Sermon - Pentecost 13 - Luke 14:25-35

We’ve been dealing with some weighty questions in these last few chapters of Luke, these last few Sundays.  Will those who are saved be few?  What is it lawful to do on the Sabbath?  Do you think Jesus has come to bring peace on earth? 

In every case the answer is surprising.  In every case, Jesus points us away from ourselves, our own righteousness, our own good works, and toward something greater, something better, namely, himself, and faith in him. 

Today, the question might be posed, “what does it cost, in order to follow Christ?”   

Some might say, “well, it means you have to go to church once a week for about an hour.” 

Others might say, “you have to be a good person, you know, follow the rules, more or less.” 

Still others might say, “All of the above, and don’t forget to contribute your 10% offering.” 

But as nice as all those things would be, they’re not enough.  The cost of discipleship is far greater:  Hating your family.  Hating your own life.  Taking up your own cross.   

Jesus can’t put a finer point on it than this:  “any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.” 

Or in other words, what does it cost to follow Jesus?  Everything. 

This is, admittedly, a hard sell. 

Now, don’t get Jesus wrong.  He says “hate your family” but he’s using strong language to make a point.  He must come first, even before your family.  Even before your own life.  He, true man but also true God, must be your God.  He must be your one and only savior.  Compared to everything and everyone else, even to the good and the best things of life – family, even life itself – he exceeds them all.  And he says this, for your good. 

For no one can be saved from sin by putting his family first.  No one can be free from death by loving and clinging to life.  No one can expect eternal salvation in any other way, by any other means, than by Jesus himself, the narrow door.  So, if you would be his disciple, be his disciple!  Trust him.  Listen to him.  Follow him.  He will be your Savior and you will be saved. 

But it won’t always be easy.  It will cost you.  It will come with crosses. But for the Christian, the person who truly follows Christ, we endure such crosses with faith and trust. 

Following Christ may bring hardship, up close and personal, even from within the bounds of your own family.  Loved ones may not understand, may not agree, may not accept the ways of Christ and of his church.  They might expect you to compromise and follow worldly ways.  And if you don’t, they may call you unloving, see you as backward, consider you too religious.  They may mock you, try to shame you, or simply disdain you quietly.  But carry on, dear Christian, and follow Jesus. 

The world may persecute you even to the point of death, as indeed the world has done to so many Christians over the centuries.  But we hold in high esteem those who were faithful under fire, faithful even to death, who hated their own lives for the sake of Christ, and the confession of his name.  These holy martyrs will certainly not lose their reward. 

But consider the cost.  Count the cost, Jesus says, because if you go into this Christian faith unawares, it could be a disaster.   You might find yourself worse off than if you’d never believed.  If the going gets tough, and you make a shipwreck of your faith, if persecution comes and the hatred of the world, or even your family comes, and it causes you to forsake Christ, then you have suffered and are without Christ anyway.   

Jesus uses two examples to warn us here:  The man building a tower and the king going to war.  Both must consider the cost of their endeavor, and go into it with eyes wide open.  Both must know what to expect.  If the tower construction begins and the money runs out, then the half-built tower will stand as a testament to the man’s foolishness.  Better not to have even started.  If the king were to go to war with half the forces of his opponent, and lose in bloody and costly fashion, he will be remembered for it in the annals of history.  Better to make peace with the stronger army, and fast. 

Consider the cost of being a Christian.  And when you come to the clear-eyed realization that what it costs is... everything... and that you can’t pay it... when you despair of yourself, then that’s right where you ought to be.  For only Jesus can pay the cost for you, and he does. 

First:  the absolute cost – the absolute and perfect demands of righteousness that we can never meet.  Consider the futility of trying to be free from sin, or have a righteousness that exceeds the Pharisees.  Consider the impossibility of loving God with all your heart, strength, soul and mind, or of even loving your neighbor as yourself.  Try going 1 day without sin, one hour, let alone a whole lifetime.  And yet God calls us to be perfect as he is perfect.  He warns us that breaking one law brings guilt for breaking all of it.  He drives us to despair of our own powers to save ourselves.  The cost is just too high.  We can’t pay it.  We never could. 

