"The Triune God Bless You" (Sermon on Numbers 6:22-27) | June 15, 2025

Sermon Text: Numbers 6:22-27
Date: June 15, 2025
Event: Holy Trinity Sunday (First Sunday after Pentecost), Year C

Numbers 6:22–27 (EHV)

The LORD told Moses 23to speak to Aaron and to his sons and to tell them to bless the Israelites with these words:

24The LORD bless you and keep you.
25The LORD make his face shine on you
and be gracious to you.
26The LORD look on you with favor
and give you peace.

27In this way they will put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them.

The Triune God Bless You

How can you be a blessing to other people? There are as many answers to that question as there are people here, multiplied by the people you interact with. For someone, you might lend a listening ear. For someone else, you might give advice. For someone else, you might bring encouragement. For someone else, you might bring some kind of physical support—giving money, providing food, etc. For someone else, your needs might enable their love to bless you, and in that way, you are also a blessing to them, allowing them an outlet for their thanksgiving to God, their Savior.

How does God bless you? Even more so, the answers to that question are innumerable. First of all, in what realm are we talking: physical, spiritual, eternal? And in what capacity? Preserving you, strengthening you, forgiving you, making certain promises to you, listening to you, answering you… the list goes on and on and on.

But we do well not to just zone out at the innumerable blessings that God provides and lose track of the specifics because the total is so unfathomable. Even if we can’t recognize every blessing, it behooves us to notice those we can recognize, lest we fall into a pit of apathy or discontent.

The three-fold blessing that God gave his Old Testament people around 3,500 years ago, which we still use to this day to close most of our worship services, gives us a good opportunity to examine the blessings of our triune God—what he’s done and continues to do for us. So this morning, let’s spend a few minutes taking a closer look at these familiar words and see just what the Lord is assuring us of when he gives us this blessing.

The first of the three-fold blessings, God’s protection and preservation, we usually ascribe to the Father. When God promises to “keep you”, he’s promising to protect you, body and soul. The almighty God, creator and sustainer of the universe, has seen fit to make it clear to you, personally, that he is keeping you safe. He reminds you that he will provide anything you need in this life. By his hand, he protects you, he provides for you. It’s the very thing Jesus taught us to pray in the Lord’s Prayer, “Give us this day our daily bread… lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” That is the same “keeping” that God promises through this blessing, to provide for our physical needs, and more importantly, our spiritual needs.

The first promise, “The LORD bless you” gives a different slant on God’s protection on providence. When we pray the Lord’s prayer, we merely ask God to keep us alive, to not lead us astray and deliver us from evil things in this life, but the blessings of God go far beyond what we need. This is God the Father going above and beyond, being immeasurably generous. We should be content with just receiving what we need from our heavenly Father, but how many of us only have what we need? We may not have everything we want, we may not have all of the nicest things that our heart might desire, but who among us really has only scraps of clothing, enough to protect the body? Who among us really has only just enough food to keep us alive? God continues to pour out blessings, more than we can even keep track of!

But we’re not always content, even with the blessings God gives us above and beyond what we need, over and above the “keeping” that he promised. How often have you taken the things you have in your home for granted, wanting more? How frequently have you believed the lie that somehow you’d be happier if you have more things? How often haven’t you scorned God’s blessings by saying with your desires, if not with your mouth, “No God, this isn’t good enough. I deserve better; I demand more.”

And in these ways, we sin against our almighty Provider. We’ve act like a greedy leech who latches on to the blessings of God. Do you know what a popular (although maybe not the safest) way to remove leeches is? Burn them off. Use a flame, use harsh chemicals, but inflict enough pain, and they will release. That’s what God should do to you and me for our greed and antagonizing—burn us off from the flow of his blessings in the punishment of hell. Scripture refers to it as a never-ending fire and a lake of sulfur; that is what we deserve for our ingratitude and malcontent toward God.

Yet God continues to go above and beyond. His benediction doesn’t stop with his preservation. We move on to the second person of the Trinity, the Son, Jesus, and what his work is. “The LORD make his face shine on you and be gracious to you.” The end is key—be gracious. God’s grace is the love he has for us even though we do not deserve it. The Lord is rightly angered by us and by our sin, but his graciousness means that he would rather not punish us for our sins; he would rather we enjoy his blessings in the sinless city of heaven. But he can’t simply look the other way or pretend our sins are not there. That’s why we ascribe the second part of this blessing to Jesus.

Something had to be done for God to be gracious to us, to forgive our sins. God couldn’t ignore his justice; he couldn’t ignore what our sins deserved. So, the Father sent his Son to tazke out place under the punishment of hell that we deserved. Remember how he promised to “keep” us? This is something we needed; it was absolutely vital that we have a solution to our sin and protection from the punishment of our sins. Jesus, on the cross, epitomizes not only the Father’s providence for us but also his graciousness toward us. He has mercy on us because he punished Jesus for our sins. Jesus paid the price we owed; our sins are gone.

When our sins clung to us like tar, the thought of seeing God face-to-face was rightfully alarming. For a sinner to see God means instant death. The sinful cannot be in the presence of the perfect, almighty God. But now that God has been gracious to us and our sins are forgiven, the thought of God’s face shining on us is not frightening. In fact, to have Jesus’ face shining on us, watching over us, is a comforting blessing! Because of Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross, we are God’s children again, and his face shining on us is no more frightening than the face of a loving parent or grandparent loving us and supporting us.

God has demonstrated, at least twice now, in twenty words, how he goes above and beyond for us. That shockingly generous outpouring doesn’t stop when we get to the third and final portion of the benediction. As you might have guessed, the work generally ascribed to the Father was discussed first, and then the Son, and last (but certainly not least) is the Holy Spirit.

When it comes to our spiritual and eternal security, God has not left us guessing. He hasn’t set up a system that leaves us grasping at theological and philosophical straws, hoping to gain some portion of the truth. “The LORD look on you with favor and give you peace.” As if it wasn’t enough for him to just take care of us, as if it wasn’t enough for him to forgive our sins, he heaps the blessings on us by granting us that peace. The Holy Spirit is often referred to as the silent person of the Triune God. With a few notable exceptions like the first Christian Pentecost Day that we celebrated last week, the Holy Spirit does his work quietly, with very simple tools: words, spoken or read; words along with water; words along with bread and wine. He tells us the whole mystery in his Word. And even more than that, he creates the faith in our hearts to believe it through that Word and the sacraments of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. He doesn’t leave us to flounder around in our own ideas, but he guides us to the truth, guides us to his true, eternal peace.

In one way of thinking, the Holy Spirit’s work is the most important of the three. Without the Holy Spirit’s work, we’d never know who provided all those blessings for us. Jesus’ sacrifice would be a waste because we’d never benefit from it; we could never just “figure it out” on our own. But through the Holy Spirit’s work, he grants us God’s peace—the peace that comes from knowing of the Father’s love for us, and the Son’s sacrifice in our place. After that is set, turning his face toward us, looking on us with favor, is the natural result. We are once again his children, bought by the blood of Jesus, believers through the work of the Holy Spirit. He’s done so much for us; he can’t help but look on us with favor.

The one thing that is key for us to remember when we hear these words is how God concludes the direction for the priests to bless the people. “In this way they will put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them.” Just as I forgive your sins here in worship or privately, not by my authority, but by Jesus’, I am not the one blessing you at the end of worship. Whether it is me or anyone else bringing these words to you, the people speaking these words are simply reminders for you of what God has promised and what God has done—far more than he ever needed to! The benediction at the end of our services is not just some quaint way to end church, nor is it some kind words that we hope might be true for someone. It is a prayer and request for the sure promise from God, the God who protects, saves, and guides you always.

Whether it feels like it or not, this blessing is yours now and eternally for Jesus’ sake. Our Triune God loves us with a shockingly generous love. May his promises and his blessings be foremost on your minds today and for the rest of your lives! Amen!

"Behold! The Victor!" (Sermon on Revelation 19:11-16) | June 1, 2025

Sermon Text: Revelation 19:11–16
Date: June 1, 2025
Event: The Ascension of Our Lord (Observed), Year C

Revelation 19:11–16 (EHV)

I saw heaven standing open, and there was a white horse! Its rider is called Faithful and True, and he judges and makes war in righteousness. 12His eyes are like blazing flames, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him, which no one knows except he himself. 13He is also clothed in a garment that had been dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God. 14The armies in heaven, which were clothed with white, clean, fine linen, were following him on white horses. 15Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. He will shepherd them with an iron staff. He himself is going to trample the winepress of the fierce anger of the Almighty God. 16On his garment and on his thigh this name is written: King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Behold, the Victor!

When the clock ticks down on the championship game, it’s not too hard to figure out who won and who lost, even if you don’t look at the score. The body language on both teams will make that clear. In one, you will see joy springing from out of a well of energy they didn’t know they had. In the other, you will see the weight of disappointment hang heavy.

This morning, we are celebrating Jesus’ ascension. His ascension into heaven, much like his resurrection, is all about his victory. He rose because he accomplished all he needed to do in his death—he won! He ascended into heaven because he accomplished all he needed to in his time walking this earth—he won! So while today may not have all of the trappings of our Easter Day celebrations, the message and the comfort are very related.

But as we noted last week in our distinctions between the concepts of “joy” and “happiness,” sometimes it doesn’t really feel like Jesus has won anything, or at least nothing that makes a difference to us today. In fact, Jesus’ ascension can even seem like a badthing. We can’t see him anymore. He promised not to leave us as orphans, but doesn’t it feel like that sometimes? We know he promises to be with us always to the end of the age (Matthew 28:20), but often it doesn’t feel true or real. We can often feel more like the team that lost the championship game rather than the team that won.

As we noted last week, though, our emotions are often a poor judge of reality. Just because I might feel abandoned by God doesn’t mean that I am. So sometimes, our emotional selves need a reality check. And that is what we have before us this morning. In our Second Reading, we have a vivid picture of the reality of Jesus’ victory portrayed for us in John’s Revelation.

Leading up to our reading, John had seen the enemies of God—both of the spiritual and earthly realms—flex their power in a way that would be alarming to those on the earth. But the outcome was never in question. God throws down his enemies. God is the victor, and it wasn’t even close.

What we have before us is almost a snapshot, a freeze-frame that might hit just at the end of the movie, showing the hero triumphant over all the adversity that had led up to that moment. We would do well to study the details of this image to understand better what has happened and thus what will happen.

I saw heaven standing open, and there was a white horse! Its rider is called Faithful and True, and he judges and makes war in righteousness. Because Revelation is largely made up of visions, it makes heavy use of picture language, so people, places, numbers, and even colors often have meaning beyond the surface level. The color white throughout Revelation is a symbol of purity. You know how brave you need to be to wear a white shirt to a spaghetti dinner—any fleck of red sauce is going to jump out to anyone’s eyes! So, too, in spiritual terms, the purity of white would very clearly show any stain of sin. A garment cleaned and bleached would differ significantly from the garment run through the muck. This rider on his white horse is a picture of purity. And, as we’ll see, a picture of victory over impurity.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen the white horse and its rider in Revelation. Back in Chapter 6, we heard about what has come to be known as the “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.” A rider on a red horse comes and is given the authority to make war across the earth; a rider on a black horse brings famine, making food costs almost impossibly high; a rider on a pale green horse brings death of all sorts to the earth. But the first of the four horsemen is the rider on a white horse. John says, “A crown was given to [the rider on the white horse], and he went out conquering and to conquer” (Revelation 6:2). While the other horsemen are bringing calamities to the earth, this rider is different. His pure color and his conquering might are a vivid depiction of Jesus and his carrying out the gospel to the ends of the earth, one of the necessary things that has to happen before the end.

In chapter 19, we meet the rider on the white horse again, and the picture is even clearer. His name—Faithful and True—and his actions, making judgments and war in righteousness, show that this is not some self-centered, greedy warmonger. This is a King making judgments and war for the good of the people, to protect them from their enemies. And this is the explanation for the alarming appearance of his clothing: He is also clothed in a garment that had been dipped in blood. It’s not the rider’s blood, but as he walks among the now-calm battlefield, the blood of his enemies soaks into the hem of his robe. His enemies, ourenemies, have been vanquished.

His eyes are like blazing flames, and on his head are many crowns. These are divine images, especially the eyes. Our eyes need light to function. To see in a dark place, we need to bring a light source; otherwise, our eyes are useless. Not so for God. His eyes bring their own light—blazing flames—to see anything and everything, even the thoughts and attitudes of our hearts.

And finally, we have an identification of this rider beyond any debate: his name is the Word of God. John began his Gospel this way: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him everything was made, and without him not one thing was made that has been made. In him was life, and the life was the light of mankind. The light is shining in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. … The Word became flesh and dwelled among us. We have seen his glory, the glory he has as the only-begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth. … For out of his fullness we have all received grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ (John 1:1–5, 14, 16–17). This rider on the white horse, victorious, clothing dripping with the blood of his enemies, is none other than the Word of God himself—Jesus, our Savior.

And how does the Son of God rule? Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. He will shepherd them with an iron staff. With the word from his mouth and with a shepherd’s staff. The sword of his Word is perhaps best described by the writer to the Hebrews: The word of God is living and active, sharper than any double-edged sword. It penetrates even to the point of dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow, even being able to judge the ideas and thoughts of the heart. And then the writer continues, reminding us how this victorious King with his flaming eyes rules his kingdom: And there is no creature hidden from him, but everything is uncovered and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we will give an account (Hebrews 4:12-13).

Let’s take a step away from the intense imagery of Revelation for just a moment and try to apply this to ourselves today. What does it mean that this rider on the white horse, the Word of God, who conquers all his enemies, now reigns? It is a vivid reminder of all that Jesus has done for us. Our spiritual enemies—sin, death, hell, and even Satan himself—lie decimated at his feet. Jesus’ cross didn’t look like this to our eyes, but here we see what was happening. Everything that stood against us and thus against him was obliterated there.

But we’ve already discussed this morning how that doesn’t always feel true. We suffer under the loads of disappointment and heartaches. Our sin continues to plague us, as does the sin of others. We battle health crises and have concerns for the future. We lose dear loved ones to death that feels all too inevitable and powerful, not at all like the conquered enemy that Jesus claims it to be.

We’re often led to despair or the assumption that Jesus has left us. After all, what more perfect image of abandonment could there be than Jesus rising into the sky, being hidden by the clouds, and then gone? And yet here we see that all of those feelings and assumptions are wrong. Jesus has not abandoned us; he rules all things for our eternal good, even if we can’t see it or understand it in the moment.

But remember what the angels said to the disciples as they squinted at the sky: “Men of Galilee, why are you standing here looking up into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11). Jesus is not gone, nor is he even permanently hidden from our eyes. Instead, this rule that seems invisible to us will come to an end. Jesus will return to bring a clear end to this sinful, fallen world and to bring us to himself in the perfection of eternal life.

We often feel like we’re on the losing side of this thing or that—or maybe everything! But the reality is that we are on the Victor’s side because he conquered all our spiritual enemies to rescue us for eternity. And so we can take that fear or depression or worry back to the cross, the empty tomb, the hillside with the disciples looking into the sky, and to the hill where the Rider on the white horse stands triumphant. This is the reality, no matter what our eyes can see, ears can hear, or our emotions can feel. Jesus has ascended because he won—sin, death, and hell are vanquished, and we will be with our God forever.

My dear brothers and sisters, behold the Victor! Behold your Victor! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.

"Love!" (Sermon on John 13:31-35) | May 18, 2025

Sermon Text: John 13:31–35
Date: May 18, 2025
Event: The Fifth Sunday of Easter, Year C

John 13:31–35 (EHV)

After Judas left, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in him. 32If God is glorified in him, God will also glorify the Son in himself and will glorify him at once.”

33“Dear children, I am going to be with you only a little longer. You will look for me, and just as I told the Jews, so I tell you now: Where I am going, you cannot come.

34“A new commandment I give you: Love one another. Just as I have loved you, so also you are to love one another. 35By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Love!

What is the mark of a Christian? You could point to something like a cross on a chain around someone’s neck as a possible sign, but that’s not always going to be clear-cut—surely anyone can wear that if they wanted to, whether they believed that Jesus was their Savior or not. A piece of jewelry could as easily be a sentimental piece (perhaps it belonged to a loved one now passed away) as it is an expression of what is in someone’s heart. Perhaps the mark of being a Christian is attending church regularly. While that might be a better indication than jewelry choices, it’s still not a slam-dunk because what if someone is going because they're curious or feel it’s an obligation, not because they believe? Certainly, not everyone sitting in a church for a worship service could be called, or would want to be called, a Christian.

Jesus gives us a mark of a Christian in our Gospel for this morning: Just as I have loved you, so also you are to love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. Jesus points to love as a clear marker of whether someone is a Christian, indicating that they trust in Jesus as their Savior.

However, that raises several questions. “Love,” at least in English, has to rank up there as one of the top words with a multitude of different understandings depending on who you are talking to. Does someone think of love purely in an emotional sense, the butterflies in your tummy when you see the person who is dear to you? Does someone define it in a physical sense, so that it is someone for whom you hold a deep sexual attraction? Does someone define it as a general sense of kindness to others by which they might say they love all (or at least, most) people? And, going beyond the expressions of love, we must delve deeper into the motivation behind those supposedly loving actions. Is it other-serving or self-serving? Is it borne out of a pure desire or a societal obligation? Is it done out of kindness and care for someone else, or fear of what will happen if the loving action isn’t done?

As we continue to bask in the Easter glory—the glory of Jesus’ victory over sin and the grave for us—these are good things for us to wrestle with. Last week, we had a good illustration of Jesus’ love for us. He was clear that he came to bring eternal life so that we would never perish in hell. But today we grapple with the flip side of that, not how the Shepherd loves the sheep as much as how the sheep respond to that loving Shepherd.

Our Gospel for this morning takes us back to the upper room where Jesus and the disciples are celebrating the Passover on the night that Judas betrayed Jesus. In fact, the first verse of this brief reading makes it clear that Jesus speaks these words immediately after Judas leaves to carry out the betrayal. Jesus had told Judas, “What you are about to do, do more quickly” (John 13:27), and so he did.

It is in this upcoming betrayal that the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in him. Why? Because this is really the beginning of the millennia-long plan to save humanity from our sins. Judas’ betrayal later that night will be the first domino to fall that will lead Jesus to the cross to suffer for the world’s sins. Jesus and the Father are both glorified in this work to save mankind from the punishment of hell. Jesus tells them what this work will mean: Where I am going, you cannot come. The disciples would not be able to journey to the cross; they would not be able to bear the punishment for the world’s sin. Only Jesus could do that; the journey ahead will be a lonely and solitary one.

But they will not be without work or direction. Jesus gives one of the two main commands on that Maundy Thursday (or “Command” Thursday) evening: “A new commandment I give you: Love one another.”

To our ears, that might sound a little off. In what way is this new? Hasn’t there always been a command to love others? It was codified in the covenant and law that God gave to his people after the Exodus: You must not take revenge. You must not bear a grudge against the members of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself (Leviticus 19:18). Jesus himself said that to love God above all and love your neighbor as yourself was, in fact, the greatest command and summary of the entire law (Matthew 22:37-40, Luke 10:26-28). So why does Jesus call this commandment “new”?

John, the author of our Gospel for this morning, offers some commentary on this very thought in his first letter. There he writes, “Dear friends, I am not writing you a new command but an old one that you have had since the beginning. The old command is the message you heard. At the same time, the command I am writing is new—it is true in Jesus and in you, because the darkness is passing away, and the true light is already shining. The one who says he is in the light and yet hates his brother is still in the darkness. The one who loves his brother remains in the light, and nothing causes him to stumble” (1 John 2:7-10). John recognizes that this command is both new and old at the same time, and it is probably the motivation for this love that makes that distinction.

The old command of the law to love was just that: a law command. “You must do this,” the law said, “or else.” However, Jesus offers a different motivation for showing love to others here: “Just as I have loved you, so also you are to love one another.”It’s still a command, but it’s a command with gospel motivation rather than fear-based motivation. There’s no threat here, no warning if you fail to do as Jesus directs. Rather than fear of punishment, joy in Jesus’ love for us is what drives this command. Jesus’ love is to be both the motivation and the model for our love for other people.

Our Second Reading this morning from 1 Corinthians 13 is essentially a commentary on this love—what does it look like, sound like, act like? Patient, kind, not envious, not self-seeking. In the context of 1 Corinthians, Paul illustrates how far the members of the Corinthian congregation have fallen short of genuine love. 1 Corinthians 13 love is the love Jesus is directing his disciples to have for each other. 1 Corinthians 13 love is God’s love for us, and it is the goal we have for the love we show to others, even if we often fall short.

