"Give Us Rest!" (Sermon on Exodus 33:12-23) | July 5, 2026

Sermon Text: Exodus 33:12–23
Date: July 5, 2026
Event: Proper 9, Year A

Exodus 33:12–23 (EHV)

Moses said to the LORD, “Look, you yourself have been telling me, ‘Lead this people up,’ but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. Yet you have said, ‘I know you by name, and you have also found favor in my sight.’ 13So now if I have found favor in your sight, please show me your ways, so that I may know you, so that I may find favor in your sight. Consider that this nation is your people.”

14The LORD said, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”

15Moses said to him, “If your Presence is not going to go with me, do not send us up from here. 16After all, how would people know that I have found favor in your sight, I and your people? Isn’t it in this way: that you go with us, so that we are distinguished, I and your people, from all the people who are on the face of the earth?”

17The LORD said to Moses, “I will also do this thing that you have said, for you have found favor in my sight, and I know you by name.”

18Then Moses said, “Please show me your glory.”

19The LORD said, “I will make all my goodness pass in front of you, and I will proclaim the name of the Lord in your presence. I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and I will show mercy to whom I will show mercy.” 20He said, “You cannot see my face, for no human may see me and live.”

21The LORD also said, “Look, there is a place next to me, where you shall stand on the rock. 22It will happen that, while my glory passes by, I will put you in a crevice in the rock. I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by. 23Then I will take away my hand, and you will see my back. But my face will not be seen.”

Give Us Rest!

“How are you doing?” We ask this question to friends we’re catching up with and family members that we’re checking in with. If we’re the one being asked that question, it can be tempting to simply answer “Fine,” even if that’s not exactly true. And if you’re the one asking the question, you have to decide for yourself if you’re going to leave that brief answer alone or probe deeper.

But there’s an answer to this question that maybe should concern us a little bit. If you ask someone, “How are you doing?” and they answer, “I’m tired,” that could point to a whole host of problems. Now, perhaps it’s just that they haven’t gotten enough quality sleep lately. But on a deeper level, something is sapping that person’s energy and leaving them in a rough state. This might be a call for help for a problem you didn’t know existed. It might be an admission of hardship that they would otherwise not fess up to.

But while “tired” may be a concerning answer, it’s also an entirely relatable one, isn’t it? We’ve all been through (or are going through) things that just seem to sap our energy and leave us drained. Sometimes the problem is that we’re doing too much and we need to back off physically, mentally, or emotionally. But sometimes, we’re tired because we’re not getting the true rest that we really need—the rest that God alone provides.

In our First Reading this morning, we rejoin the Israelites after their rescue from their slavery in Egypt, but also immediately following the Golden Calf incident that we heard wrap up last week. Coming out of that gross, rank idolatry, God was very clear that he was withdrawing his presence from his people. “My Angel shall go ahead of you … But I myself will not go up among you, because you are a stiff-necked people, and I would consume you on the way” (Exodus 32:34, 33:3). The people’s unfaithfulness was already setting a precedent, and God was trying to warn them that unfaithfulness would eventually lead to the loss of the blessings he had promised in the two-sided coventant that promised earthly blessings for faithfulness.

But the idea of God’s presence and help not going along with the people as they left Mount Sinai and went to (ideally) take possession of the Promised Land was terrifying. The people living in that land were strong, and this band of recently freed slaves could never dream of ousting them in a show of pure military might. God had promised to hand the land over to the Israelites, but if he was no longer going to do that, they had no hope of success. This is, in part, why Moses said, “If your Presence is not going to go with me, do not send us up from here.” In other words, “Lord, if you’re not going with us, why should we bother? We’re gonners.”

Moses’ pleading with God on the people’s behalf has its desired effect. God relents from withholding his presence from them and promises to go with them—and more! “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” In the immediate term, God’s promise is to give them rest from their enemies. To (eventually) hand them the Promised Land so that they have rest from their wanderings, rest from the nomadic existence, and rest from war and conflict.

But the context points to a bigger, more important rest. God had withdrawn his presence because of their sin. God was making clear that sin separated people from him, so that a greater conflict than any war between nations existed between God and sinful mankind. Sin separated the people from God and set them in an unwinnable war. Peace in that war could not come from the people, and it could not come from Moses; it could only come from God.

And this is, ultimately, the rest that God is promising with his presence. It’s the same rest that Jesus promised in our Gospel when he urged all those who were weary and burdened to come to him. Jesus isn’t necessarily going to bring us rest from our earthly troubles. Sometimes we will have crosses that never get taken off of our shoulders and thorns in the flesh that will continue to irritate and impair us until we reach eternity. Things that drain us of our energy and leave us tired will continue to weigh on us in this life. But Jesus says that we can bring our real, eternal burdens to him, and he will give us real, eternal rest.

That’s what is happening on the cross. As Jesus suffers and dies, he takes your sinful burden off your shoulders and puts it on his. God’s presence was clearly nailed to that cross, abandoned by his Father, suffering hell, because it’s what we needed for rest, what we needed for peace between God and us; and that’s exactly what God provided.

