240901 Sermon on Jesus's teaching concerning clean and unclean food (Mark 7:14-23) Pentecost 15 September 1, 2024

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Let’s begin by defining a couple words: defilement and sanctification. These words are opposites. Defilement is when someone is made unclean and unholy. Sanctification is when someone is made holy. Whether we are defiled or sanctified is of utmost importance for how God regards us. If we are defiled, then we are unacceptable before God. It’s like having something rotten in your home. It stinks. Put that stuff outside. It doesn’t belong in the house. That is how are we before God when we are defiled.

Being sanctified is the opposite. When we are holy, we belong with God. One of the ways that the Bible talks about holiness is by being properly dressed. When we are properly dressed we have no need to be ashamed. If we were found in our underwear, or naked, we would be ashamed. But when we are properly clothed we are acceptable. We can be seen. So it is for those who are holy.

Defilement describes a state of being where we have no business being together with God. Sanctification describes a state of being where we belong together with God.

Understanding defilement and sanctification is essential for understanding the religion that God gave to the Israelites at Mt. Sinai in the Old Testament. God wanted the Israelites to be holy so that they could be with him and he could be with them. To make the Israelites holy God instituted many laws, rituals, and practices. Moses wrote these down in Exodus, and, especially, in Leviticus. The entirety of Leviticus is God’s instructions for avoiding defilement and what is to be done if someone has become defiled.

One of the regulations that God gave at that time was about clean and unclean foods. Clean food could be eaten without defilement. Unclean foods would defile the eater. For example, beef and lamb could be eaten. Pork, shellfish, and several other animals would defile the eater. We won’t get into the whys and wherefores of this. You can read about that yourself in Leviticus 11. What I’d like to point out is that according to the laws God gave to the Israelites, there was such a thing as unclean food that would defile the Israelites if they ate it.

This is important background information for our Gospel reading. For the nearly 1,500 years, from Moses to Jesus, the Jews observed the distinction between clean and unclean food. But then in our Gospel reading Jesus says: “Hear me, all of you, and understand: There is nothing outside a person that by going into him can defile him, but the things that come out of a person are what defile him.”

Let’s apply Jesus’s words to unclean food. Unclean food is something from outside. It defiles. Is Jesus rejecting the distinction between clean and unclean food? Yes, he is. Jesus is even clearer, later, with his disciples when they asked him to explain himself. He said, “Then are you also without understanding? Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile him, since it enters not his heart but his stomach, and is expelled?” (Thus Jesus declared all foods clean.) Jesus said, “All foods are clean.”

There seems to be an obvious contradiction between what Leviticus 11 says and what Jesus says in our Gospel reading. Leviticus 11 says that there are several foods that what will defile you. Jesus says, “Nothing from the outside can defile a person. What defiles a person is what goes out from a person.” The Pharisees and scribes—always quick to point out any faults they find with Jesus or with his disciples—thought that Jesus was taking away from what God had commanded. We heard in our first reading that nothing should be added or taken away from what God has said.

But instead of thinking that Jesus is contradicting the Scriptures or taking something away, it might be helpful to think of what he is doing as fulfilling the Scriptures. The Law that God gave to the Israelites at Mt. Sinai was binding for a time, but that was not meant to be an arrangement that would last for all time. Something new would take its place. This was, in fact, already prophesied at that time.

In Deuteronomy 18, which is at the same time as Mt. Sinai, Moses speaks of a mysterious Someone who is to come, who will be like him, but even greater. Moses calls this one the “prophet.” He says, “The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your brother Israelites. Listen to him.” Jesus is the fulfillment of this prophecy. Moses says, “Listen to him.” The people had listened to Moses. Now we should listen to this Prophet. Moses says so. So if Jesus declares that all foods are clean, then we should believe all foods are clean. Jesus is Lord.

In order to do this, however, you must understand who Jesus is. You must correctly identify him as the prophet spoken of by Moses. The problem with the scribes and Pharisees was that they didn’t believe, or didn’t want to believe, that Jesus is this prophet. They didn’t want to listen to him even though Moses told them that they should. Because they didn’t want to believe that Jesus is Lord, having authority over all things in heaven and on earth, they instead saw him as an enemy. They thought that he was contradicting Moses, taking away from Scripture, leading people astray. They became convinced that they would be doing God a favor if they got rid of him, and eventually they crucified him.

This question, of who Jesus is, is important and highly consequential for every human being—not just for those scribes and Pharisees. We know what they thought of Jesus. What do you say about Jesus? Your answer is of eternal significance. The Catechism teaches us the correct answer for what we should say about Jesus. It says, “I believe that Jesus Christ is my Lord.” That is the shortest creed in Christendom. What does it mean to be a Christian? Being a Christian is believing that Jesus Christ is your Lord.

