"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.

"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.

"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.

"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.

"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.

"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.

"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.

"Different Messengers Share the Same Message" (Sermon on 2 Timothy 1:3-10) | June 22, 2025

Sermon Text: 2 Timothy 1:3-10
Date: June 22, 2025
Event: Proper 7, Year C

2 Timothy 1:3-10 (EHV)

I thank God, whom I serve with a clean conscience as my ancestors did, as I constantly remember you in my prayers night and day. 4When I remember your tears, I long to see you, so that I may be filled with joy. 5I remember your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice, and I am convinced that it also lives in you.

6For this reason I am reminding you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. 7For God did not give us a timid spirit, but a spirit of power and love and sound judgment. 8So do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner. Instead, join with me in suffering for the gospel while relying on the power of God. 9He saved us and called us with a holy calling, not because of our works, but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given to us in Christ Jesus before time began, 10and it has now been revealed through the appearance of our Savior Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.

Different Messengers Share the Same Message

If you ever played the game of telephone, you know how a message can be distorted as it goes through different people. Perhaps your real life was impacted by such an event. News gets passed from one person to another, but that news can get warped because someone mishears, misspeaks, strips away context, or even warps the original meaning to serve their purposes. Thus, it may radically differ from what was initially spoken when it reaches you. This is a good reminder to not engage in or trust in gossip because those things are so easily distorted to the destruction of someone’s reputation!

A message passed through a chain can get messed up, but what about a message sent through many different messengers? If there is one source but many messengers, while each messenger may put their spin on it or phrase things in a way unique to them, the message is much more likely to be reliable. An email sent from the boss to all the managers will probably allow the information to be passed down more accurately than if transmission relied on a person-to-person-to-person transmission.

Who are the messengers that God has chosen and sent? In a formal way, I suppose you could see it as those called into the public ministry—pastors, teachers, staff ministers—who publicly represent the church in the world. But it’s a whole lot broader than that. It’s all of us, in all the different places where we live and the situations that we are in, that God has called to be his messengers, his witnesses.

Obviously, because we are all different and in different situations, that messenger work is going to look pretty different from person to person. Your conversation with someone about spiritual and eternal matters might sound pretty different from a conversation I would have—and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, I would say that more often than not, it’s a good thing because God is using each of us in our unique situations and with the unique set of experiences, talents, and minds to share what he’s done with the world.

In our Gospel, we saw that after the man who was released from those demons was cured, he wanted to go with Jesus and the disciples to follow him full-time. He was so thankful for what Jesus did that he wanted to thank him in that special way, to learn more, to be that much more closely tied to Jesus for as long as possible. But Jesus’ answer was perhaps a bit surprising. “Return to your home and tell how much God has done for you.” No formal training was forthcoming, no lifetime of public service to Jesus’ work. Rather, Jesus sent him to be a witness right where he was. And truly, what better place for this many to share the wonders of God than among the people who had seen with their own eyes his condition before Jesus arrived and the stark difference after?

In our Second Reading, which is our primary focus for this morning, we have Paul writing to young Pastor Timothy. Timothy was part of that first generation of Christian church leaders who were not direct followers of Jesus during his earthly ministry, but came to faith due to the apostles’ work. Timothy likely would have never seen Jesus with his physical eyes as the Twelve and even Paul did, but he was no less confident in what God had done for him. Like you and me, God worked faith in his heart through the message shared with him, and he, in turn, was the mouthpiece of the gospel through which God created faith in others.

This letter is Paul’s second to Timothy, preserved for us in the New Testament and Paul’s last letter written in the Bible (perhaps, written at all, as it was written shortly before Paul was executed). As such, this letter has a tone of finality and a sense of “passing the baton” to the next generation. So, in the letter, Paul focuses Timothy on the core, important truths in many different ways.

But here in the very beginning, Paul takes Timothy to a very personal place. We know that Timothy’s mother was Jewish and his father was a Gentile. Paul is very clear that Timothy’s faith life didn’t start when he met up with the apostle later in his life. No, it started far, far earlier. I remember your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice, and I am convinced that it also lives in you. Where did Timothy’s faith journey begin? At home, with his dear mother and grandmother, who shared their faith in the certain hope of the promises of God.