The Israelites did not have an exclusively easy time because God’s presence went with them from Sinai. In fact, the troubles and hardships were just beginning for them, as they would embark on a 40-year wandering in the wilderness until the next generation could demonstrate their trust in God’s promises and thus take possession of the Promised Land. Dark days would be ahead, despite the fact that God’s presence would be with them.

Dark days are ahead for us too, unfortunately. Or maybe that’s too worldly a word; it is better to view these struggles and difficulties as fortune, as a blessing, rather than as something negative. Because as difficult as they will be to bear, God promises to work good from them. For as much as it pained Paul to be reminded over and over again of his sinful tendencies and the reality of sin in thoughts, words, and actions, it also magnified the solution to that sin, as he closed our Second Reading, “What a miserable wretch I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24-25).

Moses did not end that conversation with God after God promised his presence. No, he asked for God to show him something, something amazing, something profound, something that, as God said, really no sinful person could fully see: “Please show me your glory.”

We are very familiar with seeking God’s glory. After all, it’s the name of our congregation, just in Latin rather than English. God’s glory is everything that he can and should be praised for. God’s glory is his presence, his care, his protection, his love, and his forgiveness. It makes perfect sense that Moses would make this request of God ahead of their journey and planned entry into the Promised Land. Why wouldn’t he want to see confirmation of what God had said and promised? Why wouldn’t he want confirmation of the true glory of the one who made these promises to him and the whole nation?

We may not get tucked in the cleft of a rock and see God’s “back” passing by, but actually, we have something even better. We have the recorded fulfillment of all of God’s promises to mankind. We have the assurance that our sins are forgiven because Jesus paid for them. We have the comfort and correction of God’s Word, which condemns our sins and points to our Savior. We have the assurance that we, like Paul, despite being miserable wretches, have been rescued through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Or, to put it another way, we have God’s rest. Because God’s rest is his glory. His glory comes primarily from his mercy that rescues rather than condemns, that saves rather than damns. Because of Jesus, you and I dwell in his glory and live in his rest. That rest is ours now and will be ours in full when he calls us home to eternal life.

So as we are spiritually tired—exhausted!—in this life, go to your source of rest. Flee to the pages of Scripture to hear God’s promises and see them fulfilled in Jesus to do for you and the whole world exactly what he said he would do. Take solace in your baptism, that water paired with God’s word that has made you his dearly loved child. Flee to the recovery of the Lord’s Supper, where you hold in your hand the very body and blood of your Savior with the bread and wine for the forgiveness of all your sins, for the peace between you and God, for a taste of the rest that is to come.

This life may feel like an unending battle that leaves us tired day in and day out, and I don’t imagine that will really change until the end. But even as you stand on the frontlines of a spiritual battle around you and even within you, take comfort and courage that for Jesus’ sake you have rest where it matters most—peace with our God.

My dear brothers and sisters, dwell in God’s glory and enjoy his rest today and always. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

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

"Who Is Your Priority?" (Sermon on Matthew 10:24-42) | June 28, 2026

Sermon Text: Matthew 10:34–42
Date: June 28, 2026
Event: Proper 8, Year A

Matthew 10:34–42 (EHV)

“Do not think that I came to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. 35For I came to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. 36A man’s enemies will be the members of his own household.

37“Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. 38Whoever does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. 39Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

40“Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives him who sent me. 41Whoever receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward. Whoever receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man will receive a righteous man’s reward. 42Whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water to drink because he is my disciple—Amen I tell you—he will never lose his reward.”

Who Is Your Priority?

When doing counseling, especially counseling that involves personal relationships, I have found it useful to have the people involved make lists of the relationships in their lives. It’s almost alarming sometimes to see all the different places and situations where our lives intersect with someone else’s life. But then you take the list of relationships and prioritize them. Which ones are the most important (and thus should receive the majority of our mental and emotional energy), and which ones are less fundamental? This can help us to identify where, perhaps, our priorities have gotten a bit out of whack. If someone realizes that their job outranks their family, that’s likely a problem. If someone notes that their children are a higher priority than their spouse, that will probably bring other difficulties.

Of course, our priorities are always changing, right? The planned all-nighter to launch that big project at work means that family takes a back seat for a day, while the family vacation means that the work email and phone calls are turned off. An emergency call that one of our members is in the hospital may disrupt some family activity, but I’m certainly not going to spend time dealing with a cold-call cleaning service quote request when I’m spending time with the kids.

Priorities shift and change, but Jesus reminds us that there is one priority in our lives that should never change: our relationship with God. He should always be number one in our lives. But how often is he? Jesus does nothing in this section of Matthew’s Gospel but restate the First Commandment: you shall have no other gods (Exodus 20:3). If we could keep that commandment perfectly, we would never sin, because we would always put God and his will above our own. However, every time we sin, we also break this commandment because, in that moment, we take what we want and make it more important than what God wants.

