"Wait for the Lord" (Sermon on Psalm 130) | December 7, 2025

Sermon Text: Psalm 130
Date: December 7, 2025
Event: The Second Sunday in Advent, Year A

Psalm 130 (EHV)

A song of the ascents.
1Out of the depths I have called to you, O LORD.
2Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive to the sound of my cry for mercy.
3If you, LORD, kept a record of guilt,
O Lord, who could stand?
4But with you there is pardon,
so you are feared.
5I wait for the LORD. My soul waits,
and in his word I have put my hope.
6My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
7Israel, wait confidently for the LORD, because
with the LORD there is mercy.
With him there is abundant redemption.
8So he himself will redeem Israel from all its guilt.

Wait for the Lord

Almost every parent of small children knows that this time of year can be taxing. Sure, there’s a lot to do, so many tasks to check off the list, but often for the children, there’s one thing and one thing only in view: those Christmas presents. I know that in my own childhood, I was continually looking for ways to convince my parents to make early Christmas presents a thing because it was tough to wait. That rarely went very far, despite the great reasons I had for implementing something!

No, this season offers many learning opportunities, and patience is a big one. There’s a lot of looking forward, anticipating, hoping, and … waiting. No matter how exciting things are, no matter how much you’re looking forward to them, you can’t force December 25 to come any sooner than the calendar and clock tell us it will arrive (and for overwhelmed adults, sadly, we can’t delay its arrival either).

But what a tremendous picture of our Advent focus! Advent is all about waiting—whether we are putting ourselves in the shoes of Old Testament believers waiting and longing for the arrival of God’s salvation in the Messiah, or considering our situation as New Testament believers waiting and longing not for a holiday or other temporary joy and reprieve, but the permanent rest that will come.

Psalm 130 is a psalm about trusting God’s promises and waiting patiently for them to come to fruition. As you can see in the heading, this psalm is one of the “songs of ascent.” The songs of ascent were used by people traveling to Jerusalem for worship. No matter where you were coming from, you always spoke about going “up” to Jerusalem because of the hill on which it is built. We might think of pilgrims making a long trek on foot from their homes in the diaspora to reach this center of worship, or those making a shorter trek from nearby Judea and eventually Galilee. The songs of ascent typically center the traveler on the trip and the worship, and specifically the care that God brings to them in both.

Psalm 130 is very focused on the spiritual preparation the worshiper should invest in before coming to the temple, to be ready to hear the word and promises of God with a well-grounded, well-centered heart.

The psalm writer begins with what seems like a dreadful situation: Out of the depths I have called to you, O LORD. Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to the sound of my cry for mercy. When the psalm writer describes himself as calling from the depths, this is a spiritual condition rather than a physical one. He’s not fallen into a hole or been thrown in prison. He’s in a very low place; low because of his sin. Perhaps David’s description of the torture of his guilt from elsewhere in the psalms comes to mind, “When I kept silent, my bones wasted away as I groaned all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me” (Psalm 32:3-4). You and I both know what it is to feel guilty over the wrong things we have done or the good things we have neglected. Describing that state as “the depths” seems pretty appropriate.

One feature we should pay attention to in this section of Scripture is the psalmist’s subtle shifts in the name for God he uses throughout. When you see the name “LORD” in all capital letters in our psalm, that is God’s unique name (likely pronounced “Yahweh” in Hebrew). This name expresses his covenant grace, his love for his people, and most clearly his forgiveness. When you see the name “Lord” with regular letters, that’s a different name in Hebrew (pronounced “Adonai”). It’s a respectful name, but rather than carrying the force of God’s love and mercy, it describes the fact that God is above us and that we are accountable to him. While I probably wouldn’t advocate for this in a published English translation, it might be a helpful shorthand in our minds to substitute the word “Savior” for the all-capitals “LORD,” and to substitute the word “Master” for the regularly-lettered “Lord.”

So, his initial plea from the depths is to his Savior, to his God of covenant grace. The only way he’ll be heard is if God looks on him with mercy and love. But addressing God as “Master” in verse two, “Lord, hear my voice” acknowledges that God is under no obligation to pay attention to him. He’s asking him to, but God, being higher than us, and more to the point, God being the one whom we’ve sinned against, doesn’t need to do anything for us—save for the fact that he’s promised to.

He goes on to note that this guilt and sin, this disaster of a rebellious life against God, is the universal human condition in our fallen state. If you, LORD, kept a record of guilt, O Lord, who could stand? The answer? No one. But it is the God of covenant grace who doesn’t follow this hypothetical situation, who doesn’t keep a record of our guilt and sins. If he did so, we could never stand before the God to whom we are accountable.

Verse four is really the central verse of this psalm, not just in the number of lines of text, but even more so in thought. For the first three verses, the psalm writer has been coming to God from a state of guilt and shame over his sin. He knows that God owes him nothing, but he also knows what God has promised to him—pardon! And this verse really underscores the notion that to “fear God” is typically not to be afraid of him but to stand in awe of him and revere him. God’s pardon, his forgiveness, is the motivation for this fear in the psalmist’s eyes. Surely God’s forgiveness is not a reason to cower and hide from God, but it is the reason to be amazed at him and thank him!

This hope isn’t just some crazy fiction that we’ve created, hoping in vain for a merciful God to save us. No, this is exactly what he’s promised. And the psalm writer points us to where our confidence ought to be, not in ourselves or what we want to happen, but in what God has specifically told us he’s going to do: I wait for the LORD. My soul waits, and in his word I have put my hope. His Word is our confidence because that is the flawless, inerrant record of his promises. We can be certain that there will be pardon for all of our sins because that’s what God promised and—unlike us—he never breaks a promise.

Think back to a point when time just seemed to drag. It was probably because you were really anticipating something that was about to happen. Maybe the end of the school day or the workday meant big, exciting plans, but it felt like the clock wasn't cooperating. That’s a taste of what the psalm writer means when he says, “My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.” Think about what eager anticipation the night watchman would have in ancient days. They had to stand guard when there were no electric lights. Oil lamps and candles only shed their light so far. How close the enemy could get to the city walls under the cover of darkness! If the watchmen lost focus, it could be disastrous. So how welcome those first rays of light would be in the early morning—either because they made the watching job so much easier or because they meant this overnight shift was over, and the pressure was off.

That’s the kind of eager anticipation we have for God’s arrival. This life is sometimes like the night watch that feels like it’ll never end or the school or work day that seems to go on forever. We drag ourselves through this muck of this life, and it seems like it might never change. But we know it will, because our King and Judge will return. We wait for him with that eager expectation.

You don’t need to be afraid of God as judge because you know him as your Savior: Israel, wait confidently for the LORD, because with the LORD there is mercy. With him there is abundant redemption. Jesus himself, the one who gave his life as the payment for every single one of your sins, is your judge. Imagine walking into a courtroom where the judge had done everything he could to make sure you would walk out of there released and free. Imagine if you knew exactly what the verdict was going to be—and it was good for you! What a difference that would make! How greatly your nerves would be settled, where in a different situation they would probably be on edge!

This is our confidence before God: He himself will redeem Israel from all its guilt. Do not be afraid, dear Christian, because your Savior, the LORD, has loved you and forgiven you. Be confident, dear Christian, not in yourself but in our Savior who lived and died to save you from your sin. Wait patiently, dear Christian, for the return of our Savior and Judge, who will publicly announce that we are not guilty of any sin because he himself took them all away. Rejoice, dear Christian, for the Lord has heard your cry for mercy and has saved you.

Stir up our hearts, O Lord, to look with eager anticipation for your return! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Live for Later, Not for Now" (Sermon on Isaiah 2:1-5) | November 30, 2025

Sermon Text: Isaiah 2:1-5
Date: November 30, 2025
Event: The First Sunday in Advent, Year A

Isaiah 2:1-5 (EHV)

This is the message that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.
2This will take place in the latter days:
The mountain of the LORD’s house will be established
as the chief of the mountains.
It will be raised above the hills,
and all nations will stream to it like a river.
3Many peoples will come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD,
to the house of the God of Jacob.
Then he will instruct us about his ways,
and we will walk in his paths.”
For from Zion the law will go out,
and the LORD’s word will go out from Jerusalem.
4He will judge between the nations,
and he will mediate for many peoples.
Then they will beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not lift up sword against nation,
nor will they learn war anymore.
5O house of Jacob, come,
and let us walk in the light of the LORD.

Live for Later, Not for Now

Perhaps you’ve heard the saying, “Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.” I’m not really sure how much truth there is in that in corporate America, though I can see an argument for self-respect in it. I know even less of what that means in Silicon Valley when often people that are worth more than the GDP of some nations typically wear jeans, tshirts and hooded sweatshirts, but there is a kernel of something that I think is worth focusing on: you want to plan for the future; you want to think ahead; you don’t want to just be stuck spinning your tires here hoping things change instead of making those changes happen.

At the start of this new church year, through the prophet Isaiah, God has us thinking about the choices we’re making now, how we’re living today, and encourages us to make choices that focus not on the immediate here and now and but on what is coming later, what is coming for eternity.

At times, when the propets’ words to God’s people involve promises about the future, it can be hard to nail down exactly what God is referring to. For example, throughout the book of Isaiah, if God promises rescue from something, we have to ask what rescue he’s promising. Is he referring to his rescuing his people from Assyria who would take the northern kingdom of Israel into exile but from whom God would protect the southern nation of Judah? Is he speaking about the eventual rescue of his people from captivity in Babylon that would come 150 or so years after Isaiah’s ministry? Is he referring to the arrival and work of the Messiah? Is he referring to the ultimate rescue of the final judgment? And, at times, is it a combination of the things above? Context has to be our guide.

In our First Reading this morning, we have a section of the propet’s words that are future-looking. But Isaiah is looking beyond his time to sometime later as he describes what will happen in the “latter days,” that is at a time near the end of time. And for this future setting, God directs our eyes toward the temple mount: This will take place in the latter days: The mountain of the LORD’s house will be established as the chief of the mountains. It will be raised above the hills, and all nations will stream to it like a river.The temple was very important. In Isaiah’s day, it would have served as the center of worship of the true God and the place where his promises were restated and reinforced. While the hill the temple was built on was not an imposing “mountain” relative to the other heights around the world, it was very important.

In those days after Isaiah’s, the temple mount would be established as the chief of the mountains. More prominent than Everest or K2, more majestic than the Rockies or the Alps, more powerful than any explosive volcano. What would make this little hill in the Middle East so important as to be chief among all mountains? The events that would take place there.

Temple worship in Isaiah’s day and in the Second Temple period after the Israelites’ return from exile in Babylon would center on sacrifices. Those sacrifices all pointed ahead to a greater, ultimate sacrifice that would be offered just outside the walls of Jerusalem, because there the perfect Son of God, having taken on our human nature, would offer his life in exchange for ours. This hill would not be the chief of the mountains because it was so tall, beautiful, or dangerous. No, it would be chief because there the payment for sins was made; there all mankind was saved from hell. There forgiveness was won and from there it is freely given.

This little hill in Jerusalem will be—is—chief among the mountains because there our eternal life was accomplished. There, Isaiah’s sins would be forgiven as he trusted in the coming Savior. There our sins were forgiven as we trust in the Savior who has come.

This all perfectly introduces the first season of our new church year, Advent. The days of Advent are not just “pre-Christmas.” In fact, Advent in the church can be a bit of a respite from the overwhelming commercialization frenzy that accompanies this time of year. During these Sundays in Advent, we get to contemplate our Savior’s arrival as the baby in Bethlehem, yes, but also his return not as a helpless newborn, but as he truly is—the King of kings and Lord of lords.

Jesus’ first advent and the work that he accomplished brought about a global change. Many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob. Then he will instruct us about his ways, and we will walk in his paths.” For from Zion the law will go out, and the LORD’s word will go out from Jerusalem. The gospel—the good news that sins are forgiven in Jesus—makes people want to seek out their God even more than the natural knowledge of God all people are born with would compel them. Knowing that he’s not only a just and powerful God, but a God who loves and forgives, fills people with joy and a desire to be close to him. And so God obliges. He welcomes people to this mountain, not just those who are descended from Abraham, but all people, because his word goes out globally from Jerusalem. Our minds probably jump to Jesus’ direction to his disciples that they would be his witnesses first in Jerusalem and Judea, then to Samaria, and then to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8). Jesus is a Savior for the whole world, not just one group of people; therefore, they all need to hear what he’s done, because it’s going to have eternal ramifications.

Isaiah’s words then jump us to the end, when those ramifications will come to fruition: He will judge between the nations, and he will mediate for many peoples. These are the events of Judgment Day. Jesus is simultaneously our judge and defense attorney. The punishment of our sins was real and justified, but because Jesus took the punishment we owed on himself, he can mediate for the world. As Paul would later write, “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1). The forgiven people of God are renewed, defended, and saved by the Messiah who came to save us from our sins.

What a change this gospel message makes in the hearts of his people! What a change this gospel message makes in our surroundings! Then they will beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not lift up sword against nation, nor will they learn war anymore. Heaven will mean the end of conflict, if you can even imagine it. Conflict between sinners and the holy God will be over because there will be no more sin. Likewise, conflict between individuals and groups of people will also be over. We won’t need weapons or military training because there will be no battles to fight, no land to defend, because our Savior King has rescued us from all of our enemies! So we will be able to take all those implements of war, so focused on death and destruction, and turn them into tools for good, to cultivate beauty and bounty. Thus will be life with our God in heaven.

Our brief reading ends where we began: dress for the job you have or the one you want? Behave as the person you are, or you will be? To live for now is to embrace our sinful natures, to indulge in the constant stream of temptations to rebel against God, thinking that it will somehow be fun or beneficial. But living for later, living as the citizens of heaven that we will be—that, truly, we are even now—looks different, sounds different. O house of Jacob, come, and let us walk in the light of the LORD.

Walking in the Lord’s light means living as he wants us to live, not hiding in the darkness of sin and rebellion. No, we walk in the light of our King. We have no fear of what he will do to us because he’s already done everything good for us. We get to rejoice in him—give thanks to him—for his unending mercy.

So, my dear brothers and sisters, let’s live like the perfect King’s righteous subjects, because we are. Let us live our lives in gratitude to the God who loved us and saved us and will bring us to himself! Let us cut out the sin that brings nothing but dreadful darkness and instead bask in the light of our Savior’s love, knowing that we will live with him in the mountain of heaven forever.

The one who came as a child placed in the manager, who entered Jerusalem amid shouts of praise while riding on a donkey, will come to take us home to be with him. His first advent makes his second advent certain. Stir up your power and come, Lord Jesus! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Request with Thanksgiving!" (Sermon on Philippians 4:4-9) | November 26, 2025

Sermon Text: Philippians 4:4-9
Date: November 26, 2025
Event: Thanksgiving, Set 1

Philippians 4:4-9 (EHV)

Rejoice in the Lord always! I will say it again: Rejoice! 5Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6Do not worry about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. 7And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

8Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if anything is excellent, and if anything is praiseworthy, think about these things. 9The things that you learned, received, heard, and saw in me: Keep doing these things. And the God of peace will be with you. 

Request with Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving and contentment go hand-in-hand. If you’re thankful for what you have, there’s a high likelihood that you’re content. And likewise, if you’re content with what you have, you’re probably thankful for it.

But I think it can be tempting to equate contentment and thanksgiving with never desiring something more, but in truth, it’s a bit more nuanced than that. Certainly a lack of gratitude and seeking after more! more! more! is a problem. But can you be thankful for what you have, content even, and still desire something beyond it?

Perhaps an illustration: the family is finishing dinner. There are no plans for the rest of the evening, and everyone is feeling satisfied. The child asks if they can go get a treat out once everything from the meal is cleaned up. If the answer is “no,” she won’t be throwing a fit. She’s just wondering—great if it can happen, and fine if it can’t. It’s just an idea for a family outing to enjoy that evening.

The little girl in that example is not unthankful for what she has; quite the opposite! And in some ways, it is her thankfulness and contentment that lead her to make the request. She knows that her family loves her and wants her to be happy, and so she makes this small request to see if they can do something special since they have the time.

It is with these thoughts that we approach our second reading for this evening. Taken from the tail end of Paul’s “letter of joy” to the Philippians, these are essentially Paul’s final words to the Christians in Philippi, a closing direction for these dearly loved children in their walk of faith and their relationship with God. Paul begins this section with famous (and perhaps obvious) words about our response to the blessings we have from God: Rejoice in the Lord always! I will say it again: Rejoice!

Of course, that’s what we want to do. We who know the love of God want to rejoice in his blessings—to be awash in joy knowing God’s love for us and the eternal blessings that he provides. But sometimes we might wonder how. Like, clearly, being in church for worship is a way to do that. A thankful prayer in the middle of the day is part of that rejoicing.

But Paul goes on to other ways that we can express that joy in God’s love for us: Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. The way you live your life, the way that you are an ambassador for God to those around you, is part of this thankfulness. Letting your gentleness be known to everyone means you don’t let anger grip you. You don’t let harshness spew out of your mouth. You treat people and situations with compassion and decency because you know the compassion God has shown you.

A lack of worry is a common goal stated in Scripture. But it’s not just the “worry is not productive, so stop it” one might find in secular self-help books. As we noted a few Sundays ago, worry is really the brain freaking out about the future because it cannot find any certainty. But for the Christian, it’s not just “stop worrying,” it’s “you don’t have to worry because the almighty Creator of the universe is working all things out for your eternal good.”

That confidence influences the prayers and petitions that we bring to God. How are your prayers different if you trust that God is taking care of you, loving you, doing what he knows, in his perfect knowledge, is best for you, working all things out for your benefit? Prayers with this motivation and backing are not desperate, but rather an expression of trust. It is not that we expect everything in our lives to be perfect—we know for certain that will never happen—but we know that when we bring our requests to God, they are received with love.

Which brings us to thankful prayers and requests. It’s not just saying thank you to God who loves us and has saved us (though that is certainly part of it!). But even more so, it is approaching God with a thankful heart that says, “I know and trust the promises you’ve made to me. Thank you for that faith, thank you for all you do. Because I know your love for me, I bring this further request before you.” It’s not unlike the little girl bringing the request for dessert out after dinner to the family. These prayers are not selfish or greedy; this is exactly what God wants us to be doing!

This stems the tide of worry because the thankful heart is firmly planted in the peace that God brings. Paul’s familiar words here generally serve as the closing encouragement for our sermons: The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. This peace of God is something very special and unique. This is not the promise that he will provide us with daily bread. This is not even that he will work good from difficulty and suffering. No, this peace of God is the eternal peace brought only by Jesus.

God’s forgiveness is the anchor point, the lynch pin in our whole relationship with him. Without the peace of Jesus’ forgiveness won at the cross, we would be in a constant state of distress and hopelessness because we’d go through this life with the eternal albatross of our sins around our neck, while not being able to do a thing about it. It would drag us down to the depths of hell because that is sin’s just punishment.

The peace of God goes beyond all of our comprehension and understanding because the way he brought that peace is completely baffling. We sinned against him, but his love was so great that he took the punishment for our sins against him on himself. It’s like someone stealing your car, and then you volunteer to go to jail for grand theft auto, only infinitely worse. It makes no sense to human reason. Even for us who know that God loves us, it still leaves us dumbfounded that he would do such a thing for people like us. And yet, here we are, standing with completely mystified human reason, yet also standing in the peace of God.

Thus, we thank him with our contentment, with our gratitude, with our public gentleness, and even with our trust-emboldened requests.

There’s an internal knock-on effect to all of this. As the peace of God guards your heart and mind, your heart and mind are changed. Knowing the forgiveness of sins means we no longer have the desire to dwell in the muck and mire of our sins. Rather, we want to dwell on those things that are pleasing to God. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if anything is excellent, and if anything is praiseworthy, think about these things.

If our thoughts are dominated by these high standards—things that please God rather than things that gratify our sinful flesh—that will also shape our thanks-driven requests. The peace of God means we won’t ask for anything sinful or spiritually harmful. It means we won’t want God to do what we know he hates. It means that no matter what the content of our prayers, we know that God’s will is always higher and greater and more praiseworthy than our will, so our prayers will always ask that his will, not ours, ultimately be done.

We know that all of this is easier said that done. It’s difficult to keep our sinful natures in check, to live as we want to live. Even Paul wrestled with not being able to do the things he wanted to and constantly committing the sins that he hated! But as we struggle and strive for this life of thanks, we are an encouragement for each other.