When it comes to what we’ve been talking about today—defilement and sanctification—Jesus being your Lord makes all the difference. The Catechism goes on to describe Jesus’s lordship, what he does as my Lord: “I believe that Jesus Christ is my Lord who has redeemed me, a lost and condemned person, purchased and won me from all sins, from death, and from the power of the devil; not with gold or silver, but with his holy, precious blood and his innocent suffering and death.”

You can hear defilement language and sanctification language in that description of Jesus’s lordship. We hear defilement language when we are spoken of as lost and condemned persons. We are defiled by what is in us and what comes out of us. It is as Jesus says in our Gospel reading, “What comes out of a person defiles him… From the heart comes evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, sensuality, envy, slander, pride, foolishness.”

Does what Jesus says describe you? Do you have evil thoughts? Are you guilty of sexual immorality, which in the Greek is porneia, which is where we get the word pornography? Do you covet? Do you lie? Do you gossip? I, unfortunately, have done these things and more, which means that I am a lost and condemned person. As far as how I am in myself I am defiled and have no business being together with God. I should be swept out and put with the rest of the trash.

But there is sanctification language too—the opposite of defilement. The Catechism says that Jesus has redeemed me—a wonderful word! I am redeemed! I have been purchased. I have been won—not with gold or silver, but with the holy, precious blood and the innocent suffering and death of my Lord and your Lord. The sacrifice of this Lamb of God has brought about an eternal redemption so that all who trust in him will be clothed with holiness so as to live together with God.

In conclusion, defilement and sanctification might not be the most common words. But whether we are defiled or sanctified is of eternal significance. Whether we are defiled or sanctified determines our relationship with God. When we are living in sin and unbelief, we are defiled. When we call out to Jesus in faith and say, “Have mercy on me, a sinner,” we are sanctified.

The stakes have been raised, so to speak, from what was given at Mt. Sinai. Jesus reveals that our defilement is much deeper than we would otherwise think or imagine. It goes all the way down into our heart, the core of our being. But the remedy is also deeper. God has sent his Son to be the Lord who redeems us.  

Jesus is the one about whom Moses prophesied. We should listen to him. What he has to say is not bad for us sinners, but good and life giving. As Jesus himself says, “I have not come in order to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through me.” Listen to him.

240811 Sermon on how we must eat Jesus, the bread of life, to be saved (Pentecost 12) August 11, 2024

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Jesus said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.”

Our Gospel reading today is the middle of a conversation that turned into something like an argument. The conversation is between Jesus and some Jews who were seeking him. The reason why they were seeking him was because they had been fed with the five loaves and two fish. That impressed them. They were ready to get on board with Jesus. Why shouldn’t he be king? Then we’d have loaves and fishes aplenty.

But when Jesus had been found, he put a damper on their plans. He said, “You shouldn’t work for food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life.” Jesus would not only feed their bellies, but their souls too. There is a food that does not perish in the eating of it, but endures to eternal life. Jesus is that food. He says, “I am the bread of life.”  

As you heard in the reading, this redirection of their intentions didn’t go over very well. They grumbled. They couldn’t understand him. They had liked the bread that they had eaten before. Why couldn’t he just make some more. That would make them happy. But Jesus as bread? What does that even mean and what are they supposed to do? Eat him? That’s ridiculous. They want bread made from barley, not bread made of flesh.

But Jesus’s goal wasn’t to do whatever needed to be done in order to be popular. When you understand that Jesus wasn’t trying to entertain the crowd, or seek their approval, but instead to speak the truth about his Father and about himself, then his words become more understandable. They become more understandable, but only to those who will believe. If you will not believe, then Jesus’s words will be strange at best but what is much more likely is that you will be repulsed by them. If you will believe, then what he says is simple and wonderful.

Let’s take his main statement, which begins our reading. He says, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” Jesus is the bread of life. Faith eats him. If you eat this bread, then you will not hunger and you will not thirst. This could be referring to physical hunger and thirst if need be. I wouldn’t put it past Jesus who fed 5,000 with five loaves and two fish. But physical hunger and thirst are not the only kind of lack we might have. Spiritual hunger and thirst are much more important. Spiritually we hunger and thirst after righteousness. Hungering and thirsting after righteousness is another way of saying that we haven’t got any. We aren’t righteous.

We are well aware how damaging it can be to lack food and drink. We can’t live very long without them. What about righteousness? Can we live without righteousness? In a sense we can, but it isn’t much of an existence.

