Christ Gives Contentment

In Nomine Iesu

Ecc. 2:24-25/Luke 12:15
August 5, 2007
Pentecost 10C/Proper 13

There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God, for apart from him who can eat or who can have enjoyment?
[Jesus said,] “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Do you know what it sounds like when something gets deflated? You know the sound of your bicycle tire losing air: PSSSSSSSSssssss . . . . That’s what it sounds like when something gets deflated. Let me tell you what it sounds like when a pastor gets deflated: It had been a glorious Sunday morning. The church had been packed. The music and singing had been heavenly. God’s people had been fed and nourished on the Word of God and with the body and blood of Christ. The beauty of the gospel and the promise of the resurrection had rung out loud and clear. It had been heaven on earth. As the service concluded and the pastor made his way out into the narthex, a woman came running up to him, “Pastor! Pastor! Do you know that there’s no toilet paper in the women’s restroom?” PSSSSSSSSSSssssssssss. That’s what we call deflation. And I suspect you know that feeling too.

Jesus also knows just what that feels like. Like the time in today’s Holy Gospel when He was preaching to literally thousands (12:1) of people—so many people that they were trampling one another. Jesus was preaching the kingdom of God—preaching with power, precision and insight—moving the hearts and minds of His hearers to turn from their sin and be embraced by the good news of salvation. When all of a sudden a man in the crowd stands up and yells out at Jesus, “Hey, tell my brother to split the inheritance with me!” (PPPSSSSSSSssssssssssss!) St. Luke doesn’t report it, but I wonder if Jesus sighed at that moment. It was a deflating sentence—the kind of sentence that takes the wind right out of a preacher’s sails.

This wasn’t a question about the kingdom. This wasn’t a question about Jesus or the gospel or even religion in general. It was financial, not spiritual. It reflected greed, not faith. But rather than ignore the question—rather than throw up his hands in despair—Jesus’ preaching takes a detour as He tells a story—the parable of the rich fool.

And what’s so surprising about the rich fool is that—on the surface at least—his actions don’t really seem all that foolish. Please notice that the rich man’s wealth is not ill-gotten. He didn’t get his riches through scheming or stealing or gaming or betting. No, Jesus says that his land “produced plentifully.” The land produced a good harvest—a bumper crop. His wealth came from God. Nor was the plan to built bigger barns an especially foolish plan. Without barns to store it, his crop would pile up on the ground and eventually rot. Nor is there anything foolish with his plan to “relax, eat, drink, and be merry.” Would you have done anything differently if you had been in his shoes?

But God calls the man a “fool.” I wonder why. Well, the text doesn’t say directly, but perhaps it was because the man called the crops “my crops.” Perhaps it’s because he called the barns “my barns.” Perhaps it’s because he called the grain and the goods “my grain and my goods.” The man was a fool because he didn’t acknowledge the God who is the Giver of every good and perfect gift. He simply didn’t make the connection that it’s God who gives clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, wife and children, land, animals, and all we have. He simply couldn’t fathom that all this was done for him only out of fatherly divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness in him.

It all reminds me of that old story about the farmer who was showing off his well-tended and well-developed property to his pastor. It was one of those immaculate, postcard-quality farms with a big red barn and lush fields and pastures full of livestock. The pastor kept saying things like, “My, you and the Lord have sure done well here,” and “You and the Lord have got quite an operation here.” About the fifth time the pastor used that phrase, the irate farmer finally sputtered, “Now just a doggone minute, preacher. Ya shoulda seen this place when ‘the Lord’ had it all by himself!”

No farmers here today, but we all face that farmer’s temptation—to see our goods and our money and our possessions—not as gifts from the God who loves us—but as trophies of our own achievement. Hear this loud and clear: to be wealthy is not a sin. To build bigger barns is not a sin. But to deny that God is the giver of every good thing we have—or to deny God the portion of our income that He wants us to return to Him—well, that breaks commandment number one. That’s idolatry. It’s placing ourselves and our work and our labor and our toil over and above the grace and love of God in Christ Jesus.

I’m here to tell you that if we’re just working to get more “things” and more “stuff” and a bigger bank account—well, then, we’re just a bunch of rich fools. If we’re never content and satisfied with the good things we already have—well, that’s greed, idolatry, covetousness. King Solomon writes that it’s like “chasing after the wind.” In other words, the chase for more and more and better and better is an endless chase that never satisfies.

What we need is the gift of contentment. “Godliness with contentment is great gain,” the Scriptures say (1 Tim. 6:6). I love the way King Solomon describes contentment in today’s OT reading: “There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This . . . I saw is from the hand of God.” Being satisfied with what we have—being content with what God so graciously gives us—that itself is a gift from God. It’s the gift of contentment. Do you have that gift?

There was one man who was perfectly content—a man who found perfect fulfillment in the work He was given to do. His work, He said, was to do the will of the Father. And the work He did, He did for you and for your salvation. As a true man like you, Jesus toiled and labored under the same hot sun that shines down on us on these dog days of summer. With all knowledge, wisdom and skill Jesus set out to do the work His Father had appointed for Him. On Good Friday His work reached its climax. His work on that day was a labor of pain and grief. And all that He accomplished at that place called “Golgotha”—the forgiveness of sins, opening of the kingdom of heaven to all believers—these precious gifts Jesus gives away—gives away to those who follow Him in faith. You didn’t work for it. You didn’t earn it. You don’t deserve it. That’s why we call it “grace.”

In your baptism Jesus filled that empty void inside of you with His Holy Spirit, who daily and richly forgives all your sins. And in place of those sins, Jesus gives you His perfect record of obedience. His perfect work record now belongs to you, and your future is now tied to Christ. “You died,” Paul writes, “and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory.” In that resurrection promise you have contentment. You don’t have to run on empty. You don’t have to wear yourself ragged in the rat race of life. You can be content with what you have because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you” (Heb. 13:5).

