “houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands”. And Christ promises us far more than any of that in the kingdom to come.

But he also mentions persecution. Before the bright shiny day at the end of the tunnel, there are persecutions. Christians can expect that the life of faith brings trouble, hardship, and persecution. People won't regard us like they regard the rich – with awe and admiration. The world won't roll out the red carpet for the followers of Jesus.

In the kingdom of God things aren't always as they seem. The rich aren't always the ones with God's favor. And the persecuted and troubled aren't always the ones out of favor. The last are sometimes first, and the first are sometimes last. And even the extraordinary, the incredible, the impossible.... is possible, and very real. Even for you the sinner, salvation is sure, through Jesus Christ our Lord. In his name, Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 21 - Mark 10:2-16

 

One of those little aphorisms they taught us at seminary was something like this, “ministry happens in the interruptions.”  In other words, don’t be surprised when the most important things you do to serve people as a pastor are unplanned, and not part of the “normal” routines, not something that you think is important or necessary, but something that happens when some need arises or some question needs an answer.  It’s part of the reason I like to keep my office door open as much as possible – I’ve actually learned to appreciate the “interruptions.”

Well, today, as Jesus is setting out on a journey, he is interrupted.  A rich young man comes running up and kneels before Jesus in what appears to be quite a show.  He has, also, quite a question, and really an important one for him and for all people who would be saved.  “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” 

From the outset we can see something is amiss with this young man.  He calls Jesus, “Good teacher” and Jesus pushes back on that.  “Why do you call me good?  No one is good except God alone.”  Now, of course, Jesus isn’t denying that he is good, OR that he is God.  But with his question he begins to unravel this man’s self-righteousness. The rich young man will go on to show that he doesn’t recognize true goodness, nor does he see in Jesus anything more than a “good teacher.”  If only he would see him as the Son of God, the Savior. 

Nonetheless, he engages the question.  What must I do to inherit eternal life?  Jesus points him to the commandments.

We might notice that Jesus begins here with the second table of the law, those commandments that have to do with our love for our neighbor.  And we will get to those in a minute.  But what about the first table of the law?  Why not address that?  It seems Jesus has already done so, at least in part, by challenging the man’s understanding of who God is – no one is good but God alone.  No one is deserving of our fear, love and trust, but God alone.  No one’s name is to be holy, but God alone.  No one’s word is worth gathering around, week in and week out, but God alone.  There is no other source of good for us in life, but every good and perfect gift comes down from above, that is to say, from God.  And no one comes to the Father, except through the Son.

But to the point, Jesus says, “you know the commandments…” and then he summarizes the second table in loose fashion:

Do not murder, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.

And now we see just how twisted up this young man is, for he claims, “All these I have kept from my youth.”

We know better, don’t we?  You may not have murdered someone, but you’ve hurt and harmed your neighbor, even if only in thoughts, but likely also in words and deeds. 

You might not have outwardly committed adultery, but what goes on in the darkness of your heart would be shameful even to mention. 

You can say you haven’t borne false witness, but that would be a false witness itself, as each of us drags our neighbor’s good name through the mud when it suits us. 

Honor your father and mother.  Yes, you probably love your parents, but that doesn’t mean you have always honored them, nor does it mean you always respect and honor the other authorities God places over you. 

In short, you, and I, and all people must admit, “all these I have broken from my youth.”  We must stand before Jesus and confess our sins, rather than rationalize our own goodness.  And he, who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

How frustrated our Lord must have been when the man failed to see his sin in light of the commandments.  He doesn’t know what good is, and he doesn’t know God rightly.  He thinks he loves his neighbor, but he doesn’t.  And he worships another god, his wealth.  And so Jesus gives it one last shot.  He zeroes in on this man’s great idol, and aims for the very foundations.  “You lack one thing.  Sell all your stuff and give to the poor, then come follow me.”

Whatever you won’t give up to follow Jesus, that’s your idol.  That’s your god.  For many people it’s wealth, for others its power or pleasure or social standing.  But there’s only room enough for one God in the human heart, and no man can serve two masters – it’s God or money.  And this man went away sad, for he had great wealth.  It seems, at least at that moment, he couldn’t forsake his false god and follow the true God.

And though some might say it’s cruel to trouble people about their sins, notice that Mark says, “Jesus looked at him and loved him.”  He doesn’t rub his nose in the commandments out of hatred.  He doesn’t call him to repent of his idolatry out of malice.  The call to repent is a loving call to turn from the self-destruction of sin, and the deceit of self-righteousness, to turn to Christ and live.  For Jesus loved him.  And Jesus loves you, too.

Greater love has no one than this: that he would lay down his life for his friends.  Greater good has no one done than this:  that he gave up his life for us all.  The cross is the only answer the debt of sin that we’ve incurred, but Jesus spends everything he has to pay it – even his holy, precious blood. 

Jesus preaches some strong law today, to the rich young man and to all men and women, even to us.  But he’s also the bringer of the best good news, the salvations that comes through him and him alone. He looks at us, and loves us, too.

Christ, for his part, kept all these laws from his youth.  He always helped and supported his neighbor in bodily need.  He never committed adultery.  He never took what wasn’t his.  He always honored his father and mother.  He kept and fulfilled every law to every detail, like us in every way yet without sin.  He lived a life of perfect righteousness from conception to birth to adulthood.  In his work in his rest, on his own and with so many others.  He always, always, did right, did good, and never sinned.

And the one who alone is good, and who is himself God, gives that righteousness to us, as a gift, a blessing, yes, an inheritance.  Not to be earned, not to be won by great effort or willpower.  Only by pure grace.

What must I do to inherit eternal life?  Answer:  Nothing.  Believe in Jesus Christ, and you will be saved.  Trust him who has done it all for you.  It’s an inheritance, after all, something you get when someone dies.  And the Good Teacher did just that.  He died for your inheritance, and he rose to pave the way for your eternal life.