If we are living without righteousness then we are always needing to live in delusions and under the cover of darkness. We have to hide, so we aren’t found out. We don’t want to be exposed otherwise people will know what we are really like. It is very important to delude yourself about God, or about what happens when we die. If you are not righteous, then you cannot enjoy the thought of meeting God or being judged by him unless you make yourself forget all the stuff that you have done. Without righteousness we do well to stay away as long as we can, until we can stave off death no longer. Then our fear begins in earnest.

If a person was righteous, then he or she would not need to worry. It would be nice to have no fear. But many people do not believe that becoming righteous is possible. That’s understandable. Consult your own experience. Who hasn’t done shameful, embarrassing stuff? Don’t we all need to hide from the light lest our evil deeds be exposed? That sounds right to me. We’ve all blown it one way or another. But this is where Jesus’s words in our reading today are so important. They address this need that can seem so impossible to do anything about. Be that as it may, Jesus still says what he says.

He’s the bread of life. All you who hunger and thirst for righteousness—because you haven’t got any—may eat him and be filled. Then you are righteous. Then you can stand in the judgement. You need not fear the light. Why? Because Jesus was punished in your place for your sins, and he gives you his own righteousness as the Son of God in the place of your sinfulness.

I admit that the picture is strange. Jesus tells us to heat him because he is the bread of life. The Jews grumbled among themselves. What does he mean when he says that he is bread? How are we supposed to eat him? Our brains work the same way as their brains worked, so I think we can understand their confusion. But Jesus does not back down. He doesn’t apologize. He presses forward with his points and, if anything, gets only more extreme.

Extreme actions are needed to cure our lack of righteousness. It is not just saying you’re sorry. It’s not trying harder. Those are some not so extreme actions that come to mind. We must eat Jesus, the living bread sent from heaven. Desperate times call for desperate measures. We desperately need righteousness. Every other attempt will leave us hungry. Then the best we’ve got to combat our lack of righteousness is deluding ourselves or trying to stay in the darkness.  

This is all completely unnecessary. Jesus lays out his Father’s will in such a simple way in our reading today. He says, “This is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.”

So simple: Look to the Son. Believe in him. You’ll have eternal life. Any sinner can grasp hold of that because he says nothing about making it up to God. He says nothing about paying for your own sins. If you know anything about yourself you know that you haven’t got that in you. Instead, it’s “Look to the Son. Believe in him.” That’s the Father’s will. You had no righteousness, but now, believing in Jesus, Jesus has fed you with himself as the bread of life. It’s as simple as that.

This reminds me of my favorite statement about evangelism. Evangelism is telling people the Gospel, which is the good news about Jesus. Someone has said that evangelism is like one beggar telling another beggar where to get bread. Beggars, as you know, don’t have any money. They can’t buy anything. No food. So when beggars get food they like it. They might even tell their friends where they found it.

So, also, with us Christians. We are beggars when it comes to righteousness. We haven’t got any. But then Jesus comes along and says, “I’ll be your righteousness. I am the living bread that has come down from heaven. Eat and be satisfied. Eat and live.” The beggar goes from hungry to full. Shouldn’t we beggars tell our fellow beggars where we got bread? They too may be forgiven. They too may be completely righteous through faith. Point them in the direction of Jesus who wishes to make himself known throughout the world by means of us beggars. We have tasted and seen that the Lord is good. Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.

Jesus said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.”

 

240728 Sermon on the difference between imagined faith and true faith (Pentecost 10) July 28, 2024

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About a month ago we heard a reading that was similar to our Gospel reading today. In that reading Jesus and the disciples embarked in a boat to cross the Sea of Galilee. All of a sudden a great windstorm arose so that water was filling the boat. The disciples ran back to Jesus, who was sleeping in the stern, and said, “Don’t you care that we are dying?” And Jesus rose from his sleep, rebuked the wind and the waves, and there was a great calm. Then Jesus said, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Our reading today is similar. The disciples are again in a boat, although this time Jesus was not with them. Jesus had sent them across while he went up on a mountain to pray. In our reading today a strong wind arose, but it was not so strong that the boat was in danger of sinking. It just made for terribly hard work as they rowed against it. They rowed for hours until Jesus came to them walking on the water. The disciples assumed that he was a ghost. No human being can walk on water. Jesus told them that it was him. Don’t be afraid. When he got into the boat, the wind ceased.

Then Mark says, “The disciples were utterly astounded.” But I think that’s lacking something. Perhaps a more colloquial translation might be: “The disciples were out of their minds,” or “Their minds were blown.” But not in a good way—at least according to Mark—because he goes on to say, “They were utterly astounded, because they did not understand about the loaves; their hearts were hardened.”