Paul noted this, even while acknoelgeing his failings. He knew that as he strived for this life, he could be an example, an encouragement, for his dearly-loved Philippians. The things that you learned, received, heard, and saw in me: Keep doing these things. And the God of peace will be with you. So, too, can we be that for each other. Not perfectly, but in our striving for thanksgiving, in our striving to live contented lives, entrusting the God who loves us and forgives us with all of our requests, we can be this model for each other.

So, my dear brothers and sisters. Follow my lead in these thankful requests to God flowing from a heart overflowing with gratitude for my sins forgiven. As you follow my lead, I will follow yours down the same path. And together, the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard [our] hearts and [our] minds in Christ Jesus. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Listen Up! Our King Gives Rest!" (Sermon on Psalm 95) | November 23, 2025

Sermon Text: Psalm 95
Date: November 23, 2025
Event: Christ the King (Last Sunday of the Church Year), Year C

Psalm 95 (EHV)

Come, let us sing joyfully to the LORD.
Let us give a loud shout to the Rock who saves us.
2Let us approach his presence with thanksgiving.
With music we will shout to him.
3For the LORD is the great God
and the great King above all gods.
4He holds the unexplored places of the earth in his hand,
and the peaks of the mountains belong to him.
5The sea belongs to him, for he made it,
and his hands formed the dry land.
6Come, let us bow down. Let us revere him.
Let us kneel before the LORD our Maker,
7for he is our God,
and we are the people of his pasture
and the flock in his hand.
Today, if you hear his voice,
8do not harden your hearts as they did at Meribah,
as they did that day at Massah in the wilderness,
9where your fathers challenged me
and tested me though they had seen what I had done.
10For forty years I was disgusted with that generation,
and I said, “They are a people who have hearts that stray.
They do not acknowledge my ways.”
11So I swore in my anger,
“They shall never enter my resting place.”

Listen Up! Our King Gives Rest!

Politicians on the campaign trail make a whole lot of promises. They assure voters that if they are elected (or reelected), things will be different—better—for those who vote for them. But those things don’t always happen the way they were promised. Perhaps there are political or logistical roadblocks to doing what they promised to do once in office. Maybe if you’re very cynical, you consider that they never intended to keep those campaign trail promises, and only said what they thought would get them votes.

The reality is that even the best-intentioned promises usually have an asterisk next to them. The parent who promised the trip to get ice cream in the evening cannot foresee the car troubles that will arise later that day. A rainstorm may upend the promise of a day at the amusement park.

This morning, our focus is on the Psalm of the Day, Psalm 95. The words of Psalm 95 are probably familiar to us; they are the basis for the liturgical song the Venite, or “Oh Come Let us Sing to the Lord,” that we sing at the end of most months when we follow the Morning Prayer (Matins) order of worship. The words of Psalm 95 don’t so much make promises as to what God will do, but give reasons for why we should listen to him, while also pointing ahead to the final rest that our King promises.

The first verse of Psalm 95 is the verse from which all the others flow. Come, let us sing joyfully to the LORD. Let us give a loud shout to the Rock who saves us. Why would we sing joyfully to God? There are many reasons, but the fact that he is the one who saves us reigns supreme. He is the one who forgives our sins. He is the one who assures us of eternal life with him. The reasons for praising God that follow this verse, while important in their own right, would be meaningless without this first truth. For truly, God’s might and wisdom would mean nothing good for us if he weren’t also merciful and forgiving.

What is our response to God’s forgiveness? We sing songs of praise! That doesn’t mean that you need to be a great musician or show your appreciation to God. Instead, this music is the overflow of a thankful heart—gratitude and appreciation to the God who loves us and cares for us. Let us approach his presence with thanksgiving. With music we will shout to him.

And why? For the LORD is the great God and the great King above all gods. Here’s our focus for Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday of the church year. We praise God because he is above anyone and everyone. Obviously, there are no other gods except him, but he reigns supreme over anything that would attempt to steal that divine spotlight, be it the false gods of other religions or the materialistic things in our lives that often try to steal that number-one priority spot from God.

His dominion over all is shown clearly in the way he holds the whole of creation in his care: He holds the unexplored places of the earth in his hand, and the peaks of the mountains belong to him. The sea belongs to him, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land. Places that no person has ever gone are still in God’s care. The areas that are the most difficult for people to get to—the highest mountain peaks and the depths of the oceans—are still in his care.

This majesty and power, paired with his eternal love for us, lead the psalm writer to only one conclusion: Come, let us bow down. Let us revere him. Let us kneel before the LORD our Maker, for he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture and the flock in his hand. For all of his goodness to us, the only response that makes any sense and the only response that is right is worship and praise.

But, does that always describe our lives? Are we always willing to submit our lives to the God who made us and made the earth? Do we always trust his promises to work good for us no matter what is going on around us? Do we always give him that number one place in our lives, or are we often giving that spot to other people or things?

The psalm writer, in a psalm that is for the most part very positive and upbeat, does give us a warning along these lines, transitioning to a direct quote from God himself: Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts as they did at Meribah, as they did that day at Massah in the wilderness, where your fathers challenged me and tested me though they had seen what I had done. The two events referenced here are bookends of the Israelites’ wandering in the wilderness. They didn’t seem to have enough water to support the group, so many of the Israelites began complaining against Moses and, by extension, against God.

Both times God miraculously brought water out from a rock, but the issue was that they ignored what they knew about God and assumed he was going to let them die of thirst in the wilderness. Rather than bringing requests to their loving King, they just grumbled and complained as if God was their enemy, ready to let them die rather than provide for their basic, physical needs.

Despite that, God’s love shines through as he provides for those needs. But God decreed that those who had sinned against him in this way “shall never enter my resting place.” When it comes to the nation wandering in the wilderness, that was the Promised Land. God was so serious about this that it even applied to Moses himself at Meribah, where he didn’t follow God’s directions and even started taking some of the credit for the miracle himself. Those who rebelled against God in these ways would never enter the Promised Land.

But there is a greater resting place in the balance when it comes to our relationship with our King. The eternal resting place of heaven stands waiting for us. Through Jesus’ decidedly unregal death, eternal life has been given to us as a free gift, like the Promised Land was offered to Old Testament Israel. But there is a warning for us here as well, “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts as they did…”

Not wanting to listen to God is not an uncommon trait among people—among us—but God warns us in this psalm that such a course of action has eternally dire results. Wandering away from our King means we wander away from his love and forgiveness. If we are not with our King, we are wandering alone and will need to deal with our sin on our own, something that is impossible for us to do. So, wandering away from our King or rebelling against him means that we cut ourselves off from Jesus’ forgiveness and instead face the consequences ourselves. In this case, the consequence is eternal death in hell. For if we wander away from the King, we will never enter his resting place.

But thanks be to God that he is not as quick to give up on us as we are to give up on him! In fact, he stands ready and willing to forgive, and love, and restore. The almighty God who created the whole universe loves you with that almighty power, forgives you with that unending grace, and restores you to being members of his family yet again. Perhaps the words of the doxology in 2 Timothy chapter 2 ring in our minds as we think about this: Indeed, if we have died with him, we will also live with him; If we endure, we will also reign with him; If we deny him, he will also deny us; If we are faithless, he remains faithful, because he cannot deny himself (2 Timothy 2:12-13).

No matter what you’ve done, no matter how faithful or faithless you’ve been to your King, he stands wanting to give you his rest. He gives it to us by faith in Jesus, who gave his life in exchange for ours. He gives it to us, though we are unworthy and rebellious. Let us come to our King in sorrow and repentance, trusting his love. In the peace of forgiveness, let us praise the Lord! Come, let us sing joyfully to the LORD. Let us give a loud shout to the Rock who saves us! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Worthy of the Kingdom… and Suffering?" (Sermon on 2 Thessalonians 1:5-10) | November 16, 2025

Sermon Text: 2 Thessalonians 1:5–10
Date: November 16, 2025
Event: Proper 28, Year C

2 Thessalonians 1:5–10 (EHV)

This is evidence of God’s righteous verdict that resulted in your being counted worthy of God’s kingdom, for which you also suffer. 6Certainly, it is right for God to repay trouble to those who trouble you, 7and to give relief to you, who are troubled along with us. When the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with his powerful angels, 8he will exercise vengeance in flaming fire on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. 9Such people will receive a just penalty: eternal destruction away from the presence of the Lord and from his glorious strength, 10on that day when he comes to be glorified among his saints, and to be marveled at among all those who have believed, because our testimony to you was believed.

Worthy of the Kingdom… and Suffering?

Anxiety can be a wicked resident in your mind. A book I’m reading right now gave a definition of anxiety and worry that rang pretty true to me: “Worry, at its core, is the repetitious experience of a mind attempting to generate a feeling of security about the future, failing, then trying again and again and again—as if the very effort of worrying might somehow help forestall disaster. The fuel behind worry, in other words, is the internal demand to know, in advance, that things will turn out fine” (Oliver Burkeman. Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals, p. 116). We want to know that things are going to be fine, and our brains can, sometimes, spin out of control trying to find that certainty.

But the reality is that such certainty is not always evident, at least on a level that would satisfy our minds. We can’t always see how things are going to turn out, or how we will get from here to there safely or in a way that seems good. And so worry can step in, distract, and pull us down into dark places.

This morning, we don’t have a lot that will probably satisfy that base desire we have for certainty. We would love a promise from God along the lines of, “Don’t worry; everything will always be good!” Yet, we don’t have that. In fact, we really have just the opposite. We have warnings that our lives will be filled with trials and hardships. God’s clearest promises center on our eternal future, far-flung as that may be or seem. We know where this story ends, and so we lean on God’s promises both in good times and in difficult times, certain of his love for us. But that doesn’t mean that the here-and-now is always going to be pleasant.

In our Second Reading for this morning, we have Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians. The Christians in Thessalonica had many worries about the future. False teaching had snuck into their congregation regarding the end, saying that those who had died before Jesus’ return were lost forever. In his first letter, Paul addressed that false teaching head-on, with the comforting and stunning description of what the end will be like, assuring the Thessalonians that those who had died in faith were not lost—just the opposite, in fact. Paul describes the day of judgment this way: “For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a loud command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them, to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will always be with the Lord” (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17). So, those who had died were not lost, and we are all looking forward to the great return of Jesus to bring us to eternal life.

But what about in the meantime? Sure, those who had died were safe with God, but what about those who were still alive? The Thessalonians were undergoing intense persecution and trials; Paul says he holds these Christians up as examples of how to patiently endure these difficulties among the churches everywhere (2 Thessalonians 1:4). But you can already feel the tension, right? The Thessalonians felt it, and you’ve probably felt it as well. If I’m loved by God, if he is caring for me, if I will inherit these great blessings for eternity, then why-oh-why do I suffer here today?

Now, of course, we do well to take our sufferings with some perspective. While we do face persecution and trouble for our faith, we know that by virtue of when and where we live, our sufferings are not on the level of what our brothers and sisters in the faith undergo. But just because our lives may not be in constant danger because of our confession about Jesus, doesn’t mean there are no sufferings or persecutions; they are just probably more on personal levels rather than organized assaults. The mockery you face when you share your hope in Jesus and eternal life, the friends you lose when you won’t go along with their plans that you know are an affront to God’s will, the guilt you endure when you do make compromises and you do go along with others’ sin even though you knew better.

When we go through that kind of suffering, some emotions naturally spill out. Some in our day will talk about a war against Christianity as if God needs us to physically fight people to defend the faith—but ultimately that kind of attitude seems to boil down to insecurity or seeking a feeling of superiority while trying to put others down as “wrong.” The reality is that, despite claims to the contrary or feelings that we might have had, the true, Christian, biblical faith has never been the norm. Perhaps the trappings of the Christian faith have been popular, but often these things are warped and twisted beyond recognition. Christmas becomes just another opportunity for crass commercialism, and even churches that are supposed to be proclaiming the truth about Jesus proclaim a distorted message that preaches your own works as necessary to get forgiveness or even jettisons the idea of sin altogether in exchange for a “live and let live” attitude.

This warping of the truth is another form of persecution and trouble in this life. And again, we are left wondering: What is our response? What should we do? How can we fix these problems?

And God’s blunt answer is, “You can’t.” Nothing that you or I can do will ever make faith in Christ-crucified for the sins of the world be the universally trusted message across the globe. That doesn’t mean we don’t share it and work to let people in our sphere of influence know their Savior, but if we’re looking for a global conversion to the truth of God’s promises or a majority support of the truths of God’s Word, that, sadly, will not happen.

So what do we do with the false teaching that surrounds us (and perhaps even tempts us)? What do we do with those who make a mockery of us or our Savior? What do we do with the persecution and suffering and sorrow we have as Christians in this broken, sin-corrupted world?

Where does Paul point the Thessalonians and us along with them? Certainly, it is right for God to repay trouble to those who trouble you, and to give relief to you, who are troubled along with us. God’s message to you is, “Leave it to me.” It is not for us to be judge, jury, and executioner in these matters. We don’t need to stick up for and defend God; he can handle himself.

Paul’s words correspond directly with what God had told Old Testament Israel when they suffered at the hands of their enemies. Just prior to entering the Promised Land, God claimed this act of meting out justice for himself, “To me belongs vengeance and repayment. It will come at the time when their foot slips. Indeed, the day of their disaster is near, and their impending doom is coming quickly” (Deuteronomy 32:35).

You don’t need to keep a list of those who wrong you; you don’t need to seek vengeance against those who persecute you. For the unbeliever who takes his stand against Jesus, justice will be served, and it won’t be the shallow “justice” that we so often want to inflict on others (which is heavily tainted by our sinful feelings of pride or selfishness). No, God will take care of the enemies of his Word, of those who set themselves against him (and by proxy, against us) with his completely holy justice.

So what is there for us to do while we suffer at the hands of these enemies of the gospel right now? Pray for them. This ultimate justice that will come down on the unbeliever will mean an eternity in hell, as Paul puts it in our reading, God will exercise vengeance in flaming fire on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. Such people will receive a just penalty: eternal destruction away from the presence of the Lord and from his glorious strength. Those who reject the gospel will be cut off from the blessings of God forever, a fate so bad that if we truly appreciated how horrid it is, we wouldn’t wish it on our worst enemy.

Instead of reinforcing the conflict with others who seek to have a conflict with us, we respond in love, in care, in compassion, and in decency, even if the same isn’t shown to us. We look for opportunities to share the love of God. This is precisely the point Jesus made when he famously instructed us to “turn the other cheek.” In fact, that section of his Sermon on the Mount is worth hearing freshly this morning:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evildoer. If someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn to him the other also. If anyone wants to sue you to take away your shirt, give him your coat too. Whoever compels you to go one mile, go with him two. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 5:38-45)

What is our goal? Jesus had explained that a few verses earlier in that same sermon: “You are the light of the world. A city located on a hill cannot be hidden. People do not light a lamp and put it under a basket. No, they put it on a stand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. In the same way let your light shine in people’s presence, so that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16).

Our good works are our response to the message of sins forgiven in Jesus. The way we treat others—even those who set themselves against us—is a way to show our gratitude to God for all that he’s done for us. Paul said that the Thessalonians were being counted worthy of God’s kingdom, and the same is true for you. But you and I and the Thessalonians are not worthy because of our work, but because of Jesus’ work for us. We have this certain hope as a free gift from God, accomplished in Jesus’ death and proved by his resurrection from the dead.

Along with the worthiness of God’s kingdom that God gives comes suffering at the hands or mouths of those who set themselves against God and the message of the gospel. Patient endurance in that suffering—turning the other cheek, going the extra mile, even praying for and forgiving those who set themselves against you and your faith—is a powerful witness to the world and even to those very people who cause you harm. Not responding in kind is a powerful testimony of where our priorities are, what our God has done for us, and truly, what God has done for them as well.

Suffering feels like an odd pairing with being counted as worthy of God’s kingdom, but it is the Christian’s lot in this fallen, sin-corrupted world. But, my dear brothers and sisters, a day is coming when that will all change, when we will receive in full the blessing that our Savior won for us. Until that day, pray for strength and patience amid suffering and hardship. Trust that your Savior is working all things out for your eternal good and will not leave you or forsake you. He will return to be glorified and we will be glorified with him.

Until then, encourage and strengthen each other with this confidence. Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus—the one who has freed you from sin and its punishment—knowing that in him you are worthy of the kingdom, despite the suffering that will come along with that.

Lord, keep us steadfast in our faith in times of joy and times of trial. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Welcome to the New Jerusalem!" (Sermon on Revelation 21:1-6) | November 2, 2025

Sermon Text: Revelation 21:1-6
Date: November 2, 2025
Event: All Saints Day (Observed), Year C

Revelation 21:1-6 (EHV)

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, because the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. And the sea no longer existed. 2And I saw the Holy City, the New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.

3And from the throne I heard a loud voice that said, “Look! God’s dwelling is with people. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them, and he will be their God. 4He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain, because the former things have passed away.”

5The one who was seated on the throne said to me, “Look, I am making everything new!” He also said, “Write, for these words are trustworthy and true.” 6And he said to me:

It is done.
I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.
To anyone who is thirsty,
I will give freely from the spring of the water of life.

Welcome to New Jerusalem!

I’ve been spending a good amount of time the last week or so looking over maps for the East Coast to get familiar with the lay of the land before Alex and I head out for a long weekend trip there the end of the week. One thing that stands out as you look at a map of that area, or really in a lot of places in the United States, is how often the “New” prefix is added to the front of place names. New York, New Hampshire, New England, New Mexico. All of these exist because people were going from their home to a new place, and they had the goal to make the new place like their home, but better. It’ll be like York—but new and better. The region will be like England, but new and better.

This morning, through the revelation given to the apostle John, Jesus gives us a glimpse of the same kind of concept: New Jerusalem, like Jerusalem, but new and better.

To really get the full effect of what this New Jerusalem will be, we should spend a few minutes considering what the original Jerusalem was (or should have been). God described Jerusalem as the place he chose to place his name. Initially, as he established the rule of King David, but even more so once David’s son, Solomon, completed the temple there. At the dedication of that temple, Solomon quoted God’s intent: “From the day I brought my people out from the land of Egypt, I did not choose a city from all the tribes of Israel to build a house for my Name to be there. I did not choose a man to be ruler over my people Israel. But now I have chosen Jerusalem as the place where my Name will be, and I have chosen David to be over my people Israel” (2 Chronicles 6:5-6). Jerusalem would be the place where God dwelt with his people, where his name would rest.

But that presence was a veiled presence. The pillar of cloud and fire (the visible sign of God’s presence that had led the Israelites out of Egypt) descended on the temple to signify that this was truly his house. Surely, God is omnipresent—is present everywhere all the time at once—but in Jerusalem, he specially highlighted his presence. But his presence descended on the temple’s inner sanctuary, the Most Holy Place, when the Ark of the Covenant was placed there. Only the high priest could enter into that inner place, and even then, he could only go one day a year—on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. And on that singular, special day, he could not enter without the blood of a sacrifice made for his own sins and also for the sins of the people. At the temple, the dwelling of God was with his people, but only sort of. It wasn’t a full presence, and it certainly wasn’t made accessible to everyone. The New Jerusalem is going to take the original Jerusalem—even in its most idyllic form—and improve on it.

To understand the true nature of this New Jerusalem, we need to go back well before Solomon’s temple, David’s rule, or even the founding of that city at all. We need to go back to Eden, to where the dwelling of God was truly and directly with people. Before the fall into sin, Adam and Eve walked, lived, and worked alongside God. They were created in his image—in perfect harmony with his will—and thus had a perfect relationship with God beyond anything that we’ve ever experienced between people or even with God in this life.

But that closeness, that bond, that unity was completely uprooted when Adam and Eve sinned. They listened to Satan’s temptations and took fruit from the tree that God had told them not to eat from—the one command he had given them! And in that moment, everything changed. Instead of walking with God, they hid from God. Instead of being united with God and agreeing with his will, they started playing the blame game for their sin, Adam even blaming God, accusing him of giving him a supposedly faulty wife in Eve. Where there had been unity, there was division. Death is that division—physical death that would divide soul from body, spiritual death that would divide people from God through unbelief, and ultimately, eternal death that would separate sinners from God forever in hell.