Jesus Christ gives contentment. His work and His labor give eternal meaning and significance to your life. As a baptized child of God, as one who hears His Word, as one fed and nourished with the body and blood of Jesus—your God is pleased with you for Jesus’ sake. And to the one who pleases Him, God gives wisdom, knowledge, joy and contentment. So let it begin today. Quit chasing after the wind—after bigger and better and more. Be content with what God has given you. Count your blessings instead. Rejoice in your work. And find real contentment in Christ Jesus. Amen.

For the Sake of One

In Nomine Iesu

Genesis 18:20-33

July 29, 2007
Pentecost 9C-Proper 12

Then the Lord said, “Because the outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah is great and their sin is very grave, I will go down to see whether they have done altogether according to the outcry that has come to me. . . .” Then Abraham drew near and said, “Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? . . . . Far be it from you to do such a thing, to put the righteous to death with the wicked, so that the righteous fare with the wicked! Far be that from you!”

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Most people today are fairly ignorant when it comes to the subject of geography. Somewhere back in elementary school we all learned the fifty states and (probably) the state capitals as well. Unfortunately, for many of us, our study of geography never got much further than that.

But the problem gets even worse where the geography of the Bible is concerned—and even worse still when you go all the way back to Genesis. In Genesis we learn, for instance, that Abraham was born in Ur of the Chaldees, and lived much of his life in the city of Haran. In today’s OT reading Abraham is hanging out near the oaks of Mamre. Ur and Haran and Mamre are not places most of us could pinpoint on a map.

But today’s OT reading actually revolves around the fate of two OT towns that I suspect you’ve heard of before—Sodom and Gomorrah. You’ve heard of Sodom and Gomorrah because of the rampant and proverbial wickedness that went on there. At the heart of that wickedness was the sin of homosexual acts—rampant, unbridled, sexual sin. Reading through these chapters of Genesis makes it clear that the problem wasn’t just a handful of folks engaged in an “alternate lifestyle,” but an entire population that lived according to their lusts, squelched all self-control, preyed upon the weak, the helpless, the vulnerable. You’ve heard of Sodom and Gomorrah because of their sin, and because of the flaming judgment that the Lord ultimately poured out upon them.

But in between the rampant sin and the flaming judgment, came prayer—the intercessory prayer of faithful Abraham. It’s nothing less than amazing that Abraham chose to pray on behalf of Sodom and Gomorrah! Cities of sinners! Dens of depravity! Towns that thumbed their collective noses at God’s natural law, making their residences ripe for destruction. For them . . . Abraham prayed. Now, in the interest of full disclosure, you need to recall that Abraham’s nephew Lot and his family were living in Sodom at this time. But notice that Abraham doesn’t mention them at all in his prayer. Abraham’s petitions are not purely personal. He’s asking for God’s mercy and patience for all the notoriously wicked residents of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Is that what you would have prayed for? After all, Sodom and Gomorrah may be long gone, but our very neighborhoods today are filled with folks who would feel right at home in Sodom and Gomorrah—folks who have no regard for God’s natural law, whose lusts and appetites drive them to depravity, who prey on helpless children, who exploit the weakest and most vulnerable in our world for personal pleasure and greedy gain. When was the last time you prayed for one such person? And was it a prayer for mercy and patience on God’s part, or was it a request to speed up the delivery of fire and brimstone? People like that don’t typically top our list of prayer petitions. But Abraham did not hesitate to bring those sinful souls right before the throne of God. I find that amazing.

I want you to see, as well, the basis for Abraham’s prayer. On what grounds could he justify such an amazing request? He doesn’t base his prayer on his own importance or good works. He doesn’t say, “Well, Lord, since you’ve chosen me to be a great nation, and since you’re going to bless all the nations of the earth through me, I’d like to ask a personal favor.” Not at all. In fact, Abraham couches his request by confessing to the Lord that he’s nothing more than “dust and ashes.” Nor does Abraham pitch his petition by downplaying the sins of these cities. Nowhere does he say, “Well, things aren’t really that bad in Sodom. Fire and brimstone is really uncalled for in this situation.”

No, Abraham bases his request on who the Lord is—on God’s revealed nature and characteristics. Specifically, Abraham knows that God is just. He’s fair. It would be entirely out of character for the Lord to treat the righteous in the very same way He treats the wicked. God isn’t careless and indiscriminate in doing His thing in this world. Abraham knew that. And on that basis Abraham prayed to the Lord with boldness: “Lord, You don’t sweep away the righteous with the wicked. That’s not who You are! Have mercy for the sake of fifty righteous souls—for 45, for 40, for 30, for 20, for ten.”

Now hear this you children of Abraham—you who pray to the same God that Abraham did. Note this well. The Lord never lost his patience with Abraham’s prayers. Never stops him. Never rebukes him. Never says, “That’s enough” or “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The Lord is never angry with Abraham as he prays. The Lord listens and answers according to His mercy, grace and love. The gracious God of all listens to His child, Abraham, speak and plead with Him. And God never tires of it. Never.

And He will never tire of hearing you either. He will listen with His divine patience. Because He simply loves to hear from His children. You cannot ask too much or too little. You cannot pray too often. You will not try His patience with your pleading. He will listen. He will answer in His time and in His way.

He will listen to you for the very same reason He listened to Abraham. Abraham, you see, was a man of faith. When God called Abraham at age seventy-five, and when promise after promise came tumbling out of the Lord’s mouth concerning Abraham—including the promise that this childless old man would have descendants more numerous than the stars—Abraham believed the Lord—Abraham had faith—and the Lord credited it to him as righteousness.

Your God is eager to listen to you for the very same reasons. Abraham believed the Lord . . . and you do too. You too trust His promises. Only your belief—your faith—is centered in one particular descendant of Abraham . . . named Jesus. Without Jesus, we couldn’t talk with God in prayer. You don’t talk with God unless there’s peace with God. Jesus brings that peace to you through His cross—through the water of your baptism. Where there is peace with God, there is prayer with God. All the record of all our sin, God has dealt with through Jesus.