But Christ can, and Christ has.  His perfect life – lived under the law – lived in our place –  is counted to us as righteousness.  He did love God with all his heart.  He always loved the neighbor as himself, and even more.  He obeyed his Father’s will in all things, perfectly humble, perfectly kind.  He was like us in every way – yet without sin.  And his righteous life covers us like a white robe, blankets us in perfect righteousness.  Only he could pay the price, and thank God he did. 

And he pays it, also, by his blood.  You see, he can call us to take up our cross and follow him, because he went before us with his own cross.  He took our sins there, our guilt all the awful punishment we deserved.  He paid it.  He said, “charge it to me!” and God did.  So that’s the absolute cost – Christ paid it.  By his perfect life, and substitutionary death.  It’s all said and done. 

But there’s still a cost, in this life, this side of heaven.  As we said, being a Christian isn’t easy, but it’s worth it.  It may cost you goods, fame, child or wife.  Trouble and persecution, sacrificial living, cross-bearing of all manner may come.  And yet the kingdom ours remaineth, if we are disciples of Christ.  

Disciples of Christ learn, sometimes even through suffering, that the troubles of this life are not worth the glory that is to be revealed.  That the temporary hardships of life in a fallen world are hard, but they are not worth comparing to the abundant, perfect, glorious and eternal life that is ours in Christ, when we feast with him in kingdom to come. 

So stand firm, faithful to him.  Retain your distinctiveness, your saltiness, and do not be conformed to this world.  Follow Christ, come what may, even through hardship and trouble, even if it comes from your own family, for he has paid the cost, done it all.  Renounce all that you have, and receive all that he gives to you... and that.. Is everything. 

Sermon - Pentecost 11 - Luke 13:22-30

 

Who gets to go to heaven?  You might argue that this is one of the most important questions of the Christian faith, and, of life, really.

This week a prominent politician publicly mentioned that he hoped he can get into heaven, and that perhaps by brokering world peace, he might qualify.

Whatever your politics, we must say that’s not very good theology.

Jesus is asked a related question in today’s Gospel reading, “Lord, will those who are saved be few?”  And in true Christ-like fashion, he doesn’t answer the question directly, or as you might expect.

You might think Jesus would answer, “Oh, no, there will be many in heaven!”  And if he said that, then perhaps the person asking might rest secure that he, himself, is good enough.  Because, after all, the bar would seem pretty low.  And if I compare myself to most of these other so-and-sos, well, I must say my chances are pretty good!

Or what if Jesus said, “Oh yes, only about one in 5 will make it through the pearly gates”  Then no doubt some people would start comparing themselves to their 4 closest friends, and calculating whether they find themselves in the top 20%.

But this betrays what’s behind the question.  It’s really not a philosophical abstraction about whether one in 5 or one in 10 will get to heaven.  The real question, that matters to each of us, is, “will I get there?” 

The answer that Jesus does give, anyway, is an answer of warning and hope, of correction and comfort, of law and of Gospel.

Much as he often does, he redirects his questioner with a word of warning.  Like when he was asked, “What about those the people who died when the tower fell on them, or the people Pontius Pilate killed? What about the man born blind, who sinned, his parents, or him?”  And Jesus tells them to stop trying to figure out other people’s culpability.  Unless YOU repent, you too will perish.

They want to know the day and hour of his return, but he instead tells them to remain watchful.

They want him to settle an inheritance dispute, and he instead tells them a parable about the danger of greed, and a rich fool who dies that very night.

These words of warning from Jesus are stern and harsh, and make no mistake they are serious.  They would rebuke us for taking our salvation for granted, or for thinking it rests on ourselves.

Many will seek to enter but will not be able.  Many think they are destined for paradise but are sorely mistaken.  Many will say, “oh, me and the big guy, we’re good!” but Jesus is not impressed.