From then on, despite God’s presence and providence, it could not be said that God and human beings dwelled together. A wall of sin divided us from the divine, and it was a wall that we could not tear down or dig through. Sin was a problem that we could not solve.

The solution to that problem was hinted at in the Tabernacle and Solomon’s temple. There was a way to come into that Most Holy Place, but as we said, access was limited to just the high priest, and he needed the blood of a sacrifice for sin to enter. Later, the apostle Paul would make it clear and blunt that the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23). Later, the writer to the Hebrews would add on, assuring us that without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins (Hebrews 9:22). In order to solve sin, blood and death have to be involved.

But not ours. I mean, it should be ours, but there’s no way for your death or my death to bring about forgiveness, because if the punishment for our sins is laid on us, that punishment will never end. No, if sin was to be solved, if we were ever to have an actual reunion with God, someone would have to take our place. And not just any someone, but God himself. And that’s exactly what he did.

Jesus, God from eternity, took on our human flesh and lived in a state of humiliation among us. Isaiah had foretold his coming with the title “Immanuel,” meaning “God with us.” God’s dwelling was with people again, and while this was more visible and robust than the dwelling shown at the temple, it was a temporary dwelling, like a few nights’ stay in a tent while camping.

That temporary stay saw its conclusion at the cross. There, Jesus completely and fully took our place under the punishment our sins had earned. He took those wages of our sin—eternal death—onto himself and made satisfaction for them. As a human being, he was able to die for us; as God, that death was able to count for all people of all time. His death rescued us, and the proof of his victory is there in the tomb where they laid his body. Unlike the tombs of everyone else who has ever died, Jesus’ tomb is empty. He won the victory. He rescued us from the sin that made our dwelling with God impossible.

We heard God proclaim it in the last verse of our First Reading: “It is done.” While a different word in Greek, we can’t help but think of Jesus’ word from the cross, “It is finished” (John 19:30). Nothing is left to be completed. There is no work that you or I need to do to make things right again. Jesus, the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, did it all.

That means that we will not have a continuously veiled presence of God with us like we have right now. And it certainly means we don’t have a complete separation from God for eternity ahead of us, as our sins deserved. No, because of Jesus’ complete forgiveness, we look forward to a time when we will see God face to face. It will not be a temporary dwelling like Jesus’ first coming; it will be a permanent living directly with God forever. Like Eden, but without the threat of sin to ruin it.

Listen to how God describes this New Jerusalem, what living there would be like. These are probably familiar words, but let them wash over you this morning as something brand new: “Look! God’s dwelling is with people. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them, and he will be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain, because the former things have passed away.”

Like Jerusalem, but new and better. Truly, like Eden, but new and better. Like today, but new and immeasurably better.

Those who have gone before us, those who have died in faith, trusting in God’s promise of complete forgiveness, are already there in that New Jerusalem, that perfect city with no more death, sorrow, crying, or pain. That’s in part what we celebrate on this All Saints Day. We thank God for the perfect rest that he has given to his holy ones, washed clean in the blood of Jesus and brought into that heavenly dwelling.

But we also celebrate our own certainty that we will join their number. While we are not there yet, you and I are the saints of God, made holy in Jesus’ full and free forgiveness for us. When our time comes, God will bring us to that New Jerusalem, rescue us from everything that would harm us, and cut away the sin that so easily entangles us. We will be reunited with those who have gone before us and those who will come after us for an eternity of being people who dwell with God.

So, my fellow saints, welcome to the New Jerusalem. We haven’t crossed the threshold just yet, but it is absolutely certain that we will, for Jesus’ sake! Thanks be to God! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"The LORD Reforms Us" (Sermon on Jeremiah 31:31-34) | October 26, 2025

Sermon Text: Jeremiah 31:31-34
Date: October 26, 2025
Event: Reformation Day, Year C

Jeremiah 31:31-34 (EHV)

Yes, the days are coming, declares the LORD,
when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel
and with the house of Judah.
32It will not be like the covenant I made with their fathers,
when I took them by the hand
and led them out of the land of Egypt.
They broke that covenant of mine,
although I was a husband to them, declares the LORD.
33But this is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel after those days,
declares the LORD.
I will put my law in their minds,
and I will write it on their hearts.
I will be their God,
and they will be my people.
34No longer will each one teach his neighbor,
or each one teach his brother, saying, “Know the LORD,”
because they will all know me,
from the least of them to the greatest, declares the LORD,
for I will forgive their guilt,
and I will remember their sins no more.

The LORD Reforms Us

When do you need reform? Activist groups may call for reform in some area of leadership or government when they sense that the plans and actions of those in charge are not in line with the leadership’s stated goals—or the desires of the people involved. You may sense a need for reform in your own life when bad habits start pushing out good habits, and you find yourself not dedicated to your priorities and values like you want to be. Reform may be called for when a group’s actions or policies reflect a different era. These ways of doing things may have made sense in the past, but perhaps that reasoning no longer applies today.

A commonality among all of these different types of reform is that it’s going to be work. It’s going to be uncomfortable. It’s going to be difficult. Trying to steer the ship of an organization from the bottom up when those from the top disagree is a gargantuan task. Implementing new plans and goals that are different from the standard, traditional path someone has been following for a long time can be incredibly taxing. And I don’t need to tell you how tough it is to fight against your own ingrained habits to make long-lasting, meaningful changes in your day-to-day life.

All reform is uncomfortable because it’s tackling the status quo and trying to change it; it’s a fight against inertia, and sometimes it feels like trying to roll a boulder up a steep hill.

As we observe and celebrate the 508th anniversary of the beginning of the Lutheran Reformation this morning, we thank God for all the blessings he brought to the church through Martin Luther and the other reformers many years ago that we still benefit from today. But we also do well to recognize that this reformation work in the 1500s was not unique to that time; this is work that God had been doing and will continue to do among his people as long as this world endures.

There are many periods of reformation within Bible history that we could point to, but our focus this morning is the work of the prophet Jeremiah. Jeremiah’s ministry was often pretty bleak. He ministered among an unfaithful nation-church as he served as a prophet to the nation of Judah. The leaders and the people of Judah were often unfaithful to God’s direction and teaching. In fact, Judah was already a splinter nation from the formerly great nation of Israel. After the days of King Solomon, that nation broke into two pieces. The northern piece was also unfaithful (perhaps even more thoroughly than Judah) and met their end through sweeping exile by the nation of Assyria some 150 years before the days of Jeremiah.

But Judah’s unfaithfulness was very real, and though the nation was rescued from the consequences of their unfaithfulness at the hands of Assyria, it ended up just being a delay rather than a complete rescue. Eventually, God had to step in to force a true reform that the people were not doing themselves. He did this, in part, through the exile of the people of Judah by the nation of Babylon.

It's at this time of unfaithfulness and consequences to that unfaithfulness that Jeremiah served. He had the unenviable task of warning the people that the nation’s destruction and people’s exile were coming. There would be no miraculous rescue from Babylon had there been from Assyria 150 years earlier.

God describes his people’s unfaithfulness to him here in Jeremiah and elsewhere using the terms of a marriage that has fallen to pieces. The people’s unfaithfulness was spiritual adultery against their loving husband. When God says, “They broke that covenant of mine,” he uses the terms of annulment and divorce. The people’s unfaithfulness to God’s covenant sought to end the spiritual, eternal marriage of God to his people.

It would be easy to imagine that the Babylonian captivity would be God’s version of giving his wife a certificate of divorce and sending her away. But this is reform, not abandonment. Yes, Jerusalem would be pulverized by Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian king. Yes, God’s people would be ripped out of their homeland and sent marching across the Fertile Crescent to Babylon. But this was not God divorcing his adulterous wife and sending her away; this was part of God’s reform of his Old Testament church.

God promised that seventy years after the exile, they would return. And in many ways, this reform “worked.” After the Babylonian exile, we don’t really see God’s people struggling with the worship of false gods like Baal, Asherah, and Molech. Instead, there is a newfound commitment to the truth of God’s Word and prioritizing it in the lives of God’s people.

But this reform is not just a story of getting a people group to straighten up and fly right. That would ignore the reality of sin and imply that God was having the people fend for themselves and even save themselves. Instead, ahead of the exile, God promises something different, something new, through Jeremiah: Yes, the days are coming, declares the LORD, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant I made with their fathers.

The “old” covenant that God made with the nation of Israel when he brought them out of Egypt was an earthly-blessing-focused covenant. God would be their God and bless them. He would give them the Promised Land as an enduring gift on the condition that they were faithful to him. Their job was to obey God; God’s job was to provide for them.

Obviously, we know how that went. But here God is promising something new and different. Instead of the old covenant promised and given primarily through Moses, this new covenant would be entirely God’s doing. It would be radically different in that it wouldn’t involve any work from the people at all. God was making and keeping this promise completely independent of anyone else. But this is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the LORD. I will put my law in their minds, and I will write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people.

The word translated “law” here in v. 33 is probably best understood as the whole of God’s Word. God is not simply promising to put his commands into the people’s hearts. In many ways, that was already true as all people are born with a natural knowledge of God and with that have a conscience that testifies to God’s will—what things are right and what things are wrong. No, this is something bigger, broader, something God will have to inscribe on the hearts of his people. This heart-writing will include the gospel; it will include God’s grace—his undeserved love—for his people. This reform would be centered not on God’s justice, but on his mercy, his forgiveness. No longer will each one teach his neighbor, or each one teach his brother, saying, “Know the LORD,” because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the LORD, for I will forgive their guilt, and I will remember their sins no more.

This forgiveness—so potent that it makes the all-knowing God forget!—would be carried out by a descendant of the people facing exile. Almost 600 years after Jeremiah, the time will fully come, and God will send his Son, Jesus, into this world. God himself would take on our human nature, our flesh and blood, to live and die as our substitute. In the blood of Jesus shed at the cross, atonement—payment for sin—would be made to cover our sins and reunite us with our God.

God would reform the Israelites to be faithful, but more than that, they would be reformed to be forgiven. The faithful among this nation would put their trust in God as their eternal Savior and giver of eternal life. The forgiveness and even the faith to trust it would be a one-sided action on God’s part. Our obedience—a life of sanctification, of good works—is purely a thankful response to God’s freely-given grace and forgiveness.

The church of Martin Luther’s day was unfaithful to God’s covenant in a similar way to Old Testament Judah. The papacy and the church in Rome at large had distorted God’s Word to such a point as to rob all the comfort God intended the people to have. The message of sins fully and freely forgiven in Jesus’ death was absent, replaced with a message of works. If you wanted to receive actual forgiveness for your sins, the church said, you needed to do something to compensate for it. Maybe that was prayers, maybe that was some works of service. Perhaps that was paying the church money so they would tell you you were forgiven.

None of this is what God said, so through Luther and others, God restored the true teaching of his Word. While reform never really came for the Roman church (as it still holds to this works-righteousness teaching even today), it did come for Christendom at large. All over the western world, God worked a change so that the people would hear and know what he had done, the new covenant he had established, a covenant that did not call for works from us, but is a one-sided covenant that depends entirely on God’s undeserved love for us.  

We need God’s reform. We need him to correct our hearts and actions. We need him to redirect our gaze away from ourselves and back to him. We need him to show us our great need for rescue and that we have that rescue freely given in Jesus’ work for us.

Thanks be to God! He has written these truths on your heart and mine through his Word and sacraments. By God’s grace, we don’t have to encourage each other to learn about—to know—the God of free and faithful grace. He has made himself known to us and even dwells within us. And the promise made through Jeremiah, the promise reinforced at the time of the reformation, is the promise that rings true for you and me today: I will forgive their guilt, and I will remember their sins no more.

My brothers and sisters, so complete is your forgiveness that God can’t even remember that you’ve ever been unfaithful to him or sinned against him. Our sins are gone, completely wiped out in the blood of Jesus shed for us. So let us live our lives in a way that reflects the reformation that God has worked in each of us. Let us give thanks to God our Savior in everything we say, think, and do—now and forever! Amen.

 Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Confidence Is a Gift from God" (Sermon on 1 John 5:13-15) | October 19, 2025

Sermon Text: 1 John 5:13–15
Date: October 19, 2025
Event: Proper 24, Year C

1 John 5:13–15 (EHV)

I have written these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life.

14This is the confidence that we have before him: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. 15And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we also know that we receive the things we have asked from him. 

Confidence Is a Gift from God

What is worse—the car that won’t start or the car you’re not sure if it’ll start or not? I might argue that the one that will not start is the preferable one. You at least know what you’re getting there. You’re not going to make plans to use that car, only to have them dashed by seemingly random failures. You know that you have to do some work on it, or get it towed, or just let it sit till you have the time or money to fix it. You have confidence in that car—in this case, confidence that it will not work—rather than a total lack of certainty. At least with a totally busted car, you won’t get stranded on the side of the freeway miles from home.

Having confidence in things is something that is so easy to take for granted. You all have confidence in the pews you’re sitting on right now that they’re not going to just break and fall out from underneath you (or, at least you did until I mentioned it). If you didn’t have that confidence, some (or all) of you would probably be standing—or opting for the live stream online for today’s worship. Confidence can remain rock-solid, but one rug pull can destroy it. You can love and trust that car for years, but the moment you turn the key or push the button to start it and it just sighs at you, that might be the time that your confidence is lost.

Confidence in physical objects is one thing, though. But confidence in our relationships between people is so much more important (and in many ways, so much more fragile). How sad it is when a child doesn’t trust their parent to provide for them or follow through on any promises or obligations! How sad it is when spouses lose confidence in each other’s faithfulness or care and concern! How frustrating it is when employees have no confidence that their employers care about them! How scary it is when someone doesn’t trust another in a position of power to do right by them, but instead can’t help but feel that they will use that power to cause harm.

Today, we cannot restore your confidence in your car or your personal relationships, but we can look to the most important place to have confidence—our relationship with God. What do God’s promises and track record mean for our confidence in him? What does it mean for our confidence for today and our confidence for eternity?

Our Second Reading this morning is taken from the end of the apostle John’s first letter in the New Testament. As he writes these words, John is at the end of his life, and much like Paul and Peter did in their final letters, John is spending time in this letter “passing the baton” to the next generation of Christians. Throughout the letter, he has encouraged and refocused his readers. He has encouraged them in their walk of faith, that they should live differently than those around them in the world. He has warned them about becoming enamored with the things of this world, because such a focus may abandon the faith in the love of God. He has warned this next generation of Christians about false teachers, both on small scales and far greater scales. To fend off those false teachers, he urged Christians to “test the spirits” (1 John 4:1), that is, to examine and compare any line of spiritual thinking and teaching with God’s Word to see if it agrees.

But even in this relatively brief letter, John continues to return to the foundational and motivational truth in all of this: God’s love for us. Early in the letter, he described God’s love for us this way: My children, I write these things to you so that you will not sin. If anyone does sin, we have an Advocate before the Father: Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the whole world (1 John 2:1-2). In the next chapter, he states this love in one of my favorite passages in the entire Bible, and one that I often use to begin sermons, “See the kind of love the Father has given us that we should be called children of God, and that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1). Later in that same chapter, John uses words that sound very much like the closing of the letter we have before us: This is how we know that we are of the truth and how we will set our hearts at rest in his presence: If our hearts condemn us, God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. Dear friends, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God. We also receive from him whatever we ask, because we keep his commands and do what is pleasing in his sight. This then is his command: that we believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and that we love one another just as he commanded us (1 John 3:19-23).

In chapter 4, he describes God’s love for us and the resulting love that we have for each other in famous and beautiful ways: Dear friends, let us love one another, because love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. The one who does not love has not known God, because God is love. This is how God’s love for us was revealed: God has sent his only-begotten Son into the world so that we may live through him. This is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, if God loved us so much, we also should love one another. … We love because he first loved us (1 John 4:7-11, 19).

This is a small sampling of what John means when he says in our reading for this morning from the end of the letter: I have written these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life. What things produce in people the knowledge and the confidence of eternal life? The repeated themes of God’s love for us as expressed in Jesus on every page of Scripture. To “believe in the name of the Son of God” is to trust Jesus as our Savior from sin, to know that in him we are forgiven. This faith is a gift from God.

Where do we look for such confidence? We have the words of Jesus himself—who does not lie—declaring the victory complete from the cross. And even if we weren’t going to take him at his word, we go with the women into the garden, where that tomb is cut into the rock and the stone is rolled away. We hear the angels’ earnest yet almost kind-heartedly teasing question, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has been raised!” (Luke 24:5-6). How do you know that you have eternal life, as John stresses for us? Because Jesus completed everything you needed when he died for your sins at the cross and proved that victory when he rose from the dead. “It is finished,” indeed. 

Confidence in God’s love and forgiveness for us produces wonderful, cascading effects. It allows and empowers us to love each other, as John continually encourages in his letter. The love of God for us gives us the strength to love each other. We focused last weekend on gratitude for God’s eternal gifts, which is very powerful to this same end: we love to reflect God’s love and to thank God for that very same love.

An additional effect of God’s love for us is that we have no question where we stand with God. We don’t have to worry that maybe today he’s mad at us or tomorrow he won’t have time for us. Our relationship with God is not like our human relationships—even the very best human relationships—that are still flawed by sin. No, God’s love for us is perfect; along with the forgiveness of sins, he gives us confidence in him. In our Catechism class this year, we’re going through a survey of Bible history, and one of the themes we see over and over again is God’s faithfulness to his promises. In fact, by the middle of the year, the students have learned that if I ask the question, “And how faithful was God to that promise?” the answer is always “Perfectly faithful!” Over and over again, God shows himself to be trustworthy and reliable beyond what even the most rock-solid human being could ever be.

And that confidence that God gifts to us is not just focused on eternity (though that is, of course, where our greatest blessings are coming and where our highest confidence is). But in the light of our forgiveness, in the light of God be willing to sacrifice even his own Son, his own life, to save us from hell, should we have any reason to think that he will suddenly stop providing for us? No!

In the radically comforting words of Romans chapter 8, the apostle Paul encouraged his readers this way: What then will we say about these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? Indeed, he who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also graciously give us all things along with him? (Romans 8:31-32). Even in a human relationship, we can see how this would be true. If you go out to lunch with someone who cares about you very much and, in their love and generosity over that meal, they give you a check that pays off all your debts or secures for you that financial goal you’ve been clawing toward for years, what do you think happens when the check for the meal comes? You might want to pick up the check to thank him, but if he cared enough about you to give you thousands upon thousands of dollars, do you think he cares about you enough to pay the $40 for lunch?

That’s Paul’s argument in Romans about our relationship with God: if God loved you enough to save you from your sins and to give you eternal life, isn’t he also going to take care of you until you get there? We sang that in our psalm this morning in the beautiful words of Psalm 121, “I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth” (vv. 1-2, NIV2011). In times of trial or danger or fear, where can we look with absolute confidence for help and rescue? To our God who not only made the universe but also made us and is preparing an eternal place for us.

This, then, is John’s closing point in our brief Second Reading for this morning: This is the confidence that we have before him: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we also know that we receive the things we have asked from him. In any time of difficulty, in need or want, when you pray to God, you are not bringing requests to an unjust judge as in Jesus’ parable. No, you are coming to the all-powerful creator and preserver of the universe, who also happens to love you so much that he lived and died for you to save you from hell. My dear Christian, does that not fill our hearts with confidence as we lay out our concerns before him?

John reminds us that we do well to ask things according to his will, that is, we’re not asking for sinful things. And likewise, we know that God will answer in a way that is eternally best for us, even if that means that the answer is “no,” or (more likely) something different and far better than we had initially requested from him.

Not a day, not a moment goes by in this life where you are not in the shelter and care of the God who created you, loves you, and rescued you. The confidence to trust him at all times is as much a gift of his grace as anything else. Bring your prayers to him—be bold and persistent!—confident that he will hear you, answer you, and love you now and forever! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Gratitude Is Powerful" (Sermon on 2 Corinthians 9:10-15) | October 12, 2025

Sermon Text: 2 Corinthians 9:10-15
Date: October 12, 2025
Event: Proper 23, Year C

2 Corinthians 9:10-15
And he who provides seed to the sower and bread for food will provide and multiply your seed for sowing, and will increase the harvest of your righteousness. 11You will be made rich in every way so that you may be generous in every way, which produces thanksgiving to God through us.