But this godly love, this reflection of God’s ultimate love for us, is always the goal in every relationship and interaction, from our blood relatives, to the members of our church family, to the stranger we’ve just met. Patient, kind, compassionate. To what end? “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

The word Jesus uses here, translated “know,” is a special kind of knowledge. It’s not mere book knowledge. This is not describing someone knowing you are a Christian in the same way that they know if you are tall or short or what color eyes you have. No, this knowledge is experiential knowledge. This is knowledge that comes because someone has seen it, felt it, and been immersed in it. The implication is that everyone knows you’re a Christian, one of Jesus’ disciples, because that love for each other has included them as well; you have loved them with the same kind of love with which Jesus loved you.

Is that how you would describe your interactions with others? Whether people who are familiar to us or unfamiliar, would you describe your actions and attitudes as this godly, 1 Corinthians 13 love? How willing in the past week have you been to give of yourself for others? How willing have you been to devote your time to someone who needed a moment, your energy to someone who needed a hand, your resources to someone who needed a bridge over a difficult time, your thoughts and prayers to those who had things that should be brought before God’s throne?

If we’re honest, while I pray that we tried, we will also see that we’ve fallen short. Immediate family and strangers alike haven’t received from us the kind of love Jesus is urging us toward here. We have been stingy—selfish—in our doling out of love, to the direct contradiction of Jesus’ command and direction. We struggle to love others as we love ourselves, let alone to love as Jesus has loved us!

Rather than beating ourselves up over those failures, though, I think it’s perhaps in our best interest to remember why we want to have this kind of love for other people. It’s not just because we’re supposed to, nor is it just because it makes us or others feel good; it’s a reflection of the love God has already shown us. That means that this love for each other and all people is one of the strongest attractive forces we have to bring people to Jesus, even before they hear the words of the gospel message itself. The goal is that it instills in people the desire to know more, as this God-like love is so foreign and confusing compared to the way people typically treat others, yet also so very wonderful that they want to learn more. “What would lead someone to treat me in this way? What would cause them to care about me when no one else seems to? What would drive their passion for service, even if no one else sees or knows about it?”

We know that answer clearly: our love is driven by thankfulness for God’s love for us. By nature, our sin made us utterly unlovable. Yet Jesus’ love for us wiped out that unlovable sin—even the times that we have been unloving to others!—and left us as perfect in God’s sight. That kind of self-sacrificing, all-encompassing, all-forgiving, wholistic love is what we strive to reflect to others, show to others, and use to hold others carefully and firmly in our hearts and actions.

It is remarkable to me that one of the primary ways God gives us to express our gratitude for his forgiveness is by loving one another. It almost feels like a 2-for-1, loving God by loving my neighbor. But so great is God’s love and concern for others—believers and unbelievers alike—that he puts this goal of Christ-like love for all people in front of us. Jesus even says, when commenting on people’s good works at the end, “Just as you did it for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it for me” (Matthew 25:40).

So, dear Christian, wear that mark of your faith. Show true, genuine love for all people, regardless of who they are, because one thing unites us all: every human being is a soul for whom Jesus died. His love has paid the price for their sins as it did ours; his love has prepared a place for them in eternal life as he has for us. In peace and joy, love as you have been loved!

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.

"Has Your Sorrow Turned to Joy?" (Sermon on John 16:16-24) | May 25, 2025

Sermon Text: John 16:16-24
Date: May 25, 2025
Event: The Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year C [Confirmation Sunday]

John 16:16-24 (EHV)

“In a little while you are not going to see me anymore, and again in a little while you will see me, because I am going away to the Father.”

17Therefore some of his disciples asked one another, “What does he mean when he tells us, ‘In a little while you are not going to see me, and again in a little while you will see me,’ and ‘Because I am going away to the Father’?” 18So they kept asking, “What does he mean by ‘a little while’? We don’t understand what he’s saying.”

19Jesus knew that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, “Are you trying to determine with one another what I meant by saying, ‘In a little while you are not going to see me, and again in a little while you will see me’? 20Amen, Amen, I tell you: You will weep and wail, but the world will rejoice. You will become sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn to joy. 21A woman giving birth has pain, because her time has come. But when she has delivered the child, she no longer remembers the anguish, because of her joy that a person has been born into the world.

22“So you also have sorrow now. But I will see you again. Your heart will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you. 23In that day you will not ask me anything. Amen, Amen, I tell you: Whatever you ask the Father in my name, he will give you. 24Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask, and you will receive, so that your joy may be made complete.”

Has Your Sorrow Turned to Joy?

That night in the upper room, just before Jesus was betrayed, he had many heavy and difficult things to share with his disciples. Last week we heard that command to love one another, and noted that that would be their guiding life principle in the difficult hours ahead, but more to the point, in the years ahead as they would clearly live their lives as Christians, loving to all, in this fallen world.

This morning, we jump to a later part of the conversation that night. Here, in many ways, he’s directing them to the coming 48 or 72 hours—in a little while you are not going to see me anymore, and again in a little while you will see me—a reminder that their separation from Jesus by his death on the cross was near at hand, but that there would also be a joyous reunion after his resurrection. Jesus summarizes the emotional rollercoaster they will be on this way: Amen, Amen, I tell you: You will weep and wail, but the world will rejoice. You will become sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn to joy.

Why would the disciples’ sorrow be turned to joy? Well, in the short term, the sorrow caused by the death of their dear friend and teacher would be turned to joy at his resurrection, even if they had some pit stops at doubt and astonishment. And the more they understood about Jesus’ work, the deeper the Holy Spirit’s work in their hearts, they would understand that this was not just the restoration of the life of a friend but actually the forgiveness of sins and the promise of eternal life for all people. That joy would continue to grow and multiply as it was shared.

But before we get too far into this, this might be a good time to talk about the difference between “joy” and “happiness.” Both are emotional states, but joy is the more profound, more deeply rooted emotion. Happiness might be flashy—it might have the most clear outward expressions, but it can be more fleeting. I can be happy in the morning and kind of bummed by the afternoon, even if there’s no real reason for it.

But joy is based on contentment. Joy is more stable. And while we think of rejoicing as outbursts of positivity, it’s not always like that. Joy might fill a parent’s heart as they see their child get their diploma, even if there’s not a lot of whooping and hollering. After a long, productive day, you’re probably exhausted. Slumped on the couch before admitting to yourself that you should just go to bed, happiness might not be the best word to describe your state. But if you look around the house and see the work that was accomplished that day, or you think through all things you saw or did when out and about, you might be filled with a quiet, contented joy, just before you nod off.

I don’t think it goes too far, as we explore this distinction, to say that Jesus was not filled with happiness to go to the cross. His desperate pleading with the Father in the Garden of Gethsemane to let the cup of suffering pass by him would point to a lack of excitement over the plan. But the goal, the salvation of mankind, well, that filled Jesus with joy. Thus, his prayer to the Father was not merely to avoid this upcoming suffering, but that his Father’s will be done. Jesus shared that goal, and since there was no other way to save us, he joyfully went to his suffering and death, even if he wasn’t doing cartwheels on the way to Golgatha.

That’s to say that when Jesus promises the disciples their sorrows will be turned to joy, he does not mean they will be perpetually giddy like little children. We know that there will be difficulties; we’ve ever read about some of those in our first readings from the book of Acts during this Easter season. And how much those difficulties would have been magnified because this “again in a little while you will see me” would be short-lived! We will observe and celebrate Jesus' ascension next Sunday, which would have been only 40 days after Easter. They would see him again, and then he would be removed from their sight once more, but not just for a couple of evenings in the tomb.

Which brings us to today. How often does it feel like we’re in a perpetual time of not seeing Jesus anymore? Sure, we have his words in the Scriptures, we have the Holy Spirit dwelling within us, but I think we might sympathize with Thomas more often than not. “Oh, Lord, if I could just see you, speak to you directly, maybe even put my finger where those nails were, I would be comforted.” Yet he remains hidden from our eyes.

Hardships, heartaches, and losses just compound this feeling that Jesus isn’t here or doesn’t care. To us, it makes sense that if I’m the dearly loved child of God, my life should be overflowing with peace, joy, and even happiness. But is it? Even if we’re being honest when we describe our lives as “fine” or even “good,” they’re never perfect. There’s always something that could be better, some hope left unfulfilled, some change we’d make in an instant if we could just snap our fingers and make it different.

Sin brings immense sorrow to this life. Whether it’s my sin, which leads me to spend restless nights stewing in my guilt, other people’s sins that have wronged me, or just the general sadness that comes from living in this corrupted, sinful world, sorrow is our constant companion.

The disappointment and frustration that accompany sorrow can easily lead to seeking someone to blame. Perhaps I blame myself and the mistakes that I’ve made or the opportunities I didn’t take advantage of. Maybe I start blaming other people for their roles in what I find to be a very sorrowful situation. And, often, the blame finger can even point at God. After all, he’s all-powerful and supposedly all-loving; if I’m trapped in a situation I hate or regret or wish were very different, doesn’t the One who is in control of all things bear responsibility for this?

And here we see just how far our sinful selves fall—and how quickly! We’ve gone from sadness to blaming God for the things in our lives that aren’t as we think they should be. And if we take a step back, I hope and pray we can see just how dangerous and reckless a place that is to be.

However, this template of sorrow leading to joy can also be applied to us. Has your sorrow been turned to joy? If we look back on our lives, we can probably recall times when we were at our lowest, but by God’s grace, we’ve come out of those depths. The disappointments may not have the edge they once did, the losses are duller than they initially were, and we have found some contentment in the way God has shepherded us through these times.

Or perhaps those hardships are still very much a part of your life. Maybe that sorrow sits like a sandbag on your shoulders, pushing you down. And in that, Satan sees and often tries to seize the opportunity to drive us from God. Because those thoughts of blaming God for dissatisfaction in my life find their root in him, the father of lies. He plays the same card that he played on Adam and Eve in the beginning, trying to convince us that God is holding out on us, that he doesn’t have our best interests in mind, that really, these things I lack or the problems I have are God’s fault.

So our prayer to God this morning is that he pull us back from those sorrows. Maybe it’s not his will to remove the things that cause them, but that he pull us back to gain some perspective that’s easy to lose in the depths of these sorrows. “Yes, I have this hardship or lack that blessing, but what do I have for certain?” Jesus says, “Let me show you.”

And so he takes us back to his cross to see our sins paid for—even the sins of blaming God for our sorrows and dissatisfactions—completely forgiven by his suffering and death in our place. Then we journey again to the empty tomb, to see the certainty of that forgiveness. Christ is risen indeed, after all. Sin, death, and hell have no hold on us. You, dear Christian, have forgiveness. You have the certainty of eternal life with your Savior. You have a peace and joy that goes beyond all human, natural understanding and comes only through the Holy Spirit’s work within you.

This morning, we have a joyful reminder of these blessings as we celebrate Ava’s confirmation. Her essay, while summarizing many of the things she has learned and become convinced of through the Spirit’s work in her heart, will also serve as a reminder for you and me. Because what is true for Ava is true for all of us. And God’s love is what turns our sorrow back to joy.

But what might be lacking in this journey is a removal of that thing that was causing the sorrow and discontent in the first place. Maybe that hardship won’t be taken away; maybe that longed-for blessing will never be given to me. This is not God’s cruelty or desire to see us sad; rather, it is his care for us that goes beyond what we can see; it is his will for us that looks out for our eternal well-being above all else; his love for us that promises to work all things for our eternal good, even when we can’t see or understand what that good is. Like Paul with his thorn in the flesh, Jesus’ answer to our pleading may not be to remove the hardship, but rather a reminder that his grace is sufficient for us, his power is made complete in our weaknesses (2 Corinthians 12:7-10).

You, my dear sisters and brothers, are also a blessing to one another in these things. Jesus’ direction to love one another finds direct application here. My sorrow may be too much to bear on my own; I may not be able to see joy on the other end of that sadness. But you can help me. In your love for me, you can support me in my sorrow, whether it comes from loss or a lack of fulfillment, guilt or the pain of being wronged. Your love for me directs me back to my Savior, to my life, to my joy. And I, in turn, can love you with that very same purpose and goal.

The things that cause sorrow in this life will not end, but this life of sorrow will end. There will be a time (and from an eternal perspective, it will be just “a little while”) where we will see Jesus face to face in the perfect courts of heaven.

Until that day, love one another. Until that day, pray to your loving God in the name of your Savior, Jesus, for rescue and relief according to his will. Until that day, find joy in your Savior’s eternal love for you, which we will experience fully in the end.

My dear brothers and sisters, Christ is risen, he is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.

"Is Jesus Keeping You In Suspense?" (Sermon on John 10:22-30) | May 11, 2025

Text: John 10:22-30
Date: May 11, 2025
Event: Good Shepherd Sunday (The Fourth Sunday of Easter), Year C

John 10:22-30 (EHV)

Then the Festival of Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, 23and Jesus was walking in the temple area in Solomon’s Colonnade.

24So the Jews gathered around Jesus, asking, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly.”

25Jesus answered them, “I did tell you, but you do not believe. The works I am doing in my Father’s name testify about me. 26But you do not believe, because you are not my sheep, as I said to you. 27My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. 28I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. 29My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all. No one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand. 30I and the Father are one.”

Is Jesus Keeping You in Suspense?

Suspense and tension are powerful storytelling tools. The movie or book that hints that there’s something really, really wrong but doesn’t give you enough information to figure out what that thing is will probably keep you engaged because you want the resolution to that suspense. You want to learn the mystery, the secrets that are hidden beneath the surface. So the minutes of the movie tick by, the pages of the book turn, and you dive into the world.

When God called Abraham to leave his home in Ur and go to the place God would give to his family—the Promised Land—God didn’t actually tell him where he was going. He didn’t give him a city, country, or any other information. He simply told Abraham to head out, and he’d let them know when they arrived. God used that suspense to test and prove Abraham’s faith, not really for God to learn something, but for Abraham himself to learn something about his faith and as a powerful testimony to those who knew what Abraham was doing. I have to imagine that even as Abraham trusted God, the suspense must have left him at least slightly rattled and on edge.

In our Gospel, the Jewish people gathered around Jesus felt that he was keeping them in suspense about something very specific: “If you are the Christ, tell us plainly.” The timing of this request (or maybe better, demand) of Jesus is significant. Jesus is in Jerusalem, at the temple, for the Festival of Dedication. In our day, we know this festival better as Hanukkah.

Hanukkah was and is the celebration of the dedication (or, perhaps more accurately, rededication) of the temple after it was polluted by the Greek ruler Antiochus IV a little over 150 years before Jesus was born. There was a revolt against the Greeks led by a Jewish man named Judas Maccabaeus. Under his leadership, the pagan ruler and their disgusting worship was kicked out of Jerusalem and the worship of the true God—as God had commanded—was restored. It was (and continues to be) a significant moment and thus a significant celebration on the Jewish worship calendar.

So, in the context of this festival, the Jewish people gathered around Jesus and asked him if he was the Christ, the promised Messiah. The implication seems to be, “Are you, Jesus, going to be another savior like Judas Maccabeaus? Are you going to do for us today what he did back then? Are you going to get rid of the Romans like he got rid of the Greeks?”

Because this was largely the idea of the Messiah that had been warped at this time. Ignoring most of the context of what God had promised through the prophets in the Old Testament, the leaders and the people could often only focus on the here and now and looking for immediate, physical, earthly relief rather than looking for the greater new thing that God had promised—redemption from hell and the forgiveness of sins.

So, you get a sense for the suspense that the Jewish people felt at Jesus’ actions—or lack of action. “How long are you just going to parade around the countryside preaching, teaching, healing, and even raising the dead? When are you going to get to the real Messiah work? When are you going to rescue our nation from these Gentile oppressors?”

When we’re looking for something from God, when our prayers don’t seem to have answers (or at least, not answers that we’re looking for), perhaps we feel similarly to the Jewish people around Jesus in our Gospel. “Jesus, how long will you keep me in suspense? Are you going to heal that illness in my loved one, or in me? Are you going to provide a way out of these financial hardships? Will you solve the political turmoil in my community or our nation? Will you heal that strained relationship or help with those difficulties in school?”

What’s the common theme running through all of those questions? They’re all about the here and now. And that, on its own, is certainly not wrong. In fact, God is very clear that in our distressful days we should call out to him for help and he will deliver us from that trouble, according to his will (see Psalm 50:15). But are these earthly things, these temporal things, the main thing we’re looking for from Jesus? Are they, perhaps, the only thing we’re looking for from him, at least for right now?

If that’s true (and speaking for myself, I can say that this is often true), we have the same flawed understanding of Jesus’ purpose as the people asking him if he was the Christ at the Festival of Dedication, or as even the disciples did at his ascension, asking if he was going to restore the kingdom to Israel now (see Acts 1:6).

Jesus’ response to this question is telling, not only to what was on the people’s minds, but also Jesus’ goals for his people: Jesus answered them, “I did tell you, but you do not believe. The works I am doing in my Father’s name testify about me. But you do not believe, because you are not my sheep, as I said to you. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all. No one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.”

Earlier in John 10 is the main Good Shepherd discourse, where Jesus claims to be the gate for the sheep and the Good Shepherd who tends to their needs. But there, he emphasizes that his work will be primarily seen in laying down his life for the sheep and then taking it back up again (John 10:11, 14-15, 17-18). What we have before us in our Gospel seems to take place after the main discourse, but close enough to it that Jesus is directly referring to it as he calls his people—believers—his sheep. Jesus he says that his sheep know his voice and follow him. And what does Jesus give them first and foremost? Not relief from political turmoil, not a full belly, not a happy life right now. No, Jesus says, “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand.” “Perish” is a stronger word than “die.” “Perish” is not the opposite of life on earth; it’s the opposite of life in heaven. “Perish” is eternal condemnation in hell. Jesus is using the same wording that he used earlier in his ministry when he taught Nicodemus at night, assuring him, “God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him” (John 3:16-17).

When we hear those comforting words of Psalm 23, that the LORD, our Shepherd, leads us to those quiet waters, allows us to graze on those nutritious pastures, cares for us so that we lack nothing, we do well to let the rest of the psalm explain the metaphor. David wrote that by doing this, “He restores my soul. He guides me in path of righteousness for his name’s sake. … Surely goodness and mercy will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the LORD forever” (Psalm 23:3, 6). God is our shepherd through this life, yes, but the ultimate goal is eternal life. It’s not comfort now for a brief time, it’s comfort for eternity. That’s what Jesus came to accomplish, what Jesus came to give, and what his victory means for us. “…not perish, but have eternal life…”

So Jesus is redirecting the crowd at the festival, and you and me along with them, to look beyond the troubles, hardships, and difficulties of this life and see what he has accomplished for us. Those troubles will feel like God has left us, or at least isn’t particularly concerned about this thing that is so important to us right now. Those moments and those heavy situations can feel like we’re living in complete suspense in God’s narrative here; how will any of this turn out?! But God’s concern for you and me is greater than today; his concern for us is for eternity.

Jesus promises that as our Good Shepherd, we sheep are perfectly safe with him, are perfectly safe with the Triune God who is unified in this purpose to save us from our sin and bring us to himself in heaven: I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all. No one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.

I almost wonder if the apostle Paul had these words and promises from Jesus in his mind as he penned those tremendously comforting words at the end of Romans chapter 8 by inspiration of the Holy Spirit: What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will trouble or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor rulers, neither things present nor things to come, nor powerful forces, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:35, 37–39).

Dear Christian, your Savior has you safe in his hand. Your Shepherd is there by your side, guiding you to those places where you need to be so that you will eventually be in that place where you will always be—before his face forever in the perfection of heaven. Is Jesus keeping you in suspense? Maybe a little bit. But while the suspense you might feel about how this thing or that thing will turn our is real, he has brought clarity to the greatest conflict and greatest need that you gave:  your sin is gone, paid for at the cross and proved by his empty tomb—yes, even that sin of being too earthly-focused and not enough eternally-focused. Nothing can pull you out of our Shepherd’s hand.

Rest easy, dear fellow sheep. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.

"Jesus Is Sending Us!" (Sermon on John 20:19-31) | April 27, 2025

Sermon Text: John 20:19-31
Date: April 27, 2025
Event: The Second Sunday of Easter, Year C

John 20:19-31 (EHV)

On the evening of that first day of the week, the disciples were together behind locked doors because of their fear of the Jews. Jesus came, stood among them, and said to them, “Peace be with you!” 20After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. So the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.

21Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you! Just as the Father has sent me, I am also sending you.” 22After saying this, he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23Whenever you forgive people’s sins, they are forgiven. Whenever you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”

24But Thomas, one of the Twelve, the one called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. 25So the other disciples kept telling him, “We have seen the Lord!”

But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, and put my finger into the mark of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

26After eight days, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. 27Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and look at my hands. Take your hand and put it into my side. Do not continue to doubt, but believe.”

28Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!”

29Jesus said to him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

30Jesus, in the presence of his disciples, did many other miraculous signs that are not written in this book. 31But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.

Jesus Is Sending Us!