Who is your priority? Our gut reaction might be, “My spouse! My children! My parents! My friends!” Those are clearly all massively important relationships in our lives. It would be a struggle to function without them, and clearly, we reap tremendous blessings from them. But Jesus’ words are startling and alarming. He asks the question, “If push came to shove, who would win? Me or them?” “Do not think that I came to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I came to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. A man’s enemies will be the members of his own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.”

How often do we think of Jesus as the peace-bringer? How often does the Bible itself say that Jesus is a peace-bringer? Then why does Jesus say he has come to bring a sword, not peace? The difference is where you’re looking for that peace. The angels proclaimed to the shepherds that their message of a baby in a manger would bring peace on earth and goodwill to all people (Luke 2:8-14). But that peace was not between human beings on this earth. In fact, Jesus notes that his work may actually produce more controversy and conflict than peace between people.

We don’t have to spend too much time studying history to see this bear out. People have responded poorly, even murderously, to the message of Jesus. Even more alarmingly, people have used Jesus as an excuse to behave poorly and murderously. From the early church to the crusades to the Reformation, Christianity has been at the center of conflict practically from the moment Jesus ascended into heaven.

Jesus invokes language from the prophet Micah to show what that conflict might look like on a more personal level. For I came to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. A man’s enemies will be the members of his own household (see Micah 7:6). Perhaps you were blessed to grow up in a household that was totally committed to the truth of the Bible and sharing Jesus with the world. But many do not have that blessing. We likely all have people, at least in our extended families, who recoil at the very mention of “Jesus” or even “religion.” They just don’t want to hear it, and because they don’t, they lash out at us with scorn and derision or simply ignore us.

And so often we find ourselves quiet; we avoid religion at the family gathering to avoid starting any conflict. After all, we don’t want to upset or hurt anyone’s feelings, so the less we wear our faith on our sleeves, the less likely we are to have a problem and the more likely things will go on in relative peace. I say “relative” because ignoring a problem is not fixing it. A cease-fire amongst warring nations where animosity and hate still simmer or boil will not last long; being quiet only brings a surface-level, very temporary peace.

If we shy away from religious conflict in our family, is it about our family members or about us? Are we really worried that what we think or say might hurt someone else, or are we mostly worried that they might say or do something that would hurt us? Is our family really the priority over (and sometimes against) Jesus? Or is it perhaps ultimately that we have made a little idol to worship, one that we see every time we glance in the mirror? If we’re honest, we’ll admit that we often shy away from the conflict Jesus predicted, not because we care about other people’s feelings, but because we simply don’t want to go through the hardships.

And thus, we show ourselves to be people who love our family, or perhaps more likely, ourselves, more than Jesus. We don’t make him the priority because we don’t want to. We avoid testifying because we’re scared of the fallout. We avoid living our faith because we don’t want the conflict or mockery. We try to keep that fake peace around as much as possible, all the while knocking Jesus down the priority list, or perhaps off the list entirely.

For as many times as you and I have not made Jesus the priority, he has always prioritized us. He made his Father’s will more important than his own, even when it meant pain, misery, and death. In fact, his priority was to go to his death because we have such messed-up priorities. So he goes, not caring about the torment that would befall him if it meant rescuing us from hell, which it did. Jesus’ work may bring conflict to our personal, human relationships, but it also brought us peace with God, a relationship that is far more important than any human relationship we have.

Now, because we were and are his priority, and because he’s made peace between himself and us, Jesus has enabled us to make him our priority. We’re no longer locked into the selfish, sinful way of thinking. We are free to give God the highest priority in our lives; we are free to put others’ needs ahead of our own.

Along with that comes some trouble. Jesus talks about us taking up our cross and following him. The cross at that time had no positive connotation. There was no message of joy and forgiveness in the cross. The cross was only an instrument of unimaginable torture and eventually death. There was nothing good about the cross, yet Jesus tells us to take up our cross, embrace the hardships in our lives, and follow him.

In following him, while worldly speaking we may have a difficult go of it, eternally speaking, it is nothing but joy. Jesus says, “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” If our focus is on our own lives and what makes us happy, we toss our crosses aside and ignore the way Jesus directs us. But if we count this life as worth very little compared to eternity, if we embrace the suffering we endure as a Christian as a natural consequence of our faith, if we seek to follow Jesus no matter the cost, we have found real life. Because real life is not found in the size of our TV, or the quality of our food, the balance in our bank account, or the number of friends we have, how well we get along with our family, or our influence in the community. Real life is found in Jesus. Because the life that Jesus gives is not fleeting like the stuff of this life; the life that Jesus gives is the flawless perfection of eternity.

Cherishing that life, that gift, that, as Jesus says here, reward, means having different priorities. You’re no longer only concerned about yourself and what will happen to you. You’re concerned about staying devoted to Jesus, helping others, and sharing that message. Maybe that means encouraging your pastor or other called workers in our church body and sharing in the joy and struggles of their work—sharing in a prophet’s reward. Maybe it means helping a fellow Christian in difficult times by encouraging them with reminders of the love of their Savior, and, at the same time, finding encouragement yourself—sharing in a righteous man’s reward. We show love and kindness to all people because we know that our Savior has shown the ultimate love for them. So if we can do anything for anyone, especially our fellow believers, be it offering a cup of cold water or anything else, we do it, because we know our reward is not here on earth, it’s in heaven with our Savior forever.