12To be sure, the administration of this service is not only making up for what is lacking among the saints, but it is also overflowing in many prayers of thanksgiving to God. 13By proving yourselves in this service, many people are glorifying God, as they see the obedience shown in your confession of the gospel of Christ, and the generosity shown in your sharing with them and all people. 14At the same time as they pray for you, they also express their longing for you, because of the extraordinary measure of God’s grace given to you. 15Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!

Gratitude Is Powerful

Happy Thanksgiving! That might be rushing it just a little bit (unless you’re in Canada, in which case the holiday is actually tomorrow!), but this morning, as you’ve noticed in our readings and hymns, we’ve been focused on gratitude and giving thanks. So while it might be early for our designated holiday at the end of November, it is a good reminder that we’re not really supposed to relegate gratitude to one day per year, but it should be a continual way of life.

And this is not just a God-directed contentment; even the secular world recognizes the power and benefits of being actively thankful. Perhaps you’ve seen the concept of a “gratitude journal,” where you write down things you are grateful for. It can be a potent defense against depression and other mental health struggles. I, for instance, tend to “catastrophize” things, that is, to get fixated on the worst possible outcome of a given set of circumstances. It’s not a great path to go down (and in many ways ignores the promises that God has made to us), but finding even small things to be thankful for—warm sunlight on a crisp, cool morning; a cute dog on a walk or a cat in a window; the warmth of a nice cup of coffee—can help stem the tide of negativity. It doesn’t mean the struggles are no longer present or not real, but intentionally focusing our thoughts on gratitude for things that aren’t bad can help keep those more negative thoughts at bay.

Likewise, focusing on thanksgiving can help foster a sense of contentment. If I recognize that my life is a balance of good things and difficult things and can see the good alongside the bad, it becomes easier (if not actually easy) to not live in a constant sense of need, want, or even greed. Paired with God’s promises of daily bread—everything we need for our body and life—I know that I will, in fact, be taken care of in the way that I need and can find some peace even in the places I feel things are lacking.

Our focus this morning is on the power of gratitude and giving thanks, but not in the low-level ways we’ve just mentioned. Gratitude isn’t just powerful because it allows us to stave off some bad things or help us find peace in difficult situations. Gratitude is powerful because of our focus on God’s blessings—especially his eternal blessings—and because it can aid in sharing those eternal blessings with others.

If we’re going to give thanks, we need to know what for. After all, you probably wouldn’t write a thank you note for a gift you never received. How would you know what to write? How would you know what to thank the person for? How would you know they gave you the gift in the first place? Likewise, it’s a whole lot easier to thank someone for what they’ve done for you if you see the need they helped you to meet. If someone helps you load the moving truck, you know they helped you do far more than you could do on your own. If someone “helps” you by painting your kitchen neon green while you’re at work—something you neither asked for nor even wanted—well, thanking them might see just a bit off.

It never feels good to focus on places where we have failed, but in this situation it’s absolutely vital. In our Sunday morning Bible Class, we recently covered how we can divide God’s Word into two primary messages: law and gospel. The law is a pretty uncomfortable message. Anytime God’s Word points out our failures to live up to God’s standards of perfection, we are dealing with the law. The message of the law shows us our sin and our state of absolute spiritual helplessness as a result.

That’s… not a pleasant message. We don’t want to hear about what is lacking, let alone something that is lacking that we cannot solve. And so here, more than anywhere else, God met our needs. While he certainly provides for us physically here, he has perfectly met our eternal needs in Jesus. Jesus was our substitute, taking the punishment our sins deserved on himself. His perfect life and his innocent death mean that the debt of our sin is wiped out, and our account is fully funded with the perfection God demands. We are the people God expects us to be because, in his sacrifice, Jesus made us those people. Hell no longer stands as our eternal destiny; instead, we look forward to eternal life with God.

So it’s not just that we’ve been healed from leprosy, a painful skin disease that could cut us off from our families; it’s that we’ve been healed from sin, the worst disease that would have cut us off from God with painful suffering for eternity. It’s not just that we’ve been given our daily bread, enough to sustain our bodies and lives here; it’s that we will be given access to the heavenly banquet where we will eat and drink with our Savior in perfection forever.

When we truly understand and appreciate our need and what it cost Jesus to meet that need, we cannot help but be eternally grateful. In the light of the gospel, God’s law takes on a different purpose. No longer do God’s commands simply show where we have failed; now, God’s law is a roadmap for thanksgiving. Do you want to thank God? Do this good thing; avoid this sin.

And, astonishingly, God allows us to express our thanksgiving to him most often in how we treat one another. Consider Paul’s guidance to the Corinthians in our Second Reading. What would be the results of God’s goodness and blessings—especially the eternal blessings—in the lives of the Corinthians? He who provides seed to the sower and bread for food will provide and multiply your seed for sowing, and will increase the harvest of your righteousness. You will be made rich in every way so that you may be generous in every way, which produces thanksgiving to God through us. To be sure, the administration of this service is not only making up for what is lacking among the saints, but it is also overflowing in many prayers of thanksgiving to God.

Generosity to others is the primary way we show thanks to God. Treating others as God has treated us is a way to show that we understand and appreciate all God has done for us. We spent some time over the last couple of weeks focusing on forgiveness for other people, and that certainly looms large here in our life of thanksgiving to our forgiving God. But it goes even farther than that. Does your brother or sister in faith need a helping hand with a project, some assistance to overcome a financial burden, or some of your time to share what is on their heart? Give generously! Is there a neighbor who comes to you in need of a second set of hands or something more substantial to meet a need they have? Give generously! Is there a charity or other organization doing work that you cannot do, sharing the gospel or bringing physical aid to people in places or on a scale that you cannot? Give generously! Do you meet someone who claims a great need, but you know nothing about them because they are a stranger to you? You don’t have to be a detective to see if their need is legitimate or meets your standards—give generously!

Paul points us to what the effect of all this thankful generosity, this powerful gratitude, just might be: [This service] is also overflowing in many prayers of thanksgiving to God. By proving yourselves in this service, many people are glorifying God, as they see the obedience shown in your confession of the gospel of Christ, and the generosity shown in your sharing with them and all people. Your generosity is a powerful confession of faith. Your willingness to give to others from what God has given you reflects God’s rich, eternal generosity toward you and all people in Jesus.

And so what does that mean? Gratitude is not just powerful because it shows appreciation or stems the tide of selfishness. No, gratitude that results in generosity is powerful because it might be the beginning of the opportunity to share the forgiveness of sins and eternal life with those who do not yet know it or have long-since rejected it. Imagine that—by giving from your finite resources, you might directly or indirectly share what is infinite, eternal life with our Savior from heaven!

So, my dear brothers and sisters, be thankful and let your life be filled with gratitude. Our lives will never be perfect on this side of eternity, but we all have blessings from God that we can be thankful for. And even if there is literally nothing here and now for which you can give thanks, the eternal love of your Savior remains a constant. You will be in eternal life because he loves you, and your gratitude for that just might enable you to share that same blessing he’s given to others—to all.

Let your thankfulness to God rule your heart and mind, knowing you are the forgiven child. As we will say at the end of our communion liturgy, may this verse from the psalms be the theme of all our days: Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His mercy endures forever (Psalm 136:1). Amen!

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"God Lifts You Up" (Sermon on Hebrews 13:1-6) | September 28, 2025

Sermon Text: Hebrews 13:1-6
Date: September 28, 2025
Event: Proper 21, Year C

Hebrews 13:1-6 (EHV)

Continue to show brotherly love. 2Do not fail to show love to strangers, for by doing this some have welcomed angels without realizing it. 3Remember those in prison, as if you were fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated, as if you yourselves were also suffering bodily.

4Marriage is to be held in honor by all, and the marriage bed is to be kept undefiled, for God will judge sexually immoral people and adulterers. 5Keep your life free from the love of money, and be content with what you have. For God has said:

I will never leave you,
and I will never forsake you.

6So then we say with confidence:

The Lord is my helper, and I will not be afraid.
What will man do to me? 

God Lifts You Up

Have you ever had a coworker who seemed to make everyone around him better, or at least look better, at their job? Have you ever had a friend who always just elevated the group, came up with the best ideas for things to do or brought hightened levity or sincerity to any conversation? Do you have a family member who particularly skilled at navigating and bringing peace to inter-family strife and conflict? They can elevate the entire family dynamic.

Perhaps you’ve known and experienced all of those; perhaps none. Perhaps you fill that role in your job, or friend group, or family. Whatever your experience has been, having someone like that who lifts up a group is a blessing to everyone involved, and everyone benefits. But if you find those sorts of gifts and blessings lacking in a given group, perhaps you work to equip yourself with some of those skills—expanding what you know through professional development or gaining tools by studying conflict resolution.

That kind of growth can be good, but there are ways in which that can get out of hand and go south. You, as an employee, should not have to learn how to do your boss’s job (or your boss’s boss’s job) in order to bring competency to the workplace; that should be on those it has been entrusted to. How sad it is if a young child feels the need to do whatever she can to ensure there is food on the table because, for whatever reasons, the adults in her life are failing her. Certain tasks have been delegated to certain people, and those people should be faithful to those responsibilities for the good of all involved.

What happens if they’re not? Or if they’re perceived not to be doing what they should? Chaos can ensue. Imagine, for instance, if no one here this morning trusted that the pastor would have a sermon to share, so everyone not only worked up a message to deliver but then actively fought over each other to get into the pulpit to follow through. What a mess of a service we would have! And it would be primarily centered on the reality that preparing a sermon is not your job or your calling, and the responsibility of it should not fall on you.

But sometimes, we try to take on things that we shouldn’t or can’t. We try to lift ourselves and others up, and it can lead to trouble. It’s problematic if you put yourself in the position of doing things that are your boss’s, your parents’, or your pastor’s responsibility, but those problems are magnified when we start taking on what is uniquely God’s responsibility.

God has promised to bless you and take care of you. Last week, we heard how the material blessings we receive from God—in whatever measure—are truly blessings from him and should be used and enjoyed to his glory. We were also reminded that the best way we can use them is to wisely and shrewdly share the gospel of sins forgiven in Jesus with others.

And that is the goal of both how we use our material blessings and how we live our entire lives. In our Second Reading this morning, the writer to the Hebrews gives us a rapid-fire rundown of what the life of a Christian does and should look like: Continue to show brotherly love. Do not fail to show love to strangers, for by doing this some have welcomed angels without realizing it. Remember those in prison, as if you were fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated, as if you yourselves were also suffering bodily. Marriage is to be held in honor by all, and the marriage bed is to be kept undefiled, for God will judge sexually immoral people and adulterers. Keep your life free from the love of money, and be content with what you have.

Why do we want to live like that? Because Jesus has forgiven our sins. For all the many times that you and I have failed to be loving to those we know or to strangers; for the times we have failed to show kindness to those mistreated or downstrodden; for the times that we have misused and abused God’s gifts of sex and marriage; for the times that we have been greedy, selfish, and discontent with what we have—all of those sins are forgiven. And while different parts of that list will resonate with each of us more strongly, we can find places where we haven’t lived as we should here.

But all of those things have something in common: they are trying to exalt ourselves to something different from what God has lifted us to. If I survey the blessings that God has given me and decide, “Nope, that’s not good enough. I want something more, something different,” and don’t care what I have to do to make it happen, that will bring trouble. That’s not to say that self-improvement is bad or that pursuing a new career path or educational avenue is wrong. But if that discontent leads me to sin—to greed, to coveting, to lust, or anything else—that’s where things just fall apart.

Because in those moments, we take on the responsibility God has reserved for himself. The atrocious notion that “God helps those who help themselves” is so tempting. God might use my ambition or my hard work to bring blessings into my life, certainly, but we ought not think that my sin is justified or commendable if we think we will reap material gain from it, or that God would actually want us to do such a thing.

That was the problem the rich man in Jesus’ parable in our Gospel had. He exalted himself over everything else, especially someone like the poor beggar, Lazarus. But what good did it do him at his death? Nothing. His money did earn him favor with God, nor did it buy his way out of the punishment for his sins in hell. He wasn’t in hell because he was rich, but because he viewed earthly riches as a complete replacement for spiritual blessings—a mistake that is all too easy for us to commit today as well.

Where do we look to raise ourselves up in this life and ignore eternity? Where do we look to raise ourselves up at all costs, disregarding what God says is right and wrong? Where do we make our will or desires a replacement for God? In all of these things, there is idolatry, because I am worshiping myself as my god. Obviosuly we don’t want to be doing any of that.

So what is the solution? The writer to the Hebrews points us to it: let God do the work that he has reserved for himself, because in him we have the certainty of blessings and for things to be worked out for our eternal good. Quoting from the Old Testament, the writer sums it up this way: Keep your life free from the love of money, and be content with what you have. For God has said: I will never leave you, and I will never forsake you. So then we say with confidence: The Lord is my helper, and I will not be afraid. What will man do to me? 

So what is our takeaway here? God’s love for us means that he always has our best interests in mind. No matter what happens here, he will be by our side protecting, guiding, and working all things for our eternal good. The world can never separate us from God, nor can it ever offer an alternative to God’s loving care that will be worthwhile in the long run—the eternal run. You don’t need to exalt yourself over others or look to others to raise you higher. No, God lifts you up.

And God’s exaltation might not be peace and comfort here in this life. By his own promise, God’s exaltating you will probably involve bearing crosses and difficulties in this life. But that’s only because God continually has the ultimate good in mind—eternal life. So whatever happens to us here (what we would call good or bad), whatever we have to our name here (what we might call a lot or not enough), whatever sense of fulfillment or joy or happiness we have right now—if any—is all pointing ahead to the time where we will be perfectly provided for, perfectly lifted up, and perfectly protected from any harm that could come to us. Everything God does for you is in service of preparing you for eternal life, keeping my focus on my Savior who is my true, lasting, and eternal treasure.

That all is easy to say and much harder to live. How do we navigate this world that not only has crosses and other difficulties but also a constant barrage of temptations promising us the easier, the better, and the more comfortable, all of which threaten to pull our focus off of eternity and to instead zero in on this life alone? Again, I think we can look to Jesus’ teaching in our Gospel and the words provided to Abraham in that story: “They have Moses and the Prophets. Let them listen to them” (Luke 16:29).

God promises in his Word help to bring us peace with what is happening around us and also help to guide us toward God-pleasing decisions when we look to make changes. When we have his love, forgiveness and the certainty of eternal life in heaven in clear view, we will also have the true way that God lifts us up in view. You are his own, dearly loved child and he will being you home to himself when your time comes. Being heirs of heaven provides far greater blessings than all the money in the world or any sin-guided motivation for self-exaltation could possibly provide. Let us look forward to that day and, while we are still here, enjoy and appreciate the ways that God has chosen to exalt us even today.

God bless your walk toward peace and contentment. May it always be focused on Jesus’ eternal love and forgiveness, which means eternal life! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Be Shrewd with God's Gifts" (Sermon on Luke 16:1-13) | September 21, 2025

Sermon Text: Luke 16:1-13
Date: September 21, 2025
Event: Proper 20, Year C

Luke 16:1-13 (EHV)

Jesus also said to his disciples, “There was a rich man who had a manager who was accused of wasting his possessions. 2The rich man called him in and said to him, ‘What is this that I hear about you? Give an account of your management, because you can no longer be manager.’

3“The manager said to himself, ‘What will I do, since my master is taking away the management position from me? I am not strong enough to dig. I am ashamed to beg. 4I know what I will do, so that when I am removed from my position as manager, people will receive me into their houses.’

5“He called each one of his master’s debtors to him. He asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ 6He said, ‘Six hundred gallons of olive oil.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and write three hundred.’ 7Then he said to another, ‘How much do you owe?’ And he said, ‘Six hundred bushels of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill and write four hundred and eighty.’

8“The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the children of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than the children of the light. 9I tell you, make friends for yourselves with unrighteous mammon so that when it runs out, they will welcome you into the eternal dwellings. 10The person who is faithful with very little is also faithful with much. And the person who is unrighteous with very little is also unrighteous with much. 11So if you have not been faithful with unrighteous mammon who will entrust you with what is really valuable? 12If you have not been faithful with what belongs to someone else, who will give you something to be your own? 13No servant can serve two masters. Indeed, either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and mammon.”

Be Shrewd with God’s Gifts

“Shrewd” is perhaps not a word we use often in everyday conversations, but it is a good word. To be shrewd is to be carefully discerning, able to measure a situation accurately and act appropriately, or at least in the best interest of your primary concerns. We might describe such a trait as being level-headed, able to read a room, discerning, and able to weigh the pros and cons of each individual action in a given situation.

It’s a trait that Jesus urged his disciples (and us who follow them) to have as he sent them out in their initial missionary efforts during his earthly ministry. At that time he noted and urged them, “Look, I am sending you out as sheep among wolves. So be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16). Going into the world with the gospel, going into an environment that would likely be set against them, would require them to be wise and discerning, shrewd to their surroundings while at the same time innocent of wrongdoing.

This morning, we have “shrewd” applied to someone who is a bit of a scoundrel. Jesus uses that word to describe the manager in his parable. If you’re feeling a bit confused by Jesus’ parable this morning, I think it’s with good reason. This is, at first blush, one of the most difficult of all of his parables to reconcile and understand the point. It’s the only parable where the “bad guy” in the story is held up as someone, in part, to emulate. Usually, it’s the downtrodden person who is abused by others but perseveres, or someone who understands the true value of what they have, or someone simply enjoying the pure, loving comfort of God’s care. But this morning, we have in front of us a lazy, deceptive cheat from whom Jesus seems to indicate we can learn a thing or two.

We should probably retrace the story here so that we’re all on the same page. Jesus introduces us to a manager who has been found negligent in his duties and is being fired. He has a very limited amount of time to do what he can to provide a “soft landing” for himself. So with that limited amount of time and access to the books, what does he do? He gets into the good graces of all of his boss’s debtors so that, perhaps, they will offer him a position moving forward. “Take your bill, sit down quickly, and write three hundred.” … “Take your bill and write four hundred and eighty.” He can then say, “Hey, remember that time I cut your amount owed by a third or half? Can you do something for me now?”

To be very clear, nothing about this is moral or ethical. And, I would question whether this would actually secure him a position with another employer moving forward when they saw firsthand his lack of scruples. But he did the best, the most, with what he had access to at the time, with the hope that it would provide a future for him. “Shrewd” is generally a positive term (although its long-standing connection to this parable in English translations of the Bible perhaps does cast a negative shade on it). Still, this manager is shrewd not because he did the right thing, but because he surveyed the available options before him and made the most of the opportunity to prepare as good a future as possible.

What are we, dear Christians, to make of this parable our Savior taught? Let me be as clear as I can be to start: Jesus’ point is not that you should cheat your employer out of what he or she is owed to try to make a better life for yourself. Nothing about this manager’s actions before or after he is relieved of his duties is commendable. Jesus, instead, would have us focus on his resourcefulness. For the children of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than the children of the light. I tell you, make friends for yourselves with unrighteous mammon so that when it runs out, they will welcome you into the eternal dwellings.

Mammon is an Aramaic term for wealth and property. It’s a largely neutral term on its own, but Jesus describes it as unrighteous mammon for its use in this lesson. There is no sense of this being an eternal treasure or spiritual blessings. Jesus’ focus is very much on the physical wealth and treasure that we have in this life. Much like the steward was shrewd in his use of his limited access to the boss’s books, so we too should be shrewd in how we use our limited-time resources.

But our goal is not to get ourselves a cushy position after our current one falls through. Jesus is clear that this shrewdness needs to have a much bigger, longer-lasting perspective: I tell you, make friends for yourselves with unrighteous mammon so that when it runs out, they will welcome you into the eternal dwellings. Jesus is not suggesting that we buy friends, or even in the more extreme case, buy our way into eternal life. No, rather, Jesus is pointing us toward the reality that our use of the temporary things in this life can have an impact on eternity. And what is the only thing that can make eternal life better than it otherwise could be? Well, if there are more people to enjoy God’s eternal home with us. Jesus says that others will welcome us to eternal life who we have, in some way, affected their ability to be there.

Here again, we need to understand Jesus’ words in the broader context of Scripture at large. How does one get into eternal life? It’s not a life well lived, money well spent, or a focus on personal piety and meditation. No, the way to enter eternal life is exactly what we heard Jesus say it was a few weeks ago; the way to enter eternal life is through the narrow door of Jesus himself.