He doesn’t know them.  They think he does, they’ll say, “hey we ate and drank with you, you taught in our streets!”  But he will say, “I don’t know you people or where you come from.  Depart from me over there into the weeping and gnashing of teeth”

So often our Lord Jesus warns people of the spiritual dangers.  If you think you are righteous, I’ll call you evildoers!  If you think I come to bring peace, watch out, I come to bring a sword!  If you rest on your own devices, your own merits, your own works, your own goodness,  it won’t avail you.  Even if you can bring about world peace, or solve world hunger, or cure cancer.

Jesus says the door is narrow.  That doesn’t mean it’s hard, but that there’s only one way.  And he is that way. 

If you’re looking for Jesus to recognize your own righteousness, then you will be sorely disappointed in the judgment.  If you’re expecting him to regard your supposed good works or credentials, your decision, your will, your merit or strength.  Then you will find yourself cast out.  But if you despair of yourself and look to him, lean on him, trust in his righteousness, then you have found the narrow door.  Then you will find yourself reclining at table with Abraham and the patriarchs and prophets, and with all the company of heaven. 

In other words, if you think yourself first, you will find yourself last.  And if you consider yourself last, he will exalt you to first.

For he is the first who made himself last.  He is the firstborn of all creation, the first in righteousness, power and majesty and glory.  The only begotten son of the Father, perfect God and perfect man.  The first and the last, the alpha and the omega.  And yet.  He made himself last, a servant of all.  He humbled himself unto death, even death on a cross.  He who had no sin, was made to become sin for us all.  The great reversal.  His blood for our life.  His righteousness for our unrighteousness. His death for our life.

In a way, Jesus does answer whether many or few will be saved.  He says, “many will come from east and west, north and south, and recline at table in the kingdom of God.”

Though the door is narrow, the net is wide.  Though there is only one way to salvation, faith in Christ, that Gospel of Jesus Christ is preached to the ends of the earth. 

It’s clear that salvation is not just for the Jews, or those who can trace their lineage to Abraham.  In fact, ancestry doesn’t matter at all.  Christ has died for all, paid for all sins by his blood, and invites all people to trust in him for salvation.  And the church that he builds by his word and Spirit, established with the teaching of the Apostles, brings that salvation to all nations, east and west, north and south – in the very specific locations, the narrow doors, of altar and pulpit and font.  There is no salvation outside of the church because there is no salvation outside of Christ.

And many will come, and hear and believe, and be saved.  Many will stand in that great cloud of witnesses, in that multitude that no one can number robed in white, that company of heaven.  And if you are in Christ, that includes you, dear Christian.

So, don’t be so concerned about the number of those saved, but be most concerned that you, first of all, enter that narrow door.  You don’t have to create world peace to enter that heavenly kingdom.  Just stay the course on the narrow road, that singular way that is Jesus Christ.  And trust that he will bring you home.  And rejoice that he will bring so many others, from far and wide, all of us together, bought by his blood, all last on their own, all made first in him.

Sermon - Pentecost 8 - Luke 12:13-21

 

One of the greatest temptations for us is that of riches, wealth, things, stuff.  The material world.  Greed and covetousness.  The continual lust for more.  Who hasn’t daydreamed about winning the powerball, or inheriting millions from some long-lost uncle?  Who doesn’t want a bigger house, a nicer car, better duds, or the ability to travel in luxury? 

The New Testament spills much ink, and our Lord Jesus speaks many warnings about the dangers of money, the temptation of materialism, and the like.  Today we have one of his most poignant parables – commonly called the “Parable of the Rich Fool”

And like a fine wine pairing, so often our Old Testament reading closely aligns with the Gospel reading (non surprise, because they have the same ultimate author).  Today we hear from Ecclesiastes and we have the ruminations of Solomon, one of the wealthiest men ever to live.