How do you climb a mountain? On an incredibly basic level, you do so one step at a time. How do you write that long essay for school? One sentence at a time. How do you have that difficult conversation? One thought at a time. If you’re going to be ridiculous, how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. Breaking down a big project into smaller pieces can really help the paralysis that can set in when we’re overwhelmed by what’s in front of us. A project that might take tens or even hundreds of hours to complete probably seems less daunting if you take it in 20-minute chunks.

The task Jesus had placed before his disciples must have seemed like the biggest mountain to climb or the biggest elephant to be eaten: taking the gospel's message to the ends of the earth. The reality is that Christians are still embarking on this task to this day, a job that is not yet complete some 2,000 years later.

Our Gospel this morning is a familiar account taking place on Easter evening and then spilling into the following days. At the start of our reading, we meet up with the disciples on the evening of that first Easter Sunday. Now, what has happened already? The women (Luke 24:1-5), as well as Peter and John, found the tomb empty (Luke 24:12; John 20:3-10). Angels spoke to the women (Matthew 28:5-7; Luke 24:5-11). Jesus appeared to the women (Matthew 27:8-10), with special, individual appearances to Mary Magdalene (John 21:11-18) and to Peter (Luke 24:34; 1 Corinthians 15:5). Jesus also appeared to two of his followers as they walked the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus that first Easter afternoon and explained the Old Testament promises about the Savior’s work to them (Luke 24:15-31).

That’s a lot. All of this evidence and these appearances pair with the very specific teaching Jesus had been doing with his disciples when he told them over and over again: “We are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written by the prophets about the Son of Man will be fulfilled. He will be delivered over to the Gentiles. They will mock him, insult him and spit on him; they will flog him and kill him. On the third day he will rise again.” (Luke 18:31-33). So, combine all of that together and we might well assume that by that first Easter evening, the disciples would be sprinting through the streets of Jerusalem, shouting, “Jesus is risen! He is risen indeed!” We could imagine a scene much like the shepherds after they saw the then newborn Jesus in the manger, sharing with everyone who would listen what they had heard, seen, and knew to be true.

But that’s not the scene we have in front of us in our Gospel. On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders... I suppose it’s good that they were at least together, rather than scattered to the four winds like they were after Jesus’ arrest in Gethsemane. But this is not a group ready to proclaim the gospel, ready to be Jesus’ witnesses. This group of people is uncertain about what has happened, fearful of what will happen, and generally in distress. The greatest miracle that ever has or ever will take place has been proven at the empty tomb, and no one is going out and sharing. Of the global population at that time, hardly anyone knew what happened. Even among those just in Jerusalem, only a small fraction know what has occurred over the last three days.

So Jesus, acting much more like God than they had seen over the last three years, just shows up in the locked room among them with no need for a key or an opened door. Presenting himself among this group, he said, “Peace be with you!” After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. It is notable that he doesn’t scold them for sitting in their make-shift fortress, trying to hide from the world. He doesn’t rebuke them for their weak faith. No, this evening and the weeks ahead will be all about assuring this group that he really is alive and helping them to understand what his resurrection means for them and for all people.

But Jesus, even this first Easter evening, doesn’t leave it there. What he shares next are words of commissioning, words of purpose, reminders of the work to be done: ““Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”

It's subtle, but there is a bit of a rebuke here. “Hey, guys, this is not the plan, to be he huddled together in fear. You need to go out there, into the world, and tell people what has happened. Notably, you need to tell people about the forgiveness of sins—both comforting the repentant and warning the unrepentant.” Seeing the proof that Jesus was alive and the gift of the Spirit breathed onto them seem to have been enough to change their fear into joy, even if they weren’t quite ready to shout this gospel from the rooftops.

But one of their number was missing that day: Thomas. And boy, do I think Thomas gets a bad rap. Thomas doesn’t look for much besides what the other disciples had that first evening. They saw his hands and side that night, and Thomas wants the same. Of course Thomas doubts while the rest believe—the rest got to see him already!

But there is something for us to consider here. Thomas would not believe based on the eyewitness accounts, of the message of the fulfilled promise in the mouths of his friends and colleagues. He had to see for himself. And so Jesus, ever patient, does exactly that. “Put your finger here…” But then Jesus says something astounding: “Because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

Over the next several weeks, Jesus will make repeat appearances to the disciples and, we’re told, over 500 other people. Later, he will appear to the apostle Paul to prove his resurrection. But the number of people who will actually see Jesus alive and still bearing those tell-tale marks of his death will be tiny. Right from the start, the disciples will be witnesses of this resurrection to many people who had not seen the risen Christ with their own eyes. Thinking of that first Christian Pentecost day that is not so far away from these appearances, three thousand would believe on that day alone based on the Word of God shared by the disciples. Few, if any, of that group would have seen Jesus alive and well after his crucifixion. And how much less once the gospel goes beyond Jerusalem and the region of Judea on its way to the ends of the earth!

And so this gospel message has traveled across time and nation, to reach even us here today. Even in this “post-Christian” era that we are living in in our nation or our culture, still the Word does not pass away nor does it return to God empty. Fewer and fewer people in our nation believe in Jesus as their Savior—but there is always a remnant, and for that we can rejoice. All the more that we are part of that remnant!

But that also means we have a lot of work to do, right? A daunting mountain sits in front of us, waiting to be climbed. You have the message that many people, in ignorance, are going on without. They don’t know their Savior; they might even be suppressing the natural knowledge that there is even a God at all. You cannot drag Jesus along with you, to have everyone put their hands in those clefts left in his body. But you do take the powerful message of the gospel, through which God promises to work. And it doesn’t matter what someone’s heart is like or what the culture around us says about these notions of sin and forgiveness, death and life, hell and heaven. “Just as the Father has sent me,” Jesus says to us, “I am sending you.”

How’s that going? Oh, this might be the moment in the sermon where few want to make eye contact. Are you happy with how you have served as a witness for Jesus? Are you happy with how you have shared him in your day-to-day life, both in how you’ve lived your life and how you have directly witnessed about him? I can assure you that my answer to that question is a resounding, “No!” And this work, ostensibly, is my full-time job.

So, let’s talk about it. What things get in the way of us going as Jesus has sent us? What seems to be the unclimbable mountain or the uneatable elephant? What things get in our way when we think of sharing our faith or inviting someone to hear what God has done? We saw examples in both the disciples collectively and Thomas specifically of internal factors causing a relatively slow start to this work; fear and doubt got in the way. Is the same true for us? What is it inside of you and inside of me that would lead us to be unwilling or feel unable to do the work Jesus has sent us to do—to be his witnesses to the world?

Fear can envelop a lot of what stands in our way. Maybe not exactly the same fear that the disciples had that first Easter evening—that they might be arrested and crucified just like Jesus—but still, there’s plenty for us to fear. I might be afraid I’ll get something wrong or not have the answers someone wants. I might be afraid that sharing my faith—even an innocuous invitation to worship or some other church event—might be taken the wrong way and cause irreparable damage in my relationship with the other person. I might be afraid of what people will think about me if they know how important my faith, my Savior, is to me. I might be afraid of standing out and being different in a world where like-mindedness is often praised as a virtue and disagreement with the cultural norms is likely to have a sweeping, negative impact.

Quite frankly, all of those fears are rational and even reasonable. The true Christian faith, no matter how “Christian” a society might appear, is always counter-cultural, because it runs afoul of the way we think by nature. By nature, we think that we’re doing our best and that will hopefully be good enough. By nature, we think that some good on our part should eliminate some bad that we have done. By nature, we think we can work our way back into God’s good graces through a life well-lived.

But all of those thoughts die when we meet God’s truth head-on. The message of sin and the need of a Savior means that we are not enough on our own—truly, that we are worthless in this task. No one wants to hear that. Not the cold-call canvassing recipient, not the friend who knows you well, not the first-time visitor to the church, not the person who has been a Christian for decades, not you, not me.

But we are not here to say what people want to hear. Jesus is not sending us out to scratch people’s itchy ears; he’s sending us out with the truth. My like or dislike of this message, my faith or doubt in what it says, changes nothing about its truth and importance.

And John underscores at the end of this Gospel just what this message means and does. These are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name. God works through his Word, recorded in the pages of Scripture and, yes, even stammering and wandering out of our mouths to produce faith in the heart of others and to strengthen the faith of our fellow believers. As Jesus did for the disciples in that locked room, so he gives you the gift of the Holy Spirit—the peace beyond all understanding through faith in him. Your sins are forgiven, you will live eternally with him in perfection; this is a gift for all people.

So, how do you be Jesus’ witness? How do you climb that impossible-feeling mountain? One God-empowered word at a time. One person at a time. One invitation at a time. And much like the steep trail up that imposing hill, it won’t be long before you look back and realize what progress you’ve made, or more accurately, what progress God has made through you.

My dear brothers and sisters, Jesus is sending you! Don’t be afraid, don’t let doubt paralyze you. Instead, share this message in every way and at every opportunity that God presents to you. Tell that person about your faith; invite them to church with you; live your life to glorify your Savior. You have the greatest message in the world to share, a message that means life in his name. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.

"This Mortal Body MUST Put On Immortality" (Sermon on 1 Corinthinas 15:51-57) | April 20, 2025

Sermon Text: 1 Corinthians 15:51-57
Date: April 20, 2025

Event: The Resurrection of Our Lord (Easter Day), Year C

1 Corinthians 15:51-57 (EHV)

Look, I tell you a mystery. We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed, 52in a moment, in the blink of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. 53For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. 54But once this perishable body has put on imperishability, and this mortal body has put on immortality, then what is written will be fulfilled:

Death is swallowed up in victory.
55Death, where is your sting?
Grave, where is your victory?

56The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 57But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!

This Mortal Body MUST Put On Immortality

It’s rarely a good idea to speak in absolutes. “This always happens…” “Every time…” “Never, ever…” All of those phrases are hyperbole. When working on a project, and it’s not quite working the way I had hoped, I’ve been known to utter the phrase, “Nothing ever works!” But is that true? Even in the moment, is that accurate? Probably not.

But this morning, my brothers and sisters, this morning is different. This morning is all about absolutes—absolute victory, absolute salvation, absolute confidence. And in quite a reversal, it would be deceptive not to speak in absolutes about what is going on around us today. Such language would hide the truth. Today is the certainty of all certainties. Today, our faith is not hyperbolic but trusting the reality of what God has done.

Let’s step back for a moment and get our bearings. How did we get to this morning? Why are we here? To answer that, we have to go all the way back to the beginning, to the creation of the world—the universe—at God’s command. God created human beings as the crown of his creation; everything else was in service to them, and they enjoyed fellowship and harmony with him. God made everything around us to facilitate that special relationship with human beings. Thus, they were created in his image, to see eye-to-eye with him.

This was the design. No sorrow, no sickness, no pain, no death—just a perfect life with God forever. And that was what our first parents experienced, until they didn’t.

God gave Adam and Eve all the blessings of the world, including tasks to do in tending to the created order around them. God even gave them an altar, a way to worship him and thank him. He had given them everything, and their way to say thank you was simply to not eat fruit from one specific tree in the garden where they lived.

However, God didn’t create robots who were programmed to only do as they were told. What truly loving relationship has ever come about by compulsion? That’s not the way that works. So, in order to truly express their love for God they had to be able to choose to not show that love, to be free to rebel against him, to be free to sin.

And that’s exactly what happened. Satan warped the singular command of not eating from that tree into a curse rather than seeing it as the blessing it was. Eve and Adam were convinced that eating from this tree would actually be good. It would open their eyes and give them wisdom and understanding that they lacked. It would bring them into a world of experiences that God had kept from them. So they took, and they ate.

God had warned Adam that sin against this command would result in death. And so it happened that day. They instantly died spiritually. Where there had been loving harmony with God was now replaced with terror. And suddenly, the creation designed to endure forever was subject to decay and death. Adam and Eve’s lives would have an endpoint; they would die physically, as a consequence of their sin.

But that was not the truly terrifying death that God was talking about. The true punishment for sin was not spiritual death or physical death but eternal death in hell. Hell is being cut off from all the blessings of God, something no human being in this life has ever known. Even the most adamant enemy of God still benefits from his blessings in this life; even the person in the most dire of situations has some shine of God’s physical concern for him, even if it’s very difficult to see. But in hell, that comes to an end. Separation from God is the punishment, and it's worse than anything you and I could ever imagine.

Knowing God’s heart and God’s purpose for creating the world, especially human beings, it’s perhaps not surprising that this was not what God wanted for mankind. So right there in the Garden of Eden, right there at the site of the first sin, before God even gets into the consequences of their actions with Adam and Eve, the first thing that God says concerning them is a promise of a Savior, a Champion who would crush Satan’s head and fix everything that was broken.

Throughout the intervening centuries and millennia, God slowly revealed details about who this Savior would be and what he would do. From Abraham’s family, then narrowed down to Judah, then down to the line of King David. Born in Bethlehem, David’s city. And, as we heard on Friday night from the prophet Isaiah, one who would suffer a grievous punishment at the hands of the loving God because of mankind’s—our—sin.

And so it happened on that first Good Friday. Jesus was sentenced to death by crucifixion by Pontius Pilate because of his fear of a riot if he didn’t comply. But the focus there was not on the travesty of justice that such a condemnation was. This would be the tool, the way that God would make good on his promises. In this death, Jesus, true God and true man, would take on the sins of the world.

So the true suffering of Good Friday was not the scourge, thorny crown, nails, or even slow suffocation and dehydration. No, the true suffering of Good Friday was when God treated Jesus as if he were the only one who had ever sinned. There, Jesus was the only person in this life to truly experience hell, being abandoned by God. We can hear this agony as he quotes Psalm 22 from the cross, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” But it’s not really a question seeking an answer. Jesus knows the answer, and so do we. That hell, that abandonment, that was what we deserved. And God, in his mercy, pours it out on Jesus instead of us. Jesus, in his mercy, willingly and lovingly takes it on himself.

But none of this was really clear at the cross. Jesus’ death doesn’t look like a victory, even though it was. In fact, it looks very much like a defeat. To the uninformed and unenlightened, it just looks like a guy who got a raw deal and lost his life because of it. It’s not clear that this was the payment for sin, nor is it clear that it worked.

Which brings us to this morning, and why Easter is the highest festival of the Christian faith. Our faith is built on Jesus as the only and complete Savior from sin. And Easter is the proof that he is. If Jesus had stayed dead, his death would have been the same as every other person’s death. Good Friday would have been a tragedy and nothing more. But through the lens of the empty tomb, we can see the cross for what it truly is: the victory over sin, death, and hell.

Jesus’ physical resurrection from the dead is proof beyond a shadow of a doubt that your sins are forgiven, that eternal life rather than eternal death waits for you after this life. This confidence is what Paul is building on in our second reading this morning. 1 Corinthians 15 has been nicknamed the “Great Resurrection Chapter” of the Bible because Paul spends so much time discussing the importance of Jesus’ resurrection. Earlier in the chapter, he focuses on the necessity of it, and how if Jesus hadn’t risen from the dead, our faith in him would be futile because it would mean that we were still in our sins.

But having established that Jesus did, in fact, rise from the dead, Paul stresses the results of Jesus’ resurrection in our reading for this morning—namely, our own resurrection from the dead at the end.

Paul simply describes the Last Day this way: Look, I tell you a mystery. We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the blink of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. At Jesus’ return, the final trumpet will fill the air, and all those who have died will be raised to life. And for the believers in Jesus, a great change will happen. The dead will be raised imperishable. What had been the very definition of perishable—corpses in the ground—will be raised in a completely different state from how they were placed there.

Paul stresses not just that it’s going to happen, but speaks in absolute terms that it is absoultely necessary that this happen, “For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality.” Why is this necessary? Because this is the result of Jesus’ victory over sin, death, and hell. Death was the result of sin. Now that sin is undone and we have been forgiven, the grave has no claim on any of us, just as it had no claim on Jesus. The resurrection of the dead is just as much a natural outcome of Jesus’ death and resurrection as a quenched thirst is the natural outcome of cool drink of water on a hot day. It is inevitable relief and rescue. And nothing can change that.

Death has such an enormous impact on our lives. We lose cherished house plants, beloved pets, and most severely, our loved ones who have departed before us. It feels like the sole thing that is absolute and inevitable in this life is death. But Jesus’ resurrection brings confidence that allows us to even turn on death itself with disdain and ridicule. Paul does just that as he quotes from the prophets Isaiah and Hosea: Death is swallowed up in victory. Death, where is your sting? Grave, where is your victory? Because of Jesus’ resurrection, we can laugh death right in the face. This bully, who has tormented this world since the first sin, has been defeated. Death flees at the very sight of our victorious Savior. Not so tough now, are you, death?

Paul explains the mechanics of all this: The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ! The law results in sin for us because we cannot keep it perfectly; sin results in death as the punishment for our disobedience. But Jesus not only wiped out every sin we’ve ever committed at the cross, but he gives us his perfect life; he credits his perfection to our account so that, from God’s perspective, you and I are perfect. We have everything we need to enter eternal life. And not an ounce of it came from us; it all comes from Jesus and his loving work in our place!

Because of Jesus, your mortality must put on immortality, your perishable self must be wrapped in the imperishable. That is the meaning of the cross and the empty tomb—eternal, perfect life with our God forever, when God finally calls us out of this corrupted world of sickness, sorrow, and pain.

There is no question that this will happen; the empty tomb proves the promise! I think Jesus probably said it the best—simple and to the point, “I will not leave you as orphans. … Because I live, you also will live” (John 14:18-19). Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.

"Jesus' Curse Is Our Redemption" (Sermon on Galatians 3:10-13) | April 18, 2025

Sermon Text: Galatians 3:10-13
Date: April 18, 2025
Event: Good Friday, Year C

Galatians 3:10-13 (EHV)

In fact, those who rely on the works of the law are under a curse. For it is written, “Cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the book of the law.” 11Clearly no one is declared righteous before God by the law, because “The righteous will live by faith.” 12The law does not say “by faith.” Instead it says, “The one who does these things will live by them.”

13Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us. As it is written, “Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree.”

Jesus’ Curse Is Our Redemption

Tonight’s service is difficult. It is challenging to try to find a balanced tone within ourselves. We are here to observe something tremendously sad—yet from which all of our hope and joy flow. So, how do we hold both the sadness of Jesus’ death and the comfort that this death paid for our sins? How do we balance the sadness that Jesus suffered hell on the cross and the blessing that he did so for us, so we will never face it? We can try to finesse it, but the reality is there is no “correct” tone for tonight. Sadness and joy sit beside each other tonight as the Son of God gives up his life.

But the best way to honor what is happening here is to understand it, appreciate it, and even proclaim it. In many ways, the apostle Paul is doing that in our Second Reading for this evening. He sets Jesus’ curse alongside our redemption and allows both to exist. He invites his readers to sit with that tension; so shall we.

Understanding the context in which Paul is writing will help us understand his points. His letter to the Galatian Christians is probably one of (if not the) earliest of his letters recorded in the Scriptures. He’s writing to address a severe problem plaguing the churches in this region of modern-day Turkey.

These are the early days for the fledgling Christian church, maybe as few as 15-20 years after Jesus completed his work. The gospel is beginning to go out into the world as Jesus said it would. But, something else is accompanying it, something that is always a danger alongside God’s true teaching, which Jesus warned about: distorting error.

This early error was especially dire. People were coming to these brand-new Christian churches and wrapping their false teachings in a cloak of truth. It would essentially go something like this: “Yes, Jesus’ work for you is necessary. It is so important! But in order to benefit from that work, you need to keep the law God gave to Moses.” This group became almost obsessed with God’s command to circumcise males in the believer’s family, so they were often referred to as “the circumcision group.”

You can spot the problem with this teaching immediately, especially if you were here last night for our Maundy Thursday service. Last night, we drew comparisons between the old and new covenants. The old covenant referred to God's two-way agreement with Israel that he would bless them IF they kept his laws. And we know how that went… not well.

If we are unable to keep the law, what does tying Jesus’ forgiveness to obedience to that law do? It undermines the entire gospel. It sets up a false, misleading dream that God gave his law so that we could redeem ourselves from our sins and rescue ourselves from the punishment we deserve. The problem is that the law must be obeyed perfectly if it is going to be a blessing for us. And we haven’t done that. Our failure to be perfect is the reason we are here tonight; it’s also the reason Jesus is here.

Paul minces no words when addressing this false teaching that places obedience as a prerequisite for forgiveness. Do you think that you will be blessed by being circumcised or keeping any of the other laws that God commanded through Moses? Well, those who rely on the works of the law are under a curse. For it is written, “Cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the book of the law.” About a year or two before Paul wrote this letter to the Galatians, James wrote in his New Testament letter, “Whoever keeps the whole law but stumbles in one point has become guilty of breaking all of it” (James 2:10). Nothing but flawless obedience to the law brings blessing. Hence, anyone relying on obedience to the law to earn good things from God accomplishes the opposite; that person is under a curse rather than blessed.