Jesus enables us to come into these eternal dwellings because he paid for our sins. Everything that would have naturally barred the way for us to be brought into eternal life, Jesus undid by his life, death, and resurrection in our place. Jesus was perfectly shrewd—as we needed him to be—and did everything we needed him to do during his limited time here among us. He lived a perfect life, offered that perfect life as the payment for our sins, and assured us of his victory by his resurrection from the dead.

All of that paved the way. All of that is done, and no amount of earthly wealth can have any factor into that. No money can buy the forgiveness of sins, and it doesn’t need to. That is already acquired, permanently secured in the blood of Jesus shed for each of us, shed for everyone.  

How can we shrewdly use our temporary resources in the service of eternity? Not in buying it, but in sharing it. God’s Word is the way God brings faith to others, so the more we can do to connect people with God’s Word, to use our resources to share this message of undeserved but freely given love and forgiveness, then we are applying these resources as God intends them to be used, as Jesus here directs us in our Gospel this morning.

When we support home and world mission efforts through our church body, that mammon does work to bring God’s Word to people that we’ve never met. When we, as a congregation, pay our paltry $262/year to have our website be available online, and more than 15,000 people a month are connecting with us to read our confessions of faith or sermons, mammon becomes outreach for eternal life. When we give thank offerings to God that are directed at the work of our congregation at large, ensuring that we have lights on, climate controls, internet for live streaming, a copier to print matierals, evangelism materials to be sent out into the community, and a pastor to be in the pulplit, that mammon becomes a gospel, eternal light shining in dark, temporary world. When we take the time out of our day to invite someone to church with us, or to share what we believe about Jesus as Savior, or even to show kindness to someone as a possible precursor to sharing the love of God with them, that mammon (of sorts) is doing this eternal work.

All of this sets the stage for having only one master—not ourselves, not our bank account balances, but our God. We can’t be devoted to both God and money, so we do well to put God at the top and see our financial resources for what they truly are—temporary blessings from God given to be used to his glory. When we understand proper priorities and the place that mammon has in our lives, everything else starts to line up. These are my temporary blessings used to serve God, and I can do that in many ways: I can take care of the family and other responsbilities that God has given to me; I can help those who are less fortunate than me and need a helping hand; I can use them to have some fun and enjoy the time I have here as part of a peaceful life. But the best way I can use those resources, the most shrewd way to do so, is to use the temporary to acquire something eternal, to use the perishable to acquire the imperishable.

When we use the temporary resources we have—our money, skills, time, and energy—in service to sharing the love of Jesus, we’re doing exactly that. This $20 bill will not endure past this life; I won’t take this to heaven with me. But what if this $20 was spent on a few Bibles that were put into people’s hands and allowed them to learn the love of Jesus, that temporary money, by the work of the Holy Spirit through his Word, turns into eternal treasure as more souls are brought into the kingdom.

So, my brothers and sisters, how can we be shrewd when surveying what is before us? First of all, see the limited time in front of us. We’ve been stressing in our midweek Bible class on the End Times that Jesus’ return could come at any time—even today!—so we want to be prepared. One way that we prepare is by sharing Jesus’ forgiveness with others.

So, today, sit down and consider how you might be more shrewd with the gifts God has given you than you have been. Do you have more financial resources that could be dedicated to sending this gospel message more forcefully into our communities and our world? Do you have more time to devote to sharing this word with those you know or volunteering to assist in the work of our congregation? Could more of your energy be devoted to prayer for the good of God’s kingdom, that it would continue to come to us and come to many others as well? What do you have right now that will not journey with you to eternal life that could be used to see others join us around our Savior forever?

And in the end, remember the proper motivation for all of this: not shame, or guilt, or a sense of obligation. Rather, we are motivated by joy and thanksgiving to God. This is one of the ways that we show our gratitude to God for saving us from our sins—from hell itself—and bringing us to his side. These are the ways we thank him for treating us like that lost sheep and lost coin from the parables we heard last week. These are the ways we thank God for his eternal love, which means eternal life for us.

My dear friends, be shrewd as God enables you to be. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Found!" (Sermon on Luke 15:1-10) | September 14, 2025

Sermon Text: Luke 15:1-10
Date: September 14, 2025
Event: Proper 19, Year C

Luke 15:1-10 (EHV)

All the tax collectors and sinners were coming to Jesus to hear him. 2But the Pharisees and the experts in the law were complaining, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

3He told them this parable: 4“Which one of you, if you had one hundred sheep and lost one of them, would not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that was lost until he finds it? 5And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6and goes home. Then he calls together his friends and his neighbors, telling them, ‘Rejoice with me, because I have found my lost sheep!’ 7I tell you, in the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who do not need to repent.

8“Or what woman who has ten silver coins, if she loses one coin, would not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? 9And when she finds it, she calls together her friends and neighbors and says, ‘Rejoice with me, because I have found the lost coin.’ 10In the same way, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

Found!

What is your value? Where do you look to understand your value? In school growing up, there was a whole lot of talk for us about self-esteem. You have value! You are special!  You are unique and that’s wonderful! Today’s messaging isn’t so different, though usually in the context of social-emotional learning that also tends to include empathy and care for others in a way I don’t remember being emphasized a lot when I was growing up, but I think it’s a change for the good.

Because all of those things are true, aren’t they? We should care about other people. We should see our own, innate value that comes from inside of us as a unique human being. We don’t have value just because someone ascribes it to us; we have value because we are.

But what about when that doesn’t feel true? What about when you feel worthless? Perhaps you messed up that thing at work, or let that family responsibility slide to everyone’s detriment, or you bombed that test in school, or you got caught doing that thing you knew you shouldn’t be doing. What does that do to your self-esteem, to your self-worth, to your self-confidence? It’s like a bomb, isn’t it? Or it can be. Some of us struggle with this more than others (and perhaps you’re learning too much about your pastor here this morning…), but there’s a struggle inside each of us to have an appropriate self-image.

And what is that self-image that we should have? Well, there are ditches on either side of this road. On the one hand, we can have a degraded self-image that views me as worthless. On the other hand, we have an insanely inflated self-image that results in pride and a superiority complex over everyone else.

These two extremes are, on some level, at the heart of Jesus’ conversation during his teaching in our Gospel for this morning. We meet up with him teaching the crowds, but it’s not just Jesus’ followers or those who were curious about his message that were there; Jesus’ enemies were also there, and they were incredibly irritated with what they saw. The Pharisees and the experts in the law were complaining, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” The word translated here, “complaining,” is more literally “muttering to themselves.” In other words, this is not an accusation that these men are leveling at Jesus directly or even talking to others in the crowd about him. No, this is an under-the-breath complaint about this man that they view at best as their competition and at worst as a threat to their way of living and even their very lives because of his popularity. But in hushed tones, they clearly have no actual respect for him.

In a glimmer of Jesus’ omniscience, he addresses the complaint they didn’t even clearly vocalize. And he does so with a couple of parables—a shepherd seeking out a lost sheep and a woman searching for a lost coin. But to really understand the full weight of these brief parables and the point Jesus is stressing here in love, even to those who were against them, we need to clearly understand how the Pharisees and their ilk thought of themselves and others.

What is their complaint about Jesus? He’s spending time with the undesirables of society: the tax-collecting traitors to their people, the immoral prostitutes, the thieves, the lazy, the poor dregs. There was no chance for upward momentum in spending time with these people. There was only the chance to drag your reputation down. If this Jesus was really serious about being a notable rabbi in their community, this was not the way to do it. And for the religious leaders, it just confirmed one thing: Because he spent so much time with people they knew were beneath them, they also knew that Jesus himself was beneath them as well.

But who, in this scene, really had the problem? Was it the sinners who were coming to Jesus to hear him, to have him restore them, forgive them? Or was it the people who didn’t think they needed him?

Jesus’ parables make the point plain. The sheep wanders off, but does it know it’s in trouble? Maybe, but probably not. If the sheep could identify that this course of action was wrong or dangerous, it probably wouldn’t have done it. But off it goes, seeking out its own desires, ignorant of what it means for its well-being. And what is the shepherd’s reaction? Such concern grips him that he leaves the ninety-nine still in the flock and seeks the lost one.

The lost in this parable could be seen as the “sinners” coming to Jesus. If that is the case, then Jesus’ point is that religious leaders should be concerned about all people, even (and especially) those misled by prominent sin in their lives. However, I think that Jesus’ point is more fundamental to the leaders’ problems and rooted in their misunderstandings about themselves.

If the Pharisees were looking to identify themselves in Jesus’ parables, I assume they would think of themselves as the ninety-nine still in God’s flock or the nine coins still in the purse. The reality was that they were the lost sheep out on their own and the coin hidden among the dust, but they didn’t even realize it. They thought they were fine, but their self-confidence ignored the fact that they, too, were sinners in just as desperate need of God’s forgiveness as the rabble that came to see Jesus.

How easy it is for us to hold this same, distorted view of self. After all, here we are, in church on a Sunday morning. Are we not among God’s flock? Are we not the coins carefully contained, whose location is known? Unfortunately, our sin makes that thought and confidence a mirage. We are the lost and the rebellious. We are the cheating tax collector and the self-righteous Pharisee. Our sin makes us lost, alone, and doomed to eternal death in hell.

But here is where we see God’s nature shine through so clearly. God is represented in the parables by the shepherd looking for that lost sheep and the woman tearing the house apart looking for that coin. In those moments, what is lost is of the highest priority. So, too, is it for God. We are lost in sin on our own; thus, we are his highest priority.

God saved us not by putting us on his shoulders or sweeping the flood but by offering his life in exchange for ours. Our sin created a situation far more dire—infinitely so!—than the lost sheep or coin. No, the only thing that could save us from the eternal punishment for sin was the blood of the perfect Lamb of God, who took away the sins of the world.

Jesus’ search and rescue consists of reaching out to us with his Word, having us see ourselves as we really are (that is, see our sin in all its gruesome reality), and then showing us his saving love. His death rescued us, and the faith he works through his Word brings us back to himself. His Word brings us face to face with the reality of our situation and leads us to repentance. To repent is to have a change of heart about sin, to not want to do it anymore, while simultaneously trusting God’s complete forgiveness. You and I are among those people who have been found wandering the hillside and are rescued. You and I are the ones whose God-worked repentance causes great joy among the hosts of heaven.

Why does that happen? Because that’s just how much you mean to God, how precious you are to him. I won’t ever say that self-value and self-esteem are unimportant; that’s a foolish statement. But the best measure of our value doesn’t come from within ourselves; it comes from the value God places on us. You were worth the life and death of the perfect Son of God. You were worth his agonizing suffering of hell while nailed to the cross. You were worth it all, and if he needed to, he’d do it again, because he loves you so dearly.

That love continues to reach out to us. Because the truth is, this is not a one-time lost-and-found mission. No, we are continually wandering away from the shepherd and needing to be sought out, called back to him. And that calling isn’t always pleasant; that reunion isn’t always what our heart desires. Sometimes it looks very much like the scene in our Gospel! Because even in his interaction with the Pharisees—even in the preaching of the law!—there is Jesus’ love clear as day. Why is he confronting them with their misunderstandings and sin? Because those things were very dangerous, and Jesus had love, even for them. He called them to repentance, and each day he calls you and me to that same repentance, assuring us of his forgiving love where we find our true value.

Despite how much we may want to deny it or at least ignore it, there’s a lot of opportunity in us for the same misguided self-views that the Pharisees had to blossom. You don’t have to dig too far in mainstream Christianity in the United States today to sense the “us vs. them” mentality; it is often a core part of the message coming from these groups. And, I daresay, you don’t have to look too far in the Lutheran church to find these ideas, and perhaps, if we’re being really honest and open this morning, we can even see this in our own hearts. Do I, in some way, think of myself as better than the unbeliever? Better than the “worst” sinners because, even if I’m not perfect, at least I don’t do… that!

My brothers and sisters, let’s not complain and mumble to ourselves and to each other about how much better we are than other people who commit what the world calls horrible atrocities or who engage in activities that the world praises while God detests. Let us see ourselves as we are: sheep in need of rescue and coins hidden in the dark corners of the room. Let us see our value in the seeking, searching, and rescuing work our God has done and continues to do to find us. Let us find our value in our status with God, no longer lost, but now found!

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Show Selfless Love, Not Selfish Favortism" (Sermon on James 2:1-13) | August 31, 2025

Sermon Text: James 2:1-13
Date: August 31, 2025
Event: Proper 17, Year C

James 2:1-13 (EHV)

My brothers, have faith in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ without showing favoritism. 2For example, suppose a man enters your worship assembly wearing gold rings and fine clothing, and a poor man also enters wearing filthy clothing. 3If you look with favor on the man wearing fine clothing and say, “Sit here in this good place,” but you tell the poor man, “Stand over there” or “Sit down here at my feet,” 4have you not made a distinction among yourselves and become judges with evil opinions? 5Listen, my dear brothers, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom, which he promised to those who love him? 6But you dishonored the poor man. Don’t the rich oppress you, and don’t they drag you into court? 7Aren’t they the ones who blaspheme the noble name that was pronounced over you? 8However, if you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” you are doing well. 9But if you show favoritism, you are committing a sin, since you are convicted by this law as transgressors.

10In fact, whoever keeps the whole law but stumbles in one point has become guilty of breaking all of it. 11For the one who said, “Do not commit adultery,” also said, “Do not commit murder.” Now if you do not commit adultery, but you do commit murder, you have become a transgressor of the law. 12So speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law of freedom. 13For there will be judgment without mercy on the one who has not shown mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment. 

Show Selfless Love, Not Selfish Favoritism

This world is obsessed with getting ahead. Perhaps you’ve experienced a cut-throat environment at work where someone would throw you under the proverbial bus without a second thought if they figured it would get them the promotion. Maybe you’ve been tempted to or even have participated in that me-first culture at work, school, or even in your home.

But sometimes this obsession with getting ahead doesn’t result in cutting people down, but cozying up to the people who you think could benefit you. Perhaps you think of politicians who speak very negatively about their opponent in a primary but then make nice with them when it’s clear their former opponent might provide a path forward in their personal career goals.

This morning, our readings all focus us on favoritism and self-promotion. The heart of any amount of favoritism shown to others is going to be selfish gain. If I spend extra effort with you while ignoring this other person, it’s probably because I think closeness to you benefits me more than closeness to the other individual. And in the end, my selfish pride can lead me to think that I deserve whatever I can get from you and that you, and all people, are merely means to my end of getting what I want or think I deserve.

While all of our readings this morning focus on this general theme, this morning we’ll focus on our Second Reading from James. This letter was very likely written by Jesus’ half-brother, James, the son of Mary and Joseph. This James ended up being the leader of the very, very early Christian church in Jerusalem. We know that things were not easy for the Christians there in those early decades. In fact, poverty so gripped those believers that the apostle Paul would gather a special offering from the places where the gospel had been going out to take back and support the brothers and sisters back at the “mother church.”

While greed could always be a motivator, you can probably understand the temptation of the people James served to show significant favoritism toward the wealthy who came to worship with them. Someone who is poor might not be able to make up for the great deal of physical needs the church was experiencing. But one or two very wealthy and generous people could make a huge difference. So, it was tempting to roll out the red carpet for the wealthy, so to speak. And while they certainly would not have barred a poor person from coming or attending, they probably wouldn’t have had the royal welcome that the wealthy experienced.

But is that the point of the Christian life? Ought that to be the focus of the church? Undoubtedly, a certain amount of physical resources is necessary to meet our physical needs—food, clothing, and the like. But all of that is part of God’s promise to give us daily bread. As we heard Jesus a few weeks ago remind us, our heavenly Father knows we need these things, promises to provide them, and will give us all that he knows is good for us.

That is freeing because we can nip that part of us in the bud that thinks other people are a means to an end to achieve our goals—be they rescue from poverty or some other kind of upward momentum, physically or societally. Instead, we can look at all people not with favoritism, but with the selfless love that God has shown to us. We are not means to an end for God; we are the end. He shows his love to us because he loves us, not because he will gain something from us by doing so.

So the visitor to church wearing dirty, ripped clothing ought to have the same value to us as the person dressed immaculately. The members of the congregation who have a lot of physical resources to help support our collective work should have the same value to us as the people whose offerings amount to a widow’s mite given in thankfulness to God, but perhaps not funding massive programs or projects. We ought not show favoritism to anyone, but that doesn’t mean lowering the bar for how we treat one another. No, it means raising the bar as high as it can go.

Favoritism may seem relatively minor (perhaps because we might often do it without even realizing it). But James is quick to remind us what God’s standard is here. He doesn’t let us try to brush off favoritism as no big deal: If you show favoritism, you are committing a sin. James also reminds us that God doesn’t view his commands as individual items, some more important than others. No, God views his law as a unified whole; failure in one area is failure in all of it. Whoever keeps the whole law but stumbles in one point has become guilty of breaking all of it. For the one who said, “Do not commit adultery,” also said, “Do not commit murder.” Now if you do not commit adultery, but you do commit murder, you have become a transgressor of the law. For God, it is not commendable to say, “Well, I haven’t murdered anyone,” while at the same time cheating on your spouse or otherwise disregarding God’s commands about sex and marriage. He expects both to be kept; he expects it all to be done. Any sin is a problem not because of what part of the law it violates, but because it is a sin against God.

So if it feels like we’re picking nits as we sit here and discuss favortism or pride all the while knowing there are, humanly speaking, far worse things out there, that feeling is just our sinful nature trying to justify ourselves and bring the empty comfort of thinking that I’m at least better than that person over there who does “worse” things than me. Pride, then, is simply favoritism shown to oneself rather than to other people.

While we need to be careful about seeing Jesus as an example for us—he’s primarily our Savior, not our example—we can learn from him in this. Jesus was the one person who could have (and from our fallen human perspective, maybe even should have) been prideful. After all, he was the one who was perfect. He didn’t fail to keep God’s rules in any capacity, in stark contrast to everyone else around him—and everyone gathered here this morning. And yet, there was no vanity or pride in him at all.

Not only did Jesus not show pride, he didn’t show favoritism either. He spent time with the Samaritan and the Gentile just as he did with the Jewish person. Doing so would often cause some amount of conflict either with the crowds, the Jewish leaders, or even, at times, his own disicples.

Jesus did not look to exalt himself or see what he could benefit by being closely associated with this person but not that one. Jesus took all humanity as equals—equally loved and cared for. And he carried that humility and that love to the cross where he, in equal measure, paid for the sins of every single person in his suffering and death. Jesus allowed God, his Father, to exalt him in his resurrection. He didn’t need to do that himself; his Father had him covered.

Far beyond just being an example, here is the solution to those times when we haven’t acted in humility but have let pride, greed, or desire for self-promotion affect the way we think about ourselves or others. Because at the cross, Jesus paid for those sins, too (even if we are tempted to diminish their severity or even their reality). Jesus’ humility had purpose, was a means to an end. And, again, that end was you.

So you don’t need to exalt yourself by taking the prime seat at the table. You don’t need to exalt yourself by trying to link yourself closely to the upper echelon of society here at church, at your places of work, or in your communities. You don’t need to do anything to exalt yourself because God has already done far, far more than you could ever hope for. Your exaltation is not just a higher rung on the socio-economic ladder; your exaltation is not having more stories to share or names to drop. Your exaltation is that you are the redeemed child of God. You have been made wealthy with eternal treasure that will never go out of style, suffer from inflation, run out, or decay. Your sins are forgiven; eternal life is yours.

The freedom that this provides is indescribable. Knowing your Savior, knowing your position in his kingdom—in his family—frees you up to show love as he showed love. You don’t ignore the poor or the wealthy person, but you love them both in a way that seeks to reflect God's universal love for all people. When interacting with people, your primary question is not, “What can they do for me?” but, “What can I do for them?” and is especially centered on sharing our Savior with them.

Your humble Savior loved you and saved you. May we, empowered by his love, also humbly love everyone else now and through eternity! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Strive to Enter Through the Narrow Door" (Sermon on Luke 13:22-30) | August 24, 2025

Sermon Text: Luke 13:22-30
Date: August 24, 2025
Event: Proper 16, Year C

Luke 13:22-30 (EHV)

He went on his way from one town and village to another, teaching, and making his way to Jerusalem. 23Someone said to him, “Lord, are only a few going to be saved?”

