"God Is Love" (1 John 4:7-11, 19-21 | Easter 6B 2017)

Sermon Text: 1 John 4:7-11, 19-21
Date: May 20 & 21, 2017

The Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year B

1 John 4:7–11, 19-21 (EHV)

7Dear friends, let us love one another, because love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. 8The one who does not love has not known God, because God is love. 9This is how God’s love for us was revealed: God has sent his only-begotten Son into the world so that we may live through him. 10This is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. 11Dear friends, if God loved us so much, we also should love one another.

19We love because he first loved us. 20If anyone says, “I love God,” but hates his brother, he is a liar. For how can anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, love God, whom he has not seen? 21This then is the command we have from him: The one who loves God should also love his brother.


God Is Love
1. Love that loved us
2. Love with which we love others

“Love” is perhaps one of the most misused and misapplied words in all of the English language. Perhaps someone uses it to try to justify their actions that may have hurt or offended someone else, claiming, “I only did it because I love you.” Perhaps someone uses it to attempt to color any action or attitude that they don’t like as wrong by calling it “unloving.” Dating couples may say they love each other when they mean they lust after each other. Long-married couples may say they love each other when they mean that they just barely tolerate one another. We can use that word “love” in a variety of ways, most of which tend to be self-serving.

But we don’t need to do that anymore because God gives us his definition of love, and he doesn’t just take us through a dictionary definition. God actually shows what love is by who he is and what he does. God’s actions show that he is love, by loving us and showing us then how to love others.

The apostle John, who often uses the word “love” in his letters and Gospel, remind us that love as God defines it is clearly and completely summarized in Jesus. He says, “This is how God’s love for us was revealed: God has sent his only-begotten Son into the world so that we may live through him. 10This is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins.” God shows that true love has absolutely nothing to do with emotions. Love is attitude and action. God shows us his attitude toward us through his actions, chief among them being his sending Jesus so that we had the sacrifice for sins which would enable us to live with him forever.

In many ways, this summarizes a lot of what we’ve heard from God’s Word throughout this Easter season. If Jesus came that we might live, that means that without Jesus we are dead. And truly, that’s what our sins are. They are death. Sin is the reason there is pain and sickness and even death in this world. Sin is the reason your body ached a little bit when you got out of bed this morning or you had the heated conversation with a family member earlier in the weekend. Sin is the reason for everything bad in our lives.

Sin is rebellion against God. Sin is defiance in the face of his commands. Sin is picking a fight with the Almighty. Sin is the ultimate in selfishness, doing what I want to do regardless of what God says or how it affects anyone else. And for as miserable as all of those previous effects of sins are—the pain, the strife, the sadness—none of it compares to the real result of sin: eternal death in hell. That’s the penalty that God attaches to sin: being separated from him forever, unending torment as a result of our rebellion.

God, of course, did not want that for us. He didn’t want us to suffer for our sins, but at the same time he also couldn’t just brush aside our sins and say, “Don’t worry. No big deal.” His justice demanded a payment for sin, but his love meant that he would send someone to take our place. God shows his love for us in his action of sending his own Son to save us.

Jesus is God’s love for us because he came as our substitute. John uses that phrase again, “atoning sacrifice.” We heard John use that earlier in his first letter a few weeks ago. To atone means to put two in-conflict parties at peace, to put two groups or people who had been separate back “at one” with each other. That was Jesus mission: to put us back at one with God.

So Jesus did that the only way possible, by sacrificing himself. Jesus himself gave that purest definition of love in our Gospel this morning: No one has greater love than this: that someone lays down his life for his friends (John 15:13). Jesus sacrificed his very life to pay for our sins. While he hung on the cross, suspended between heaven and earth, the Father punished Jesus for your sins and mine. He suffered so that you and I would not have to. Jesus gave his life to save ours. That is true love because it is love in action.

So now you and I, despite our sins, are the forgiven children of God. We have been rescued from hell and have been assured of eternal life with our heavenly Father forever. God assures us that our sins are gone, and Jesus’ cross and empty tomb make that fact inescapable. We belong to God and will forever. We benefit from our Savior’s love for eternity.