This helps to explain what was happening that dark, first Good Friday afternoon. Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us. As it is written, “Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree.” Jesus is taking the curse of the law into and on himself. This is such a sad scene, not because of Judas’ betrayal, the Sanhedrin’s unbelief, Pilate’s spinelessness, or even the cruelty of those who enjoyed looking at this suffering. No, this is such a sad scene because the only one who never deserved to be cursed by God is cursed by the law he had perfectly kept.

And why is this happening? We heard it in Isaiah earlier in our service, “It was the LORD’s will to crush him and allow him to suffer” (Isaiah 53:10). Notably, Isaiah is clear that this was the all-capital-letters LORD’s will to crush him. This is not the action of God’s anger or justice. The emphasis in this action to crush the Messiah and allow him to suffer comes from God’s love, mercy, and compassion. How? Because the LORD who willed this is the one nailed to that cross. There is no mistake here, no wrongful condemnation, no hiccup in God’s plan—this is and always was the plan. Elsewhere, Paul describes this scene this way: God made him, who did not know sin, to become sin for us, so that we might become the righteousness of God in him (1 Corinthians 5:21).

My brothers and sisters, what is this wondrous love? How can we even put this into words? It’s difficult, which is probably why even God uses so much variety in describing this rescue mission that is happening before us. That word that Paul uses, redeem, has this glorious picture of buying someone or something to put in back in its rightful place. This redemption is a ransom. The price is the blood—the very life—of the Son of God. Priceless, yet freely given.

We may leave here tonight feeling predominantly sad at what Jesus had to pay to rescue us. We may leave here tonight feeling predominantly grateful for our Savior's saving love and action. But let none of us leave here tonight feeling guilty over what our sins cost Jesus. Is it gruesome and horrific? Yes. Is it spiritual suffering the likes of which we cannot even process and will never see ourselves? Yes. But remember that you did not force Jesus’ hand. He didn’t have to do this; he chose to do this. So great is his love for you that he sought to rescue you from the depths of your sins, from the blackness of hell’s pit, to restore you and me as his brothers and sisters, children of our heavenly Father, the way we were originally created at the beginning. Toward the end of our service tonight, the choir will use the hymn writer’s words to summarize this well: See, from his head, his hands, his feet, sorrow, and love flow mingled down. Did e’er such love and sorrow meet or thorns compose so rich a crown? (Christian Worship #407, s. 3).

May our pride or boasting, our despair or terror, disappear at the cross. May we see Jesus as the solution to our eternal problem, who did so willingly and lovingly.  May we find in his love the strength and motivation to love others as we’ve been loved. May thankfulness motivate our obedience to him, not earning something from God but rejoicing in what we have already received. You live by faith, that God-given trust that Jesus has rescued you from sin. May that faith carry you through this dark night until the dawning of that glorious, victorious day that is just over the horizon. Amen.

"What Kind of Savior Do You Want?" (Sermon on Luke 19:28-40) | April 13, 2025

Sermon Text: Luke 19:28-40
Date: April 13, 2025
Event: Palm Sunday, Year C

Luke 19:28-40 (EHV)

After Jesus had said these things, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. 29As he came near to Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples ahead, 30saying, “Go to the village ahead of you. When you enter it, you will find a colt tied, on which no one has ever sat. Untie it and bring it here. 31And if anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ you will say this: ‘The Lord needs it.’”

32Those who were sent ahead went and found things just as he had told them. 33As they were untying the colt, its owners said to them, “Why are you untying the colt?”

34They said, “The Lord needs it.”

35Then they brought the colt to Jesus. They threw their robes on the colt and set Jesus on it. 36As he went along, people spread their robes on the road. 37As he was approaching the slope of the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began to praise God joyfully, with a loud voice, for all the miracles they had seen, 38saying, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

39Some of the Pharisees from the crowd said to him, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”

40He replied, “I tell you, if these people would be silent, the stones would cry out.”

What Kind of Savior Do You Want?

Have you been to a casual dining or fast food restaurant that has one of those CocaCola Freestyle soda machines? They’re these big machines with a huge touch screen on them, and if you want to drink soda, you have what feels like near-infinite options. But it allows mixing and matching even more than a traditional soda fountain because, in addition to the base sodas, you can add several different syrups flavors to your drink. So, if you’re not content with normal Diet Coke you can, with the press of a button, make it Orange Vanilla Diet Coke. And if you’re feeling brave, perhaps you add a splash of Dr. Pepper.

The Freestyle machines embody our desire for choices and options. Mix and match to find the right blend for you. I can express my individual preferences, and if they’re different from yours, that’s probably okay because you can just tap different buttons and fill your cup with something different.

Clearly, there’s no problem in having preferences on drinks, or food, or clothes, or whatever. But sometimes it is tempting to take that desire for individualism and apply that to other areas of our lives. Do I need to listen to my parents? Well, not if they’re telling me to do something I don’t want to or that I can’t do something I do want to do. Do I have to pay my taxes? Well, not if I don’t think the money is being used appropriately or I think the rates are wrong for me or others.

Of course, more than applying that to a drink with your lunch, applying this individualistic template to those areas of life will end in some pretty rough consequences at home and even with the government. But what about our faith? You have nearly infinite opinions regarding spiritual thought, and if you can’t find one that fits your personal preferences, you can chart your own course and follow that path! But is that the way spiritual needs and solutions work? Can you just walk up to the Freestyle machine of spirituality and press the right buttons, and dispense your spiritual “truth”? And if you did that, what would buttons would you push? What would be the mechanics of your faith system? What kind of Savior do you want—if any?

We’ve wrestled with this question throughout Jesus’ ministry, or at least puzzled over it with the crowds. What were they looking for in a Savior? Was it a bread king who could meet their day-to-day hunger? Was it a miracle worker who could heal their diseases? Or were all of those things building up to something more and bigger?

We do not have insight into the crowds’ thoughts on Palm Sunday, but here’s what we can say. When they call Jesus “the King who comes in the name of the Lord!” they are clearly identifying Jesus as the promised Messiah. Whether we think of the famous prophecy about Palm Sunday itself from Zecharaiah 9 where God promised that the king would come in riding on a donkey—on a foal of a donkey—or we think of Jesus as David’s Son, the King who would reign forever, there’s a lot in that title of “King.”

But what kind of Savior did they want? A King riding in on a donkey, despite the Zechariah prophecy, wouldn’t have been imposing. Typically, leaders would ride donkeys when they came in peace. Riding a warhorse means I’ve come to conquer; riding a donkey means I’ve come to make a deal or settle things without war.  But might there have been some confusion among the crowd, even amid their joy? We know that it was a long-held belief that the Messiah would be a political savior to restore the earthly glory to the nation of Israel. So, in this immediate context, it seems likely that many of the people cheering Jesus on would be doing so, assuming he would be using his power to get rid of the Romans and restore genuine autonomy to the nation. But, does someone who has come to do that make an entrance on an untrained, young donkey?a

The Pharisees were looking for something entirely different out of Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” If we’re going to put the best construction on this demand, they recognized that the crowd was calling Jesus the Messiah, and as far as they knew and believed, that was not true. And if it wasn’t true, Jesus would know how inappropriate that was and should want to stop the blasphemy in its tracks.

If we’re going to take a slightly more negative view of what drove the Pharisees’ demand, it would be that they could see this giant crowd forming and cheering just outside of Jerusalem and knew what that would look like to Pontius Pilate and the other Roman rulers in the area. This looked like a mob scene, the beginning of a riot. And if any whispers of someone’s hopes that Jesus would actually depose the Romans got to Pilate’s ears, it looked and sounded like something much worse—a coup. The reaction from Rome to such insolence would be quick and brutal, which is exactly what the Pharisees would have been trying to avoid for themselves and the people at large.

So the crowds might be looking for their bread king to feed the five thousand once again; they might be looking to have a Roman-free existence from here on out. The Pharisees might have been looking to defend God’s name and promises or to preserve their own hides.

What are you looking for from Jesus? What do you want him to be for you or do for you? Do you want him to patch up your strained friendships or family relationships? Do you want him to fix your money concerns or bring complete healing to that chronic physical ailment? Do you want him to bring peace among nations or within your community?

It is not out of the question that God might provide any or even all of those things. None of those requests would be out of place in our prayers—that God’s will be done in those matters. But if those types of hopes and dreams are the full extent of what we’re looking for from Jesus, if that’s the kind of Savior we want, we’re thinking way too short-sightedly. It’s so easy to lower our vision from God’s perspective to our own day-to-day perspective. So, this morning, our prayer is that God lift up our eyes beyond what is right in front of us and see what is for our ultimate good.

The kind of Savior you and I might want at any given moment ultimately doesn’t matter. What truly matters is that Jesus understood the kind of Savior we needed and fulfilled those needs precisely. There might be only one person amid this Palm Sunday confusion who knows what is happening here, but there is at least one: Jesus. He immediately demonstrates this in our Gospel by sending two disciples to fetch the donkey. He knew exactly where it would be, what attributes it possessed, what question they would be asked, and what answer to give. They found things just as he had told them.

So Jesus is going forward, not being swept up in the pageantry of this day nor being swayed by popular opinion of what he shoulddo; rather, he’s going forward on the mission that his Father placed before him. To put it bluntly, as we just sang in our hymn of the day, he’s “rid[ing] on to die” (Christian Worship 411, s. 5). Because no immediate term glory, no evident power awaits him at the end of this road. Only the cross, but only the cross for you.

This is where the conflict begins between what we can see and what is actually happening. Jesus rides in on a donkey; he rides in, looking all the part to be coming in peace. And as far as the people in Jerusalem are concerned—even the Romans!—that is true. But the most vicious battle waits for him at Golgatha, a battle for your soul and mine. There, he will face the full brunt of hell; there, he will have a final showdown with Satan. But as we said back in the Epiphany season, it’s not as if Satan and Jesus are more or less evenly matched; it’s not even close. This battle was over before it even started. Jesus will come out the other side the victor, and you and I will be conquerors along with him.

Our misguided notions about what Jesus should do for us will be crucified on that cross as well. Those, as well as all our other sins, will be forgiven in his blood shed, in his life given up for our justification.

It is fascinating to compare the words of the crowd to other words earlier in Luke’s Gospel that we are very familiar with. Luke records that among the shouts of praise from that Palm Sunday throng was this acclimation: “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” If we jump back many chapters in Luke’s Gospel, back to chapter 2, we hear words that ring with the same tones: There were in the same country shepherds staying out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified! … Suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude from the heavenly army, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward mankind.” (Luke 2:8-9, 13-14). The Christmas angels announced the purpose of Jesus’ arrival to the shepherds, and here, knowingly or not, the crowds reinforce that purpose.

While, yes, Jesus is preparing for a battle at the cross, it is a battle that will lead to peace. This will not solve the Jewish people’s issues with the Roman empire. It won’t end wars between nations, make families get along, or necessarily repair friendships. But it will bring a much more critical peace—an eternal peace between God and sinful mankind.

What kind of Savior do you want? What kind of Savior do I want? What does it matter? What we have is what we need: our gentle King rides into Jerusalem to save us from our sins, to save us from hell. By this time next week, we will see our confidence in Jesus proven right and displayed in glory before us. Getting there will be a rough road, but God will keep his promises. In the days ahead, let’s share this message, invite people to hear it, and praise God for his goodness to us. If we don’t, the stones would cry out, but given that we appreciate all Jesus has done for us, I know that will not be necessary.

What kind of Savior do you want? The one you have: Jesus, who rides on to bear your sins in his body and will bring you to the heavenly home he has prepared for you. Thanks be to God! Amen.

"Look at What God Is Doing!" (Sermon on Isaiah 43:16-21) | April 6, 2025

Sermon Text: Isaiah 43:16-21
Date: April 6, 2025
Event: The Fifth Sunday in Lent, Year C

Isaiah 43:16-21 (EHV)
This is what the LORD says,
who makes a road through the sea
and a path through mighty waters,
17who brings out the chariot and the horses,
the army and the strong warrior.
They will all lie down together.
They will not get up.
They are extinguished.
Like a wick they go out.
18Do not remember the former things.
Do not keep thinking about ancient things.
19Watch, I am about to do a new thing.
Now it will spring up. Don’t you know about it?
Indeed I will make a road in the wilderness.
In the wasteland I will make rivers.
20The wild animals, the jackals and ostriches, will honor me,
because I am providing water in the wilderness,
rivers in a parched wasteland,
to provide water for my chosen people to drink.
21This people that I formed for myself will declare my praise.

Look at What God Is Doing!

“Hey, watch this!” Depending on who is saying those words, you might have different expectations of what you’ll see. If it’s a very young child, it might be some new-and-a-big-deal-to-them type of physical maneuver or something new they learned that aligns with their growth and development. If someone has been studying sleight-of-hand illusions, you might see something that seems impossible at first glance. And if it’s a layman working on the plumbing at the kitchen sink, perhaps you’ll see a great success or a wild failure as the water gets turned on. But in any case, you want to watch and see, either to encourage, be amazed, or know if you need to get the mop.

But what about when God says to you, “Hey, watch this!”? Depending on what you know about him or how you sense your relationship's health with him, you might be filled with excitement or dread. But certainly, if God is saying that we should look and watch, then we do well to look and watch. And that is exactly what God says to us today in our reading from Isaiah. He calls on us to bear witness to what he is doing because it is important—eternally important for us and for all people.

Our brief reading begins with all sorts of allusions to the exodus when God rescued his people from their slavery in Egypt. The exodus took place around 700 years before Isaiah’s ministry—roughly three times the length of the United States’ existence. So this happened a long time before this, but in Isaiah’s day, it ranked as the high water mark of God’s saving work. God is described as a God who saves with this language: who makes a road through the sea and a path through mighty waters, who brings out the chariot and the horses, the army and the strong warrior. They will all lie down together. They will not get up. They are extinguished. Like a wick they go out. This is a direct reference to the parting of the Red Sea, which enabled the Israelites to cross over the seabed on dry ground, and then the crash of the waters on the Egyptian army as they tried to pursue God’s people, to their destruction.

In other words, “Do you want to know who God is? Look at the exodus!” Notably, the all-capital-letters-LORD, God’s name of covenant love, is used here. He promised that he would rescue his people from their slavery, and through many miracles, plagues, and even the naturally-impossible parting of a large body of water, God did just that.

What does God say about this event by which glorified him as the saving God? He says, “Forget all of that because it’s going to seem like nothing compared to what I’m going to do. Do not remember the former things. Do not keep thinking about ancient things. Watch, I am about to do a new thing. Now it will spring up. Don’t you know about it?” As we said, when God says, “Hey, watch this!” we do well to pay attention! God is calling to us to look because, to paraphrase, “Ya’ ain’t seen nothing yet.”

So, what does God want us to see? “Indeed I will make a road in the wilderness. In the wasteland I will make rivers. The wild animals, the jackals and ostriches, will honor me, because I am providing water in the wilderness, rivers in a parched wasteland, to provide water for my chosen people to drink.” While roads running through barren lands and rivers appearing in the desert are interesting—useful, even—what is it about this work that makes it superior to the miraculous exodus? What about this could be considered “new,” from the God who created the world—desert and river alike—from nothing? Well, if he were talking about actual rivers in actual deserts, then, nothing. But this is something more, something bigger, something new.

God aims to bring relief and help to those in desperate need. He’s getting ready to bring life to something dead, like springs of water would be in the middle of a barren wasteland. He’s getting ready to do this new thing to save people from eternal death with eternal life.

This is not new because it was a secret no one had ever heard. Quite the contrary. God had been clear from the beginning that a champion was coming to rescue people from their sins. Elsewhere in his book, God gives remarkably clear prophecies and promises about this Savior through Isaiah. No, but it’s new because it’s something that had never been done before and would never happen again.

The life-giving water of forgiveness would be given to God’s people to drink, and there would be enough for every person who ever lived to satisfy their spiritual thirst. This the work that Jesus will embark on, to make the one-time, one-and-done payment for sins. This new thing would be God himself taking on our humanity, living among us, allowing himself to be sacrificed for us, and in doing so, paying for every misdeed and sin you and I have ever committed.

The reminder of the exodus ahead of the announcement of this imminent new thing is very helpful. If there was ever a time that it seemed like God’s promises couldn’t happen as he said they would, it would be the exodus. As his people left Egypt, the pharaoh had a change of heart and wanted his slaves back. He pursued the people with his army—armed warriors against a nation of just-released slaves. They had no weapons or defense force to speak of; they had no combat training. This group of two million people could probably have done very little to make a stand against the Egyptian military.

Add to that the location where the army caught up with the Israelites, at the shore of the Red Sea. They were hemmed in on all sides—water to one, the enemy army to the other. Rock, hard place. And so, what does God do? Whatever is necessary to keep his promises. The waters of the Sea part, the pillar of fire and cloud stands between his people and the Egyptians, and they cross over to safety and freedom, unscathed.

Nothing stands in God’s way when he’s made a promise. But I wonder how often we feel or think something is getting in God’s way regarding forgiveness. Perhaps the guilt we feel over sin—that conscience that won’t stop crying out about the condemnation it expects to face—makes it seem like this sin can never be dealt with, that we are doomed to perish in hell because we know that it is the just punishment for our sins.

Or maybe something else gets in the way; maybe we are in the way. Maybe our own lack of appreciation for what God has promised and done, our distractions and lack of focus on these immeasurably important eternal matters, or our general apathy with God’s work for us lead us to wander away from God with little regard for what that will mean for us eternally.

My dear brothers and sisters, look at what God is doing! Don’t let this pass you by, uncaring. Don’t look at it as if it is ineffectual to save you. This new thing in Jesus is God’s full and free forgiveness for you! You were parched, dying of thirst under the brutal sun and scorching winds of your sin, destined to eternal death in hell. And here God comes with this new thing, with himself in human flesh, to take your place. He gives you to drink from the cool waters of his love and his forgiveness. And this drink does not fail to revive. Nothing will prevent God’s mission to save, not Pharaoh and his army, not the depths of the Red Sea, not the multitude and severity of your sin or mine. Here, in this new thing, they are gone. Here, we have life instead of death, now and for eternity.

Over these next few weeks, in our worship on Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings, and especially during the run of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter, we’ll see this new thing spring up. God promised the sacrifice of Jesus, and from it comes forgiveness that cannot and will not fail. The new thing that God promised is done. Your sins are forgiven. You have eternal life and perfect peace with your God as your certain possession.

In the days ahead, let us look and watch together as this new thing unfurls God’s love for us in Gethsemane, in the sham trials, at the cross, and even at his burial site. Amen.

"What Condemnation?" (Sermon on Romans 8:1-10) | March 30, 2025

Sermon Text: Romans 8:1-10
Date: March 30, 2025
Event: The Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year C

Romans 8:1-10 (EHV)

So then, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. 2For in Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death. 3Indeed, what the law was unable to do, because it was weakened by the flesh, God did, when he sent his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to deal with sin. God condemned sin in his flesh, 4so that the righteous decree of the law would be fully satisfied in us who are not walking according to the flesh, but according to the spirit.

5To be sure, those who are in harmony with the sinful flesh think about things the way the sinful flesh does, and those in harmony with the spirit think about things the way the spirit does. 6Now, the way the sinful flesh thinks results in death, but the way the spirit thinks results in life and peace. 7For the mind-set of the sinful flesh is hostile to God, since it does not submit to God’s law, and in fact, it cannot. 8Those who are in the sinful flesh cannot please God.

9But you are not in the sinful flesh but in the spirit, if indeed God’s Spirit lives in you. And if someone does not have the Spirit of Christ, that person does not belong to Christ. 10But if Christ is in you, your body is dead because of sin, but your spirit is alive because of righteousness.

What Condemnation?

You might hear a call for public condemnation in many places. Perhaps some public official does something that is deemed inappropriate, and so calls come from the public for others in office to denounce and condemn his actions. Perhaps a CEO’s misconduct will lead to condemnation from his company’s board. Perhaps a grassroots campaign will urge you to call your representatives in Sacramento or Washington to condemn some bill moving through the legislature. We’re familiar with condemnation, and even public condemnation, of misconduct or ideas that seem potentially dangerous, unwise, or misguided.

Condemning something means you’re pronouncing it useless because it’s rotten to the core. A house may be condemned if it is deemed unsafe for people to live in it. Condemnation is a term well-used to speak of God’s reaction to sin. He not only condemns it—speaks against it—but condemns it in the sense of punishing the person who committed the sin. In the way that the public official or CEO might lose their position because of condemned misconduct, so too the sinner is condemned along with his actions. Hell stands as the just condemnation for sin.

However, the parable Jesus told in the Gospel spoke of a different reaction to sin. How did the father in the parable treat both of his sons—the younger one who had wasted his father’s possessions and the older one who self-righteously looked down on his brother? The father treated them both with patience, love, and forgiveness.