He said to them, 24“Strive to enter through the narrow door, because many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able. 25Once the master of the house gets up and shuts the door, you will begin to stand outside and knock on the door, saying, ‘Lord, open for us!’ He will tell you in reply, ‘I don’t know you or where you come from.’ 26Then you will begin to say, ‘We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.’ 27And he will say, ‘I don’t know where you come from. Depart from me, all you evildoers.’ 28There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth when you see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, but you yourselves thrown outside. 29People will come from east and west, from north and south, and will recline at the table in the kingdom of God. 30And note this: Some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”

Strive to Enter Through the Narrow Door

If you’re going to take a flight either for fun or otherwise, you don’t even have to tell me what your favorite part of that experience is; I already know. Above all else, you cherish the line and the TSA security checkpoint scan. Who doesn’t love putting all of their stuff on a conveyor belt and then walking through a narrow metal detector or standing in that claustrophobic scanning machine so they can see what joints inside you are now metal replacement parts? And if you’re lucky, you get to spend a few intimate moments with a TSA agent where you both get to know each other a little too well.

Of course, I’m being facetious. That whole process is annoying, and many would argue that it has questionable value to overall safety for air travel. But whether it’s a flight or entering a sporting event, concert, or some other event with a big group gathered, we’re all familiar with the concept of temporarily discarding everything we have and pushing our way through a little doorway.

Now, I don’t want to compare our entry into heaven with passing through a security checkpoint, but there are many parallels between that airport experience and how Jesus describes our spiritual journey in this life: “Strive to enter through the narrow door!” What does he want us to take away from that encouragement? And what will that mean for our day-to-day lives as we look forward to eternity?

In our Gospel, we meet up with Jesus on the “home stretch” of his earthly ministry. He went on his way from one town and village to another, teaching, and making his way to Jerusalem. This “making his way to Jerusalem” will be the last time Jesus goes to Jerusalem, because this is going to be the time that will end in his crucifixion. He doesn’t have much time left in his earthly ministry, and so we start to sense some extra urgency in Jesus’ teaching.

And so it’s probably in that context that we get a little bit disjointed reply from Jesus to the question he was asked, “Lord, are only a few going to be saved?” Jesus really doesn’t answer the man’s question. There’s no discourse on total numbers in heaven or hell; there’s no doctrinal discussion on the difference between those his death has forgiven (everyone!) and the smaller number of those who will benefit from his work through faith. Instead of conversing about the masses, Jesus immediately makes it very personal, “Don’t worry about the number of people; be concerned about yourself. Strive to enter through the narrow door, because many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able.”

Now, at first blush, this could seem like Jesus is pointing to our work as necessary to enter eternal life, to be saved. That is, entering through the narrow door is something we fight to do, that we’re somehow earning passage into the secret entrance of heaven or providing the secret password to get into the back door. That’s not really Jesus’ point, as we’ll get to in a moment. What is clear is how terrible it will be to not enter through the narrow door. Once the master of the house gets up and shuts the door, you will begin to stand outside and knock on the door, saying, ‘Lord, open for us!’ He will tell you in reply, ‘I don’t know you or where you come from.’ Not entering through the narrow door is to be barred from eternal life. Not entering through the narrow door is to not be known by God.

The people in Jesus’ brief parable come up with reasons why this treatment is unjust. They have all sorts of reasons why they should be let in, even after the door has been closed. ‘We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.’ They are pointing to their close relationship with the master, or at least that they thought they had a close relationship with him. But notice how it is just a connection by association rather than a real one. “We ate in the same places where you ate; you taught near the places where we live.” That doesn’t speak to their actual relationship with the master of the house, but rather what they felt they were owed because of their proximity to him.

And the connection in Jesus’ immediate context is straightforward. Many of the Jewish people thought their lineage—their physical connection to Abraham—made them good with God. John the Baptist had addressed that misconception a long time before this, noting that such a physical connection was meaningless since, if he wanted to, God could turn the rocks into physical descendants of Abraham. This is one of the reasons that Jesus notes that those outside would see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets in eternal life, while they were left out. The patriarchs and prophets would be in eternal life not because of who they were or who they were associated with, but because they had trust in God’s promises; they entered through the narrow door.

Now, perhaps we don’t struggle with this exact thing, especially those of us who are Gentiles through and through without a drop of Jewish blood in our veins. But where could we find a similar, misguided comfort in our association with God? Might we point to the fact that we were perhaps baptized, confirmed, married, or had any other significant life events in the Lutheran church? Might we point to the fact that we’ve maintained a constant church membership our entire life—or at least since we started taking these spiritual things seriously? Might we point to our church attendance being nearly flawless, or at least we’re in church more often than not, or we are at least more regular than most people we know? Might we stand on the fact that we always strive to be connected with a church and thus a group of Christians who value the truth and purity of God’s Word?

Do you see how all those things, while undoubtedly positive and worth celebrating, are still just this loose association with God? Taking comfort in church membership or attendance puts the focus entirely in the wrong place. It’s focusing on you, not on Jesus.

And this is Jesus’ point when he tells us to keep striving to enter through the narrow door. To strive to enter through the narrow door means not taking our eyes off that door, which is Jesus himself. The striving is fighting against apathy toward his promises or squashing pride about our contributions. Striving to enter through the narrow door means leaning completely on your Savior, casting all of the things that seemed so important in this life onto some conveyor belt never to be seen again, but instead getting into eternal life solely by God’s grace given in Jesus’ sacrifice for us.

Jesus is not the bouncer at this door, looking to keep the riffraff out; Jesus is the door. Entering eternal life through the narrow door—the only door—is to enter through Jesus. And as we keep our eyes focused on him, we know that we have the certain gift of eternal life waiting for us. Why? Because the master of the house knows you. Why does the master know you? Because he has forgiven your sins, he has given you this eternal life.

But how can you know that? Outside of God coming to you directly to say, “Yes, I know you. Welcome home,” can we ever be confident about our relationship, about our status with God? Absolutely. He’s given you a record of his love for you right here in his Word. You and I only need to walk to Jesus’ cross to understand fully his love for us. At that cross he suffered the horrors of hell for you and me, because he loves you and he loves me.

The walls of sin border eternal life, and they are impenetrable. A moat of self-righteousness sits around that sin wall; wading into those waters only means disaster. But there is a little way through, a little doorway that stands as entry into God’s house. That door is Jesus. Depend on him entirely for your salvation and eternal life, and in that you are striving to enter through that narrow door. By God’s grace, you will pass through it and be welcomed into eternal life by the God who knows and loves you so deeply.

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"How Does Jesus Divide Us?" (Sermon on Luke 12:49-53) | August 17, 2025

Sermon Text: Luke 12:49–53
Date: August 17, 2025
Event: Proper 15, Year C

Luke 12:49–53 (EHV)

“I came to throw fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already ignited. 50But I have a baptism to undergo, and how distressed I am until it is finished! 51Do you think that I came to bring peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. 52Yes, from now on there will be five divided in one household: three against two, and two against three. 53They will be divided: father against son, and son against father; mother against daughter, and daughter against mother; mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law, and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.”

How Does Jesus Divide Us?

There are seemingly endless ways to divide people. Even if we take our relatively small sample size gathered here this morning, there are plenty of division opportunities, even among us who would seem to have a lot in common. In some ways, you are self-divided today. Are you sitting closer to the front or the back? Are you sitting on the left or right side of the church? And then we can get more granular. We could divide our group by age, by gender, by music preferences, by net worth, by favorite food, by least favorite food, by ethnicity or family heritage—the list goes on and on and on.

But the place where we find unity is in Jesus, right? We are here this morning because we believe that Jesus is our Savior from sin and see value in being surrounded by his Word on a Sunday morning. The truth of Jesus’ objective forgiveness means that he is the one element that binds all of humanity together: every person on the face of the planet is someone for whom Jesus died.

And so perhaps it’s a bit disorienting to hear Jesus speak as he does in our Gospel this morning. Do you think that I came to bring peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. We often think of Jesus as the peacemaker, but here he claims the opposite role. He brings division rather than unity, conflict rather than peace.

Taken out of context, we could go wild making up reasons for this, putting all sorts of words into Jesus’ mouth. But let’s take this morning to understand what Jesus is saying and why he’s saying it, as we ponder in what ways Jesus divides us and in what ways he unifies us and brings us peace.

Let’s begin with how Jesus does, in fact, bring peace on the earth. The peace that Jesus brings is not primarily between individual people, but between sinful human beings and our just God. God’s demands for us were pretty clear: perfection. There was no wiggle room for us. God’s expectations have never been and never will be that we simply try our best, that we do more good than bad, or that we stand out from the crowd with our good, generous, genuine behavior. No, perfection was and is the only acceptable standard.

That means that you and I, who have not been perfect or even close to it, have a real problem. We actually have a peace problem, because our sin puts us in conflict, sets us at war with God. And whether you’ve ever been in a fight or not, you can understand the principle that you probably shouldn’t seek out conflict with someone unless you’re sure you can win. This would apply to nations at war or students dealing with bullies.

Yet, our sin means that you and I have picked a fight with the almighty creator of the universe. This is a poor strategy that will not end well. We’ve entered into a conflict that we absolutely will lose. And that loss is catastrophic; it is eternal. The apostle Paul tells us that the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23), and that death isn’t just the physical death that we think of when we hear that word—as horrendous and heartbreaking as that is. No, the death that comes about as a result of our sin is eternal death, which is not merely the separation of the soul from the body but the separation of the person from the blessings of God forever. And this is something that no living human being has ever experienced. For as troublesome as our days might be, for as much sorrow and stress as a person might endure in this life, they’ve never truly experienced total separation from God and his providence. That will be hell in its most gruesome reality—suffering without relief, forever.

This, of course, was not ok with God. His love for us was so great that, even though this is what we deserved, he couldn’t sit idly by and let that happen to his beloved human race. So he promised a Savior to rescue us, and then followed through on that promise. Jesus, true God from eternity, took on our human nature in time to live in our place. Everything about Jesus’ work for us is substitutionary. He tags in for us under God’s law—and kept it perfectly. And then at the cross, he tags in for us as sinners; he endures that hell, that separation from God that we deserved, for us. As he takes our place, the payment is made, and God’s justice is satisfied; hell will never be something we need to endure.

That’s why we can say with the apostle Paul that we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 5:1). The conflict is over because Jesus made this peace. Jesus’ perfection has been credited to our accounts to give us the perfect track record that God demanded. This is the peace promised to the shepherds at Jesus’ birth (Luke 2:14) and the peace that Jesus assured his disciples about on Maundy Thursday evening (John 14:27) and throughout his appearance to them after he rose from the dead (Luke 24:36, John 20:19, etc.).

This then brings us back around to Jesus’ startling statement in our Gospel for this morning: Do you think that I came to bring peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. How does Jesus divide us? He tells us that, at the last day, he will divide all mankind into two groups—sheep and goats, that is, believers and unbelievers. And this is the division that he’s getting at here. Jesus acknowledges that not every human being will flock to him; people will reject him. We saw that play out during his earthly ministry, and the same thing happens even today when his Word is shared. Faith in Jesus serves as a way to divide the human race—those who cling to him as Savior and those who do not.

And this division is not just a label, not just a little factoid about someone that makes them different from someone else. No, our trust in Jesus as Savior and all the knock-on effects that has will set us at odds with people—even dear members of our own families. Jesus doesn’t want Christians to live with the delusion that because we have peace with God, we should expect an easy-going life now, a life of constant peace and harmony. No, far from it, actually.

Jesus divides us because some trust and value what he’s done, while others do not. Some agree that placing a high value on our eternal well-being is of the utmost importance, while others find that whole concept to be utter nonsense. Some will accept, understand, and even encourage the life that a Christian faith calls us to live in thanksgiving to our God, while others will be appalled that we wouldn’t support a particular worldly cause or follow in their sin-laden path.

Where does that leave us? Yes, from now on there will be five divided in one household: three against two, and two against three. They will be divided: father against son, and son against father; mother against daughter, and daughter against mother; mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law, and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.” Maybe you have this dynamic in your own family—one divided along differing faith lines, or faith vs. no faith. Even if you don’t have that exact scenario in your family, you know what it is to be an outcast from the world because of your faith in Jesus. And while we certainly do not want to exacerbate the division by being obnoxious, petty, or judgmental, we also recognize that even if we are perfectly speaking about our faith or living our faith with gentleness and respect as the apostle Peter directs us (1 Peter 3:15-16), we’re going to upset someone.

And what does Jesus say to that? “So be it.” He gives us this warning so that we don’t misinterpret these divisions, to assume that because someone is mad at us, that we’re doing something wrong, that because someone is offended by our faith, we need to course-correct. Quite the opposite, actually. He gives us this heads up to know what to expect and then ensure that we do not compromise on our faith to make peace in the here and now.

Because that’s the temptation, right? If my faith puts me at odds with others, then I might want to sideline or even jetison my faith to make that relationship whole again. It’s a different expression of the same principle we dealt with over the last few weeks, considering the value of earthly wealth vs. heavenly treasure. Any trade that would have us hand over our eternal security in exchange for some temporal blessings or ease of life is indeed a poor, poor trade.

So what is the Christian to do? Hold fast to your Savior. Do not look down on others who do not hold your faith, but seek opportunities to share the gospel with them. But at the same time, recognize that your faith is not likely to be something that unifies, but rather that divides. To cling to Jesus as Savior means admitting something about yourself that no one really wants to admit—that we are sinners who deserve hell. To have a Savior, we must have needed to be saved, and that is an unpleasant thought for anyone.

But even as you face divisions because of your faith, know that you have unity where it really matters. You have peace with God through Jesus’ work in your place. That means that you are a child of God and a citizen of heaven. That peace will endure through eternity. Know that divisions are here and will continue to be present, but value our unity in the peace Jesus won for us. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Do Not Be Afraid, Little Flock" (Sermon on Luke 12:22-34) | August 10, 2025

Sermon Text: Luke 12:22-34
Date: August 10, 2025
Event: Proper 14, Year C

Luke 12:22-34 (EHV)

Jesus said to his disciples, “For that reason I tell you, stop worrying about your life, about what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. 23Certainly life is more than food, and the body is more than clothing. 24Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap; they have no warehouse or barn; and yet God feeds them. How much more valuable are you than birds! 25And who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his lifespan? 26Since you are not able to do this little thing, why do you worry about the rest? 27Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. But I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory was dressed like one of these. 28If this is how God clothes the grass in the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, how much more will he clothe you, you of little faith? 29Do not constantly chase after what you will eat or what you will drink. Do not be worried about it. 30To be sure, the nations of the world chase after all of these things, but your Father knows that you need them. 31Instead, continue to seek the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you. 32Do not be afraid, little flock, because your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom. 33Sell your possessions and give to the needy. Provide money bags for yourselves that do not become old, a treasure in the heavens that will not fail, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Do Not Be Afraid, Little Flock

How are you doing? And I know this is clearly a rhetorical question because I’m asking it in the middle of a sermon, not exactly known for its question-and-answer format. But actually, it’s a question I want you to think about and internalize and I would cherish the opportunity to hear your honest answers when we’re done here today. How are you doing? And when I ask that I mean how are you really doing? Not the standard small-talk answers of “Good… good,” or, “You know, I’m fine,” or “Busy…” but what is the realanswer?

So many things can weigh on how we’re doing or feeling at any given time. Family relationships might be strained or very energizing. Work may be a slog or a beautiful pairing of your skills to the needs in front of you. The prospect of school starting shortly can be a drag or an exciting reunion with friends and a new step on life’s path.

But oftentimes, the resources we have at our disposal can really weigh in on how we’re feeling, but a given situation or our lives in general. Is there enough money to pay the bills? The rent? Put food on the table? Is there enough time to tend to the tasks and responsibilities that you have, or are you stretched far too thin, burning the midnight oil too much, and sacrificing your health in order to try to keep your head above water? Do your teachers do a good job explaining the material in a way that connects with you, or do you feel lost, adrift on the sea of too much information without enough comprehension?

Last week, we focused on the proper place of material wealth in our lives, which often comes from the perspective of keeping greed in check. We noted that while this is not exclusively a temptation for people with greater amounts of wealth, it certainly is a danger that comes along with earthly riches.

This morning, we are looking at the same topic from the other side. How should the Christian think of scarcity? And how do we tell the difference between needs seemingly not being met and just our desires not being fulfilled (one being crucial, the other a nice-to-have)? Jesus’ words in our Gospel really center us no matter what fears, concerns, or worries plague us because they once again focus us on what is truly important: Do not be afraid, little flock, because your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom.

The words of our Gospel today immediately follow the heels of our Gospel from last week and are part of the same conversation, so it would be good for us to refresh our memory of how Jesus closed that reading last week. Jesus was addressing the dangerous pull of material wealth, and told this parable:

“The land of a certain rich man produced very well. He was thinking to himself, ‘What will I do, because I do not have anywhere to store my crops?’ He said, ‘This is what I will do. I will pull down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and goods. And I will tell my soul, “Soul, you have many goods stored up for many years. Take it easy. Eat, drink, and be merry.” ’

“But God said to him, ‘You fool, this night your soul will be demanded from you. Now who will get what you have prepared?’

“That is how it will be for anyone who stores up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God.” (Luke 12:16-21).

So that closing statement is what Jesus is referring to when, in the first verse of our Gospel this morning, he says, “For that reason I tell you…” What reason? That we want to have the goal of being rich toward God rather than squirreling away treasure for ourselves. Jesus’ encouragement to his disciples goes something like this, “Don’t worry about the things of this life. Look at how your heavenly Father takes care of the creation. Aren’t you more valuable to him than flowers and birds?” And he concludes this point, “Do not constantly chase after what you will eat or what you will drink. Do not be worried about it.”

Worry is that sense that there is a problem with no solution. Worry does not mean that our concerns are fake—far from it. But worry almost always ignores God’s promises to us, to take care of us, provide our daily bread, to be our guard and shield in this life.

Worry at its core is a lack of faith, a lack of trust in what God has promised. And worrying about earthly things, what you will eat or what you will drink or anything else that is a high priority in this life, forgets or ignores that truth your Father knows that you need them. If these concerns are real, if these are real needs that we have and God himself knows that we need them and he has promised to provide for our needs, why worry?

Of course, that is easier said than done. And the cure to worry is not “relax” any more than the cure to depression is “be happy” or the cure to cancer is “be healthy.” But Jesus doesn’t just leave us scolded and then move on; he gives us a battle plan for dealing with worry and keeping it in check: Instead, continue to seek the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you. Do not be afraid, little flock, because your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom.

In a way, Jesus solves worry over the problems that plague us by lifting our eyes to see clearly a much bigger problem in front of us: our sin. More than debt, or poor grades, or anything else that might cause stress and worry in this life, our sin causes far greater problems, but they are difficult for you to get a hold of because we don’t see them. It’s almost like going out to dinner, and you're all excited at the start of the meal. Drinks! Appetizers! The best entrees! Dessert? Why not?! But then there is the sobering moment when the bill comes due, and now you have to pay for everything you cavalierly ordered and enjoyed.

We have some sense of the seriousness of sin. We may feel guilt, our conscience may make us very uncomfortable, but we can often put that out of our mind, ignore it, and move on. It’s like seeing the prices on the menu, knowing how this will add up, but ignoring it and doing it anyway.

So, our sin racks up a debt with God that we can never pay. And there’s no solution to it. There’s no emergency fund to dip into, no payment plan to set up, and no dishes we can wash to pay it off. Our sin creates an impossible debt that we can never pay, and the end result of that debt is eternal separation from God in hell after this life is complete.

If there was ever anything worth worrying about, it would be this. More so than anything we will ever face in this life, this is a problem with dire ramifications that we can’t even process. Eternal death in hell is so gruesome, so horrendous, that we ought not wish it on our worst enemy—and certainly not on ourselves!

Thankfully, Jesus doesn’t leave us hanging here. Not only does he provide the solution to this eternal worry, but he presupposes it in his teaching. Rather than being focused on what we will eat and drink (that is, earthly solutions to earthly problems), we should be focused on seeking the kingdom of God (that is, God’s solutions to our eternal problems).

God’s kingdom is his rule in our hearts by faith. It’s the same kingdom we pray that God would bring about in the second petition of the Lord’s Prayer. When we seek God’s kingdom, we seek faith in Jesus; for the Christian, this is a stronger, more resolute faith. We look beyond the ravens and the flowers and instead see the promises of God, that Jesus, crucified and suffering hell on the cross, is truly doing that in our place. That is suffering, and death is our forgiveness and life. He paid the debt we couldn’t touch, solved the problem that we could never address, and rescued us from eternal death in hell to bring us to eternal life with him in heaven.