2 Chronicles 9 tells us about Solomon’s great wealth:

King Solomon's Wealth

13 Every year King Solomon received over twenty-five tons of gold, 14 in addition to the taxes paid by the traders and merchants. The kings of Arabia and the governors of the Israelite districts also brought him silver and gold. 15 Solomon made two hundred large shields, each of which was covered with about fifteen pounds of beaten gold, 16 and three hundred smaller shields, each covered with about eight pounds of beaten gold. He had them all placed in the Hall of the Forest of Lebanon.[a]

17 The king also had a large throne made. Part of it was covered with ivory and the rest of it was covered with pure gold…

20 All of King Solomon's drinking cups were made of gold, and all the utensils in the Hall of the Forest of Lebanon were of pure gold. Silver was not considered valuable in Solomon's day. 21 He had a fleet of ocean-going ships sailing with King Hiram's fleet. Every three years his fleet would return, bringing gold, silver, ivory, apes, and monkeys.

22 King Solomon was richer and wiser than any other king in the world. 23 They all consulted him, to hear the wisdom that God had given him. 24 Each of them brought Solomon gifts—articles of silver and gold, robes, weapons, spices, horses, and mules. This continued year after year.

(and he also had 700 wives and 300 concubines!) 

But now, in Ecclesiastes, near the end of his life, Solomon writes that all of this is vanity!  It’s nothing!  It is of no value.  All the toiling and gathering, all the building of bigger barns, all the stuff upon stuff that Solomon had…

…the business of gathering and collecting, only to give to one who pleases God. This also is vanity and a striving after wind.

It’s like Jesus says about the Rich Fool, “Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?”

The point is the same:  We are all tempted to be caught up in the gathering of material things, but quick to forget that none of this wealth will last.  We will die, and someone else will take over everything you once called yours:  Your bank account, your fancy things, even the contents of your junk drawer.

It's all vanity.  It’s all worthless, ultimately, when you die.

Or another way of saying it is the true wealth of Solomon wasn’t in the gold and the silver and the monkeys.  It was the wisdom God had given him.  So would the Son of David named Jesus point us to true wealth in the wisdom of God. 

If one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions, then in what does life consist?  If we ought not be too concerned to store up treasures on earth, then how do we get the treasures of heaven?

The answer is always found in Jesus Christ, of course.

The Small Catechism puts it nicely, that “he has redeemed me, not with gold or silver, but with his holy precious blood, and with his innocent suffering and death.”  The blood of Christ, the death of Christ, which redeems us from death – that’s the treasure, that’s the real value proposition here.  For all these things of the world ultimately avail to nothing.  They are passing away.  But the work of Christ, the grace of God, the riches of the cross are ours forever.

This is the treasure of heaven, that golden ticket to paradise that is only punched by faith in Christ, and that faith itself a gift and treasure.

And so the good news today is not to shape up and get your priorities in order, give away all your stuff and live like a pauper.  The good news is that you already have the best treasures in Jesus Christ!  Rich or poor, young or old, male or female, whatever your station or place in life.  Christ gives richly and freely of his most precious gifts to us all.  You have the wisdom, better than the riches of Solomon, in Christ!  You have the foolishness of the Gospel, which far exceeds the wisdom of men.

And this, dear Christian, this is what reorders our thinking about all of life’s “stuff”.  We regard the blessings of this life as blessings, yes.  As Solomon says, “There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God”

And yes, we use them and enjoy them, not in covetousness, but with contentment.  We receive our daily bread with thanksgiving, and acknowledge the goodness of the giver.

But we are also generous with these blessings.  Freely have we received, so we also freely give.  The Christian shares out of the abundance God has given.  It is our joy to give.  It’s even better than receiving.

And we also seek to be good stewards of the things he has entrusted to our care.  Like a manager in charge of a house while the master is away, these barns don’t belong to us anyway.  This vineyard is only on loan.  This life itself, and everything in it, all that we have is Thine alone, a trust, oh Lord, from Thee.

But these things are not where our true treasure lies.  They are not all there is.  They are not where life consists. 

The things of the world are limited, they are passing away along with everything in this fallen world. 

So build your bigger barns - for the Gospel, for the faith, for the Word of God.  Put your heart where your treasure already is, with Jesus, with knowledge and wisdom and joy, and not with much gathering and collecting.  Come and receive those treasures today in the holy Sacrament of the Altar.  Live each day in the treasure of your baptism.  And grow in the words that Jesus speaks to you, for you, those words in which are abundant life.