What a tremendous encouragement for the parents and grandparents, the aunts and uncles, the caretakers and guardians of children who are with us here today! I try to make a point with our families that whether we’re talking about Sunday School or Catechism class or any other youth-focused ministry, these things exist at the church to help support the family’s responsibility in bringing their children up in the training and instruction of the Lord (Ephesians 6:4). The church, the pastor, the Sunday School teacher, and the Christian school are not the primarily spiritual guides for our children; we are.

And that speaks to our broad overall point—many messengers, but the same message. When the parent shares the comfort of Jesus’ love with their child, it’s not a different message than what might come from this pulpit on a Sunday morning. But might the mother have a special connection with her child to share God's intimate love with them in a way no pastor could? Might the father’s gentle, loving care be able to communicate the heavenly Father’s blessing and keeping in a way that no Sunday School teacher could present it?

And this is not limited to family connections or connecting with younger generations. All of us have contact with different people in different places. Whether at work, home, or out in public, we are messengers, ambassadors for our God. And the roles God places on us (what we often call our “vocations”) will impact who we interact with and how. But as God’s messengers, what counts is not the number of people reached or the eloquence with which we share the gospel, but that we were faithful to sharing the gospel in the places God has planted us.

Timothy’s calling would not be the same as Paul’s. Paul was called broadly to be a messenger to the Gentiles at large, traveling from place to place. While Timothy did spend time with Paul on these missionary journeys, by the time Paul writes this letter, Timothy is serving as the pastor of the Christians in the city of Ephesus. His was a more local and specific call, though no less important. Likewise, Lois and Eunice’s call was to serve the spiritual needs of their children and grandchildren, and Timothy, while growing up, was a direct beneficiary of that work.

And none of us deserves or has earned this calling or these responsibilities. Paul is clear on this when he says that God has called us with a holy calling, not because of our works, but because of his own purpose and grace. God’s mission is that all know his saving love, all know the forgiveness of sins, and he primarily gets that message out through people who have directly benefited from this, those whom he has both saved and called, people like you and me.

The work is God’s, the message is God’s, and we, as the messengers, also belong to God. All of us can look back at opportunities we had to share God’s Word in the special places God put us and regret how we rose to that task. We were silent when we should have shared, and we were loud when we should have been listening. Thanks be to God that the message we share is also the solution to our problems in sharing that message. Jesus’ forgiveness wipes away our failures and missteps. The Holy Spirit cleans up our message and works faith through what we say, even if we felt it was not the right words, tone, place, time, or whatever. Because this is God’s message, the work is his, even if it comes through our trembling, feeble lips.

Here in his Word, we hear the message we are privileged to live and share: Christ has died; Christ is risen; Christ will come again. Jesus’ work means our forgiveness and eternal life, a message we want to share with as many people as possible.

God, bless our work, forgive our failings, and help us to be your witnesses wherever you have placed us. Amen.

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

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

Numbers 6:22–27 (EHV)

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

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

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

The Triune God Bless You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Revelation 19:11–16 (EHV)

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

Behold, the Victor!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John 13:31–35 (EHV)

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

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

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

Love!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John 16:16-24 (EHV)

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

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

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

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

Has Your Sorrow Turned to Joy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John 10:22-30 (EHV)

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

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

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

Is Jesus Keeping You in Suspense?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John 20:19-31 (EHV)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus Is Sending Us!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 Corinthians 15:51-57 (EHV)

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

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

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

This Mortal Body MUST Put On Immortality

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Galatians 3:10-13 (EHV)

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

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

Jesus’ Curse Is Our Redemption

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke 19:28-40 (EHV)

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

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

34They said, “The Lord needs it.”

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

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

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

What Kind of Savior Do You Want?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Look at What God Is Doing!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Romans 8:1-10 (EHV)

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

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

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

What Condemnation?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Psalm 85 (EHV)

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

Seek a Lenten Mindset!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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