Mark brings up the loaves. He is referring to what we heard about last week—Jesus’s feeding of the 5,000. Jesus multiplied five loaves and two fish so that 5,000 men ate until they were full. The disciples didn’t understand this. Their hearts were hard. It seems that what Mark is saying is that after such a magnificent display of Jesus’s power nothing should surprise them—not even walking on water. The disciples didn’t get it. They were unbelieving.

The disciples’ unbelief is the aspect of both readings that I’d like to focus on. In both readings the disciples are identified as lacking faith. In the reading from about a month ago Jesus asked them, “Do you still have no faith?” And in our reading today the disciples’ hearts are described as being hardened. These twelve men were the people who were closest to Jesus. How could they have no faith?

Maybe they did—at least according to their own estimation. I suspect that if we could travel back in time to interview the disciples, we might find that they would not have agreed with Jesus’s and Mark’s characterization of them. I think if we were to ask them whether they had faith they would have said, “Of course we have faith!” That would be pretty convincing too. They had left their livelihoods behind. They had followed Jesus. They heard his teaching. They saw his miracles. These all seem to be very good reasons to believe that they had faith, and yet they didn’t.

This shows that there is a difference between saying you have faith or believing you have faith and actually having faith. I think these disciples would have said that they had faith and believed that they had faith, but when push came to shove they had no faith. This wasn’t the last time either.

When Jesus was arrested the disciples quit believing in him. The shepherd was struck and the sheep were scattered. This was despite their intentions and vows of allegiance. Just a few hours before, when Jesus was instituting the Lord’s Supper, all the disciples said that they would rather die than forsake him. Peter said that even if all the other disciples would leave him, Peter wouldn’t, but we know what Peter did a few hours later. When repeatedly questioned whether he was one of Jesus’s disciples, Peter finally said, “I blankedy-blank don’t know the man!” And the rooster crowed.

What we can learn from the example of the disciples is that even the “best” Christians, who have the best advantages, can fool themselves when it comes to the estimation of their faith. There’s no reason to believe that the disciples were being anything but sincere on Maundy Thursday when they said they were going to stick with Jesus no matter what. They believed their faith was very strong. What they believed didn’t matter. They lost their faith. They quit believing that Jesus could do anything.

The reason why I am focusing on the disciples’ unbelief is because we can be like them. We might like to indulge in thinking about the strength of our faith. We have our credentials just like the disciples. We’ve been members of this church for a long time. We’ve been taught. We’ve sacrificed. We’ve sent our kids to parochial school. And it’s not like these thoughts are altogether bad or untrue. The disciples had similar thoughts: They had left everything for Jesus. They learned from him. They didn’t give up following him. Certainly such actions are not bad or without fruit.

Where a disciple’s faith goes wrong, however, is when faith is put in anything besides Jesus. A false faith is a faith that’s in one’s own self, in one’s own actions, in one’s own feelings in one’s own estimation of faith. For disciples of Jesus the actions or feelings that we might believe in can be quite pious, having a lot to do with Jesus. Certainly the apostles’ thoughts and feelings were very much tied up with Jesus. But faith must be grounded in Jesus as the one who acts, as the one who saves. He can do anything. We don’t help him with our actions or feelings or estimations of our own faith. These things seem as likely to hurt as to help.

Therefore, as we see so often in the Bible, it is not uncommon for disciples to be humiliated. I know that’s a strong word. Being humiliated is related to being humble. Being humble is the opposite of being proud. Pride comes before the fall, so being humiliated is by no means the worst thing that can happen to us. It’s not fun, but if we will accept it, it can do us a world of good.  

It was good for these disciples. It probably stung when Jesus asked how it was that they still didn’t have faith. I’m sure they were ashamed by how they got scared and ran away. This couldn’t have been how they had envisioned their faith journey. But their dreams of grandeur were not as pious as they appeared. They were a subtle replacement of Jesus being the Savior. Their complimenting of themselves, and their measuring of themselves as to how they were so much better than others—all these pleasurable thoughts weren’t worth a hill of beans. They learned that by bitter experience. They were humiliated. They couldn’t trust in themselves. They hadn’t stuck with Jesus. What was wonderful, however, was how Jesus stuck by them. He stuck by them when they were so foolish and ignoble and had so thoroughly embarrassed themselves.

This is an important lesson. What does it mean and what does it look like to be a Christian? Having become Christians do we now soar into the stratosphere on eagles’ wings? That would be nice! If you can pull it off, then good for you! But don’t be surprised if your experience should be like the apostles’ experience.