Make no mistake, our just and holy God hates sin. He hated the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah. He hates our sins too. He hates our pride and thanklessness. He hates our greed and selfishness. He hates our cursing and lustful thoughts. He hates them just as He hated the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah. Fire and brimstone is what we also rightly deserve.

But for the sake of one—not 50, not 40, 30, 20 or 10, but for the sake of one righteous man—you don’t get what you deserve. For you know full well that there was only one truly righteous man who ever lived. And in mercy God the Father allowed Jesus to be swept away and put to death with the wicked—one on His right, one on His left. All of your trespasses, all of your debt, all of your sins—they were all nailed to the cross of Jesus, set aside by the God who loves you. For the sake of this one man, Jesus, the debt of your sin has been cancelled, because Jesus has paid that debt in full, not with gold or silver, but with His holy precious blood and His innocent suffering and death. Your God did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all. How will He not also graciously give us all things?

He does indeed give us all things—all the things we need, all the good things we can’t do without. He invites you to pray for those things with a promise: “Ask and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and it will be opened to you.” It doesn’t say that we receive exactly what we ask for, nor that we will find the exact thing for which we’re looking. It doesn’t work that way (thank God), and praying harder and believing more won’t change that. God is still God, your heavenly Father. He doesn’t always give what we want. Sometimes He gives better.

St. Paul prayed three times for the Lord to take away the thorn in his flesh. Paul didn’t get that. What he got instead was grace. “My grace is sufficient for you,” was God’s reply. In his weakness, Paul came to know the mighty strength of Jesus Christ. Abraham didn’t save Sodom and Gomorrah from destruction through his amazing prayer. But righteous Lot and his family escaped.

For the sake of one—for the sake of Jesus—your heavenly Father has forgiven all your trespasses and made you alive in Christ forever and ever. For the sake of this One, the just and holy God calls you His child, and He longs and loves to hear from you. Thou art coming to a King, Large petitions with thee bring; For His grace and pow’r are such None can ever ask too much. Amen.

The Lord Gives Liberty, Not License

Galatians 5:1, 13-25
July 1, 2007
Pentecost 5C

For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery. For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

It’s really just a happy coincidence that today’s text is all about freedom on this, the Sunday before the Fourth of July. You’re going to hear an awful lot about freedom this week—about the freedoms we enjoy as citizens of the United States. These freedoms are a great blessing, and it is good, right, and salutary that we should all celebrate this Wednesday.

But when St. Paul wrote to the Galatians about freedom, he didn’t have in mind the freedoms we celebrate this week. The freedom that comes from Christ isn’t the freedom of speech, or of the press, or even the freedom of religion. It’s got nothing to do with the Bill of Rights. No, Paul had in mind an entirely different kind of freedom—specifically, freedom from the ceremonial laws of the Old Testament.

What does that mean? It means that the Old Testament laws regulating worship no longer apply in the New Testament. It means that God’s people can gather for worship on any day, not just the Sabbath (or seventh) Day. It means that God’s people can eat any food they want, not just “kosher” foods. It means that God’s people can tithe and return to God exactly ten percent of their income, or they can return eight percent, or nine percent, or eleven or twelve percent. And most importantly for the Galatians (who were Gentiles), it meant that circumcision was no longer a requirement. This is the freedom Paul proclaims. Doing these works of the law won’t get you any closer to God. You are justified by faith. You don’t have to earn God’s favor by what you do; you’re already in God’s favor through faith in Jesus, who died and rose for you. This is the freedom Paul proclaims. The freedom in which you and I live as baptized children of God.

But what does this freedom look like? How does it play out in our lives? That’s the question Paul addresses in today’s text from Galatians chapter 5. He says we should “walk by the Spirit.” What does this mean? Well, picture it this way. Picture life as if you’re driving down the road. If you veer too far to the right, you’ll go into the ditch. But if you veer too far to the left, there’s another ditch to watch out for. I got to thinking the other day, there really aren’t any ditches in Whitefish Bay. We’ve got all this fancy shmancy curb and gutter. But where I come from—where I grew up—we had ditches.

To walk by the Spirit—to live in the freedom of Jesus—means to stay out of the ditches—to stay up on the road. The ditch on our right is called “legalism.” This is what was being pushed on the Galatians. Legalism is requiring what God doesn’t require. After Paul preached the pure Gospel to the Galatians, other folks came in later saying, “Sure you’re saved by faith in Jesus, but you also have to be circumcised, you also have to tithe, you also have to worship on Saturday, you also have to do this, and this, and that—if you’re ever going to make it to heaven.” That’s legalism. We Lutherans are pretty good at staying out of that ditch. We know that we’re saved by grace, through faith in Jesus alone. Our works don’t save us, Jesus does. When He said, “It is finished,” from His crucifixion cross, it meant that your sins have been paid for in full. And this is the wonderful Gospel freedom we enjoy in Jesus.

But it’s the other ditch—that ditch on the left—that tends to be a problem for folks like us. This is the ditch of “license.” License means “lack of restraint.” License is freedom in behavior that exceeds what is appropriate. License is freedom gone haywire—freedom abused. St. Paul puts it this way: “Do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh.” Don’t use your freedom in Christ as an excuse for sinning. The Lord gives liberty, not license.

What does this “license” look like? What’s it look like when Christians abuse their freedom? St. Paul gives us a sampling—a smattering of vices. At the top of the list is sexual immorality. This broad term applies to any kind of illicit sexual activity, including adultery, sexual intercourse outside of marriage, homosexuality and the like. The Greek word is actually porneia, from which we get the word “pornography.” In our world today the epidemic of pornography is passed off as harmless, but God views it as sexual immorality—sexual sin—faith-deadening sin. Christians who would dare to look at pornography have left behind their Christian freedom (and their Christian faith!) and landed in the ditch of license.