Last week we heard the author of Psalm 85 assert so clearly that he knew who God is, what his nature is. He is not the God who remains angry forever or wants to boil people in his wrath. No, God is the one who is merciful and will restore his people. Even in their sin, God is not willing to give them up to what they deserve. Instead, he promised to and then did deal with sin in Jesus.

If you’ve been coming to our Bible class on Sunday mornings as we work our way through the book of Romans, you might remember the flow of thought that Paul has leading into the famous words of chapter 8, a portion of which is our Second Reading this morning. Early in the letter, Paul had condemned all people as guilty of sin. Whether they were Jewish or Gentile, whether they grew up around God’s Word or were completely ignorant of it, everyone is guilty of breaking God’s law and thus guilty of eternal condemnation. But, as Paul winds through chapters 3 and 4, he shows that we are saved by God’s goodness, that his righteousness is given to us not because of the things we’ve done but in spite of the things we’ve done. Faith clings to that forgiveness and receives it so that you and I are saved from hellfire in the same way that Abraham was so many years ago: faith—trust—in what God promised.

Then, Paul moves into our reaction to God’s forgiving love. Would it be right to treat God’s mercy with contempt? Would it be right to think, “Well, if God is going to forgive every sin, I should commit as many sins as possible!”? No! Rather, we want to serve God in thanksgiving for what he’s done. But in the latter part of Chapter 7, Paul takes us deeply into his own heart and mind. He is very vulnerable when he confides to the Romans, “I do not understand what I am doing, because I do not keep doing what I want. Instead, I do what I hate. … The desire to do good is present with me, but I am not able to carry it out. So I fail to do the good I want to do. Instead, the evil I do not want to do, that is what I keep doing” (Romans 7:15, 18-19). This is the plight of every believer—to have the desire to do good to thank God, yet never be able to carry it out to the level that we want and know that we should. Part of Paul’s closing to chapter 7 sums it up well: “What a miserable wretch I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24-25a).

You and I are both sinners and saints at the same time. The greatest of contradictions dwells deep, deep within us. It is so fundamental to who we are that we might not even be able to imagine a time without this conflict. Since God first put faith in our hearts, a spiritual battle has been raging inside us between our inherited sinful flesh and the new self that God has created in us.

And that battle is exhausting. Wouldn’t it be great to not have to fight it anymore? Obviously, for some, they don’t. They just follow their own heart, their wills, into whatever tickles their fancy. Maybe that’s helping others, maybe that’s completely self-serving, but it’s all done because that person thinks it’s the right thing for them. That alone is their rule and guide.

You and I know that feeling all too well. Even though we recognize the dangers in this line of thinking, we can be so quick to capitulate to our sinful natures, to give into temptations to sin against God, not because it’s the right thing to do, but because it’s the easier thing to do, or the more pleasure-filled thing to do, or the more popular thing to do, or the thing that seems best in line with my self-proclaimed-righteous anger, or whatever other shoddy justification I might spew out for my sin. In those moments, we show our talent for living as Paul describes, “Those who are in harmony with the sinful flesh think about things the way the sinful flesh does.”

But this dabbling with or fully embracing sin only leads to one destination: condemnation. Even if we did everything right from here on out, it would be far too little, far too late. God’s expectations aren’t that we have, on balance, more good than bad; his expectation is perfection. And once we’ve broken his law even once, we’ve ruined the law’s ability ever to produce good things eternally. Eternal good is what the law was unable to do, because it was weakened by the flesh. Do you want to earn God’s favor through a life well lived? Sorry, that’s impossible.

But maybe “sorry” is the wrong word. Because, in many ways, it’s good to know that we can’t do that. If we could, where would our confidence be? How would we know that we had done enough? Could we peer into God’s ledger to compare the amount of black to the amount of red on our account to see where we stand? No, it would be a distress that would only lead to hopelessness.

Why did Paul end chapter 7 of Romans saying, “I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord”? Because Jesus is the solution to this. And Paul lays this out clear as day for the wrestling sinner-saint. You are not what you want to be, you are not what you should be, but Jesus was and is all that and more for you.

I want you to take a moment to see just how many gospel statements there are in the first four verses of our Second Reading. You could probably divide it up a few different ways, but six jump out to me: 1) “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” 2) “The Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.” 3) “What the law was unable to do… God did.” 4) “He sent his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to deal with sin.” 5) “God condemned sin in his flesh.” 6) “The righteous decree of the law [is] fully satisfied in us.”

What does Jesus’ sacrifice mean for you? It means being set free from that sinful nature. When God condemned sin in Jesus’ flesh, he suffered as if he was the sole sinner ever to live. The death of Jesus is not just a nice picture or a reminder of self-sacrificing love or something to emulate. No, the death of Jesus is nothing short of the condemnation of condemnation itself. Hell has no claim on us because Jesus satisfied that claim in his flesh for us.

But that does not mean that sin is absent from our lives while we’re here—far from it. We continue to be the saint—the holy one cleansed by God—who is also a sinner who continues to sin. Despite knowing Jesus’ forgiving love, we will still rebel against him and seek our own path contrary to his will. Our sinful flesh still lingers, despite being conquered at the cross, and with its last gasps, tries to bring us down with it. The sinful flesh’s entire perspective is one of hostility and hatred toward God, and it’s still rattling around inside of us.

But to be in harmony with the spirit, that is, in harmony with the faith in Jesus God has created in us, leads to a totally different perspective. The one in harmony with the spirit knows that she is forgiven in the blood of Jesus shed for her. Paul is speaking to you and me when he says, “But you are not in the sinful flesh but in the spirit, if indeed God’s Spirit lives in you.” The Holy Spirit does, indeed, live in you. He dwells within you by faith, always clinging to Jesus as Savior, as the only and perfect solution to the condemnation we deserve.

Your conscience, though, will yell and scream about your failures. You will feel guilt and sorrow over your sin. And, to a point, this is good and healthy. These are tools to ward off slipping into complete harmony with the sinful flesh. But they are only helpful to a point, and the point where they stop being useful is Jesus. Because the guilty conscience is terrified of the condemnation that is coming because of your sin—you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. But you, dear Christian, can speak peace to your conscience. Your reply can (and should) be, “Condemnation? What condemnation? There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. I am in Jesus, and Jesus is in me. I am washed clean of every stain.”

If Christ is in you, your body is dead because of sin, but your spirit is alive because of righteousness. You and I will face death—physical death—as a consequence of our sins. But never eternal death, never condemnation, because Jesus did that for us. Your spirit, your faith, is alive and well by the working of the Holy Spirit. Your spiritual self will be with God forever, even being reunited with your body raised anew, glorified on the Last Day.

All these shape our perspective in life. God has freed you from sin and its condemnation, allowing you to glorify him. On Wednesday evening, we saw some ways to do this—respecting God’s representatives in our lives, honoring other people’s physical well-being, and treating God’s design for marriage and sex with appropriate reverence. This is just a sample of what we will do. We, who are in harmony with the spirit and have God’s Spirit in us, will live lives of gratitude toward him. This includes how we respect his Word, prioritize his will, and treat our neighbors—our fellow human beings.

My brothers and sisters, your sins are forgiven. Yes, even that one. No condemnation is waiting for you because Jesus was condemned in your place—and came out the other side completely victorious. You will not meet a stern judge when this life ends, but rather your loving Father who will wrap you up in his arms and tell you, “Oh, my child, once dead, but now alive; once lost, but now found! It’s so good to have you home!” There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus! Amen.

"Seek a Lenten Mindset!" (Sermon on Psalm 85) | March 23, 2025

Sermon Text: Psalm 85
Date: March 23, 2025
Event: The Third Sunday in Lent, Year C

Psalm 85 (EHV)

You showed favor to your land, O Lord.
You restored Jacob.
2You removed the guilt of your people.
You covered all their sin.                                                                Interlude
3You put away all your wrath.
You turned from your burning anger.
4Restore us, O God who saves us.
Put an end to your indignation with us.
5Will you be angry with us forever?
Will you extend your anger through all generations?
6Will you not turn and revive us,
so that your people may rejoice in you?
7Show us your mercy, O Lord,
and give us your salvation.
8I will hear what the true God, the Lord, will say.
He indeed speaks peace to his people, to his favored ones,
but do not let them turn to foolish ways.
9Surely his salvation is near for those who fear him,
so that glory may dwell in our land.
10Mercy and truth meet together.
Righteousness and peace kiss each other.
11Truth springs up from the earth,
and righteousness looks down from heaven.
12The Lord will indeed give good things,
and our land will yield its harvest.
13Righteousness walks in front of him.
It prepares the way for his footsteps.

Seek a Lenten Mindset!

For some tasks, you just have to be in the right headspace, and if you’re not, perhaps you need to try to manufacture it. For instance, if you know you need to work out or do some cleaning around the house, but perhaps you just don’t feel like it, sometimes putting on the right music, podcast, or TV show can flip that switch and get you going. Perhaps you have a project due for school in the coming weeks, but it feels so far away that you find yourself lacking the drive to get any work done on it. But perhaps setting smaller, more immediate deadlines can help light that fire under you to get started.

During the season of Lent, we might have to work especially hard to focus our minds on the season’s themes. Lent is very different from the Advent and Christmas seasons. There’s nothing in the world around us that can help “set the mood” for Lent. Just the opposite, actually. Everything around us directly contradicts that self-reflection centered on our sins and the need for God’s forgiveness. So, sometimes, having a model to follow, a path to trace, can help us get “in the zone,” as it were. Thankfully for us, in Psalm 85, we have exactly that.

The psalm writer begins this song to God with a bit of a history lesson. Now, it might seem a little bit weird to give God a history lesson on his own actions (did he forget?), but this really ties in with what we talked about on Wednesday evening with the Second Commandment. The best way to use God’s name is to share what he has done and to praise him for it. And that’s what the psalm writer is doing here: You showed favor to your land, O LORD. You restored Jacob. You removed the guilt of your people. You covered all their sin. You put away all your wrath. You turned from your burning anger.

Now, there is no indication of what events the psalm writer is talking about, and that’s probably intentional. Looking back through Bible history, we can see repeatedly where God followed this pattern of favor, restoration, and turning from fierce anger. We might think of Abraham and Sarah’s lack of trust in God’s promises for a child, so they turn to Hagar, Sarah’s servant, to be a “surrogate” of sorts in direct contradiction to God’s explicit promise that Abraham and Sarah would have a son (Genesis 16, 21). Perhaps, as the First Reading set the stage for the exodus of God’s people from Egypt, we think of the numerous times that God’s anger burned against the people for their idolatry and grumbling during those forty years wandering in the wilderness—beginning with that horrendous scene making and worshiping the golden calf (Exodus 32). David sinned against God in his lust and adultery with Bathsheba and in his deception and eventual murder of her husband, Uriah (2 Samuel 11-12). The prophet Elijah served at a time when the number of faithful people in the whole nation dipped to just 7,000; everyone else was serving the false gods of Baal and Asherah (1 Kings 18-19, esp. 19:18).

Whether the author of this psalm is a contemporary of David or lived a while after him, there was more than enough material in Israel’s history to draw on to see this pattern in God’s work. The people sin against God, and he is truly and justly angry over that sin, and yet he has compassion for his people and restores them.

Knowing this pattern helps us to understand the questions the psalm writer asks God, “Restore us, O God who saves us. Put an end to your indignation with us. Will you be angry with us forever? Will you extend your anger through all generations? Will you not turn and revive us, so that your people may rejoice in you?” He is not saying, “God, you have no right to be angry with us! This is unjust treatment!” In fact, just the opposite. When he asks God in v. 4 to “restore us” or “turn us back,” that’s a clear admission that they had gone astray. Put another way, you could say that the psalm writer is repentant for himself and on behalf of his people at large.

The psalm writer’s questions reveal that he knows and trusts God’s attitude, which drives God’s actions. The psalm writer had seen this before: God’s people sin, and he has mercy and compassion on them. So, his pleading with God is not a vain hope that he thinks has no chance of coming true; instead, it is a confident request that he knows God will follow through on: Show us your mercy, O LORD, and give us your salvation. He pleads with God to make his nature present in their lives.

The psalm writer had an appropriate Lenten mindset, which we want to emulate and capture for ourselves today and in the days, weeks, months, and years ahead. As we examine ourselves, we should see every reason God is upset with us, for his wrath to bubble over us. We have failed to be what he expected—demanded—we should be. But we, too, can look back over history and see the principal way God deals with people. Is it with anger and retribution or with mercy and forgiveness?

In fact, we have a far greater thing to point back to than the psalm writer did as we consider our sins. At the absolute latest, the psalm writer is writing hundreds of years before Jesus’ life. So he could look at God’s interactions with human beings and the promises that God had made. But those promises, certain as they were because God had made them, were still unresolved and unfulfilled.

But as the wheel of time rolled on, God sent his Son when that right moment came. Jesus made real what, up to that point, God has only promised and deferred. He came to redeem us who were wasting away in our sin under the law so that we might become the heirs of God rather than his enemies. When we plead with God to be merciful and forgive our sins, we can and should point to the cross. “Look, Lord! The punishment my sins deserved was doled out in the body of my Savior Jesus! There is nothing left for me to pay; he did it all for me!”

That repentant, Lenten mindset should be our approach to God for all our lives. Nothing we’ve done or will do can change what Jesus has accomplished. The steadfast God will not decide one day to no longer forgive you or to go back on his promises. No, if God’s promises are sure, then all the more is the fulfillment of those promises sure!

When his Spirit-given attitude is in us (one that is repentant, both sorry for our sins and trusting God’s mercy to forgive), we are the fig tree that Jesus pictured in our Gospel. We are bearing the fruit of faith because the fruit of faith is not trying to pretend we don’t have sins, nor is it assuming our sins create a hopeless situation for us. No, a fruit of faith is a confident resolve that he indeed speaks peace to his people, to his favored ones. And how does he speak that peace to us? Through the Word-made-flesh, Jesus, who paid for our sins with the sacrifice of his life for us. We are forgiven, no matter how grievous our failing or how deserving we think (and know!) we are of God’s wrath. Will God be angry with us forever? No! Because in Jesus, the punishment has been met, and his promises are fulfilled.

My brothers and sisters, we are truly God's favored ones. Not because of anything you have done or anything I have done, but because of what God has done for us. He will not be angry with us forever because he took out his just anger on Jesus. We do not have to worry about the effectiveness of his death because we know what awaits us just three days after his death at that garden tomb.

So, go forth in genuine acknowledgment and sorrow over your sin, but not hopelessly. Go forward trusting that all God has promised has been done and will be done. Your sins are forgiven. You are God’s child. And because of what he’s already done for you, he will bring you to his heavenly home. Thanks be to God! Amen.

"Don't Shrink Away from the Moment" (Sermon on Philippians 3:17-4:1) | March 16, 2025

Sermon Text: Philippians 3:17–4:1
Date: March 16, 2025
Event: The Second Sunday in Lent, Year C

Philippians 3:17–4:1 (EHV)

Brothers, join together in imitating me and in paying attention to those who are walking according to the pattern we gave you. 18To be sure, many walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. I told you about them often, and now I am saying it while weeping. 19Their end is destruction, their god is their appetite, and their glory is in their shame. They are thinking only about earthly things. 20But our citizenship is in heaven. We are eagerly waiting for a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ. 21By the power that enables him to subject all things to himself, he will transform our humble bodies to be like his glorious body.

4:1So then, my brothers, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, in this way keep standing firm in the Lord, my dear friends.

Don’t Shrink Away from the Moment

The basketball player gets the ball. Down by one point, a single made shot wins the game. The defense has panicked, leaving him wide open. The final seconds are ticking down. He lines it up and gets ready to take the shot, but he hesitates. His teammates on the bench are screaming for him to shoot, but he doubts himself and shrinks away from the moment. He sees a teammate open and passes the ball to him, but what he didn’t see was the defender behind him. The defender swats away the pass, grabs the ball, and they lose the game. They would have won if he had just taken and made the wide-open shot, but his hesitation means they didn’t even get a chance to try. Game over.

Our walk through this life as Christians is of far greater importance than any basketball game that has ever been played, but the same kind of metrics and drama are present. We have a limited amount of time, we face pressures and opposition that sometimes are outside of us and sometimes are inside of us. When everything is on the line for us spiritually, do we shrink away from the moment, hesitating to or even refusing to live the life that God has called us to live? Or do we embrace the moment and seize the opportunities that God is putting in front of us?

In our Second Reading this morning, Paul is writing to beloved Christians in the city of Philippi. This brief letter is often called Paul’s letter of joy because, despite writing it while under house arrest, Paul is so positive and so thankful for these partners in gospel ministry that he just can’t keep it contained. Even in our brief snippet of the letter here, you get a sense of that joyful flavor. Consider how he addresses this congregation in the last verse of our reading: my brothers, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown… Is there any question about Paul’s feelings toward these fellow believers?

And what does he want for these beloved people? That they live their lives consistent with their faith in the crucified and risen Savior. And how would they learn what to do? In part, by looking at Paul and his coworkers in the ministry: Brothers, join together in imitating me and in paying attention to those who are walking according to the pattern we gave you. Now, to be clear, Paul is not implying that he, in some way, is the “gold standard” of living the Christian life; this is the same man who, when writing to pastor Timothy, was clear that he viewed himself as the worst sinner of all (see 1 Timothy 1:15-16). But he knows that while he was with the Philippians, he set a positive, if not perfect, example. And he urges them to follow suit.

You might have had the experience that heavy, big emotions in one area can lead to heavy, big emotions in another area at the same moment. And so it is the case here that in Paul’s overflowing joy for the Philippians, with the floodgates of his heart set wide open, he loses control of his emotions in another place. So, with tears in his eyes, tripping over his words and even interrupting himself, he puts forth the opposite side of the coin, the thing he doesn’t want in any way, shape, or form for the Philippians: To be sure, many walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. I told you about them often, and now I am saying it while weeping. Paul is absolutely destroyed that many are going about their lives as enemies of the cross of Christ.

What constitutes being an enemy of Christ’s cross? It’s not necessarily being vehemently opposed to the gospel message to the point of fighting against it. While that would certainly be included here, Paul’s description is not limited to that. How does he describe these enemies? Their end is destruction, their god is their appetite, and their glory is in their shame. They are thinking only about earthly things. It’s not only setting one’s heart and mind against Jesus but simply valuing other things over him.

There may be echoes here for you of our worship from Wednesday evening this past week where we focused on the First Commandment. In short, enemies of the cross of Christ are those who value things other than Christ’s cross, put other things ahead of God in their lives. Indeed, this would apply to unbelievers. But this is also a path believers can walk. Paul is determined to do everything he can not to let that happen to the Philippians and their faith.

But what would cause someone to take such a position? What would cause someone to value things other than God? What would that look like in practice? Well, looking at what Paul says here, we might be able to derive some thoughts:

Their god is their appetite. Now, a phrase like this perhaps conjures up a hedonistic view of someone who overindulges in every worldly thing. But it’s more basic than that. Perhaps this is someone who overindulges, but it might also be someone who is constantly on the hunt to make physical ends meet. They might rarely know where their next meal is coming from, so their growling, empty stomach becomes their god; they focus primarily on how to fill it next to preserve their life. This is an example of a lack of trust in God’s promise for daily bread. And even if it’s not too-much or too-little, prioritizing physical appetites over everything else in this life—especially God—is a tell-tale sign of an enemy of Christ’s cross.

Their glory is in their shame. So too, the enemies of Christ’s cross might find glory in shameful things. We might think of the person who brags about how they cheated someone in a transaction and came out financially ahead. Or perhaps someone who lives a sexually promiscuous lifestyle and boasts about his or her “conquests” in that realm. Perhaps it’s someone who brags about how much alcohol they consumed or how many drugs they took at a party over the weekend. It might be someone laughing about the filth that dominates their internet usage. All of these things should be shameful because they are sinful abuses of God’s blessings. But rather than approaching these things with repentance and sorrow, they boast in them, value them, identify with them, and might even find the meaning to their life in them. For the enemy of Christ’s cross, actions and attitudes that they ought to be ashamed of are worn as badges of honor.

They are thinking only about earthly things. Oh, and now this is where it starts to get really uncomfortable, because this statement seems wildly broad. I wonder, how many of us here today have thought, just since the sermon started, primarily about that work that needs to be done at home or that bill that needs to be paid, or that meal that will need to be prepared, or that bit of fun we’re planning for the afternoon, or anything along those lines rather than focusing on God’s Word. Are the earthly things dominating your thoughts, pushing spiritual matters and the joy of Jesus’ cross out?

Well-meaning Christians can become enemies of the cross of Christ. Consider for just a moment the suffering that you might undergo for being a Christian. What trouble has or might your faith cause among the members of your family? What about among your friends? Coworkers? Neighbors? Even strangers at the coffee shop or driving down the road? What is our gut reaction most of the time? We might not want to face the consequences of having a faith that is looked down on, so we hide it. We perhaps have a moment for confession, a time to make our faith known, but we sit quietly; we don’t take the shot.