What is clearly lacking in any of this is any effort on our part. We can’t work off our sin, we can’t bring about our forgiveness, we can’t even choose to believe in what God has promised. All of these are gifts from God. Therefore, like Abraham in our First Reading, our God-given faith is credited to us as righteousness, credited as a right relationship with God.

Faith in Jesus also underscores all of the other promises that he has made to us, including to provide for our daily, earthly needs. You will never find a problem that God isn’t equipped to handle, and he urges us to bring them to him. Again, Abraham serves as our model. What was happening in his life didn’t seem to be lining up with what God had promised, “LORD God what can you give me? … you have given me no offspring, so a servant born in my house will be my heir” (Genesis 15:2-3). After Abraham’s request, God addressed that concern.

So it’s not that the things that cause us to worry are foolish, and we should be ashamed of even thinking about them. Far from it! But let us approach those problems with faith and trust that your Father knows that you need them. Call on God in the day of trouble and, truly, he will answer you. Perhaps not in the way you think you need or want, but he will answer in the best way for you.

And how can you be sure of that? Look to the cross, to the empty tomb! See your Savior crucified and raised to destroy your sin and open the gift of eternal life to you! There is your hope for eternity. How will our Father not also, along with Jesus, graciously give us all things for our eternal good? He can and he will!

Do not worry, but put your trust in the eternal, all-powerful God who loves you as an individual and will bring you to his side for eternity! Thanks be to God! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Let's Not Chase the Fog" (Sermon on Ecclesiastes 1:1-2, 12-14, 2:18-26) | August 3, 2025

Sermon Text: Ecclesiastes 1:1-2, 12-14, 2:18-26
Date: August 3, 2025
Event: The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, Year C

Ecclesiastes 1:1-2, 12-14, 2:18-26 (EHV)

The words of Ecclesiastes, David’s son, king in Jerusalem.

2“Nothing but vapor,” Ecclesiastes said. “Totally vapor. Everything is just vapor that vanishes.” …

12I, Ecclesiastes, have been king over Israel in Jerusalem. 13I applied my heart to seek out and explore with wisdom everything done under the sky. (What a burdensome task God has given the children of Adam to keep them busy!) 14I have seen all the actions done under the sun, and, look, it is all nothing but vapor. It is all chasing the wind. …

2:18I also hated all the results of my hard work, for which I worked so hard under the sun, since I must leave it all to the man who comes after me. 19And who knows—will he be wise, or a fool? Yet he will have control over all the results of my hard work, for which I worked so hard and so wisely, under the sun. This too is vapor that vanishes.

20So I changed my course, and my heart began to despair over all my hard work at which I worked so hard under the sun. 21Sure, there may be a man who has worked hard—wisely, aptly, and skillfully. But he must hand over whatever he accumulated by all his hard work to a man who has not worked hard for it. This too is vapor. It’s so unfair! 22For what does a man gain through all his hard work, through all the turmoil in his heart as he works so hard under the sun?

23Bah! Pain fills his days. His occupation is frustration. Even at night his heart does not rest. This too is vapor.

24There is nothing better for a man than to eat and to drink and to find joy in his work. This too, I saw, is from God’s hand. 25For who can eat or enjoy himself apart from him? 26Yes, God gives wisdom, knowledge, and happiness to the man whom he considers good, but to the person who goes on sinning God gives the task of gathering and collecting, but only so that he can give it all to a person whom God considers good. This too is vapor, nothing but chasing wind.

Let’s Not Chase the Fog

This past week, I was reminded in several ways that we have entered into what is colloquially known around us as “Fogust.” Now, this might not be as true in the East Bay, but certainly in Belmont, we are getting into the time of year when the fog can be thick and prominent (which has sort of been true for this whole weirdly cold summer up here on the hill). But whether it is a reality for us where we live or something we run into as we travel around the Bay Area, we know what it’s like to be under blankets of thick fog from the marine layer. Seeing the sun here before noon is often a novelty during these foggy days.

But fog is weird. It totally obscures your vision, but unlike a curtain that you can grab and pull back, the fog disappears as you get “close” to it. So, visibility remains constant; there’s always this wall in front of you obstructing your vision, but it’s not a wall that you can ever approach. It remains a constant distance away as long as the fog’s thickness remains the same. You’re in the fog, but you can never really get to it; it surrounds you, but you never actually have it.

But this morning, our focus isn’t on weather phenomena or the properties of condensing water vapor. No, all of our readings focus on the fleeting, temporary nature of earthly wealth as a reminder to put our focus and priority on the eternal, never-ending blessings that God provides. And there’s probably no better person in the history of the world to lead us into that topic than King Solomon.

Solomon was David’s son who took over the rule of Israel after his father died. Famously, God gave Solomon a blank check to ask for blessings from him. We read about this in 1 Kings 3, right at the beginning of Solomon’s reign as king. This is a bit of a lengthy section, but I want to read it this morning in its entirety to give both Solomon’s and God’s perspective:

The LORD appeared to Solomon in Gibeon in a dream at night. God said, “Ask for whatever you want me to give you.”

Solomon said, “You have shown great mercy and faithfulness to your servant, my father David, just as he walked before you in truth, righteousness, and uprightness of heart toward you. You have shown this great mercy and faithfulness to him and have given him a son who is seated on his throne to this very day. O LORD my God, now you have made your servant king in the place of my father David, but I am a little child. I do not know how to go out or come in. And I, your servant, am among your people whom you have chosen, a great people, who cannot be counted or numbered because they are so many. Now give to your servant a perceptive heart to judge your people, to distinguish between good and evil, for who is able to judge this great people of yours?”

In the eyes of the LORD, Solomon’s request was good. So God said to him, “Because you have asked for this, and you have not asked for a long life, nor have you asked for riches, nor have you asked for the lives of your enemies, but you have asked for discernment to reach just verdicts, therefore I will act according to your words. Yes, I will give you a wise and discerning heart, so that there will never have been anyone like you before you, nor will anyone like you rise up after you. In addition, I will give you what you have not asked for: such riches and honor that there will not be anyone like you among the other kings throughout all your days. If you walk in my ways by keeping my statutes and commands just as your father David did, then I will give you a long life.” (1 Kings 3:5-14)

God is clear with Solomon that he has his head and heart in the right place. He doesn’t seek selfish things—wealth, health, or even wisdom for personal gain. No, he asks for wisdom and discernment to be a good king and shepherd for the nation of Israel. He knows how much he doesn’t know and how overwhelming a task the throne is. Without the wisdom that God imparts, there’s no way that he would find any success.

The result of God’s blessings for Solomon is that he was wiser than anyone else and—at least at that time—had more wealth than any other ruler in the world. So Solomon is in a unique position to be able to examine worldly wealth with a godly perspective better than anyone before or after him.

So, what does he think of it all? “Nothing but vapor. Totally vapor. Everything is just vapor that vanishes.” He doesn’t think much of it at all. Many English translations try to translate the metaphor. You may be familiar with translations calling the things of this world “vanities,” “futility,” or being “meaningless.” But I appreciate our translation continuing to keep it as “vapor” or “breath.” What is Solomon’s primary point? Everything we value so highly in this life is truly as valuable as a single breath expelled from the nose and as worth chasing after as the mid-morning fog.

And why is that? Because it will all end. Jesus’ story in our Gospel beats us over the head with that point: “I will tell my soul, ‘Soul, you have many goods stored up for many years. Take it easy. Eat, drink, and be merry.’ But God said to him, ‘You fool, this night your soul will be demanded from you. Now who will get what you have prepared?’” (Luke 12:19-20). Earthly wealth has value and usefulness; the physical resources we have at our disposal are blessings from God to be used as our responsibilities direct, and are even meant for our enjoyment. But what happens when our focus is on them to the exclusion of all else, especially our soul’s eternal well-being? The “stuff” of this world can so easily become a false god to us that we worship and adore. And that leaves us in a really bad state, both spiritually and eternally.

One of the things that both Jesus and Solomon point to to show the fog-like nature of earthly wealth is the lack of control you have over it after you die. We have some blessings in our day to allow the wealth that we have accumulated to do something worthwhile. We can establish a will and trust, ensuring that anything we leave behind in this world will go places and accomplish things we value. That could be supporting friends, family, and other people who are dear to us. That could be supporting charities pursuing causes of high importance to us, such as helping the downtrodden, advancing medical research, caring for animals, or a million other possibilities. One of the highest callings we can dedicate those resources to is the spread of the gospel, whether we think locally by supporting an individual congregation or in a broader way by supporting mission efforts in North America and worldwide.

All of those are great, wonderful blessings that can help alleviate concerns about how any earthly wealth we have accumulated after we’re gone is used. But it doesn’t solve it completely. In fact, Solomon’s point from 3,000 years ago still stands: I must leave it all to the man who comes after me. And who knows—will he be wise, or a fool? While we are not required to pass along an inheritance to a family member we feel is incapable of handling those resources, who’s to say that a given charity, medical facility, or even a church will handle it well? We can do a lot to help those resources go to places that we value and are important to us, but the reality is that after we’re gone, we have just as much control over how those resources are used as Solomon did—none.

Ok, so earthly wealth ought not to be our focus. What is its place in our lives? Solomon observed, “There is nothing better for a man than to eat and to drink and to find joy in his work. This too, I saw, is from God’s hand. For who can eat or enjoy himself apart from him?” Earthly, physical blessings are not evil. They come from God! He wants them to be part of how we carry out the responsibilities that he’s given to us and to be enjoyed. But remembering where they come from is a huge part of enjoying earthly blessings. They are things that are on loan to us from God. They are temporary, not permanent, and should be treated as such.

Instead of focusing on them as of prime importance, we see them as gifts from a loving God. And that leads us down the path of seeing what is truly the most important, because God’s love not only (or even primarily) gives us daily bread and beyond; God’s love gives us eternal life.

If you’re like me, time spent meditating on texts like this can bring up a ton of guilt. We’ve all, at one time or another, prioritized gifts over the Giver, valued the creation more than the Creator. And for that, God’s love has a solution as well. God’s love not only gives temporary blessings but also gives the one thing needed: the eternal solution to our sins. Whether it is the sins of mismanagement or misprioritization of earthly blessings or anything else, Jesus’ sacrifice of everything—his very life—to save us solves those sins. In Jesus’ death and resurrection, we have the one thing that we do take out of this life and have forever, a resource that never runs out, a reserve that never runs dry.

The forgiveness of sins, for as intangible as it may seem to us, is the opposite of trying to hold onto the fog. It is the thing that endures through eternity. God’s love for you, made clear to you in Jesus, is the most important thing we have, the greatest blessing that God gives. As such, it should be our number one priority in this life. And nothing temporary should take its place of primacy in our hearts, and by God’s grace, nothing will.

This week, I encourage you to reflect on the numerous blessings that God has given you. You might not be what the world would call “wealthy,” but we all have what we need to survive and then some. Find time to give thanks for that today and every day, because truly, these are blessings from God. But then also take the time to examine how you are structuring your blessing priorities. Does the car, the phone, the computer, the game, the job, the schoolwork, the leisure, or anything else God gives for our blessing and enjoyment overshadow Jesus? If so, how can we stop chasing after that fog and dedicate ourselves to what is truly important, to what lasts forever?

Are we chasing the fog? Probably at times. Moving forward, let’s instead focus on chasing after God’s forgiveness, the gift already given to us and that we long to prioritize above all else, now and forever! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Let Us Pray for All" (Sermon on 1 Timothy 2:1-7) | July 27, 2025

Sermon Text: 1 Timothy 2:1–7
Date: July 27, 2025
Event: Proper 12, Year C

1 Timothy 2:1–7 (EHV)

First of all, then, I urge that petitions, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, 2for kings and all those who are in authority, in order that we might live a quiet and peaceful life in all godliness and dignity. 3This is good and pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, 4who wants all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. 5For there is one God and one mediator between God and mankind, the man Christ Jesus, 6who gave himself as a ransom for all, the testimony given at the proper time. 7For this testimony, I was appointed a herald and an apostle—I speak the truth; I am not lying—a teacher of the Gentiles in faith and truth.

Let Us Pray for All

It is often a good idea, when having a conversation with someone (especially where there’s some amount of confrontation involved), to avoid sweeping generalizations. Words like “all” or “always” or “every” or “never” can be hyperbolic and completely shut down another person’s ability to listen to what you’re saying. For example, if you’re talking to someone about how they often belittle your ideas and wishes, it is probably not helpful to say, “You never take me seriously,” because that’s probably not true. It might happen often, it might happen even a vast majority of the time, but saying that it’s the only thing that happens can distract from the point. The person you’re talking to may get defensive and be ready with counterexamples, and then you very quickly get away from what you wanted to talk about in the first place.

The one person who generally can be accurate with using those sweeping terms is God, because he has a perspective far above our own. He can actually see all things, knows all things, and is present everywhere all the time. So, for God, “all,” “always,” “every,” and “never” are not generally hyperbole but actually accurate representations of what is going on. And if he uses words like these, we probably do well to perk up and take notice rather than dismissing it as an exaggeration, because what God is saying is probably very, very important.

This morning our focus is on prayer. In our Gospel, Jesus guided our prayer life with that model prayer we’ve come to know as the Lord’s Prayer. He then also encouraged us to be persistent in our prayer life. “Keep asking … Keep seeking … Keep knocking” (Luke 11:9). In our first reading from Genesis 18, Abraham is a model of that kind of bold, persistent prayer—almost to the point of perhaps making us uncomfortable, thinking, “Abraham, you got God to say yes already… stop pushing your luck!”

In our Second Reading, where our focus will be primarily centered this morning, the apostle Paul guides us not only in what and who to pray for, but also underscores the why we do it and why we can be conifident when we do it, which just might take away some of the uncomfortableness we might have felt reading Abraham’s prayer.

Paul’s words repeat a theme. He keeps returning to the idea of universality in our prayer life; the word “all” is repeated many times in these few verses. And we’ll see how these are not hyperbole, papering over the reality with exaggeration. Rather, when God uses this term here in 1 Timothy, it will be good for us to note where and how he’s using it. Ultimately, we’ll see how prayer encompasses all people and even our whole lives.

If you see prayer depicted in movies or TV, it is often shown as a character’s last resort; every other plan has fallen apart, so now God, some other type of higher power, or the universe in general is our last hope. The desperate person then prays, hoping it will make everything okay.

But such an attitude misunderstands the nature of prayer. It’s not just a lifeline or a wishline. God is not a genie in a lamp waiting to grant our heart’s desire, nor is he the first responder from a 911 call. Nor should it be viewed as a last-ditch effort to solve some problem that we’ve encountered continual roadblocks trying to tackle. Prayer is part of a relationship with God and an ongoing conversation between a person and his Creator.

But there’s a problem. In order to have a conversation with someone, you have to be near them or at least connected to them in some way, be it via phone, text message, or even correspondence through the mail. And we have a problem with that in holding a conversation with God: naturally, we are not connected to him. In fact, because of our sin, we are as far removed from him as we can be.

The prophet Isaiah pulls no punches on this division from God and it’s effect on our prayer life. When addressing the Israelites’ unanswered prayers and unsolved problems, Isaiah brings the hammer down: Listen to me! The LORD’s arm is not too short to save, and his ear is not too deaf to hear. No, it is your guilt that has separated you from your God, and your sins have hidden God’s face from you, so that he does not hear (Isaiah 59:1–2). Sin makes it impossible for us to pray to God, or at least for those prayers to be heard. Our sins are like a soundproof wall dividing us from our Creator.

And this is where the first all we want to focus on in Paul’s words to Timothy comes into play. In the latter part of our Second Reading, Paul describes God this way: For there is one God and one mediator between God and mankind, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all, the testimony given at the proper time. Jesus gave himself as a ransom for all people, paying the price for the world’s sins on the cross. We were held captive and his payment—his life—set us free. All sin is gone for all people.

This is why we so often use the phrases “in Jesus’ name we pray” or “for Jesus’ sake” in our prayers. It’s not for God to take notice of our prayers, as if he’ll be more likely to answer if we have this tag attached to them. No, it’s a reminder for us. Why do I have the privilege to pray? Why do I have the utter audacity to bring my paltry requests to the great Creator and King of the Universe? Jesus makes me bold to do that because he opened the communication path for me to speak with God. He did that by removing my sin that separated me from my God. Formally, my sin had prevented him from hearing me. Now? Because of Jesus, that sin is gone, and thus so is the barrier to my prayers. As a believer with faith in Jesus as my Savior, I can approach God, as Luther put it, “as boldly and confidently as dear children ask their dear father” (Explanation to the Address of the Lord’s Prayer, Small Catechism).

The forgiveness of sins frees to love all people because I know what it is for God to love me. In thanksgiving to God, I love my neighbor as I love myself, and God’s Word is clear that my neighbor is not just people I know, or people I like, or who like me, or people that look like me, sound like me, or hold the same views as me. Loving my neighbor means loving the people for whom Jesus died, that is, loving all people, everywhere.

And part of that love for others is praying for them. Obviously, the family member going through a very difficult time will allow me to bring much more specific prayers to God’s throne on their behalf than the person on the other side of the world that I know little to nothing about. Jesus forgiveness is what drives that use of prayer that Paul began our reading with (and note the alls in these verses!): First of all, then, I urge that petitions, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all those who are in authority, in order that we might live a quiet and peaceful life in all godliness and dignity.

Paul’s list of synonyms for prayer in general or types of prayers—petitions, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings—speaks less of a to-do list, but of a heart attitude. My prayer life should express what is in my heart—love of neighbor—and I do so by bringing their well-being to our Savior with reverence, confidence, and devotion to him.

Oh, but how Paul speaks against the current discourse of the world! Our nation is often harshly divided on political or social viewpoints, to the point that for us it is very often tempting to just sever people in our lives who don’t hold the same views or think the same things that we think! But is that God’s direction here through Paul? Instead of cutting someone off and out of our lives and perhaps even behaving in attitude and action as if they were dead to us, we ought to pray for them. If there is a brokenness in our relationship with another person, rather than letting a grudge calcify our anger, we ought to bring the situation and (more to the point) the person to God’s throne.

And that applies even to (and perhaps especially to) the leaders and others in authority. Note how there are no qualifiers here. You don’t have to agree with, support, or even particularly like whoever might be living in the White House in DC, the governor’s mansion in Sacramento, or the mayor of your town. Like them or not, agree with them or not, voted for them or not, Paul says, “Pray for them!”

What is the biggest thing that we could pray for our leaders about? Their spiritual condition. Certainly, no leader is perfect, and many will end up having very public sins on display. But what is true for the leaders you disagree with or the public figures caught up in scandal? They are people for whom Jesus died as well. So our prayers are well directed if they are aimed at our leaders’ spiritual well-being. That is, that leaders who are Christians and trust their Savior be strengthened in that faith, and that those who don’t yet believe in Jesus as Savior may be brought to that conviction and faith through the Holy Spirit’s work.

Paul reminds us what the true will of God is for leaders and all people. He says that praying for our leaders and all those in authority is good and pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who wants all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. There’s that universality again! God is not just electing some to eternal life and then forcing the others into hell. There’s a legitimate, passionate desire on God’s part that all people be saved. After all, you probably don’t like to see things go to waste. Since Jesus died for all, why would he want that effort wasted and thrown away by people’s rejection? More than efficiency, though, God’s love for all people means that he sincerely desires that all people be rescued from the hell we deserve and instead spread eternity with him in the perfection of heaven.

All of this precisely pairs with our focus from last weekend. We sat in Mary and Martha’s home, hearing Jesus teach and remind us, as he spoke to Martha, about that one needful thing: time in God’s Word. That is one half of the conversation; prayer is the other; both are important. And in fact, because our prayer lives ultimately should be asking not for what we want but for what God knows is best for us—that his will be done in our lives—time in God’s Word shapes our prayers. The more we hear and see God’s work and will as shown in his Word, the more our prayers will be shaped by that revealed will and the more our prayers will ring in harmony with God’s plans, purposes, and desires.