The abuse of our Christian freedom is also seen in other things: acts of enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, divisions and envy. These things aren’t quite as titillating as sexual immorality, but they’re far more common—common even in the church. Anger, jealousy and division can destroy homes and marriages and congregations. Christian freedom is also abused, Paul writes, by drunkenness. Christians aren’t called to be teetotalers, but Christians who become drunk have left behind their Christian freedom (and their Christian faith!) and landed in the ditch of license.

And here’s the irony: sexual immorality and drunkenness and anger are often viewed as “freedom.” “I’m free to do whatever I want!” But these and many of the things listed here by Paul can easily become addictions. And addictions are the polar opposite of freedom. Some of these things can kill you, or eat you up on the inside, rob your life of joy, and all will deaden your faith. They comprise not a lifestyle, but a death-style.

Then comes just about the stiffest dose of law you will ever read in your Bible: “Those who do such things—those who live like this—will not inherit the kingdom of God.” Note the verb tense in Paul’s words: Those who do (present tense) these things. Those who are living in these sins. Let me be clear: Pornography and immorality and anger and drunkenness and everything else listed here are not unforgivable sins. Paul doesn’t write that anyone who has ever done these things cannot be saved. If that were the case, we should all just pack it up and head home right now. BUT if pornography and immorality and anger and drunkenness are something you are presently “doing”—if these things are a part of your life today—if you’re wallowing in the ditch of license, wantonly abusing your freedom in Christ, then the apostle’s words are clear: “Those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.”

If you’re living in the ditch of license—if you see yourself in this list—well then, I have good news for you—the best of news, in fact. You can leave it all behind in Jesus—in His holy wounds, in His precious cross, in His death by crucifixion. You can leave the ditch of license behind. Like the prodigal son who went hungry wallowing in the pig pen, you can leave your mess behind and enjoy a Father’s welcome. Angels will rejoice over your repentance for the sake of Jesus Christ, your Savior.

If you want to make a God-pleasing change in your life—if you want to climb back up out of the ditch to live in the joy and freedom of Jesus—well, that desire shows the Spirit at work in you. That’s the Holy Spirit who first set up shop in you in the watery surprise of your baptism into Christ. St. Paul describes it this way: “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” When did that happen? When was your sinful flesh with its passions and desires nailed to the cross of Jesus? It happened in your baptism. “Don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death, in order that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life” (Rom. 6:4). That new life is yours through faith in Jesus—a new life without legalism, a new life without license.

In this new life you have, you’re led by the Spirit. In you the Holy Spirit is at work producing fruit—fruit that lasts and shows itself in all circumstances of your life: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. This is the fruit of the Spirit. And everyone knows you can’t make an apple tree bear apples by threatening it, kicking it, and yelling at it to be fruitful. You water it, feed it, prune it at the proper time, and it bears fruit automatically. That’s how it is with the fruit of the Spirit in you. It comes automatically, when you are fed and watered by the Word in worship, by Baptism, by the Lord’s body and blood in Holy Communion.

The Lord Jesus gives liberty, not license. Live in that liberty! Celebrate that freedom as you confess your sins and receive His sure and certain absolution. Walk by the Spirit in the joy of Christian freedom. It’s a road that leads to heaven. When the temptations of your flesh try to run you off the road, don’t begin to say (as many do) “I can’t help myself. I’m a sinner.” That’s true, but it’s no excuse. Don’t live that lie. You’re a justified sinner, a redeemed child of God, a new creation in Christ. There’s no reason for you not to live like one—to walk by the Spirit—to live in the liberty of Jesus. Amen.

In Life's Most Mournful Moments . . . Jesus Comes

St. Luke 7:11-17
June 10, 2007
Pentecost 2C

As Jesus drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. . . . And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her and said to her, “Do not weep.”

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

In all of life, there are few moments more mournful than a funeral procession. In those moments of movement to the cemetery, the sting of death is felt with acute pain. As we bear the lifeless body of a loved one to its resting place—then and there we truly find ourselves in the hour of deepest need, as we just sang in the Hymn of the Day.

In today’s Holy Gospel we encounter just such a mournful moment. At the village of Nain, a funeral procession was making its way out of the village gates. It was a sad scene, as funeral processions always are. But this one was even more tragic. The dead person being carried to the tomb was a young man. His life had been cut short. In the prime of life, death had claimed another victim.

But this tragedy was intensified by the fact that the dead man was the only son of his mother. A mournful mother was leading this funeral procession. And to make matters even more mournful, she was a widow. Now she was all alone in the world. She had no husband to support her, and her only son was dead. Her husband and son were dead, but if the truth be told, this mourning mother was herself as good as dead.

But as the widow wept over the death of her only son, St. Luke tells us that she was met by another only son—the only begotten Son of God. I want you to imagine that you are standing at the gates of the village of Nain that day. Had you been there, you would have witnessed first the funeral procession—a large group of mourners leaving the village, bearing the body of the widow’s only son. There would have been sounds of weeping and wailing, loud laments of mourning and pain. But as the large crowd of mourners was leaving the village, they encountered another large crowd on their way into the village. Coming into the village was Jesus with His disciples and a large crowd of followers. There at the village gates the power of death was confronted head-on by the Lord of life, Jesus Christ.

When the Lord saw the mourning widow, St. Luke tells us, “he had compassion on her.” That doesn’t just mean that the Savior felt sorry for her. It means that He literally felt her pain. He felt her fear. He felt her helplessness. He knew in His body her loneliness and grief. You see, the Savior is not immune to our suffering. Whatever your pain, whatever your fear, whatever your helplessness and grief—you don’t bear it alone. There is One who knows—and feels—the depth of your pain. This is what it means that Jesus had “compassion” on her.