Jesus is our priority at all times because he’s the only one who can actually help us. No matter how much I may want to find a way out of a problem, especially the problem of my sin, there’s not going to be any way to do it. But, when I see my earthly life as unimportant compared to eternity, and I truly let Jesus take over and fix every problem—especially, again, the problem of my sin—then I have found my life despite the world’s opinion that I’ve actually lost it. When Jesus is the one in charge, when Jesus is the one who is rescuing me—rescuing you—from the worthless life of sin we lead on our own, then we have found life, real life.

You have the life, you have the reward, because Jesus is your priority. He will be there to take care of the conflict that comes as a result of you living your faith. And no matter what happens, the forgiveness that Jesus gives cannot and will not be taken from you. You are his, and he is yours. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

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

"Be Ready" (Sermon on 2 Timothy 4:1-8) | June 21, 2026

Sermon Text: 2 Timothy 4:1-8
Date: June 21, 2026
Event: Proper 7, Year A

2 Timothy 4:1-8 (EHV)

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

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

6You see, I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. 7I have fought the good fight; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith. 8From now on, there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness. The Lord, the righteous Judge, will give it to me on that day, and not only to me but also to everyone who loved his appearing.

Be Ready

I’ve recently been replaying an old video game from my childhood, and one thing has stood out to me. The game will telegraph when things are going to get difficult. Suddenly, your characters will find tons of supplies, and there will be an opportunity to save your game so that if you fail in what’s coming, you’ll be able to restart relatively close to the pressure point. On the one hand, it’s exciting because you’re getting stuff that is good for what is coming. On the other hand, you are probably dreading what is coming. The game is essentially telling you, “Be ready. Things are going to be rough.”

We don’t always get such clear sign-posting about what is ahead in our lives, but we do have a general sense of how things are going to go—and we probably shouldn’t expect sunshine and lollipops every day of our lives. What does Jesus say we should be ready to do in our lives? Take up our crosses and follow him. Or, putting a bit of a finer point on it, consider what we heard him warn his disciples in our Gospel this morning, “Brother will hand over his brother to death, and a father will do the same with his child. Children will rise up against parents and have them put to death. You will be hated by all people because of my name, but whoever endures to the end will be saved” (Matthew 10:21-22). Existing in this life is going to be painful and difficult enough, but being a true, biblical Christian is going to bring with it its own hardship and suffering.

But, Jesus also said we go forward into this life with the care of our almighty Creator. Not even sparrows suffer injury without God knowing about it, and as Jesus expressed in that remarkable understatement, “You are worth more than many sparrows” (Matthew 10:31).

In our Second Reading for this morning, Paul addresses similar thoughts and encouragements with Pastor Timothy. At the time of writing, Paul is very near the end of his life, and he clearly knew that was rapidly approaching: You see, I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. So what does Paul, the champion of the gospel of Jesus, want to impart to the next generation of pastors, to the next generation of Christians? Be ready.

I solemnly charge you in the presence of God and Christ Jesus, who is going to judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom: Preach the word. Be ready whether it is convenient or not. Correct, rebuke, and encourage, with all patience and teaching. Now, some of this is specific to Timothy’s calling as pastor in the church in Ephesus in the 1st century AD. He was called to shepherd the flock of people in that place at that time. We’re not all pastors; we’re not all called to the public ministry; and not one of us is serving 2,000 years ago. But some of the principles will apply to all of us.

Paul charged Timothy to preach the word, but he’s not just talking about the Sunday morning sermon (to use our modern-day equivalent), because he’s calling on Timothy to preach whether it is convenient or not. Now, I suppose you could limit this to “be ready to preach on Sunday whether you got a good night’s sleep or not” or “be ready whether the sermon really came together this week or not” or “be ready regardless of how much other stuff weighed you down this week,” but I think it’s a whole lot broader than that. Timothy’s calling to preach the word was not just a localized, public worship setting, but to preach the word at all times, in all places.

You might never have set foot in a pulpit, you might not have ever spoken in front of a crowd after high school speech class or a wedding toast, but you and I preach more sermons with our lives than we even realize. When you clearly forgive the person at work who hurt you deeply, you preach loudly to those who would find solace in harboring anger and nursing grudges. When you keep a positive outlook on life because you know the forgiveness of your Savior, even if, by human measures, your life seems to be falling to pieces, you are preaching a powerful sermon to those who know you. And when someone wrongs you, and you do not retaliate, you don’t let anger take over, but you assure the other person that because Jesus forgives you and forgives them, you also forgive them; that is the gospel beaming forth from your life, perhaps clearer than any biblical statement uttered in this place in the last 60 years.