In our nation, an ugly side-effect can come along with our secular principle of the freedom of religion—we, as Christians, long for “comfortable” or “consequence-free” Christianity. We want to be Christians, but not endure any hardship for that. We want to cherish our Savior while keeping him a secret or relatively unknown. We want the blessings of being the child of God while at the same time indulging in the infatuations that come with being a child of this world.

So this “enemies of the cross of Christ” category is not just those people who seem especially opposed to the gospel. Again, it’s anyone that is valuing these earthly things more than spiritual things. It might be true of the hedonistic unbeliever, but it is also just as likely that you and I here today are, in part, going through our lives like this. However, whether in ourselves or others, Paul gives us the proper response to these things. He isn’t furious about this; his tears say it all. We need to see the spiritual and eternal danger these attitudes pose for us.

Is it any wonder that Paul is weeping when he thinks of people living like this and that such a fall could even come upon his beloved Philippians? This path ends nowhere good. It only ends with the rejection of faith, the rejection of everything won at the cross of Christ, and ultimately, as eternal punishment in hell for our sins.

So, if our thoughts are misguided if they’re focused exclusively or even primarily on earthly, physical things, what is the solution? Paul directs us in the next verse: But our citizenship is in heaven. Our closing hymn this morning will underscore the fact that, really, we are foreigners here in this world. Our true homeland is heaven, the dwelling place of God. That’s easy to forget, though, because we don’t see a lot to remind us of that and redirect our thinking that way. It’s like we’re traveling abroad and find ourselves swept up in another nation’s civil war. If we can only focus on what is right in front of us, we might be terrified of the injury or even death that could face us. But if we remember our true citizenship and seek help from our homeland, ideally, we will be rescued from that conflict and returned home safely.

This citizenship idea would have been powerful in the city of Philippi. As a leading Roman city in the area, many of the residents would have been Roman citizens, aware of the privileges they held there and throughout the empire because of their citizenship. Likewise, the people who didn’t have citizenship in the empire would have been accurately aware of what they were missing.

But Paul stresses that our citizenship in heaven supersedes that of any earthly nation. And don’t miss a really small, yet really important detail. Paul says that our citizenship is in heaven, not that it will be in heaven. This is something that is true right here, right now. How? He goes on: We are eagerly waiting for a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ. We are looking forward to our Savior Jesus’ victorious return at the last day. But this stresses once again that this forgiveness, this citizenship, is something given, not earned. You don’t get this citizenship because you paid a lot of money, as you might in the Roman empire. You don’t get it because you jump through all sort of legal hoops and red tape, complete with lawyer’s fees, as you might in our nation. No, this citizenship is a gift of God’s love.

But this gift was not free. Like us, Jesus had a choice in front of him: easy path or difficult path. The easy path would have meant no cross, no suffering, no death, but that also would have meant eternal damnation for us all. Jesus was not willing to take the easy path, to save his own skin, and leave us to rot. So he took the difficult path, the path of the cross, the path that led him to taking our sins on himself and being punished for them at his cross so that we would be free from sin. This is why we are citizens of heaven, because of Jesus’ love for us that sacrificed himself to save us.

We hold dear, cherish, and value that citizenship-gift above everything else. We walk about our lives not as enemies of the cross of Christ but so thankful for all the eternal blessings we have now and will fully experience later for Jesus’ sake. We recognize that this path will be difficult; we will have crosses of our own, suffering of our own, placed on us as we go through this life. But let’s not take the shortcuts. Let’s not prioritize short-term comfort, which will forfeit eternal-term comfort and peace. Let us look forward to that final transformation that Jesus will bring about, when he brings us back to our homeland, to heaven, and purges even that sinful nature from us so that our bodies will be more akin to his glorious body than the decay we feel now.

Lord, give us the drive to walk the path in front of us, no matter how difficult or painful. Help us always be your positive representatives in the world, no matter the cost. Strengthen us as you forgive us for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

"Jesus Conquers Satan for You" (Sermon on Luke 4:1-13) | March 9, 2025

Sermon Text: Luke 4:1–13
Date: March 9, 2025
Event: The First Sunday in Lent, Year C

Luke 4:1–13 (EHV)

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, 2where he was tempted by the Devil for forty days. He did not eat anything during those days. When they came to an end, he was hungry. 3The Devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become bread.”

4Jesus answered him, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word of God.’”

5The Devil led him up to a high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time. 6The Devil told him, “I will give you all this power and the glory of these kingdoms, because it has been entrusted to me, and I can give it to anyone I want. 7So, if you worship me, it will all be yours.”

8Jesus answered him, “It is written: ‘You shall worship the Lord your God and serve him only.’”

9The Devil led him to Jerusalem and had him stand on the pinnacle of the temple. “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down from here, 10because it is written:

He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you.

11And,

they will lift you up with their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.”

12Jesus answered him, “It says: ‘You shall not test the Lord your God.’”

13When the Devil had finished every temptation, he left him until an opportune time.

Jesus Conquers Satan for You

We all would like someone to stand up for us. If you’re being bullied at school, having a classmate swoop in and tell the bully off is a relief and empowering experience. Similarly, when you're in a meeting at work and receive stern criticism for your presentation, it’s easier to deal with it when others also praise your thoughts and ideas. Holding an unpopular opinion can feel alienating, but having even one other person who agrees with you is a great comfort and encouragement.

There’s an important concept that we need to keep in mind during this Lent season (and, truly, at all times), and that concept you might see in Latin: Christus pro nobis; in English: Christ for us.  This biblical principle is that Jesus’ work is ultimately vicarious, substitutionary. Much of what Jesus does is to take our place under the demands of God’s law, to face our enemies, and even to face the punishment for sin (of which he had none, and we have seemingly infinite). So when we see Jesus doing extraordinary things that we could never imagine ourselves doing, we want to keep this “Christ for us” principle in mind. Likely, the point of what Jesus is doing is not showing you how to conduct yourself, but rather doing what you could not do for you.

This “Christ for us” principle is front-and-center in our Gospel for this morning as we meet up with Jesus facing the temptations of the Devil. While we can learn a lot from Jesus’ approach to temptation, the ultimate takeaway we want to have is that he’s doing this for us. His perfection is credited to you, to me. He makes us righteous and perfect as we should have been all along.

As we join the events of our Gospel in progress, Jesus is leaving the Jordan River just after his baptism. This account is literally the first thing he did after the official start of his ministry. Jesus is just getting things rolling, and who is there to meet him and try to derail everything? Satan.

And as true man, Jesus is vulnerable. Not just because he had the potential to sin, which he did, but also because he was in a physically weak state. Jesus was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where he was tempted by the Devil for forty days. He did not eat anything during those days. When they came to an end, he was hungry. You likely know how you feel when you’re hungry. Perhaps you have a headache; perhaps you are quick-tempered; perhaps you make really bad decisions. So, if that’s what you feel like when you miss lunch or perhaps are late to get dinner going, imagine how you’d feel if that stretched out beyond a day! How hungry would you be and how sane would you feel if you hadn’t eaten in 40 hours? Now consider your weakness if you had been fasting for forty days! Luke’s comment on Jesus’ state, “he was hungry,” seems like an almost intentional understatement.

So it’s during this period of fasting that Satan comes to Jesus to tempt him. Satan’s tactics are all over the place because he doesn’t really care how he gets Jesus to sin, he just knows he needs to get Jesus to sin. Just one sin would make Jesus entirely ineligible to be our Savior and ruin God’s entire plan of salvation. So right here at the start of Jesus’ ministry, Satan digs in—and notably, God lets him. Remember that Jesus is in this position because he was led by the Spirit in the wilderness. This whole scene is not Jesus being victimized by Satan; this is part of his work for us; he is there willingly.

The first temptation that Luke records for us seems to hit Jesus at his physical weakness as well as at his ministerial weakness. Satan might have assumed that Jesus, the newly anointed prophet, would be eager to prove his status. So Satan tempts him to prove that he is God’s Son. Such a temptation probably worked well for Satan with many newly-minted leaders in the church over the centuries, to overextend to prove their legitimacy. And pile Jesus’ fasting on top of that! Regardless of whether this particular temptation took place on day 5, 15, or 40 of his time in the wilderness (or repeatedly during these days), Jesus would have been hungry; the stone-into-bread would have been tempting. So, “If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become bread.”

We see a pattern in Jesus’ answers to Satan’s temptations. He doesn’t engage Satan in a lengthy dialogue, logically explaining why that action would be bad. Instead, he answers Satan’s temptations directly with God’s Word. In this case, a quote from Deuteronomy chapter 8. In what Jesus quotes, Moses encourages the Israelites to look to God for this sustenance and support as they had during the 40 years wandering in the wilderness, knowing that ultimately it’s not bread that sustains someone, but God’s providence. So, if Jesus needed bread, his heavenly Father would provide. But in this moment, the Father didn’t; Jesus wouldn’t succumb to Satan’s trap.

Satan moves on to a different tactic in the second recorded temptation. He lays out all the glory of all the kingdoms of the world. “I will give you all this power and the glory of these kingdoms,” Satan promises through lying teeth. What might have been Satan’s thought here? Again, he may be following his playbook for what might trip-up the average new prophet of God. “Wouldn’t it be better for your message and ministry to be well-known, Jesus? Wouldn’t the glory and splendor of all the world’s kingdoms be a good place to start? Wouldn’t it be good to have a global audience right from the get-go instead of fighting tooth-and-nail for every convert in backwater Judea and Galilee?” But, what’s the trade for such a head start to one’s ministry? “If you worship me, it will all be yours.”

In some ways, this temptation is more about Satan than Jesus. This is what he has always wanted. He wanted glory and recognition. He wanted to be over and above all. He wanted the glory due only to God. That was the reason for his original rebellion. If he could get the Son of God to worship him in this moment, he would have won his heart’s desire. But Jesus quickly throws a restatement of the First Commandment back at him from Deuteronomy 6, “You shall worship the Lord your God and serve him only.” As far as our Gospel goes, strike two.

Finally, Satan goes for the big guns. Jesus has shown a reliance on God’s Word, so Satan co-opts it. He quotes God’s promise to be with and protect his people from Psalm 91. “If this is true,” Satan reasons with Jesus, “throw yourself off the top of the temple and let God protect you. Surely you, mighty Son of God, of all people, would be in the arms of these powerful servants!” One wonders if Satan is still salty about God’s orders to the angelic host to serve and protect mankind, orders that would have applied to Satan before his rebellion against God.

But Jesus knows that this is not the purpose of that promise. God is not saying, “Get yourself in as much trouble as possible! I’ve got you!” Instead, God’s promise in Psalm 91 is that as we go about our lives, God will be our guardian and protector. He is our shelter and protects our tents (Psalm 91:9-10). And that is made clear as Jesus quotes God’s direction through Moses, again in Deuteronomy 6, not to put God to the test.

What are we to make of this whole scene? Let us not forget the “Christ for us” principle! Here Jesus is not saying, “Look how easy it is to fight temptation! I did it on over a month’s worth of hungry days!” No, this is Jesus fighting this spiritual battle for us. He is standing up to Satan and swatting down his temptations in our place.

We need only examine the temptations and find modern equivalents for us. Have we ever valued the things of this world more than we trusted God? Have we ever made an idol out of luxury and physical security, valuing them above all things? “Tell these stones to become bread”—regardless of what God has promised?

Or what about acceptance from the world? How likely are we to jettison our faith and dedication to God if it means a welcome or even praise from those in the world? Do we seek to blend in with our friends, even doing things we know are wrong, so that we’re not kicked out of the group or thought of as weird? Do we succumb to the temptation to fit in with the crowd at work, the bar, or our other relationships so that we fade into the background or foreground? “I will give you all this power and the glory of these kingdoms … if you worship me, it will all be yours”—while you at the same time stomp all over your faith in Jesus, or at least keep it as hidden as possible, like a plant tucked away in a basement?

Do we ever distort God’s promises of protection? Do we assume that he’ll save us from any and every trouble in the way we want—and then get angry when he doesn’t? If I face the consequences for my own sin and carelessness, do I shake the fist at God rather than turning the reflection inward on my choices and priorities? Do I create promises that God has never made and assume he’ll do my will, rather than the other way around? “Throw yourself down from here”—not in faith, but in spite, daring God to save you!

To one degree or another, we are all guilty of all of these lines of thought and action. It might not play out in precisely the way we just mentioned in your life, but somewhere inside all of us is the drive to do exactly what Satan tried to get Jesus to do. And this underscores the truth that the writer to the Hebrews shared in our Second Reading this morning. Truly, we have a high priest who has been tempted in every way, just as we are, yet was without sin (Hebrews 4:15). Jesus doesn’t just know this temptation, he shut it down and defeated it. He defeated it for you.

We know where Lent is taking us. Before we turn around twice we’ll be in Holy Week. We’ll be sitting here in church on a dark Friday night, hearing the agonizing screams of the Son of God abandoned by his heavenly Father. But again, that will be for us. It will be for us because we have sinned so often under temptation, when even once was too much. In that moment on the cross, the only person who was ever without sin will suffer as if he was the only person who ever had sinned, bearing the full brunt of hell as the payment for your sins and mine. Christ for us.

So, we can take some practical pointers from this scene between Satan and Jesus. When we are facing temptation to do what we know is wrong—what God clearly says is wrong—quote God’s Word at Satan. Jesus isn’t just making declarations of truth as God; he’s quoting the Scriptures, which we also have to fend off our adversary. You have the same tool, the same sword of the Holy Spirit, at your disposal. Use it and, as James says, “Submit yourselves to God. Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you” (James 4:7).

But this is not just a how-to guide for fighting temptation. It’s not even primarily such a guide. No, this is primarily Jesus defeating temptation for you and me. Jesus’ perfect life is credited to your account and my account so that, in his forgiving sacrifice and perfect crediting of his life for ours, we are the perfect people that God demands we be. In “Christ for us,” we are victorious because he was victorious in our stead, partly here in the wilderness, and ultimately at the cross.

Jesus has conquered Satan for you! Thanks be to God! Amen.  

"Behold God's Glory!" (Sermon on 2 Corinthians 3:7-18) | March 2, 2025

Sermon Text: 2 Corinthians 3:7–18
Date: March 2, 2025
Event: The Transfiguration of Our Lord, Year C

2 Corinthians 3:7–18 (EHV)

If the ministry that brought death (which was engraved in letters on stone) came with glory, so that the Israelites could not look directly at the face of Moses because of the glory of his face (though it was fading), 8how will the ministry of the spirit not be much more glorious? 9For if the ministry that brought condemnation has glory, the ministry that brought righteousness has even more glory. 10In fact, in this case, what was glorious is no longer very glorious, because of the greater glory of that which surpasses it. 11Indeed, if what is fading away was glorious, how much more glorious is that which is permanent!

12Therefore, since we have this kind of hope, we act with great boldness. 13We are not like Moses, who put a veil over his face, so that the Israelites could not continue to look at the end of the radiance, as it was fading away. 14In spite of this, their minds were hardened. Yes, up to the present day, the same veil remains when the Old Testament is read. It has not been removed because it is taken away only in Christ. 15Instead, to this day, whenever Moses is read, a veil lies over their hearts. 16But whenever someone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. 17Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 18But all of us who reflect the Lord’s glory with an unveiled face are being transformed into his own image, from one degree of glory to another. This too is from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

Behold God’s Glory!

Things that have been hidden can be quite surprising when they are revealed. The engagement ring that was waiting until just the right moment to appear might take someone by surprise—in a good way. A cancer diagnosis when the person feels otherwise healthy will absoultely take someone by surprise—in a bad way.

While “ignorance is bliss” at times, we often prefer to know things rather than stay in the dark. Some things may need to remain hidden, at least for a while: the surprise party or the bad news that could be completely destructive to someone already going through a tough time. A surprise can be enjoyable when it’s fun, but when it’s something important and concealed, it can be frustrating and harmful.

When it comes to spiritual matters, there are all sorts of hidden things. Think of how many times we ponder God’s Word and we get caught up in genuinely unanswerable questions based on what God has told us. While his message in the Bible is sufficient—more than sufficient, even!—it is not exhaustive. Not every question that crosses our mind will be clearly answered in the Scriptures and many decisions need to be made in our lives with only the most general of guiding principles from what God has said. Rarely do we have a passage telling us which choice in our lives is right and which is wrong.

This Sunday, Transfiguration Sunday, is a summary Sunday for the whole season of Epiphany. The season has been all about revealing hidden things. We’ve seen things about Jesus that were not obvious—his being true God hidden in the garment of his true humanity—and we’ve learned things about the reality of events in our lives that are not always clear, such as the good purposes behind suffering and how God wants us to treat those who are our enemies.

Today, the veil covering Jesus’ divine nature was mostly removed for a brief moment in our Gospel. Peter, James, and John could see Jesus almost completely as the God that he is: his face changed, and his clothing became dazzling white, a comparison with a flash of lightning.  In Matthew’s Gospel, he compares Jesus’ appearance with the sun (Matthew 17:2). This was not just a glowing complexion on someone who is happy and content; Jesus looked wildly different than he usually did during his ministry.

But this is not the only time in the Bible that we hear of someone’s appearance being changed to something more dazzling. In our First Reading this morning we heard that after Moses met with God to receive the Law the skin of his face was shining because he had been speaking with the Lord (Exodus 34:29). Moses’ gleaming face was, of course, different than Jesus’ appearance at his transfiguration. Moses’ shine was a reflection of God’s glory where Jesus’ radiance was his own glory as God.

In our Second Reading, the apostle Paul takes the account of Moses and expounds on it for us. As the Holy Spirit adds some symbolic meaning to Moses’ gleaming face and as we see Jesus display his glory on the Mount of Transfiguration, we can spend time this morning appreciating the true glory of God—his mercy and compassion.

When Moses received the law from God, that interaction brought about his gleaming face, reflecting God’s glory. But the law is, as you well know, not good news. This was a covenant that God was establishing between himself and his people. It was a bilateral, two-directional covenant: if the people would keep up their side, God would keep up his side. But if the people did not follow what God directed, then his promises of blessings would end.

Of course, understanding that this was a nation of sinners indicates from the very beginning how this would play out: not well. Therefore, Paul describes this law as the ministry that brought death, because that’s all the law can do for sinners. It reveals where we have failed to perfectly follow God’s directions, leading to eternal punishment in hell. Yet, even this death-bringing message still carried God’s glory. Paul continues: How will the ministry of the Spirit not be much more glorious? For if the ministry that brought condemnation has glory, the ministry that brought righteousness has even more glory. If God’s glory shines in the law’s message of condemnation, how much more does his glory shine through the gospel message that brings forgiveness?

Moses had to cover his face, the reflection of God’s glory, because even that fading reflection was too much for the people of Israel to look at. We might remember Peter’s reaction to the gigantic catch of fish a few weeks ago in our Gospel; in terror he fell at Jesus’ feet and begged him to go away because Peter knew he was sinful. This is the same reaction all sinners—you and I included—have toward God’s glory.

But Jesus came to change that. He came so that we could stand in God’s presence, live in God’s presence not for a moment, but forever. For that to be possible, sin would have to be eliminated. Nothing would prevent us from living in God’s glory if all sins were gone. And not in a veiled, muted way or a disguised way as it was most often in Jesus during his ministry. No, without sin, we could bask in that full glory forever.

We see a very small preview of this on the Mount of Transfiguration. When Peter, James, and John saw Jesus’ glory, we don’t hear them begging for Jesus to go away from them in terror. No, quite the opposite, actually. Peter’s mind couldn’t quite process what was happening here, but he knew on a fundamental level that this was a place he wanted to stay—with these heroes of faith and his Savior in his revealed glory. Thus, he suggests that he put up some tents so that this moment wouldn’t have to end and could last as long as possible.

But it did have to end because the work of removing sins was not done. God could not just pretend like you and I had not sinned or that our sins didn’t matter. He had to solve this problem; he had to deal with sin. Jesus would deal with it in his own body, offering his own life in place of ours.

As we begin a new season of the church year this Wednesday, we will have ample time to dwell on the reality of our sin and the horrid price it cost Jesus to free us from it. But as we move through Lent’s darker and meditative days, let this scene with Peter, James, and John live in your mind. This is the goal. This is what Jesus is driving toward. This is what he wants for you, for me, and for all people.

And by God’s grace, we know how this all shakes out. We know that Jesus’ goal is not a pipe dream—it’s the reality he brought to completion. The trip down from this glorious mount will eventually lead elsewhere, a horrid and disgusting hilltop. As we sang in our hymn of the day, “Strange how his journey ended! In love that is his fame our Lord again ascended a mount—the hill of shame. Upon the cross he proffered himself to agony; his holy soul he offered to set the guilty free” (Christian Worship 388, s. 4). All of Jesus’ work, all of the promises that God had made for millennia before him, is leading to the cross. And the suffering at the cross leads to the victory of his empty tomb.