“Do not weep,” He told the widow. Now, on the surface, that doesn’t sound very compassionate—at least in the way you and I carry out compassion. What pastor or counselor or chaplain would ever tell a grieving widow whose only son was being carried to his tomb, “Don’t cry?” If there was ever an occasion to shed tears, this was it! An absence of tears would actually be alarming under these circumstances. It’s God who gives us the ability to cry. Our tears help us cope. Our tears bring strength and healing. Why would Jesus say, “Don’t cry?” Because on that day, at that moment, at the city gates of Nain, Jesus would supply the strength. Jesus would give the healing. Jesus would transform life’s most mournful moment with resurrection joy. Tears were simply not necessary!

At that moment Jesus strode right up to the bier—the burial cot on which the corpse was resting—and He reached out and touched it. This was against the OT ceremonial law (Lev. 21:1-4, 11-12). Coming into contact with the dead made a person unclean. But rather than the dead man making Jesus unclean, the Savior’s touch brought purity and life to what was dirty and dead. And with that, Jesus spoke: “Young man I say to you, arise.” And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother.

It was no coincidence that Jesus met the funeral procession that day. For as today’s Old Testament reading makes clear, Jesus was following the model of the prophet Elijah. There again, a widow’s only son had died. There again, a great prophet of God stepped into life’s most mournful moment, bringing a dead son back to life again. But in the OT reading, the widow speaks. And I think her words are instructive for all of us. At the moment of her son’s death, she lashed out at Elijah with these words: “What have you against me? You have come to me to bring my sin to remembrance and to cause the death of my son!”

There, in the words of a grieving widow, is great wisdom regarding life’s most mournful moments. She makes a connection—a connection between sin and death. It’s a connection that few people make nowadays. But it’s a connection made by the Scriptures over and over again: “The soul that sins shall die.” That’s the terrible, tearful truth behind all of life’s most mournful moments. “The wages of sin is death.” and no one, not even you dear hearer, ever misses payday. This is the silent sermon cackled by every coffin, painfully played out in every funeral procession. As sinners, you and I are not immune. It’s all a crying shame.

It was no coincidence that Jesus met the funeral procession that day. No, that day the Savior intended to give a paschal preview—a glimmering glimpse of death’s demise. His compassion is stronger than your sin, deeper than your death. His crucifixion cross is the sure sign that your sins have been taken away, your guilt atoned for. By the blood of Jesus, your wickedness is forgiven, and God Himself remembers your sins no more. His empty tomb testifies that Jesus has destroyed death. In His death you already died. In His resurrection Jesus opened the kingdom of heaven for you and all believers.

When Jesus walked into the life of this widow at Nain, God Himself came calling. It was no coincidence. And neither is it a coincidence when the living Christ meets you in your most mournful moments too. For when Jesus walks in on your life, things begin to change. In the mess and muddle of your sin, Jesus gets results. With His divine compassion He reaches out to touch you—even in the uncleanness of your sin and its wages. “Don’t cry,” He says, “I will never leave you or forsake you.”

Whatever the source of your mourning today, whatever triggers your tears, Jesus can help and heal. No matter how hopeless things may appear, there is no mournful place where the Savior’s compassion cannot reach. There’s no place in your life so dark that His light and love cannot lift you up again.

Beloved in the Lord, this is place where Jesus reaches out to lifeless corpses every week. For that’s what we are apart from Him. Here in the Divine Service Jesus puts His Words in our ears (much as He told the dead man, “I say to you, arise.”). Here today He places His very body and blood into our mouths—the same body and blood once nailed to the cross to secure your forgiveness. The Lord’s Supper is a matter of life and death. As one pastor put it, “We go to the Lord’s Supper as though going to our death, so that we may go to our death as though going to the Lord’s Supper.” Think on that as you kneel at the altar this morning.

We don’t see these things with our eyes, nor do we always feel the Savior’s touch. But we have His Word on it. And that’s enough for us. In His Word is the power of healing and hope. In life’s most mournful moments, the Savior always comes calling, bringing His life, His love, His compassion. To every repentant heart He says, “Do not weep.” And on the Last Day you will be glad to hear again His powerful words ringing in your ears: “I say to you, arise.” Amen.

The Holy Trinity . . . For Dummies

St. John 8:48-59
June 3, 2007
The Holy Trinity C

[Jesus said to the Jews:] “Your father Abraham rejoiced that he would see my day. He saw it and was glad.” So the Jews said to him, “You are not yet fifty years old, and have you seen Abraham?” Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I am.”

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

I’ll admit it if you will. I’m a dummy. There’s even a book in my library to prove it. Several years ago when my wife and I were faced with buying our first home, we were overwhelmed. So I bought a book—a book entitled, “Home-Buying . . . for Dummies.” It was a book that took the very complex concepts of real estate and home mortgages, and then made them understandable and simple—so simple, in fact, that even I, a Lutheran pastor, could understand them.

So, I admit it. I’m a dummy. But I suspect you are too. Today it’s hard to find even one topic that hasn’t been addressed in a “For Dummies” book: Houseplants for dummies, wine, weddings, massage, Boston Terriers, tattoos, you name it. Unfortunately there are two important topics not addressed in this “for dummies” series. You will not find a book entitled “Pipe Organs for Dummies.” (I checked.) Nor will you find a volume entitled, “The Holy Trinity for Dummies.”

We do have the Athanasian Creed, which we confessed together a few moments ago—together with Christians around the world on this Holy Trinity Sunday. But let’s be honest, the Athanasian Creed isn’t for dummies. It’s not easygoing, that Athanasian Creed. It’s tough sledding for even the sharpest knives in the drawer. And the catholic faith is this, that we worship one God in Trinity and Trinity in Unity, neither confusing the persons nor dividing the substance. Toss in a few “uncreateds” and “coeternals” and things start to get a little burry. But remember this: When it comes to confessing the fine doctrinal details of God the Holy Trinity, you can hardly expect to get your tiny brain wrapped around all of that. We’re simply not smart enough. If we could grasp all there was to the Holy Trinity—and understand Him completely and fully—well, then, the Holy Trinity wouldn’t be much of a God.