But that love doesn’t just have an effect in eternity. Your religion is not something that lays dormant inside of you until the final trumpet sounds and Jesus returns on the Last Day. John says, “Dear friends, let us love one another, because love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God…. Dear friends, if God loved us so much, we also should love one another.” John is not saying we should have bubbly feelings in our stomach toward people. He’s saying we should really love others, in the same way that God loved us. When you love others, it should be love in action, sacrificing of yourself to help others. Thus, your faith in Jesus changes the way you deal with other people.

So the question we are left with is: do I? Do I express my joy in God’s love for me by how I treat other people? Do I show love in my everyday life? Do I show real, Christ-like love to my fellow members here at church, to my fellow families in our school, to those people here today that I do not know, to my next-door neighbor, to the stranger on the BART train? Do I show empathy to other people who are different than me? What is my gut reaction to someone whose skin is a different color than mine or whose political ideology is at odds with my own? What is my reaction to the thoughts of people who are significantly older or significantly younger than me? What is my reaction to people who have problems I’ve never had or people who have never had my problems?

John directs us and motivates us: “We love because he first loved us. 20If anyone says, “I love God,” but hates his brother, he is a liar. For how can anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, love God, whom he has not seen? 21This then is the command we have from him: The one who loves God should also love his brother.” Why would we show love to other people? Because Jesus first loved you and loved me by sacrificing himself for us. When we are truly thankful for that, how could we ever not love others?

And loving others doesn’t just mean loving people that are “easy” to love, like the friend that sacrificed so much for you, or the spouse who selflessly gives of themselves to support the family. It doesn’t mean just being kind to those with whom we see eye-to-eye on the social issues of our day. It means acting in real, self-sacrificing love even to those people we would naturally be at odds with. It means being willing to give of yourself to help those who are different than you. Your love cannot be dictated by someone else’s race, or politics, or even their religion. You and I, we want to love everyone in the way that Jesus loved us. He sacrificed himself for people like us who, in sin, were his enemies. That means that our love cannot just be shown when it’s comfortable. That means we love even when it hurts. That means sacrificing ourselves for the benefit of our fellow people, even those we may consider our enemies.

Why? Because supporting someone in their temporary, earthly needs can give us the opportunity to share what they truly need. Showing love to our fellow people is a way to testify to the way the Jesus has loved us, and has loved them. Jesus’ death paid for my sins, but he also paid for the sins of the stranger next to me on the train. How can I not love someone that Jesus loved? How can I not share Jesus with a person for whom he died?

I don’t want to make light of this and imply that any of this is easy. It’s not easy to put yourself in the shoes of someone very different than you. It’s not easy to understand their needs, fears, and concerns. It’s even more difficult to sacrifice your own time, skills, wealth, happiness, whatever, to help another person. But again, love is not emotion; love is action. Love is work. It’s work that hurts; it’s work that is self-sacrificing. But just because it’s difficult does not give us the right to not to do it. If we refuse to love our neighbor, our fellow people, how can we possibly claim that the love of God is in us?

So today, this very moment, start to view people, all people, as God himself sees them, as objects of your love. Branch out from the comfortable objects of your love and look for more difficult ones. Ask yourself, “How did Jesus love me? Therefore, how should I love this person?” Ask yourself, “How did Jesus love this person? Therefore, how should I love this person?” Give of yourself because Jesus gave of himself for you. Love others because he loved you first.

In all of this loving of one another, we can rejoice together. Not just in the earthly love and support that we can share here, but in the eternal life that we received from our God. God is love, and that love has removed our sins and given to us eternal life as a free gift. It has even forgiven us for those times where we have not loved as we should have. Since we are free from all those sins, let us have God’s love permeate every word we speak, ever thing that we do, and every thought that we have. Not just today, but every day, every moment of our lives until he calls us to our eternal home.

God is love. May that love be our life here and forever. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.

"Journey with Jesus" (Mark 9:2-9 | Transfiguration B 2017)

Sermon Text: Mark 9:2-9
Date: February 25 & 26, 2017
The Transfiguration of our Lord, Year B


Mark 9:2–9 (EHV)

2After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John with him and led them up a high mountain where they were alone by themselves. There he was transfigured in front of them. 3His clothes became radiant, dazzling white, whiter than anyone on earth could bleach them. 4And Elijah appeared to them together with Moses, and they were talking with Jesus.

5Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us make three tents: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 6He did not know what to say because they were terrified.

7A cloud appeared and overshadowed them, and a voice came from the cloud, saying, “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him.”

8Suddenly when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus alone.

9As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus commanded them not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead.


Journey with Jesus
1. Enjoy the Future Glory
2. Prepare for the Present Suffering

Hiking can be a tremendously fulfilling activity. Perhaps you spend hours or more on a steep trail and through tough parts of the country only to come into a clearing to see a view that takes your breath away. Maybe you simply enjoy the journey along the way with no grand goal, but take in the exercise and the fresh air and time with loved ones or even in peaceful solitude. Sometimes, though, a hike can just be misery. Maybe you twist your ankle on the way. Maybe you’re being eaten alive by mosquitos. Maybe the humidity is so intense that you’re just one giant sweaty mess with nothing to show for it.

And really, that’s the way life is, isn’t it? Sometimes things are going along great and you feel great rewards and joy in your work or your family or your school or your church or almost anything you work on. Other times, it feels like you’re constantly being beaten down and crushed by your life or your work or your family or even the guilt of your sins. Life has many highs and many lows.

We see that play out for us this morning in our celebration of the Transfiguration. This is perhaps one of those “forgotten” festivals of the church year, paling in comparison to the deserved popularity of events like Christmas and Easter. However, the festival of Transfiguration (historically, actually a Lutheran addition to the church’s calendar) has everyday meaning and application for us in our walk as Christians.

Mark tells us that we meet up with Jesus, Peter, James, and John “after six days,” which naturally leads to the question, “Six days after what?” If you page back in your Bibles to Mark 8 you run into one of the highlights and lowlights of Jesus’ time with his disciples. Jesus had asked his dear friends who people said Jesus was. They knew and recited the popular options that had been drifting through the crowds: John the Baptist raised from the dead? Elijah or one of the other Old Testament prophets? None of these answers hit on who Jesus really was or what he had come to do. So Jesus turned the question to his friends and followers, “But who do you say I am?” (Mark 8:29a). To which Peter gave the beautiful, to-the-point answer, “You are the Christ” (Mark 8:29b).

There’s a lot wrapped up in those four little words. Peter was clearly and boldly confessing that Jesus was the promised Savior, that Jesus was the fulfillment of the whole Jewish religion. Everything from the first promises made in the Garden of Eden to the promises confirmed to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and the whole nation to come from their family was leading to this point—to this man. Jesus was the one who was going to finally bring about the forgiveness God had promised for so long. Jesus was indeed the Christ, the Messiah, the Anointed and Chosen One of God.

But then Jesus said something troubling. He said that he must suffer, be arrested by the leaders, and eventually be put to death by crucifixion. Peter wouldn’t have any of that. He rebuked Jesus! “Never! This will never happen to you!” Peter pleaded. How could God’s Chosen One endure that torment? How could his dear friend and teacher go through that? And how did Jesus respond? “Get behind me, Satan. You do not have your mind set on the things of God, but the things of men” (Mark 8:33).

Ouch. Peter didn’t want to face the reality of what was coming, even though Jesus was clearly not lying to him. Jesus’ rebuke is harsh yet on-point. If Jesus had listened to Peter, the salvation of mankind would be undone. Jesus had a mission from which he could not veer.

So that takes us, six days later, to a hike that Jesus took with Peter, James, and John up a high mountain (for that region, think less of Mount Everest and more of a tall hill). And what happened? “Jesus was transfigured in front of them.” We don’t use the Latin term “transfigure” very often, but perhaps we are more familiar with the original Greek term, “metamorphosis.” Jesus was changed, or more, he was revealed for who he really was. They had known him as Jesus their teacher. Sure, the miracle worker, but he was from the carpenter’s family and the son of Mary. He taught well, but he looked like them. But not here, not now. Mark records, likely from Peter’s eye-witness account, His clothes became radiant, dazzling white, whiter than anyone on earth could bleach them. Matthew’s account describes his appearance as brighter than the sun and Luke as brighter than a flash of lightning. This is not a normal human appearance. More than any authoritative sermon and understanding of the Scriptures show, more than any miracle could hint at, Jesus was showing himself as he really is—true man and true God.