For us here today, this has all been accomplished. As was true for the apostle Paul, so it is true for us. There is no end to this glory brought about by the gospel. Indeed, if what is fading away was glorious, how much more glorious is that which is permanent! What is the result? All of us who reflect the Lord’s glory with an unveiled face are being transformed into his own image, from one degree of glory to another.  We don’t shield our eyes or face from this glory. We look directly into God’s glory with unveiled faces and bask in it.

Soon enough, we will join Peter, James, John, Moses, and Elijah, not in tents on a dusty hilltop, but in the perfect courts of heaven, in the mansions prepared by our Savior, because of his victory for us. You, my brothers and sisters, have been changed from fear and death to joy and life. The glory of God—the gloria Dei, if you will—transforms us so that we reflect that very glory, not in a fading way, but in a permanent way. We no longer need to be given special dispensation like Moses or Peter, James, and John, but we will be in that glory forever because Jesus has taken away our sins. There we will behold God’s glory without end! Thanks be to God! Amen.

"Love Your Enemies" (Sermon on Luke 6:27-38) | February 23, 2025

Sermon Text: Luke 6:27–38
Date: February 23, 2025
Event: The Seventh Sunday after Epiphany, Year C

Luke 6:27–38 (EHV)

“But I say to you who are listening: Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. 28Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who mistreat you. 29If someone strikes you on one cheek, offer the other too. If someone takes away your coat, do not withhold your shirt. 30Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes away your things, do not demand them back.

31“Treat others just as you would want them to treat you. 32If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? To be sure, even the sinners love those who love them. 33And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? Even the sinners do the same thing. 34If you lend to those from whom you expect to be repaid, what credit is that to you? Even the sinners lend to sinners in order to be paid back in full. 35Instead, love your enemies, do good and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the unthankful and the evil. 36Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

37“Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. 38Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be poured into your lap. In fact, the measure with which you measure will be measured back to you.”

Love Your Enemies

A common theme in political discourse throughout history is leaders (or would-be leaders) identifying a problem that some core part of their constituency has and then finding some group of “others” to blame it on. You see that especially in difficult economic times. Usually, the blame gets put on someone who is different than the core group—maybe a different religion, skin tone, language, or ancestry. More often than not throughout history, those claims and blames have been baseless.

Yet, why do you see that throughout history and even today? Because it works. If I’m suffering, if there is something bad in my life, I want to blame it on someone or something—and ideally that someone or something isn’t me. And whether anything changes in my life or not, just having someone leading me saying this is the person or group to blame for my problems gives me an outlet, a metaphorical (or, in more horrid terms, a literal) punching bag that I can take out my frustrations on, and perhaps think that if I do bad to them then good will happen to me.

Let’s set aside for just a moment that the vast majority of that rhetoric is utter nonsense and is spewed out just to incite mob mentality among a group of hurting people. Let’s assume, just for the sake of argument, that my current troubles are the result of some other person’s or group’s actions. What would be the result of my taking action against that person or group? What if I were to hurt them, take their belongings, or perhaps even take their life. Does my life get better? Are my problems solved because I’ve gotten even with my oppressor? Hardly. In fact, while the now-trite line is “vengeance is a dish best served cold,” it’s almost always a poisonous meal.

That’s not to say that we don’t have problems in our lives. And that’s not even to say that often times our troubles aren’t possibly the result of other person’s action or inaction. But what is the appropriate response to that? How do we handle being wronged in this life? How can we conduct ourselves in this life to give glory to God while also acknowledging that life in this sin-corrupted world is often awful?

Our readings for this morning build on some of what we talked about last weekend. This past Sunday, we spent time with the apostle Paul as he wrestled with God in prayer regarding his “thorn in the flesh” (2 Corinthians 12:7), which God opted not to take away from him because it served his purposes for Paul in this life. So, while God does indeed want what is best for us, sometimes what is best for us and what we want is not the same thing. And so while what we want is probably for people to just be nice to us—or at least to treat us the way that we want to be treated—that often doesn’t happen. Sometimes, you have true enemies set against you that despise you for what you’ve done or not done or for no apparent reason at all. And surely, we might recognize that our own failures are at the heart of this. Perhaps I have, in fact, sinned against someone in the past and left them hurt to the point that they are not interested in forgiving me. But how do I deal with the reality of someone making me their enemy?

In our Gospel for this morning, Jesus has direction for us that is the polar opposite of the political leader sicing his adherents against a group of “others” that have been identified as the enemy. Jesus’ words and direction are so controversial, so at odds with our sinful natural mindset, that his words might almost seem like madness to us. How do we deal with an enemy, someone who sets out to make our lives miserable? Love them. Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who mistreat you. If someone strikes you on one cheek, offer the other too. If someone takes away your coat, do not withhold your shirt. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes away your things, do not demand them back.

This “love” is not just not hurting someone or not lashing out at them. This love is real, selfless, self-sacrificing love. How often do you pray for those who are set against you—not praying about them, that is, that they stop doing what they’re doing, but actually praying for them—that things would be good for them, that God would bless them, take care of them, and biggest of all, bring them to saving faith? Naturally, those types of prayers are probably at the bottom of our list, if they’re on the list at all.

But, my brothers and sisters, we do well to consider our own relationship with God. What was our natural state with God? It certainly wasn’t friend or ally—it was enemy. Our sin put us in a war with God. Every sinful action and thought was rebellion against our Creator; every time we disobeyed was tossing a hand grenade toward the Almighty. So, what was God’s response? Did he come and wipe us out? Did he open up the earth and consume us at the first sniff of sin? Did he just send us to hell? No, he loved us.

In Romans 8, the apostle Paul sums up our natural situation well: To be sure, those who are in harmony with the sinful flesh think about things the way the sinful flesh does … Now, the way the sinful flesh thinks results in death … For the mind-set of the sinful flesh is hostile to God, since it does not submit to God’s law, and in fact, it cannot. Those who are in the sinful flesh cannot please God. (Romans 8:5-8). But earlier in that letter, in Romans 5, Paul had already outlined how God addressed this sin-laden hostility toward him: It is rare indeed that someone will die for a righteous person. Perhaps someone might actually go so far as to die for a person who has been good to him. But God shows his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. … For if, while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, it is even more certain that, since we have been reconciled, we will be saved by his life (Romans 5:7-8, 10). How rare it is for someone to be willing to sacrifice their own lives for someone they love, for someone who has been good to them! But what does God do? He gives up his life to save those who hated him because he loved us even when we were his enemies!

So Jesus is really laying out the way that God deals with sinners: love for enemies. That’s what you and I have been shown. Our whole lived, spiritual experience is that God loved us when we were. In a way that makes no sense to us, even as Christians, God saved us from hell by dying for the sins that we committed against him. Thanks be to God that it doesn’t have to make sense to us to be true. It is our certain foundation and our hope.

So, why didn’t God just take us from this life as soon as he brought us to faith? As soon as the words of the gospel hit our ears, as soon as the moisture of that baptism touched our skin, once he had made us his children rather than his enemies, why didn’t he just whisk us up to heaven at that moment? Because, as Jesus lays out for us here, you and I are to be models and reflections of God’s love to the world among those who do not know it.

Yet we do have to admit the sad reality that not only do we not do this as often as we could or should, but very often, we don’t even want to. It’s much more satisfying to the sinful nature to pay back someone evil with our own evil. We like the political message of blaming others for our problems, of responding to people’s hate with our own hate. It’s like spiritual junk food—it tastes so good, and is so very bad for you. Paul asked the question, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?” What credit is there in hating those who hate us? None at all! Lord, forgive us for such shallow, thoughtless attitudes toward others!

So that means that even Paul’s quotation from Proverbs in our Second Reading—that in responding to evil with good we “heap burning coals on his head” (Romans 12:20; Proverbs 25:21-22)—is not the main point. We’re not just trying to shame someone by responding to evil with good; instead, we are trying to move them from shame to assurance of their forgiveness. Our prayer is that love for enemies—as alien and foreign as anything could be in this world—might be a window, an opening, to be able to share the joy of Christ-crucified and risen for all people. If asked why I treat someone in such a surprising way, despite how they treat me, may the answer always be, “Well, that’s how God treated me—loved me—in Jesus.”

So, Jesus’ direction is as much about sharing God’s love as it is about thanking God for what he’s done for us. When you follow Jesus' so-called “golden rule” of treating others just as you would want them to treat you, you create an environment in which you can share God’s baffling love in Jesus with those you treat well, even when they don’t show you the same courtesy.

In the end, if someone needs to be rebuked, if there needs to be vengeance laid out on someone for what they’ve done to you, that is God’s decision and God’s work. As for you? Knowing that you are fully loved, fully forgiven in Jesus’ blood shed for you, do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good (Romans 12:21). Amen.  

"Is Jesus' Grace Sufficient?" (Sermon on 2 Corinthians 12:7-10) | February 16, 2025

Sermon Text: 2 Corinthians 12:7b–10
Date: February 16, 2025
Event: The Sixth Sunday after Epiphany, Year C

2 Corinthians 12:7b–10 (EHV)

I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me, so that I would not become arrogant. 8Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that he would take it away from me. 9And he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, because my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will be glad to boast all the more in my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may shelter me.

10That is why I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties, for the sake of Christ. For whenever I am weak, then am I strong.

Is Jesus’ Grace Sufficient?

Have you ever felt at the point of being completely overwhelmed, that you just couldn’t take one more issue or you were going to lose it? And “lose it” may have different meanings to different people in different contexts. Maybe you feel like you’re going to scream if one more person tries to put one more thing on your tasklist. Maybe you feel like you’re going to get sick if you have one more piece of anxiety-causing news come across your phone or TV screen. Maybe you feel like you’re going to quit your job or run away from some other responsibilities if things don’t change because you just can’t take one more minute of the way things are going.

Those responses all make sense. Each of us has different things piling on us and making us feel overwhelmed. Things that are difficult for you to deal with might be easier for me and vice-versa, but even if we’re all different in the specifics, the generalities are universal. You can only take so much before something needs to change.

We have some specific promises of God to consider in matters like these. He promises through the apostle Paul that we will not be tempted—or tested—beyond what we can bear (see 1 Corinthians 10:13). And perhaps those limits are higher in God’s eyes than they seem to us, but whether it’s on your own or by making use of the support that God provides in your family, friends, neighbors, fellow Christians at church, etc., you will be able to bear up under any kind of testing and temptation.

But that doesn’t mean it won’t feel overwhelming. And God knows that. In fact, he tells us in Psalm 50:15, “Call on me in the day of distress. I will deliver you, and you will honor me.” He acknowledges that there will be distress and hardship, but that prayer is a lifeline for us. When you feel at the brink and edge (or ideally, well before that), God says to call on him and he will rescue you.

But, sometimes things we thought were good in our lives are revealed to be bad, and things that we thought were bad are revealed to be good. This isn’t exactly the kind of epiphany that we want to make, because it probably means suffering and hardship. Yet, do God’s promises still apply even in those instances? Even when we got things really mixed up?

This morning, in our Second Reading, we have a very specific illustration of this kind of epiphany. The apostle Paul, who had been granted many blessings along with his challenges, noted that “so that [he] would not become arrogant,” God allowed what he calls “a thorn in his flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment” him.

Plenty of attempts have been made to guess what this thorn in the flesh was, and we’re not going to spend much time on that here this morning because most of it boils down to speculation. However, we can probably say this much: it was most likely some kind of physical ailment, as it is something in the flesh, and it was likely something that Paul saw as hindering his work as a gospel minister.

So what does Paul do? He takes up God on his promise and calls on him in his trouble—three times! And perhaps in a different way than you and I have ever experienced, Jesus answers his prayers and pleading directly, but it’s not what Paul wants to hear, “My grace is sufficient for you, because my power is made perfect in weakness.” Put that another way: “No, Paul, I will not take this away from you. I will be with you to empower you to endure it, but this thorn remains. And it is to this end: pairing your obvious weaknesses with the blessings that I give, you will see that the credit belongs to me, not you, and that your true strength is external in me, not internal within yourself.” If Jesus removed the thorn, the temptation would be stronger for Paul to boast in himself—in his work—rather than seeing Jesus’ power at work through him.

So, Paul had to resign himself to the fact that it was God’s will to let this hindrance and difficulty remain. He had to trust what God was doing and know that even if he didn’t understand it, he would trust that God was keeping his promises and doing what was best for him.

Our new district president, Pastor Heckendorf, attended our circuit pastors’ meeting this past Monday. While studying this text for this weekend’s sermon, he offered up a phrase that has stuck with me since he said it: “It is easy to trust God, until you have to trust God.” Trusting God is easy when you don’t feel like you’re leaning on him. When the income is comfortable, the food is plentiful, the home is sound, the health is solid—do you trust God? Of course! But when everything is good, that’s not really difficult. When God feels like the third or fifth or tenth line of defense, of course we trust God!

But what happens when the thorns in the flesh come for us? What happens when it feels like there are no other lines of defense—that I’m left trusting God alone because there’s nothing else to rely on? What about that challenge at work or even in securing a job? What about the health scare with no clear treatment options? What about the relationships with family or friends that are just wilting away, and no matter what you do, you can’t fix or change it? Do you struggle with God in prayer regarding these issues? Do you turn to your heavenly Father, who loves you dearly, and ask him to bring relief and solutions to these matters? Do you remind God of his promises that he won’t let you be overwhelmed and will provide a way out—and that he’ll work all things for your eternal good?

I hope you do. However, I know I’m not always so good at that. Perhaps I pray once, nothing changes, and then I give up. Or I assume that God’s answer to me is the same as it was for Paul, a firm, “No.” And so I ignore all of God’s promises to deliver me in the day of trouble, all of his direction to pray to him persistently, and I just stop—and perhaps begin to sink under the weight of these crosses and suffer at the pain of these thorns.

But, my brothers and sisters, what joy and relief we leave on the table when we just give up. Petition your God! Plead with him! He has not left you or abandoned you; your prayers are not being shouted into the void. They are coming before the God who loves you, who has saved you from your sins, who gave up his life that you would have freedom from death and hell and the certainty of eternal life with him. And with every decision that he makes, everything he allows in our lives, whether good or bad (from our point of view), he allows with a purpose, and that purpose is always focused on eternity.

Paul had the thorn that wouldn’t be taken away so that he didn’t get full of himself and start trusting in himself for salvation rather than Jesus. Perhaps some suffering in your life is being used for the same purpose—to keep you focused and reminded of how dependent you are—we all are—on God alone. We cannot get rid of our sins, but he has. We can’t make good come from bad, but he will. We cannot enter the gates of heaven on our own, but he draws us to himself.

Paul identifying this thorn as a “messenger of Satan” is something that has really stood out to me this week, and I can’t help but think about God’s conversation with Satan at the very beginning of the book of Job. All of Job’s troubles, to a certain extent, begin because God is bragging on how faithful Job is. At that time, God said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one like him on the earth, a man who is blameless and upright, who fears God and turns away from evil” (Job 1:8). Satan scoffs at this. Satan replies that Job is only faithful because God has given him many blessings and kept him physically safe. “But,”Satan argues, “just stretch out your hand and strike everything that is his, and he will certainly curse you to your face!” (Job 1:11). Surprisingly, God’s response to Satan’s challenge is to agree, but with limits. First, Satan cannot hurt Job himself, only the things near and dear to him (Job 1:12). And then, he can only affect Job’s health, but not take his life (Job 2:6).

And this has had me wondering—is God bragging on you? Is he holding you up to even Satan and saying, “Have you considered my servant, [Fill In Your Name Here]?” And perhaps, has Satan crafted a snarky response giving some crummy reason for your faith and dependence on God? And has God, knowing that the faith he’s given you is much more robust than that, given Satan permission to do something that would feel bad to us to test us, to try to pull us away from our faith in Jesus as Savior?

And if all of those things happened for you, and you stand your ground in your faith despite these thorns in the flesh, what does that say? Well, first it says to Satan that he’s wrong, you are not so easily overcome. And as Jesus said, his power is made perfect in weakness, so when the earthly props that we are leaning on get kicked out from under us, does God use those moments to help us depend on him even more than we used to? Does he put so many things in our lives that we have no control over to allow us (or force us) to say, “Lord, please help me—in the way that is best according to your will!”?

By holding fast to your Savior in good times and bad, you are focusing your life and attention where it should be: on Jesus. At the same time, you might be proving God right and Satan wrong. Satan was allowed to do something nasty to you, to send his messenger to you, to scourge you with these thorns. What does it matter? To live is Christ, to die is gain. Even if all is taken from me, our Savior’s power is still complete to save us; his grace is, indeed, sufficient for our needs.

Of course, we still pray for relief when bad and troublesome things are in our lives. That’s what those who have gone before us have done (like the apostle Paul), and that is what God himself tells us to do. But as we deal with these thorns, these sufferings, these hardships—whatever they may be—we are also freed to ask the question, “If God is not going to take this away, then he’s using it for good. I know that his power is made perfect in weakness. So, what good might he be working from this?”

We may never have an answer to that question until we can ask God directly in heaven, but we can know what God’s plan ultimately is: he wants us to be with him forever in heaven. And so, he’s freed us from our sins and allows all things in this life—both good and bad—to keep us focused not just on the here and now but on the eternity that lies ahead of us. That eternity is the free gift that our Savior won for us through his life and death in our place.

Is Jesus’ grace really sufficient for you? Absoultely. Both today and through eternity. Amen.

"You're Sending Whom...?" (Sermon on Luke 5:1-11) | February 9, 2025

Sermon Text: Luke 5:1-11
Date: February 9, 2025
Event: The Fifth Sunday after Epiphany, Year C

Luke 5:1-11 (EHV)

One time, while the crowd was pressing in on Jesus and listening to the word of God, he was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret. 2He saw two boats there along the lakeshore. The fishermen had left them and were washing their nets. 3Jesus got into one of the boats, which belonged to Simon, and asked him to put out a little from the shore. He sat down and began teaching the crowds from the boat. 4When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water, and let down your nets for a catch.”

5Simon answered him, “Master, we worked hard all through the night and caught nothing. But at your word I will let down the nets.” 6When they had done this, they caught a great number of fish, and their nets were about to tear apart. 7They signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. They came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. 8When Simon Peter saw this, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, because I am a sinful man, Lord.” 9For Peter and all those with him were amazed at the number of fish they had caught, 10and so were James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon.

Jesus said to Simon, “Have no fear. From now on you will be catching people.”

11After they brought their boats to the shore, they left everything and followed him.

You’re Sending Whom…?

I don’t watch it often, but I love the PBS show Antiques Road Show. If you haven’t seen it, the basic premise is this: people attend an event and bring in old things they have in their homes (perhaps displayed, perhaps stashed away in the attic) to have them appraised. They film many of the appraisals, and the interesting ones tend to be aired on the show. Sometimes they’re interesting because the person is sure they’re sitting on a small fortune, only to discover that what they have isn’t worth much. On the other hand, sometimes people bring something in and it ends up worth 10, 100, or even 1000x what they thought it might be.

As these surprisingly high valuations settle on the people, often you see them looking at things differently. Often, they start handling the item more carefully; some people suddenly start talking about insuring it. Because if you suddenly found out you had something worth a whole lot of money, you’d want to protect it, right? And whether you were protecting it as an heirloom to pass down to the next generation or just keeping it safe until it could be sold, you still need to consider how to handle it in the days ahead.

Whether you’ve known it for a long time or only a very short time, if you have something precious, you want to be careful with it. You don’t store a priceless painting outside or leave that fragile piece of pottery in the trunk of the car. Whether something is valuable monetarily or sentimentally, you are careful with it.

There’s nothing more valuable in this life, in the world, than the gospel message. The certainty that Jesus has removed every sin is eternally valuable, and all the world’s wealth combined can’t even touch its worth. And considering all it cost Jesus to accomplish it—his very life!—you would rightly assume that he will be careful with it and ensure that it is safe and in good hands.

And while that is true, the way Jesus entrusts this message to be shared is surprising. We’d assume that perhaps he’d take the lead in sharing this with the world. After all, who would be better equipped to share the gospel than the one who accomplished it? Or perhaps, if not Jesus himself, then the angels. After all, the term “angel” means “messenger.” After God himself, who better to share this good news than God’s official messenger force?

But then we see scenes like we saw last weekend in our First Reading where God said to Jeremiah, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born, I set you apart. I appointed you to be a prophet to the nations” (Jeremiah 1:5). And what was Jeremiah’s response? “Ah, Lord God! I really do not know how to speak! I am only a child!” (Jeremiah 1:6). In other words, “Um, Lord, you’re sending whom…? Me? Oh, that doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

We saw a very similar scene in our First Reading this morning. Isaiah takes in the scene in heaven and is terrified even to be there, never mind being a messenger for this perfect God, “I am doomed! I am ruined, because I am a man with unclean lips, and I dwell among a people with unclean lips, and because my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Armies!” (Isaiah 6:5). Until one of the angels intervenes with a coal from the altar, Isaiah can’t fathom how he could ever serve in this capacity.