Let’s review: Three divine persons, one divine being called God. In all honesty, if we decided to invent our own religion and our own god, we wouldn’t do it this way—according to the Trinitarian model. We’d keep things simple and straight forward. Religion is hard enough in this secular, post-modern world. Why make things more difficult than they have to be? The trouble is, you and I don’t “make up” and “invent” our ideas about God. God the Holy Trinity tells us who He is. You and I simply believe it and tell it to the whole world.

Talking truthfully about the Trinity isn’t easy today; but then again, it’s never been easy. Just look at the kind of abuse Jesus endured from the religious folks of His day. There’s a lot of nasty stuff dished out at the Savior in today’s Holy Gospel. Jesus, I think, gives us a model for how to confess the truth of the Trinity in the face of all kinds of opposition. Jesus endures the abuse, but defends the doctrine.

First, the abuse. The Jews called Him a “Samaritan,” which was the supreme insult. It implied that Jesus wasn’t a true son of Abraham—that He was just a half-breed religious wanna-be. When Jesus defended the doctrinal truth that whoever keeps His word will never see death, the Jews said, “Now we know that you have a demon.” Not only wasn’t He the Messiah in their estimation, they said He was demonized. And when Jesus defended the doctrinal truth that He was the eternal Son of the Father—that before Abraham ever even existed, Jesus existed—that, in fact, there never was a time when He did not exist—well, at that point the Jews started looking for throwable stones to hurl at Him. Notice how Jesus defends the teaching—doesn’t back down from the doctrine—even while enduring insults and abuse. That’s how it is for anyone who dares to defend the doctrine of the Holy Trinity.

Martin Luther put it this way in one of his sermons: “What does Christ do here? He suffers His life to be covered with shame and He endures it in silence; but He defends the teaching, for the teaching is not ours but God’s. . . . There patience ceases and I must venture all that I have and suffer all that they inflict upon me, in order that . . . God and His Word shall not suffer. For that I perish matters little, but if I let God’s Word perish and remain silent, I do harm to God and all the world” (Day by Day, p.383).

Why bother with all the doctrinal details about the Trinity? Why stand firm on all of those doctrinal details, even though it means abuse and ridicule or worse? Because the doctrine isn’t ours. The teaching isn’t ours. It’s God’s. And He has entrusted it to you—to believe it and learn it and share it with others.

Doctrine isn’t a popular topic these days, even (and especially) among Christians. It’s regarded as nothing more than a lot of theological hair-splitting. Can’t we just all believe in Jesus and let it go at that? Doctrine is too divisive. Even among Bible believing Christians this attitude is rampant. Even among us. When was the last time you yourself attended a Bible Study? When was the last time you read your Bible? Had a home devotion? Confessed the Catechism or a creed? All this is a sure sign that the church of Jesus Christ has grown lazy and distracted and, yes, downright dumb. And I’m here to tell you that in the long history of the church, doctrinal dumbness has never strengthened the church, but weakened it. When you no longer believe anything faithfully and firmly, the fine points of doctrine are no longer worth fighting for.

The truth is that we’re all doctrinal dummies. In fact, we’re as dumb as grasshoppers. The prophet Isaiah described earth’s inhabitants as little grasshoppers compared to God (40:22). Imagine if you were holding a grasshopper in your hand. How much about you do you think the grasshopper would understand? The grasshopper might know that you have the power to destroy him, but that’s probably about it. How could that dumb grasshopper ever come to know anything about you and your nature? The only way that could happen would be for you to become a grasshopper. Then the grasshopper could come to know you on his terms.

So it is for us doctrinal dummies and our great God. He became one of us grasshoppers—became a fellow human being named Jesus, from a little town called Nazareth. Or, in the words of the Athanasian Creed, “It is also necessary for everlasting salvation that one faithfully believe the incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ.” In Jesus God expressed Himself fully for us men and for our salvation. They said He was a blasphemer. They called Him a Samaritan. Said He had a demon. But in truth Jesus was the Word made flesh, God become man, dwelling among dying sinners like us.

In Jesus, God was seen. In Jesus, God was heard. In Jesus, God was touched. Here’s the bottom line on this Trinity Sunday: To know Jesus is to know God. For every doctrinal dummy out there—for every careless Christian who “cares-less” about God’s Word than almost everything else in life—Jesus Himself comes to teach us His eternal truth. That truth is that God became a man, went to the cross, endured the agony of sin’s torturous punishment. He died for all sinners: old and young, rich and poor, dumb . . . and dumber.

There’s just no greater love imaginable. And that’s what God the Holy Trinity is like. In the words and deeds of Jesus you have your own personal edition of “The Holy Trinity for Dummies.” To know Jesus is to know our loving God. There’s nothing lovable in you and me as sinners. Yet God loved us so much that He died so our sin might be set aside and forgiven—so that you and I will never see death. Yes, we will die, but not even death can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. And if you believe that, well, you’re no dummy.

In Jesus, God has made Himself accessible to you. In Jesus, God isn’t out of reach or unknowable. He makes Himself available to you through ordinary things which we readily understand. In His Word, in the water of Holy Baptism, in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood. Even the simplest among us understand words from a book, washing with water, and eating and drinking. In these simple ways, God the Holy Trinity makes Himself known to you—makes doctrinal dummies wise unto salvation.

Jesus tells us, “Before Abraham was, I am.” That means that Jesus is uncreated, infinite, and eternal. He is all-knowing and all-powerful. He is just and holy. He is all of that and more. But most importantly, He loves you. All of that infinite, eternal power is being used today, for your good, for your salvation, for your resurrection, for your eternal life, all for Jesus’ sake. Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit—God in three persons, the blessed Trinity. Amen.