Why are those actions powerful sermons? Because they are situations that are far from convenient, and in fact, it would probably be much more comfortable to act contrary to that in those moments. Paul’s words for what Timothy would face in his life ring true for us today: There will come a time when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, because they have itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in line with their own desires. They will also turn their ears away from the truth and will turn aside to myths. You could probably describe all of modern society as people looking to find “truth” to scratch their itchy ears. People run to whoever says what they want to hear. And even if no one is saying what they want to hear, they just listen to their own heart, their own emotions, and convince themselves that what they feel is good and right, and that anything contrary to it is wrong and should be dismissed. People do not put up with the solid biblical teaching of God’s law condemning sin and the gospel that brings forgiveness only in Jesus. They long to find another way, and they delude themselves into thinking that they’ve found it.

But you and I know better. That’s not to say we’re perfect in this—far from it! We have itchy ears, just like everyone else, and the draw of those who would say what we want to hear is strong. But sometimes what we want to hear and what we need to hear are very different things. This itchy-ears-scratching might sound like someone trying to assure us that what we did (or want to do) is right, even when God says it’s wrong. It might sound like a harsh condemnation of the actions of a group of people that we already don’t like, and so we continue to justify our vilification of a particular family, or ethnic group, or faith system. Anyone who tells us what we want (or they think we want) to hear is coming to address that itch with myth, fable, and fiction.

Paul tells Timothy that sometimes, often even, the role of Christians will be to deliver news and reminders that make the itch worse rather than better. We are not called just to tell people what they want to hear or to just stay in the realm of the pleasant and socially acceptable. The Christian faith is deeply offensive to our natural selves, and you can’t be faithful to God’s Word without bringing that offense. No one is going to say, “Oh, thank you for telling me what a failure I am in God’s sight! Thank you for letting me know that I deserve hell for my rebellion against God and his commands!” No one is going to say that because all of that is incredibly bad news that no one—not you, not me, not anyone—wants to hear.

So, be ready for people not to want to hear what you need to share. Be ready for people not to be excited about God’s truths that he’s entrusted to you. But be ready to share them anyway; be ready to share them no matter what the effect or the cost, whether you feel ready and prepared to talk about it or not.

But as important as the readiness is the motivation. Why should you be ready? Not to cut someone else down. Not to prove that you are right where they may be wrong or at least misguided. No, the reason you and I want to be ready to share God’s Word, share both his condemning law and his sweet, forgiving gospel, is love. Love for the person who needs to hear it. Love to the person who has been so distracted looking for scratchers for their itching ears that they’ve missed the truth. Love for the person—for everyone—that we want to share eternal life with.

Because that’s what this is about. It’s not about achieving personal glory or sustaining an institution like a Christian congregation. This is about reaching souls with the eternally vital truths from God. It’s about addressing sin with the only thing that can—Jesus’ life and death in our place—and finding peace and comfort in that free gift. It’s about loving all people in a way that proves you want them rescued from hell.

So, be ready. But be ready in love. Be ready with humility. Be ready with empathy and sympathy. Be ready to share the comfort the Holy Spirit has already put inside of you, but that you know is not just for you, but is for all people. And God bless your preparations and your readiness, using you and your words and actions in the ways that he knows is best. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

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

"The Gospel Goes from Generation to Generation" (Sermon on Numbers 27:15-23) | June 14, 2026

Sermon Text: Numbers 27:15–23
Date: June 14, 2026
Event: Proper 6, Year A [Confirmation Sunday]

Numbers 27:15–23 (EHV)

Moses spoke to the LORD, 16“May the LORD, the God of the spirits of all flesh, appoint a man over the community, 17who will go out before them and come in before them, who will lead them out and bring them in, so that the community of the LORD will not be like sheep without a shepherd.”

18The LORD said to Moses, “Take Joshua son of Nun, a man in whom is the Spirit, and place your hand on him. 19Have him stand in front of Eleazar the priest and the entire community. You will commission him in their sight. 20You will give some of your authority to him so that the entire Israelite community will listen to him. 21He will stand before Eleazar the priest, who will inquire for him before the LORD with the decision of the Urim. He and all the Israelites with him, the entire community, will go out at his command and come in at his command.”

22Moses did just as the LORD commanded him. He took Joshua and had him stand in front of Eleazar the priest and the entire community. 23He placed his hands on him and commissioned him, just as the LORD spoke through Moses.

The Gospel Goes from Generation to Generation

Nothing lasts forever. Sometimes, that’s a good thing. You’re going through a hard time in life, and you know that it will pass and something better (or at least different) will be around the corner. Eventually, for new parents, that baby will sleep for more than 18 minutes at a time. But sometimes it’s tough. You have to come home from the dream vacation. That friendship or other relationship that you thought would be precious for the rest of your life disintegrates underneath you. Effort in training for a sport ends with an injury, leaving you unable to compete—the very reason you were training in the first place.

This morning in our readings, we have a lot of torch-passing. Jesus to the disciples, Paul and Apollos to the Corinthians, and in our focus this morning, Moses to Joshua. While they might not all be the exact end of their respective eras, they all point to an upcoming transition. Eventually, Jesus’ work would be done, and the disciples would be the ones to preach and teach the gospel. Eventually, Paul and Apollos would be called home to eternal life, and the Christians in Corinth would have to press on without them, but using the training they had been given. And not long after our First Reading, Moses would die, and Joshua would take over as leader of Israel as they finally received the blessing of the Promised Land from God’s hand.