So, my brothers and sisters, take up that bold blessing, that privilege God has bestowed on you: to pray. Pray for yourselves and those things that are heavy on your hearts. Pray for others—all others—that they may know their Savior and find peace with God through it. Pray in confidence, knowing that you pray to the one who loves you, can do everything for all people, and wants all people to be saved. Pray that the message of Jesus’ forgiveness rings out in the world and many more are brought to faith through it. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"Find a Neighbor to Love" (Sermon on Ruth 1:1-19a) | July 13, 2025

Sermon Text: Ruth 1:1-19a
Date: July 13, 2025
Event: Proper 10, Year C

Ruth 1:1-19a (EHV)

During the days of the judges, a famine occurred in the land. So a man left Bethlehem in Judah to stay awhile in the territory of Moab—he, his wife, and his two sons. 2The man’s name was Elimelek, his wife’s name was Naomi, and the names of his two sons were Mahlon and Kilion. They were from the clan of Ephrath from Bethlehem in Judah. They entered the territory of Moab and remained there.

3But Elimelek, Naomi’s husband, died, so she was left with her two sons. 4They then married Moabite wives. The name of the first was Orpah, and the name of the second was Ruth. They lived there for about ten years. 5But Naomi’s sons, Mahlon and Kilion, also died. So the woman was left without her two children and without her husband.

6Then Naomi set out with her daughters-in-law to return from the territory of Moab, because while she was in the territory of Moab, she had heard that the Lord had graciously visited his people by providing them with food. 7So she left the place where she had been, and her two daughters-in-law left with her. They set out on the road to return to the land of Judah.

8But Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go back. Both of you return to your mother’s house. May the Lord show you kindness as you have shown kindness to the dead and to me. 9May the Lord grant that each of you finds security in the house of a husband.” Then she kissed them, and they wept loudly.

10But they said to her, “No, we will return with you to your people.”

11Then Naomi said, “Turn back, my daughters. Why should you go with me? Am I going to give birth to any more sons who could become your husbands? 12Turn back, my daughters. Go! For I am too old to be married to another husband. Suppose I say, ‘I have hope, and I will be married to another husband tonight, and I will even give birth to sons.’ 13Would you wait for them until they grow up? On the basis of that hope would you give up the chance to marry another husband? No, my daughters. It is much more bitter for me than for you, because the hand of the Lord has reached out against me.”

14They once again wept loudly. Then Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth would not let her go.

15Naomi said, “Look, your sister-in-law has returned to her people and to her gods. Go back! Follow your sister-in-law.”

16But Ruth said, “Do not urge me to abandon you or to turn back from following you. Because wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you make your home, I will make my home. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. 17Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord punish me severely and double it if anything but death separates me from you.”

18When Naomi saw that Ruth was determined to go with her, she stopped urging her.

19Then the two of them traveled until they arrived at Bethlehem.

Find a Neighbor to Love

We like to find limits, or even loopholes, in the rules. “I know I set a budget for myself, but this sale is too good to pass up.” “Sure, the speed limit says 65, but I know they don’t enforce that until you’re more than 10 over, so it’s no problem if I drive 74.” “Mom only said to go to my room, so setting two feet inside the door and then turning around and coming back out shouldn’t be a problem.” Those “loopholes” won’t do much good for your bank account or your interactions with the police officer. And I don’t think I’ve ever met a parent who likes to discuss the technicalities of outlined discipline with their child.

Unfortunately, this loophole-seeking attitude also often shows up in our approach to God's commands and directions. We might think of Peter asking Jesus how many times he had to forgive his brother who sinned against him, perhaps seeking justification to refuse forgiveness on some immature, but theological, technicality.

We’re going to focus our meditation this morning on our First Reading from the book of Ruth. Ruth lived during the time period referred to as the “days of the judges.” These were the years in the Promised Land between Israel’s initial entry into the land after wandering in the wilderness and the beginning of the monarchy with King Saul. This stretch of roughly 300 years was a particularly tumultuous time in Israel’s history. There’s a refrain that echoes throughout the book of Judges, “In those days there was no king in Israel, and every man did whatever was right in his own eyes” (Judges 17:6). There is wholesale dismissal of God as the leader of the nation and the leader of the individual people. People were looking for loopholes, or more flagrantly, just outright ignoring what God had said. If you read through Judges, you see many examples of a cycle that loops back on itself over and over again: Israel is unfaithul; God sends chastisement, usually in the form of an enemy foreign power; the people recognize their mistakes and pead to God for help; God gives his people relief, usually through some ad hoc leaders referred to as judges… until they are unfaithful again, and the cycle starts anew.

However, despite this negative cycle, the faith life in Israel during these years was not all bleak. There are snapshots, snippets of faithfulness among God’s people preserved for us in Scripture. Sometimes, the faithfulness even stands out as extraordinary. Clearly, God was continuing to preserve his faithful, his remnant, even if the nation at large was often struggling to be faithful to him.

In our First Reading this morning, we have one of those highlights from this time period: the account of Ruth. We pick up with Ruth right at the very beginning of the book, and so we hear the quick outline of her life. She was not an Israelite; she was a Gentile, a Moabite. She met her husband and his family when they moved from Israel during a time of famine. Ruth was eventually brought into this believing Old Testament family, and she joined them in their faith by the working of the Holy Spirit.

Her faith produced a dedication not only to her family but to God as well. As the years went on, tragedy struck this extended family. Mahlon and Kilion, Naomi and Elimilek’s children, both died. That left Naomi as a widow for some amount of time already, and Orpah and Ruth, her sons’ wives, as widows in the prime of their lives. Having lost all of the men in her family, Naomi decided to return home to Israel. She wanted to release her daughters-in-law from any obligation they might feel toward her, to take care of or provide for her, because she was returning home. “Go back. Both of you return to your mother’s house. May the Lord show you kindness as you have shown kindness to the dead and to me. May the Lord grant that each of you finds security in the house of a husband.” After some hesitation, Orpah followed Naomi’s direction. However, the weeping embraces make it clear that this was not an easy decision for her.

But Ruth didn’t follow Orpah’s lead. Ruth dedicated herself, latching onto her mother-in-law with a protective dedication and love. Now she didn’t have to do this; she was under no obligation to do this. In fact, a lot of people might say this decision was unwise. Why connect yourself at the hip to your mother-in-law, whom you were not officially joined to by marriage anymore? Why leave and go to a foreign nation with her and abandon your people, customs, broader family, and comfort zone? Even beyond that, Ruth was possibly dedicating herself to a long life of widowhood. Would she find another Israelite man willing to bend God’s directions and also marry her, a Gentile?

Ruth was not driven by what was best for herself; her love for Naomi drove her. This is clearly shown in Ruth’s imploring: “Do not urge me to abandon you or to turn back from following you. Because wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you make your home, I will make my home. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord punish me severely and double it if anything but death separates me from you.”

In all aspects of life, only doing the bare minimum can be a tempting loophole to try to find. A child might try to figure out what is the least that needs to be done to keep the teacher satisfied and the parents off his or her back. A spouse might try to do just enough to keep a semblance of peace in the home, but nothing more. It is tempting to see work responsibilities as a minimum bar that we have to reach. And yet, when we think of our responsibility to our neighbor, to love our neighbor as ourselves, this bare-minimum approach gets expressed in the same question that the man asked Jesus in our Gospel, “Who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:29).

How many people do I have to love? How many people do I have to feel responsible for in order to meet God’s definition of loving my neighbor as myself? In Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan, while obviously a stunning example of going above and beyond in showing love, Jesus's real point is answering the man’s question. Who is your neighbor? Your neighbor is everyone, not just those who are close to you by emotion, relationships, language, faith, or location.

It is not by accident that Jesus made the Samaritan the one who went out of his way to help the Jewish man beset by robbers. The Samaritans and the Jewish people did not get along at all. That he would go out of his way to show love to an enemy speaks volumes. You could imagine many people advising this Samaritan that he shouldn’t waste his time or resources on this man. After all, weren’t there people closer to him who should be helping him? Something like, “Let the Jewish people help the Jewish people and the Samaritans help the Samaritans!”

How often don’t we consider our love for others in the same way? “Well, that person needs more help than I can offer, so I’m not going to do anything.” Or, “This person is not really my responsibility. They have family or friends who should really be taking the lead here.” Or, “This person got themselves into this mess; I’m not going to help them get out of it. That’s their responsibility.” And in those moments, we’re not even asking Jesus who our neighbor is. We’re saying to him very directly, “No, this person is not my neighbor. And God, you are wrong if you think differently.”

Outside of the situation, we can hear clearly that that’s not what we want to say to God. But that notion of trying to do the bare minimum, finding a loophole in God’s commands, applies here far too often. The reality is that, as far as God is concerned, there is no minimum; there’s only perfection. There is only love for everyone. Do everything for everyone that you possibly can. Love like the Samaritan loved the man who fell into the hands of robbers. Love like Ruth loved Naomi. Love in a way that doesn’t seem to make sense. Love in a way that might make you vulnerable, might set you up to be hurt, might set you up to be taken advantage of.

We can see this kind of love most clearly in our Savior.

If anyone could be said not to owe anything to anyone, it would be Jesus. His entire mission of mercy, his entire mission to save mankind from their sin, was something that, objectively, he didn’t have to do. There’s no reason why God should have felt compelled to do this other than baffling, one-sided love for us. Because the sin that he’s rescuing us from is our sin against him. He is the one who has been harmed; he is the one who has been taken advantage of; he is the one who has a nearly unending stream of enemies in the sinful human race. And yet still, he goes looking for someone to love; he goes digging to find people who need his forgiveness but certainly do not deserve it; he seeks out you and me.

That means we have experienced the kind of love God asks us to share with others, which goes way above and beyond what people would naturally think is reasonable. We’ve experienced love that forgives when hurt, love that seeks the good of others even at the expense of self, and love that is perhaps illogical.

Which brings us back to Ruth. She follows through on her promise. These are not empty words. She subjects herself to living in poverty with her mother-in-law when they return to Israel, to Bethlehem. Their need is significant enough that they don’t even have food; Ruth goes out into the fields, gleaning from the leftovers at the harvest. But in Ruth’s account, we see another extraordinary measure of love because she gleaned in the fields of a man named Boaz, a relative to Naomi, if a bit distantly so. Yet Boaz is a man who showed both Naomi and Ruth love and mercy that went above and beyond.

In the end, Ruth and Boaz marry. Ruth, this Gentile, this Moabite woman, is brought into a believing family through marriage yet again. God showers extraordinary mercy and blessings on them both because Ruth and Boaz will be ancestors of King David. As a result, Ruth and Boaz will also be part of the human ancestry of our Savior Jesus. God not only loves them and forgives them, but he brings them into the line of the Savior, the plan of salvation, through whom he will rescue all mankind from their sins.

The love of God for you means that your sin is forgiven. Cling to your Savior and let your Savior’s love guide and dictate the love you have for others. Let us not look for the loophole, the bare minimum, that would argue for the smallest circle of acquaintances that we could possibly show love to so that we satisfy requirements that God might have for us. Instead, in love, in thanksgiving to God for his free forgiveness, let us love in extraordinary, baffling ways, in ways that others might say are too much, but that we know are but a pale reflection of the love God has shown us. In our love for other people, whether members of our family, friends, neighbors, or complete strangers, may we be living witnesses and examples of the love that Jesus has had for us and all people.

May our love, motivated by thanksgiving for God’s forgiveness, instill in us the desire to share not only the physical and emotional needs of this life but also the true spiritual and eternal needs all people have. We do not only look to help with food, clothing, shelter, physical care, and emotional needs, but we also share the good news of our Savior Jesus with our neighbors and with the world.

Find a neighbor, many neighbors among the people of the world. Love them, just as Jesus found and loved you. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.

"How Committed Are We?" (Sermon on 1 Kings 19:19-21) | June 29, 2025

Sermon Text: 1 Kings 19:19-21
Date: June 29, 2025
Event: Proper 8, Year C

1 Kings 19:19-21 (EHV)

So Elijah went from there and found Elisha son of Shaphat. Elisha was doing the plowing with twelve teams of oxen in front of him, and he himself was driving the twelfth team. Elijah crossed over to him and threw his cloak over him. 20Then Elisha left the oxen and ran after Elijah. He said, “Let me kiss my father and my mother good-bye! Then I will follow you.”

Then Elijah said, “Go back! For what have I done to you?”

21So Elisha turned back from following him. Then he took the team of oxen and slaughtered them. Using the equipment from the oxen as fuel, he cooked the meat and gave it to the people, and they ate. Then he got up, followed Elijah, and served him.

How Committed Are We?

Commitment, dedication, and drive—all of these are concepts that you might hear associated with lifestyle choices. How committed are you to eating right, exercising, and getting to or maintaining a healthy weight? How dedicated are you to growing your knowledge and understanding of core subjects necessary for work or home life, or even expanding into new areas? What is your drive to be the best or do your best in competitions or personal goals?

Of course, with all of these things, commitment, dedication, and drive can ebb and flow. Today I might be very set on that exercise plan, but what about tomorrow after a rough night’s sleep?

We are not here today to discuss our commitment to physical well-being or pursuing new insights and knowledge. Today, our focus for worship is on our commitment to our Savior: our personal faith and our drive to share what he’s done with others. So today we wrestle with the question, “How committed are we? How committed am I? How dedicated am I to being Jesus’ disciple, Jesus’ ambassador, and Jesus’ witness?”

Our First Reading takes us back to the time of Israel’s divided kingdom, well after the high points of the reigns of kings David and Solomon. The prophet Elijah primarily worked in the northern kingdom of Israel, where dedication to God—especially from the ruling class—was often a real problem (though that’s not to say things were great in the southern kingdom either). So Elijah continually confronted stubborn kings and false prophets, a ministry that really took its toll on him.

In the immediate context of 1 Kings, we’ve just seen God work a great victory over the prophets of the false god Baal through Elijah. The true God consumed a sacrifice on the top of Mt. Carmel with fire from heaven, while the sacrifice prepared for the non-existent god remained untouched. But, coming out of that, the queen threatened to kill Elijah, which sent him into a depressive spiral. He fled to the mountain of God, and there God spoke with him, addressed his concerns, and got him back on the proper footing. God sends Elijah out with some tasks to carry out, including anointing future kings in the area, and a prophet to be his successor, Elisha.

In this brief account this morning, we have Elijah carrying out one of God’s tasks for him. So Elijah went from there and found Elisha son of Shaphat. Elisha was plowing with twelve teams of oxen in front of him, and he himself was driving the twelfth team. Elijah crossed over to him and threw his cloak over him. This was the call to Elisha to follow Elijah, learn from him, and train to be the next in line.

On a surface level, it sounds like Elisha has the same request for Elijah as the last person in our Gospel had for Jesus, but with a tremendously different reaction. When Elisha says, “Let me kiss my father and my mother good-bye! Then I will follow you,” Elijah’s response is very permissive: “Go back! For what have I done to you?” But when the third man called in the Gospel said, “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say good-bye to those at my home,” Jesus’ response is harsher: “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 8:61-62).

What is the difference? Jesus knows the man’s heart in the Gospel. Evidently, his request to say goodbye to his family was not a one-and-done thing. He was willing to put his “hand to the plow,” that is, to start the work of being Jesus’ disciple or even his witness, but the pull of his family back home would have been strong and would have been a distraction from the work Jesus was calling him to do.

As we look carefully at the details of Elisha’s farewell with his family, while we don’t have exact insight into his heart, there’s a lot to show that Elisha considers this a hard break in his life, that little from home would have been pulling him away from his work as God’s prophet. The introduction to our First Reading makes it clear that Elisha is a man of great wealth. He’s plowing his field with at least 24 oxen (if not more, if the teams were larger than two animals) and using at least 11 employees to drive the teams he couldn’t. Even in the most conservative number, that is an extraordinary number of animals and would have covered a large amount of land and a massive amount of crops. Elisha is no subsistence farmer.

But what does Elisha do with that wealth? He leaves it. In fact, he makes it clear just how clean a break he’s making with his wealthy home life: he uses the tools of his trade to provide a farewell dinner. His team of oxen is the meal; the plowing equipment is the fuel to cook them. He’s not burning down all that his family has, but he is making it clear that his time with this work is over. He would be the Lord’s prophet from here on out.

We might say that Elisha was “all-in.” He’s not putting his hand to the plow and looking back; he’s drawing a clear line. This is the end of one chapter of his life and the beginning of another, and from here on out, Elisha will be dedicated and committed to the ministry God is calling him to. After the meal, Elisha got up, followed Elijah, and served him.

Let’s get back to our question: how committed are we? Does our heart look more like Elisha’s, or is it a little more hesitant? Is God clearly our number one priority in life, or is there some fuzziness there?

We should be clear, total commitment to Jesus doesn’t have to look like Elisha or the Twelve, dedicating nearly every moment to the gospel ministry. I can assure you that even as a pastor, that is not what this typically looks like. This commitment is less about hours spent and more about our life’s priorities.

Which would you rather have: a good friend or a Christian life clearly lived? Which would you rather have: earthly pleasure right now or eternal joy in heaven? Which would you rather have: earthly popularity or a clear conscience before God?

Now, those pairs of things are not necessarily mutually exclusive of one another. But what if they do go that way? When push comes to shove, where is your commitment?

All too often, you and I are tempted to take the immediate comfort or peace over the eternal goal, and from that temptation, we frequently choose the wrong path. I’d rather this person not think little of me, so I’ll do what I know is wrong so they’ll like me. I’d rather not have conflict between this unbelieving family member and me, so when presented with an opportunity to share the truth about God’s love and forgiveness, I remain silent so I don’t cause problems. When it comes to potentially having fun right now in a way that God says is sinful, I might take the fun now rather than prioritizing my life of thanksgiving to God. I often embrace the here and now over (and sometimes, against) the eternal.

Is that really the way we want to live our lives, though? Or would we rather seek God’s perspective, his eternal perspective, and see that trading eternity for the here and now is like trading a billion dollars in a year to get 20 bucks now, but infinitely worse? Yet, so often, we make this horrendous trade.

Because of that, Jesus took up our lack of commitment on himself. Where we have been wishy-washy at best, Jesus was fully and completely dedicated to you and me. He could not stand the thought that sin would separate us from him for eternity; he could not tolerate the reality that we deserved hell as the punishment for our sins, so he put his hand to the plow and never looked back; he made clear that saving us from our sin was his number one (and in some ways, only) priority. The intro verse to our Gospel makes that attitude clear: When the days were approaching for him to be taken up, Jesus was determined to go to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51). Like a man obsessed, in the best way possible, Jesus—true God and true man—went forward to accomplish our salvation, even though it meant sacrificing his life and suffering the punishment of hell on the cross.

That means that as we look at our commitment and dedication to our faith and sharing our faith, and we see it lacking, we know that even for that, there is forgiveness. We haven’t always had God as our number one priority, but we have always been his. And that is meant to bring comfort, not guilt. We have failed, but Jesus has not. We have sinned, but God has forgiven us. We often don’t prioritize our eternal well-being, but God always does.

Jesus’ forgiveness is where we find the strength to be “all-in” for him. Truly, God’s forgiveness was the thing that motivated Elisha as well and would motivate those in our Gospel to recalibrate their priorties.

What will being fully committed to Jesus look like? It will mean time in God’s Word to find strength to combat the pull of the here-and-now that so loudly shouts for our attention and admiration. It will mean seeking God’s comfort in sorrow, God’s perspective in hardship, and God’s forgiveness in sin.

We all will have different ways to slaughter our team of oxen and burn our plows. That may mean deciding not to hang out with this person or that group that often presents temptations to this path. That may mean finding our voice to share God’s love or an invitation to hear it with us at church with someone who you might not think is interested. That may mean finding peace with the ongoing, chronic problems and heartbreaks in our life, trusting God’s promises that he’s working things out for our eternal good and the assurance that he is with us as we bear the crosses in this life.

Ultimately, we want our commitment to our Savior to be complete because it is the most critical thing in our lives. Our salvation is the one thing that we take from this life into the next; that salvation will mean an eternity of perfect joy with our God, leaving behind all of the brokenness and corruption of this fallen world.

Until the day that God brings us out of this sin-stained life, find your reconciliation with God at Jesus’ cross, be dedicated to him, and structure your plans, goals, and even relaxation around him and his will for your life. Your sins and my sins are forgiven. Let’s follow him! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Sermon prepared for Gloria Dei Lutheran Church (WELS), Belmont, CA (www.gdluth.org) by Pastor Timothy Shrimpton. All rights reserved. Contact pastor@gdluth.org for usage information.