See It Through the Ascension Angle

Revelation 5:11-14
May 17, 2007
The Ascension of Our Lord

Then I looked, and I heard around the throne and the living creatures and the elders the voice of many angels, numbering myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice, "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!" And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying, "To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!" And the four living creatures said, "Amen!" and the elders fell down and worshiped.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

What’s your perspective? What’s your angle when it comes to driving across town? Do you look forward to a drive to Mayfair Mall? From my angle in Whitefish Bay, it’s a terrible drive to have to make. Either you fight your way through the tangle of traffic and stoplights on Silver Spring . . . OR you can swallow hard and white-knuckle it through the Marquette Interchange, and just hope that a Brewers game isn’t letting out at Miller Park. From my angle, it’s an un-enjoyable journey no matter how you drive it.

But from a different angle, it’s not so bad. For someone who’s lived in Chicago or LA, a drive across Milwaukee is like a tiptoe through the tulips. If you’re accustomed to heavy traffic and aggressive driving and commute times of over an hour, well then a drive to Mayfair is like a walk through the park. You simply have to see it from the right angle.

The same thing is true when it comes to the Ascension of our Lord. There are two angles on the ascension. The first is the earthly angle—the perspective of the open-mouthed disciples looking up as the Lord is taken from their sight. This is the perspective that St. Luke gives us. And looking skyward from planet earth, there had to be some uncertainty, some worry and fear for the disciples. When the General takes leave of His troops, the troops have to wonder, “What now? What next? Where do we go from here?” That’s the earthly angle which St. Luke wrote down for our benefit.

But St. John sees it differently. In the book of Revelation, St. John gives us a different angle for seeing the Ascension. In Revelation chapter five we see the Ascension of our Lord from up above. We get a front row seat for what transpires in the heavenly realms when the Risen Christ returns to His heavenly throne, up through endless ranks of angels, to an endless Eastertide. From this angle the sights and sounds are glorious, as angels and archangels and all the company of heaven join their voices in song to the living Lord: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise.” From this angle, there’s no uncertainty, no worry, no fear, because Jesus is reigning over heaven and earth.

Beloved in the Lord, that’s the angle for you to have in your heart this Ascension Day. Be invited this day to set your heart on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God—where the Lord Jesus is interceding for you and working all things for the good of those who love Him. That’s the prism. That’s the lens. That’s the Ascension angle through which you can see all things.

And yet, that’s not how we see all things. Our sinful nature always sets our sights lower, rather than higher. When Jesus ascended into heaven, the residents of heaven sang that Jesus was worthy to receive power and wealth and wisdom, and strength and honor and glory and praise. Jesus is the rightful, righteous recipient of all that. And yet, we live each day as if we are the ones deserving of power, wealth and wisdom. We’re constantly coveting the strength and honor and praise that only Jesus is worthy to receive. He’s worthy of it all! We’re worthy of none of it.

We’re unworthy because we refuse to see life through the ascension angle. Through the ascension angle we see the living Lord Jesus using all His power, wealth and wisdom for one thing: to accomplish your salvation. He wants to use His mighty strength to carry you through these brief days of sinning and sadness, to carry you through the valley of the shadow of death, to carry you up to meet Him in the clouds of glory. Do you believe that?

If we believed that—if we lived every day of life on earth with the vision afforded us by the Ascension—then surely we would use our power differently. Surely we would manage our wealth differently. Surely we would use our wisdom and strength to bear witness to Jesus, to tell everyone what He has done, and to live each day in the hope that we have in Him.

I want you to see your life through the ascension angle. Because when it comes to your life, there are only two angles through which to see it. Either your life is a sad and meaningless series of unrelated events, or else the risen and ascended Christ is guiding your every step. Either the crosses and hardships you bear have no purpose other than to make you miserable, or else the Lord Jesus is using them to strengthen your faith and draw you closer to Himself. Either the whole world is going straight to hell, or else the man who ascends into heaven is present here and now to save you and serve you and love you. Either your sins are sticking to you like superglue, pulling you down to death and hell, or else Jesus has taken your sins upon Himself, paid your penalty on His crucifixion cross, opening the gates of heaven for you and all who believe.

Can you see that? Can you believe that? If so, then you’re seeing things through the ascension angle. And even if you’re not exactly sure, at least you’re in the right place. Here in the Divine Service is where we see life through the ascension angle most clearly. When we sing “This is the Feast,” we’re singing the song of angels, archangels and all the company of heaven. Here in the Divine Service, the same Jesus who sits at the Father’s right hand, also comes here in the Word of the Gospel, in the Word of His absolution, with His precious body and blood, to open your eyes—to make you see things through the reality of His resurrection and through the angle of His Ascension.

For no matter how weary you may feel tonight—no matter the size of the burdens you carry—Jesus is reigning over heaven and earth. He’s got the whole world—He’s got the little tiny baby—He’s got the wind and the rain—He’s got you and me, brothers and sisters—in His nail-scarred hands. He loves you with a sin-forgiving, death-defying love. Worthy is He to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise, forever and ever. Amen.

Father Knows Best

May 13, 2007
Easter 6C
St. John 16:23-24

[Jesus said:] “Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full.”

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
Have you ever noticed how we talk like the people around us talk? How we tend to pick up the local dialect wherever we may be? I grew up in southeastern Kansas. And in SEK you don’t do the wash, you do the “worsh.” The president doesn’t live in Washington, he lives in “Worshington.” When I lived in St. Louis I learned that two of the major highways there were not Highway forty and Highway forty-four. No, in St. Louis it’s highway “farty,” and highway “farty-far.” In seminary I had classmates who studied abroad in England for a semester. Now, they could have hailed from Possum Tail, Arkansas, but after a few months in the UK they came back sounding like Gregory Peck: “This is the “Wehd of the Lohhhd.” It’s true that we often take on the same manner of speaking as those with whom we associate and live—for better or worse.

But where the manner of speaking is Jesus’ manner of speaking, it’s always for the better. Nowhere does our manner of speaking matter more than when we pray. When we pray, we should pray “in Jesus’ name.” That means our prayers should aim to be the sort of prayers Jesus would pray. Our prayers should follow the pattern set by the Savior. The more closely we travel with Jesus—the more we associate with Him—the more we hear His commands and promises—the more our prayers start to take on the accents of Jesus’ prayers. His divine dialect becomes our own. When the talk you talk is prayer talk, talk like Jesus.