This morning, we’ll get a hint of that as well. As Miles and Karl are confirmed, as we hear them profess their faith, we’ll be reminded that those of us who are older will not be here forever, that eventually the value of the gospel and the responsibility to preserve it and share it always pass on to the next generation, and we want to do everything in our power to ensure that they are ready to receive it. But is it really us who do that?

At the time of our reading, Moses knew that his time leading Israel and his time on earth in general was drawing to a close, and it wasn’t just because he was 120 years old. Back in Numbers 20, we saw a repeat of the scene at the end of the Israelites’ wandering in the wilderness that we saw at the beginning. The people were in a place with no water, and they were complaining that they had been brought out of their slavery just to die of thirst in the wilderness.

At the beginning of these forty years, God had Moses strike a rock with his staff, and God sent water from the rock for the people to drink (Exodus 17). But this time, God gave Moses different directions: “Take the staff and assemble the community. You and Aaron, your brother, speak to the rock before their eyes, and it will pour out its water” (Numbers 20:8). But Moses was so angry with the people that in his frustration, he took his staff and struck the rock with it as he did the first time forty years earlier. Now, God still provided water for the people through this, but God was clear that what Moses had done was wrong: “Because you did not trust me enough to honor me as holy in the eyes of the Israelites, therefore you will not bring this assembly into this land which I have given to them” (Numbers 20:12). Moses’ public sin of striking rather than speaking to the rock meant that he would not be the one to lead these people into the Promised Land; that task would fall to his sucessor.

Despite Moses’ frustration with the people, we can see his heart at the beginning of our reading. What is he concerned about? That the people will have no leadership, and this whole thing will be for naught, which will include the destruction of the nation. So he prays for them. He asks God very specifically to give them someone to lead them in his place so that the community of the LORD will not be like sheep without a shepherd.

What is God’s answer? “Take Joshua son of Nun, a man in whom is the Spirit, and place your hand on him.” Notice what God’s qualification for Joshua was. Not that he was a good leader, or a motivating speaker, or a great military strategist. But the Holy Spirit was in him. His faith and dedication to God would drive him, just as it had driven Moses. Joshua would be the one who would boldly and confidently tell the nation to choose what religious path they were going to go down in the future, but made it very clear, “as for me and my household—we will serve the LORD!” (Joshua 24:15).

The single most important thing to God was not the physical well-being of his people (though that was certainly important). No, the single most important thing to God was the spiritual well-being of his people, their eternal good. Sin would be their constant companion in so many different ways, and yet God would always promise to remove their sins as far as the east is from the west, to bury them in the depths of the sea. His promise of a Champion from Abraham’s family who would crush Satan’s head always remained God’s prime focus, and it was important that the people stood firm in their trust in God’s mercy.

Nothing has changed in the 3,400 years since Joshua took over for Moses. What do God’s people—all people—need? We need the gospel, we need the message of God’s loving forgiveness, because sin is just as much our companion in this life as it was for the Israelites. We need leaders who will guide us in the truth, and we need to pass that truth on to the generations that will come after us.

We’re going to get to see that happen this morning in a very special and heartwarming way. Both Miles and Karl, after enduring four long, grueling years with their pastor in catechism class (it wasn’t that bad, was it??), are here to present themselves to be confrimed in their Christian faith, to take up the mantle of adult membership in our congregation, to join us at the Lord’s Supper and receive Jesus’ true body and blood with the bread and wine for the forgiveness of their sins.

And this is not just a rite of passage; this is not akin to graduation from middle school, high school, or college. Those events mark the end of something, whereas confirmation marks the beginning of something: the beginning of an adult life surrounded in the love of God as we find it in his Word and the sacraments. A lifetime of digging into the condemning truths of God’s law—that we deserve hell for our many sins—and the predominating power of the gospel, that Jesus truly is the one who freed us from those sins and that because of his love for us, we will be in eternal life with him.

When Jesus sent out the twelve on their first practice mission trip in our Gospel this morning, he encouraged them with this overriding truth: Freely you have received; freely give (Matthew 10:8). That is a stunning reminder for us as well. We have been given this gospel message, this forgiveness of our sins, freely and generously by those who came before us. We have the Christian faith as an inheritance handed down from our faith family in generations past. So we, too, should share it with the next generation. We, too, should be Joshua to the Israelites and share the Spirit that has been given to us. We should be the disciples, proclaiming the truths we’ve learned from Jesus himself.

So later today, as you leave this place, consider anew the gift of eternal life that has been given to you, as well as the faith to trust all that Jesus has done to make that eternal life yours. And then consider how you might take this to the next generation, whether they be younger in age or younger in faith. How can you share God’s goodness with those yet to be born, with those yet to learn about their Savior’s love, with those who suffer now but will find relief in the life, death, and resurrection of their Savior? How can you mimic the commendable faith-life goals that our confirmands will express in their essays this morning?