And in our Gospel for this morning, which is our primary focus for our meditation, we see Peter freaking out in a way very consistent with Isaiah’s encounter with God. He falls in fear before Jesus at the unprecedented catch of fish, saying, “Go away from me, because I am a sinful man, Lord.”  

Scripture is filled with unwilling, terrified, and seemingly inappropriate human messengers for God. The apostle Paul persecuted the Christian church until Jesus corrected and called him on the road to Damascus. When Moses spoke to God in the burning bush, he gave God a similar line to Jeremiah’s: he didn’t know how to speak. And the prophet Jonah was so unwilling to be God’s messenger to the heathen city of Nineveh, that he got in a boat headed the exact opposite direction that God had told him to go, until a terrifying dip in a stormy sea and three nights in a giant fish’s digestive system put him back on the right track (mostly).

To one degree or another, these human reactions to God’s call make sense because God’s actions don’t make sense to us. Why is God entrusting this priceless message to fallible human messengers? Everyone he calls, willing or not, is at least a sinner and thus flawed to the very core. And many don’t seem to have the gifts one would think would be necessary for this work. Jeremiah, Moses, and Paul all mention how they’re not good speakers, and God’s answer is always the same; as God calls these faltering lips, he assures them that he’ll be with them and give them the words they are to share.

This morning’s Gospel has two epiphanies—revelations—about Jesus. The first is the most obvious one. The professional fisherman had been at their work all night (which was the ideal time to catch fish) and came away with nothing. But, Peter’s respect for Jesus is so great that he agrees to try again at the worst time of day to catch fish, even dirtying nets they had already spent time cleaning. And what happens? A catch of fish so great that it strained the nets to the breaking point and even threatened to sink two boats. Quite a change from an empty night’s work!

Jesus reveals himself, again, to be God. In a miracle not unlike the water changed into wine at Cana that we saw a few weeks ago or the healings we saw in Capernaum last week, this miracle stresses who Jesus really is. He’s not some layman who has a hunch about how these professionals can do their job better. No, he is the one who made the lake they’re on and created the fish they will catch. This is why Peter, like Isaiah, reacts in such fear before God, falling before him. For Peter, this miracle went well beyond underscoring the message Jesus taught. Instead, it made him fearful to even be in Jesus’ presence. He knew who he was, a sinful man, and that sinners cannot be in God’s presence and ever hope to survive.

And here is the second epiphany: the New Testament’s gospel ministry will be no different than the Old Testament’s gospel ministry. In the past God sent fallible prophets to proclaim his Word, only very rarely intervening directly to send an angel as his messenger. Here, too, Jesus reveals this will also be the plan: “Have no fear. From now on you will be catching people.” Peter, James, and John would trade in their nets and boats for God’s Word and come away with a “catch” that would be far more important than a ship full of fish: they would share the message of forgiveness in Jesus with the world!

Which, fortunately or unfortunately (depending on your perspective), comes back around to you and me. Who is tasked with sharing God’s Word with others? Well, look around. There aren’t any angels speaking and God isn’t making his presence visibly known and teaching that way. No, you have a deeply flawed mouthpiece here called to be your pastor. The young child hears God’s Word from sinful parents and imperfect Sunday School teachers. Your neighbor across the fence or seatmate on the airplane or train may have a gospel-sharer who makes mistakes, forgets things, and is sometimes overcome by fear and anxiety.

But this is the system God has set up. This is how he’s chosen to bring saving faith to people. He restricts himself to using the means of grace, this gospel message found in his Word and sacraments. And far more often than not, that Word is shared by faltering lips and stumbling tongues, because it’s shared by people like you and me.

We may wonder about the wisdom of God’s plan, but remember that the messengers sharing Jesus also are the ones who benefit from what Jesus has done. We know what it is to be forgiven, whereas the angels and even Jesus himself do not. This is our lived experience, and I believe you can see this choice of messengers for the gospel message as a feature, not a bug; as a blessing, not a detriment. You can share what it means not just that sins are forgiven generally or even that the people listening to you are forgiven, but that your specific sins are forgiven in the blood of Jesus. That’s a powerful advantage to bring to this work that no angel could ever provide.

So, despite all the challenges we bring to the table, God has still called us to share, invite, and call people to hear his good news of sins forgiven. He has entrusted the precious gospel to us. My dear brothers and sisters, let us work together so that we might not cower in fear at this opportunity asking God to go away from us. Instead, when God gives us the chance and in so-doing asks, “Whom will I send? Who will go for us?” may we answer, with humility and joy, “Here I am! Send me!” (Isaiah 6:8). We are forgiven! Let us throw our gospel nets into the sea of this world! Let us share that forgiveness! Amen.

"What Does Gospel Success Look Like?" (Sermon on 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5) | February 2, 2025

Sermon Text: 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5
Date: February 2, 2025
Event: The Fourth Sunday after Epiphany, Year C

2 Timothy 3:14-4:5 (EHV)

As for you, continue in the things you have learned and about which you have become convinced. You know from whom you learned them 15and that from infancy you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. 16All Scripture is God breathed and is useful for teaching, for rebuking, for correcting, and for training in righteousness, 17so that the man of God may be complete, well equipped for every good work.

4:1I solemnly charge you in the presence of God and Christ Jesus, who is going to judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom: 2Preach the word. Be ready whether it is convenient or not. Correct, rebuke, and encourage, with all patience and teaching. 3For there will come a time when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, because they have itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in line with their own desires. 4They will also turn their ears away from the truth and will turn aside to myths.

5As for you, keep a clear head in every situation. Bear hardship. Do the work of an evangelist. Fulfill your ministry.

What Does Gospel Success Look Like?

Keep at it. Keep pushing. Fake it ‘til you make it. These sorts of encouragements are often shared with those who are finding the path ahead of them difficult. Maybe they’re trying to set new personal records at the gym, and just can’t seem to break through that plateau. Maybe they’ve started a new job or embarked on a new personal project and it has become clear that they are in over their head or didn’t have as solid a command of the material as they thought they did. What’s the encouragement? Keep at it.

But how do you know when you’ve succeeded? How do you know when you’ve reached your goal? In some cases, it’s probably pretty straight forward. If you goal is to be able to life a certain amount of weight on the bench press, and then you do that, then you’ve accomplished that goal. But what about the project at work? Have you found success simply if it’s done? Is there a metric to measure it by? Do you need to rely on other people’s feedback and affirmations to know that you have done something well?

Many aspects of life and work are murky, including our calling as Christians and as a congregation to preach God’s Word to all creation. How do we measure success in that endeavor? What dangers exist when we look to the wrong place for success? What comfort does God have for us in this work?

Last week, we saw two examples of what looked like failure in Gospel ministry: Jesus was rejected in Nazareth, while the leaders in Jerusalem rejected Peter and John’s preaching. At that time we wrestled with what rejection of God’s Word means. Does it mean that the messenger had failed, or even that God had failed? No! If God’s Word was shared the response from the people spoken to is not the measure of failure or success. If they reject the Word clearly and accurately shared, that is on them, not on the one sharing.

But the inverse is also confusing. What does success look like? How can we measure it, or can we measure it? In our Gospel this morning, we saw Jesus find what appeared to be great success, so much so that the people in Capernaum tried to prevent him from going elsewhere! What could be more successful than an adoring crowd begging a messenger from God to stay with them and continue the work among them?

Well, appearances can be deceiving. Entertainers and politicians often try to measure success by numbers and visible metrics. How many people attended that concert? How many movie tickets were sold? How many people were at that rally to hear that speech? If the number is big, that is success; if the number is small, that is failure.

But in our Second Reading for this morning, we have the apostle Paul revealing to young pastor Timothy where his focus should be. And nowhere does Paul mention crowd, audience, or congregation size as where he should be focused. Rather, from Paul’s point of view, inspired by the Holy Spirit, the thing that determines gospel success is faithfulness.

Paul begins our reading with an encouragement that is probably familiar to our ears, especially if we went to Catechism class in our earlier years: As for you, continue in the things you have learned and about which you have become convinced. You know from whom you learned them 15and that from infancy you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. 16All Scripture is God breathed and is useful for teaching, for rebuking, for correcting, and for training in righteousness, 17so that the man of God may be complete, well equipped for every good work.

There is a lot there, more than we have time here this morning to unpack. But very briefly, Paul encourages Timothy above all else to stay faithful to the Word that he was brought up with, because that Word is the flawless, inerrant, inspired Word of God. It is not just a list of rules, or a guidebook that we can pick and choose from as we wish. No, this is the God-breathed will of God given to us, and it should be used for both addressing problems and bulding up people in God’s will, so that everyone may be well equipped to give thanks to God for his forgiveness through their life of good works.

That all sounds great. But what happens when things go awry? What happens when the motivations of messenger and listener get distorted? Paul addresses this: 3For there will come a time when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, because they have itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in line with their own desires. 4They will also turn their ears away from the truth and will turn aside to myths.

What will happen? People will grow tired of what God has to say and seek other sources of spiritual guidance that are more appealing. Perhaps this messenger emphasizes self-help that offers visible, practical benefits for people in their daily lives. Maybe this messenger understands that people prefer not to dwell on the negative aspects of God’s law and tends to avoid discussing sin, death, or hell, instead focusing on God’s love and peace.

There’s a lot of talk about echo chambers in our modern-day, internet-connected world. But this is not a new concept. The idea of wanting to surround yourself with people who think like you (or perhaps even cater and tailor their message to your desires and interests) is about as old as humanity itself. Many people—even ostensibly Christian preachers—have made quite a name for themselves by scratching people’s itchy ears, by just saying what the people want to hear and reinforcing their preconceived notions. That is a much more popular tact than challenging people to expand their thinking and challenge their feelings because that work is hard and uncomfortable, and I, generally, would rather not do it.

For as long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever forget my conversation with a Christian who was looking to join a congregation outside of our fellowship after doing some “church shopping.” “Pastor,” the person said, “these other churches are full.” And there it was. What was the metric for measuring success for this person? How many people were there? But what about the message being shared from God’s Word? Was it correct? Was it complete?

So, what is actual success when it comes to the gospel ministry? What is actual success when it comes to congregational ministry? Well, Paul tells us in his encouragement to Timothy: 1I solemnly charge you in the presence of God and Christ Jesus, who is going to judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom: 2Preach the word. Be ready whether it is convenient or not. Correct, rebuke, and encourage, with all patience and teaching. … [K]eep a clear head in every situation. Bear hardship. Do the work of an evangelist. Fulfill your ministry. Notice what is missing here? Nothing about the people's reaction, the crowd's size, or the message's popularity. Success in gospel ministry is dictated by faithfulness by God’s messengers.

That means that we will not shift our message as a congregation to meet the social norms of the day. While there’s certainly no reason to be acidic in our communities, we will not compromise God’s words to make other people happy or more comfortable. We will continue to press each other with God’s law, urging one another to see our sins and failures before God and recognize what we truly deserve from him: eternal death in hell.

However, we will not sidestep or distort the solution to that eternal problem. Any effort to look within ourselves to improve or reconcile with God is misguided, wrong, and eternally dangerous. Instead, we focus on Jesus and Jesus alone. He alone solves our sins through his death. He alone provides certainty for eternal life through his triumphant resurrection. He alone—his teachings and his work on our behalf—is the center of the entire Bible and, therefore, must be the focus of all of our work in his name.

What does that work look like? It looks like sharing this message with people as you have the opportunity. As Paul told Timothy,“whether it is convenient or not.” It means being in God’s Word ourselves so that we can draw from that Word for this sharing work.

As a result, we will let our lights shine in the world with joy and thankfulness to God for His free and complete forgiveness. This thankfulness means we will show love—true, unconditional love—to everyone. Not just our families or our congregation, but everyone everywhere. That includes showing love to our neighbor with whom we don’t get along, our coworker who can be a bit obnoxious, and the stranger who lives here or on the other side of the world and needs help and support. Perhaps that love starts with earthly kindness, but it always longs to address the more significant, eternal matters of sins forgiven and life in heaven because of Jesus’ work for us.

Faithfulness in our message and how we live our lives is the key to success in gospel ministry. Are we proclaiming God’s Word clearly and accurately? Can people learn from us what God has done to save the world, to save us, to save them? Then, regardless of the response, we’re fulfilling what God has called us to do. And what about the impact of the Word on the hearts of those who hear? Well, that is God’s work, not ours, so in our faithfulness, let’s not worry about the response and let God be God, doing what he has reserved for himself to accomplish.

And in all of these things, whether positive or negative, encouraging or discouraging, let us lift up our hearts in joy to the God who has saved us from our sins. The world's response to God’s work doesn’t change God’s work, which means that no matter how many people join us in church or share our confession of faith, our sins are forgiven in the blood of Jesus, and heaven stands waiting for us. The very Word that healed the sick in Capernaum and worked powerfully through Paul’s ministry is also with us. Thanks be to God! Amen.

"Rejection Is Not Failure" (Sermon on Acts 4:23-31) | January 26, 2025

Sermon Text: Acts 4:23-31
Date: January 26, 2025
Event: The Third Sunday after Epiphany, Year C

Acts 4:23-31 (EHV)

After Peter and John were released, they went to their own friends and reported everything the high priests and the elders had said. 24When they heard this, with one mind they raised their voices to God and said, “Master, you are the God who made the heaven, the earth, the sea, and everything in them. 25By the Holy Spirit, through the mouth of our father David, your servant, you said:

Why do the nations rage
and the peoples plot in vain?
26The kings of the earth take their stand,
and the rulers are gathered together
against the Lord
and against his Anointed One.

27“For certainly, in this city both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and people of Israel, were gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed. 28They did whatever your hand and your plan had decided beforehand should happen.

29“Now Lord, look at their threats and give to your servants the ability to keep on speaking your word with all boldness 30as you stretch out your hand to heal and as signs and wonders take place through the name of your holy servant Jesus.”

31After they prayed, the place where they were gathered was shaken. Also, everyone was filled with the Holy Spirit, and they continued to speak the word of God with boldness.   

Rejection Is Not Failure

When plans fall apart, it might leave you feeling like you failed. But the things that caused (or hastened) the failure were often out of your control. The picnic plans fall apart because of the rain. The project at work gets cut because of budget decisions far above your job description. The car you intended to keep for a decade or more is totaled because someone wasn’t paying attention and ran into you.

We start second-guessing ourselves, “If only I had picked a different day for the picnic,” “If only I had lobbied to my boss’s boss’s boss to get funding,” “If only I had left the house just a couple of minutes earlier.” And yet in all of those cases, you couldn’t have known and probably you couldn’t have done anything to change things. Couldn’t it have just as easily rained on your alternate picnic day? You don’t control the weather! Sometimes, things, even significant things, fail or go the way we didn’t want them to go, but that’s through no fault or action on our part; it’s just the way things go.

This morning, as we continue our journey through the Epiphany season, we get a clearer and clearer picture of who Jesus is. Last week we saw him as the miracle worker (turning water into wine in Cana) whose miracles pointed to his message that he is, in fact, the Savior. This week, in our Gospel, we see Jesus preaching early on in his ministry—to the people of his hometown even! He’s sharing the very message that the miracles all served to highlight. But what is the result? Not faith but utter rejection; it was rejection so strong that they would sooner murder Jesus, this hometown boy, rather than listen to another word from his lips.

Jesus’ preaching in Nazareth is not our explicit focus this morning, but it is an account similar to our Second Reading. In the early days after Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension, the apostles spent a lot of time preaching the good news about Jesus’ victory in Jerusalem—the very place where Jesus said they would start their witnessing work. But, of course, the people who didn’t like Jesus and worked to have him executed just a few months earlier are still in power and, unsurprisingly, are very upsert that these former disciples of Jesus are keeping the name and teaching of this man in front of the people. They saw Jesus as a threat and they see those keeping his memory alive as a threat as well. This was especially concerning for them because the apostles’ work often included working miracles in Jesus’ name which, once again, underscored the validity of their message and also Jesus’ own ministry and his claims about himself.

The leadup to this scene in our Second Reading starts with one of these miracles. Back in Acts 3, Peter and John met a man who was begging in the temple because he had been crippled from birth. Peter told him to look at them. Then Luke tells us, “The man paid close attention to them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, ‘Silver and gold I do not have, but what I have I will give you. In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, get up and walk!’ Peter took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately the man’s feet and ankles were made strong. Jumping up, he stood and began to walk. He entered the temple courts with them, walking, jumping, and praising God” (Acts 3:5-8).

This, understandably, caused quite a commotion. It gathered a crowd of some size, enough for Peter to take the opportunity to proclaim God’s Word, both law and gospel, to those who came to see what had happened. He gave all glory for the miracle healing to Jesus and then underscored the purpose of Jesus’ work—the forgiveness of people’s sins, even the sins of crucifying the Savior. Peter ended his message by saying, “God raised up his Servant and sent him to you first, to bless you by turning every one of you away from your wicked ways” (Acts 3:26).

Now, this did not go over well with the officials. The Jewish authorities came to where this crowd was gathered and arrested Peter and John. After questioning them, the officials ordered them to stop speaking about Jesus and let them go. This is where our Second Reading picks up: “After Peter and John were released…”

Peter and John’s preaching was largely rejected. The enemies of Jesus remained the enemies of Jesus. And while undoubtedly many in the crowd heard the gospel and through that the Spirit created faith in Jesus as Savior in their hearts, it certainly wasn’t everyone. And in this case, it wasn’t the people who might have seemed to have mattered the most: the influential leaders who could have served as a blessing to sharing the good news with the broader populace rather than a hindrance to it.

But what is the response of Peter, John, and the other believers? With one mind they raised their voices to God. And this raising their voices was not in complaint; they were not grousing to God about the treatment the apostles were undergoing. No, actually, just the opposite. They were praising God that despite the opposition, God’s will was still being done.

They quote Psalm 2, which we gave a detailed look at a few weeks ago, when they ask David’s question, “Why do the nations rage?” And the point they make is the same point we discussed then, that this is not a question of what motivates the enemies of God but more of a question of “Why bother? This isn’t going to work.” Consider what happened at the raging of Herod, Pilate, and those in the crowds who were against Jesus. Not only did they not get rid of the message, but their raging was actually used by God to bring about his purpose. They thought they were winning a great victory by nailing Jesus to the cross, but God worked it so that that was the payment for sin, that was the promises coming to fruition, that is our eternal hope.

And so, no rejection and anger on people’s part is going to be able to stifle God. But rejection will come. Jesus faced it, the apostles faced it, and we have and will continue to face it as we share the good news about Jesus. What do we do with that? How do we think about that? If the world rejects us when we share about God’s love because the world just wants people to do their own thing, or hate people who are different than them, or rage against God, is that a failure for us? What should we do?

How did Jesus handle the rejection by the people of Nazareth? As they dragged him to the edge of the cliff to kill him, he passed through the middle of them and went on his way (Luke 14:30). How did the apostles and those with them deal with the rejection by the people in Jerusalem? They continued to speak the word of God with boldness. Rejection does not mean you have failed; rejection doesn’t mean you did something wrong. Rejection of the gospel is to be expected, but the path forward is to continue on the path, share God’s love, and not let Satan use that rejection to discourage or stop the good news from going out into the world. Jesus left Nazareth and the apostles quickly began to widen out beyond Jerusalem and Judea. It may be that in rejection, we change our audience. But we continue to share this Word with the world. And we know that, in the end, faith in this message is God’s work, not ours. And he has promised that his Word will not return empty (Isaiah 55:10-11).

In all of this, we have something about God revealed to us, a clearer sense of who God is, an epiphany:  He is not a God who forces love and obedience. While he is truly the God who made the heaven, the earth, the sea, and everything in them, he does not make us robots who cannot help but listen to and obey him. Instead, he does all things for us; he forgives every sin and invites us to love and thank him in response to this glorious, eternal gift.

And in rejection, he doesn’t destroy those who reject. He didn’t call down fire and destroy the people of Nazareth who rejected him; he just left. He didn’t wipe out those who arrested Peter and John; he let them just move on. It’s not that he doesn’t care, in fact, it’s precisely because he does care. Would those people in Nazareth have other opportunities to hear the gospel, to reconsider their rejection? I hope so! So, too, for someone who might reject God’s Word at our sharing as individuals or as a congregation, perhaps we are not the people to see the fruit come forth. Perhaps we are just a cog in the machine, and that later, through someone else’s sharing of his Word, God will work faith in that person. There is time to share as long as a person is still here.

So don’t let rejection equal failure in your heart and mind. Instead, commend these things to God who promises to do what he knows is right when he knows the time is right. As for us? Let us continue to speak the word of God with boldness! Amen.