In today’s Holy Gospel Jesus gives us a lesson concerning the parlance of prayer. It was just a little while before Jesus would leave His disciples. In little more than forty days they would see Jesus no more. The intimate personal contact they had known each day would be broken. The lives of the disciples had come to revolve around Jesus. Where Jesus went, they followed. But very soon Jesus would be gone to the Father. And while all this would be for their good, you can imagine the huge gaping hole that would leave in their hearts. Goodbyes are always difficult.
As a true man, Jesus knew this feeling too. Jesus knew that He would need to prepare His disciples for His departure to the Father. And so Jesus gives them the promise of prayer: “Truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. . . . . Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full.” This must have been wonderful news for the disciples. Because although tangible contact with the visible Jesus would be gone, a deeper, stronger, more inward contact with God was thrown wide open to them: The privilege of prayer in Jesus’ name.

That same privilege—that same strong inward contact with God—that same speaking to God in words and thoughts—has been given to you, so that your joy may be full. “Ask in Jesus’ name and you will receive. Ask in the accents of Jesus. Pray in the parlance of Jesus. Declare your needs in His dialect, and you will receive.”
It used to be that we Christians were often ridiculed for taking Jesus at His Word—for praying with faith in Jesus’ name and expecting those prayers to be answered. “Yeah, right!” the world used to say. But in recent years I’ve noticed that prayer has become the property of nearly all people. Hindus, Budhists, Muslims, Jews, Shamins, Unitarians, New-agers—everybody it seems has jumped onto the prayer bandwagon. Secular research seems to show that prayer gets results. And since the ends justify the means, then prayer can be the means for all people—each to His own “god.”

But notice that Jesus says nothing about “God” in today’s text. He doesn’t use that ambiguous term. Our prayers aren’t addressed to some generic divine being. Our prayers—your prayers—are addressed to the Father. That, beloved in the Lord, makes all the difference in the world, all the difference between life and death. It’s only because God has come to be your Father that you can pray to Him. Only because Jesus has taken your sins on Himself and wiped them out by His crucifixion cross and His glorious resurrection, can you stand before God as a forgiven and loved child in Christ. Connected with Christ as children of God, we can pray to the Father with boldness and confidence. Apart from Christ—apart from His redeeming work—God is no one’s Father. The so-called prayers of the Christ-less are nothing more than empty, undeliverable words—shot skyward like a bottle rocket, only to fall again to earth.

But what about your prayers, you child of God? It’s easy to criticize the prayers of pagans. It leaves us feeling perhaps a bit smug—a little self-righteous. We need to be careful that our prayers don’t wind up sounding like the Pharisee who prayed, “I thank Thee God that I’m not like those other folks.” Prayer requires an empty heart and empty hands. But in the Pharisee’s heart and hands there was no room—no room for God to come and do His thing. The Pharisee felt no lack, no need. His prayer was really a summons for God to come and admire Him. Better by far was the brief prayer of the tax collector, who beat his breast in repentance and simply said, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

To pray in that way is to pray in the name of Jesus. “Ask the Father in my name,” Jesus says, “and you will receive.” Now, some of you are no doubt saying to yourselves, “I’ve asked for lots of things in Jesus’ name, and I haven’t received them.” That may be true. But what kind of a loving father gives his children everything they ask for? Because your heavenly Father loves you, He will only give you those things that are for your good—those things that draw you closer to Jesus, in whose name alone we pray aright.

I’m here to tell you that even when our Father refuses, out of love, to give us that particular thing for which we’re asking, that prayer is not “unanswered.” Take the old example of little Billy asking his mother for a sharp knife to play with. Little Billy wants to have fun playing with the knife. His mother refuses to give him the knife, but she still grants the heart of Billy’s request. Billy thought he would be happy playing with the knife. Mom knew he would be happier not playing with it. Little Billy’s happiness has been granted, even though he may pout for an hour and believe that he has the worst mother in the world. So, too, your prayers to your Father in heaven never go unanswered. Your Father always knows best.

Your Father always answers your prayers in His own way, in His own time. The Bible contains lots of examples of these prayers. When Lazarus lay dying, his sisters, Mary and Martha, sent word to their best friend, Jesus, for help. But Jesus got held up, and Lazarus died. Of course, you know what happened four days later. St. Paul was afflicted with a thorn in the flesh and prayed three times to be cured of it. God didn’t take away that thorn, but He strengthened Paul to bear it and to boast in all his weaknesses. And on this Mothers’ Day you should know about a Christian mother named Monica. Monica prayed forty years for her unbelieving, prodigal son. And her son was finally gripped by Christ and became the great man of God we know as St. Augustine. But it’s his mother, Santa Monica, after whom the boulevard in front of our church is named.

Prayer is only prayer when the requests are made in Jesus’ name—with faith in Him. No Jesus, no prayer, and no Father to hear our requests. But with Jesus, cleansed by His blood, hearing His Word, washed in His Baptism, receiving His Supper—with Jesus—you can pray with all boldness and confidence, just as dear children ask their dear father.

To pray in Jesus’ name is to talk in the Jesus way—speaking in His parlance, His dialect, His accent. When you pray in the Jesus way, you can ask without reservation—without hesitation. When you ask for what God has promised, God has to give you what you ask for: things like faith and the forgiveness of your sins, the resurrection of your body and the life everlasting. God has promised you those things and, in prayer, you can hold Him to His promise.

Today we have primarily talked about prayer as asking, but of course it’s more than just asking. Prayer is our whole response to God’s work in our lives: our deliverance from sin, death and hell by the blood of Jesus. Jesus has overcome the world. And as we breathe in His love and mercy, we are able to breathe out our love and worship to Him in prayer. He is your Father. You are His child. And your Father always, always knows best. Amen.