More than any dream vacation or meaningful relationship, we do not want the gospel to end. It is something we don’t want and frankly cannot allow to disappear. God has promised that such a thing won’t happen, but he has also entrusted us with caring for it and sharing it. Let’s take it seriously. Let’s take up the call as Joshua took up his new position and ensure that, well after we are gone, others will learn about and cherish their Savior in some small way because we saw to it that they could hear it.

Lord, send us out into those harvest fields and do not leave us or any of your people as sheep without a shepherd. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

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

"Are You the Worst Sinner?" (Sermon on 1 Timothy 1:12-17) | June 7, 2026

Sermon Text: 1 Timothy 1:12–17
Date: June 7, 2026
Event: Proper 5, Year A

1 Timothy 1:12–17 (EHV)

I give thanks to the one who empowered me, namely, Christ Jesus our Lord, that he treated me as trustworthy, appointing me into his ministry. 13He did this even though formerly I was a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a violent man. But I was shown mercy, because I acted ignorantly in unbelief. 14The grace of our Lord overflowed on me along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. 15This saying is trustworthy and worthy of full acceptance: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” of whom I am the worst. 16But I was shown mercy for this reason: that in me, the worst sinner, Christ Jesus might demonstrate his unlimited patience as an example for those who are going to believe in him, resulting in eternal life. 17Now to the King eternal, to the immortal, invisible, only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

Are You the Worst Sinner?

“Ugh, that is the worst!” Perhaps you’ve heard that said or you’ve said it yourself. I’m most familiar with using it or hearing it used in the context of some relatively minor inconvenience. Like, a paper cut or forgetting you’re out of milk and having to run to the store when you’re already in your pajamas. It’s a phrase that we often use to describe how annoying something is, but how often is what we are talking about the actual worst? I’d guess probably never. No matter how bad something is, we can probably come up with some way to one-up it, to make it worse than it already is.

No, the superlative "worst" is extreme, and we usually don’t use it in its full sense unless we’re comparing a few things. For instance: forgetting to charge your phone, slipping on a wet floor, and starving to death. Like, all of those are bad to some degree, but one is clearly the worst. But to contemplate the worst of all life experiences, the worst of all situations, the worst of all hardships? That seems a bit impossible.  

But Paul makes an observation about himself in our reading from his letter to young Pastor Timothy that probably makes our eyebrows rise in surprise or concern: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” of whom I am the worst. Is Paul the worst sinner? Is the champion of spreading the good news about Jesus to the Gentiles the worst person to ever live? And if so, by what metric? Number of sins? Severity of sins? And even if he is, Paul is writing about 2,000 years ago; has someone surpassed him since then? Have you? Have I?

Paul establishes some bona fides for this claim: formerly I was a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a violent man. We know from the history of the book of Acts what Paul is talking about here. The first part of Paul’s life was lived as a devout and zealous Jewish believer. He was a member of the group called the Pharisees, who we are pretty familiar with from Jesus’ ministry. The Phraisees were a highly spiritual group, but they also had very misguided notions about where their spiritual security should come from. They most often looked to their own works rather than to God’s mercy for their eternal confidence, a path that Jesus made clear, over and over again, would lead to their spiritual downfall.

But Paul’s zealousness as a Pharisee went beyond centering himself on works righteousness. We are first introduced to Paul in the biblical narrative as he guards the belongings of those murdering Stephen, making Stephen the first Christian martyr. And lest we think that was just a passive mistake, after that, he took a very active role in trying to squash out the fledgling Christian church. In Acts chapters 8 and 9, Luke describes Paul’s actions this way: [he] was trying to destroy the church by going into one house after another, dragging off both men and women, and putting them in prison. … [He] was still breathing out murderous threats against the disciples of the Lord. He went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues of Damascus, so that if he found any men or women belonging to the Way [that is, Christianity], he might bring them to Jerusalem as prisoners (Acts 8:3, 9:1-2). It’s in the act of this region-trotting hunt that Jesus appeared to Paul, made clear to him how misguided he was, and eventually called him to be an apostle, a messenger of the gospel, especially for the Gentiles, for people who were not Jewish.

But Paul did not—probably could not—forget his past. He knew what he had done, the offense he had committed against his God and Savior, and the grace and mercy that had been shown to him to spare him and then even to be privileged enough to serve in the gospel ministry.

Paul’s situation is not radically different from Matthew’s in our Gospel. Matthew was a tax collector, a traitor to his people who served Rome and then likely lined his own pockets by overcharging his countrymen (as was common for tax collectors of that day). He deserved to be punished, and yet what did he hear? “Follow me” (Matthew 9:9). I doubt that Matthew ever forgot his old way of life before he became Jesus’ disciple, but he probably would have echoed Paul’s sentiment: I give thanks to the one who empowered me, namely, Christ Jesus our Lord, that he treated me as trustworthy, appointing me into his ministry.