Moses and Elijah appeared with Jesus. Luke’s account tells us they were talking about Jesus’ impending suffering and death. Peter and the others don’t know what to make of any of this, so Peter sputters out the first thing that comes to mind, “Lord, I’ll make three tents so that we don’t have to leave. It’s good for us to be here.” And truly, it is good for us to be here. For here, on the top of this high hill we have a brief glimpse of what we will see in eternal life. The apostle John who saw Jesus’ glorious majesty at this moment would later write in the book of Revelation that eternal life will have no sun or moon because heaven doesn’t need them. God himself will be the light we need forever.

That’s something that we could never have dreamed of ever being a part of. We could never have even thought that we’d ever be able to see Jesus like he is here on the Transfiguration Mount, let alone in all his fullness that he’ll reveal in heaven. Our sins should bar us from that. And yet they won’t. Because as Peter is struggling to spit out sentence fragments and arguably even more amazing thing happens—a cloud, the very glory of the Lord that surrounded the shepherds on Christmas night, the pillar of cloud and fire that led the nation of Israel out of their slavery in Egypt, descends on the mountain and the voice of the Father booms from that cloud, “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him.” Why should we listen to him? Jesus is the one whom the Father had chosen, the one he loves, the one who does all things well, the one who would accomplish our salvation.

That death that he said he would have to die that Peter wanted nothing to do with, that would be the way that we could eventually see this glory. That inglorious and gruesome death would be the solution that we so desperately needed. Jesus would forgive those sins that so completely separated us from God. So when Jesus says he has to die, Peter and you dear Christians today, listen to him. Because in that is the certainty of eternal glory with the God who loves you so greatly.

The lightning clothes, Moses, Elijah, the cloud, the Father’s voice. If there was ever a case to be made for sensory overload, this would be it. And then, just like that, it’s all gone.  Suddenly when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus alone. No one else was there. Jesus was just regular old Jesus again—no more peeks at his divine glory. No more epiphanies into who he really was. Just Jesus, Peter, James, and John as they had hiked up the mountain, needing now to go down again.

But leaving this place meant leaving the glory and the excitement. Leaving this place would mean having to go back down the mountain and deal with life again. Leaving this place would mean having to face all those horrific things Jesus had said were going to happen. You wonder if in Peter’s exclamation, “It is good to be here!” there weren’t still echoes of that event six days earlier, “This shall never happen to you!”

But like all of our criticisms of Peter throughout the Gospels, aren’t we so often Peter? How often don’t we just want the good of being a Christian without the bad? How often don’t we want the highs without the lows? How often don’t we want the fun without the suffering? Whole church bodies (and, humanly speaking, very successful ones at that) center their whole theology around that very concept. But the life of a Christian in this world is not all fun and games. There are good times, true enough. God gives us moments of joy and glory. He gives us times where we see the plans he’s laid for us and the good he’s going to work from them. But then, from those times, we must journey back down the mountain to face the troubles that lie ahead.

Rather than being discouraged by leaving the good times behind, be strengthened by the good times to face the troubling. You know the end game to all of this. You know that for as miserable as this life can be, what is coming will be free from those miserable things. In the end, we will be with our Savior whose sun-wrapped clothing we will see for eternity because he was willing to suffer for us.

We’re leaving one of the high mountains of the church year today. We’re descending into the valley of Lent where we will have to face our sin head on. It won’t be comfortable or fun, but it will be absolutely necessary. We will say farewell to the term “Alleluia” in our worship for the next six weeks as a solemn reminder that our sin is not a reason to rejoice. But as we journey through the muck and mire we know what is waiting. We have to see our horrible repulsive sins for what they are and see the unimaginable, horrific price it cost our Savior to rid us of them. But we know that, Lord-willing, “Alleluia” will return to our worship. There is no other response to the angel’s message, “He is not here; he is risen!”

Hikes aren’t always fun and even the best ones must come to an end. Thanks be to God that after the often-miserable journey of this life we will be able to say with Peter, “It is good to be here.” And because of Jesus, the one whom the Father loves and the one who loves us, we will not have to leave. There our Journey with Jesus will end and we will simply be with him forever. Amen.