Now, what about you? What about me? I’m not aware of any of us ever having been a traitorious tax collector (although, have we always been honest in every bit of business we’ve ever had—even with the IRS?) nor do I think that anyone here is actively persecuting other Christians or any other group for that matter (although, have we always treated all people with the respect and love that we should?), but truly none of us have been perfect, which is what God demands. So how should we view ourselves?

There are a lot of people out there doing clearly sinful things. Some people are vicious, some are greed-fueled, some seek their own pleasure above all else and at all costs. And these things lead to horrible outcomes, making headlines in news articles and serving as subject matter for “true crime” shows. At least I’m not like them. At least I’m not one of the bad ones.

Except, by whose standard am I finding comfort in that? My own? I have judged that I’m better than someone else; therefore, everything is ok? Why kind of biased, subjective judgment is that? How could that bring any real comfort? This pull toward comparative righteousness, trying to see myself as better than others, is a dangerous game.

If I look at other people and see those who are worse than I am, that probably points to a really serious spiritual problem inside of me; I probably lack almost any self-reflection. True, someone may have done something sinful (even reprehensible) that you would never do, but what sins have you committed that they would never dream of doing? What depravity oozes up from the depths of your heart that that other person would never consider? And just how many of their sins are you aware of compared to how many of your own?

Why did Paul call himself the worst sinner? I don’t think it was the types of sins he committed (although that surely didn’t help). It seems far more likely that Paul is looking at an honest numbers game. He might have known one, or ten, or a hundred, or even a thousand of the sins that another person had committed. But no matter how big that number was, no matter how many sins he knew someone else had committed, it was minuscule compared to the number he knew he had committed.

No matter who we might compare ourselves to, no matter how well we know them or how close we are to them, be they a spouse, or parent, or child, or sibling, or friend, we know an infinitesimally smaller amount of their failures—their sin—than we know of our own. And it’s good and healthy for us to sit with that, examine that, just let it breathe and exist within us and around us. It’s uncomfortable dwelling on how great a failure you are in God’s sight. God demands zero sins in your entire life; how many have you committed this year so far? In these early days of this month? Today? Since you got to church? Since this sermon began?

Sit with it for a moment. Marinate in the reality that you are the worst sinner that you know. And if you would dispute that reality, that’s just further evidence that this is true. See yourself as you are by nature. It makes me sick to my stomach to think of my mountain of failures, and yet I need to see that sin in all its horrid mass, lest I start to think too well of myself.

So, again, sit with that for a moment, but my goodness, don’t stay there. Dwelling on sin and only seeing the sin, only seeing the failure, is the surest way to hopelessness and despair. It’s healthy to dwell on it to a point—to see how great your need is and to put to death the impulse to compare yourself favorably against other people—but beyond that, it is spiritually toxic. Beyond that, it leaves you looking to yourself for comfort or direction that you won’t find in you and I know I will not find inside me.

No, like Paul, like Matthew, like Moses, there is one place for us to look for comfort, despite being the worst sinner we know. The grace of our Lord overflowed on me along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. This saying is trustworthy and worthy of full acceptance: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” of whom I am the worst. Paul’s words are just as true for you as they were for him. The “worst sinner” part, yes, but also the Lord’s grace and Jesus’ salvation mission.

Jesus came to save sinners, even the worst sinner, even you. Even me. Remember what he said to his critics in our Gospel: “The healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do. Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’ In fact, I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners” (Matthew 9:12-13). Jesus didn’t come for the really good people; he came for the broken, the wayward, the disobedient, the proud, the unforgiving. That is, he came for you, and he came for me.

Paul didn’t earn his status as an apostle; that was God’s undeserved love for him. Matthew didn’t earn his status as a disciple, apostle, and evangelist; that was God’s undeserved love for him. Moses didn’t earn his status as a prophet and nation-rescuer; that was God’s undeserved love for him. You and I have not earned anything good from God, least of all forgiveness or eternal life. No, we have not earned it, but like Paul, Matthew, and Moses, that is God’s undeserved love for you and for me.

Jesus came into the world to save sinners, and he accomplished that work. His death was the payment we owed that we could not pay. His resurrection is the proof that it is all truly finished. The world’s sins—every single one of them, be they big or small in our eyes—are paid for. That means, dear Christian, that your many sins are included in that number. Yes, you, the worst sinner, have been completely and fully forgiven. Whether they are sins of ignorance or choice, sins you can recount, or sins you aren’t even aware of, all of them are gone.

Being the worst sinner is not a contest to be won. I already know that I meet that criteria, as you already know that you do as well. But forgiveness was a mission to be accomplished, one that cost the blood and life of the perfect Son of God. But he did it. He did it willingly, lovingly, and gladly, because that’s how much he values you and me.

Are you the worst sinner? Yeah, unfortunately, you are. But, are you the most dearly loved child of God? Well, he’s removed every single sin you’ve ever committed against him. So, yes. Worst sinner to dearest child; it doesn’t get any better than that. I was shown mercy for this reason: that in me, the worst sinner, Christ Jesus might demonstrate his unlimited patience as an example for those who are going to believe in him, resulting in eternal life. Now to the King eternal, to the immortal, invisible, only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

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