Your experience could be along the same lines as we heard about in our Gospel reading. We can get worn out. The disciples had rowed against that miserable wind for hours on end. We’re not at our best when we are tired. I wouldn’t be surprised if the disciples well remembered who it was that sent them on that miserable journey. Why had Jesus done this to them? Why had he made them so miserable? The long and short of it was that the disciples were not looking to Jesus for their strength, for their renewal, for their comfort, for their peace. That is why they were out of their minds when he showed up. They hadn’t been thinking of him.

Can’t you sympathize with that? I sure can. I do not think on Jesus as much as I should. I am particularly bad at thinking of him when I’m tired, when I’m worn down, when I’m looking for comfort. I don’t really believe that Jesus can do anything.

So it goes. I am always repenting. I’ve disappointed myself countless times. I wish that wasn’t so, but it is, and it’s not the worst thing. It’s shown me over and over again that I am not trustworthy. I cannot save myself. I have not graduated from God’s forgiving grace. I go crawling back again and again: “Jesus, have mercy on me, a sinner!” I’d like to believe in myself, but my weaknesses and sins teach me that this would be a very foolish thing to believe in. If I am to have any hope of being judged as righteous before God, Jesus must do it all.

Maybe this resonates with you too. We can be friends, sharing our common love and trust in Jesus who saves disciples who are all too often disappointing. Jesus, on the other hand, never disappoints. Trust in him, not in yourself.

240714 Sermon on following the example of John the Baptist instead of Herod and Herodias (Pentecost 8) July 14, 2024

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Be faithful unto death and you will receive the crown of everlasting life.

At the end of last week’s Gospel reading Jesus sent out the 12 apostles. They went out and did what Jesus told them to do. They proclaimed that people should repent. They cast out demons and anointed people who were sick with oil and healed them. The apostles were making a name for Jesus by doing the works Jesus had given them to do in his name.

Our Gospel reading today follows immediately after last week’s reading, and as you can recall, today’s reading was about the beheading of John the Baptist. Our reading today is linked in an interesting way with last week’s reading, even though they seem to be completely different topics. At the very beginning of our reading today it says, “King Herod heard of it.” The “it” that Herod heard of was the work of the apostles in Jesus’s name. When Herod heard of this, he immediately thought of what he had done to John the Baptist. His conscience was bothered, and understandably so.

Mark then goes on to tell the story of what Herod and his illegitimate wife, Herodias, had done. Theirs was a story of unbelief and unrepentance. They did not submit to the teaching that John the Baptist taught them. They resisted, each in their own ways. Herod might not have been quite so upset as Herodias, but he still put him in prison and was responsible for beheading him. Herodias was much more straightforward. She hated him.

She hated him because John had said that what they were doing was wrong. Herod and Herodias were not originally married to each other. Both of them were originally married to other spouses. Herodias was originally married to Herod’s brother Philip. But they wanted to be together, so they divorced their spouses and married each other.

John the Baptist told Herod that this was adultery. The 6^th commandment says, “You shall not commit adultery.” Marriage is a lifelong promise of love and faithfulness between husband and wife. God is the one who joins the two to become one flesh, and God is the one who ends marriages by bringing about the death of either husband or wife. Then the surviving spouse is free to marry another. When a person divorces their spouse without sufficient justification that is taking the place of God. God is supposed to decide when marriages end, not us.

I’d like to pause for a moment to take stock of our own understanding of these things in our time. God’s commands concerning divorce and remarriage are perhaps not well known, but they are certainly not well heeded among us. We have a problem also with fornication, which is having sex with someone to whom you are not married. Sexual experimentation with multiple partners is the norm. Living together with someone to whom you are not married is the norm.

Whether these things are normal or not is beside the point. God is clear. You shall not commit adultery. You shall not fornicate. You shall not have this special sexual relationship without promising lifelong faithfulness. God’s “no” to these things are so that he may say “yes” to a relationship that is deeper, healthier, and life-giving. Whether you or I like or dislike these commands, doesn’t change the fact that they are God’s commands. The appropriate response to God’s commands that we have not kept is to fear God and repent.

It is obvious that neither Herod nor Herodias feared God and repented. It is quite likely, in fact, that neither of them thought much about God at all. They justified themselves in their own sight, so that they could do what they wanted to do. When John the Baptist contradicted their justification of themselves, they probably didn’t think that God had anything against them. They probably thought that John was against them with some outdated, misplaced zeal for sexual purity laws. Thus they directed their hatred against John, when it was in fact God that they had a problem with. John was just the messenger. John was a faithful messenger, but Herod and Herodias punished him—first by imprisoning him, then by beheading him.

Such is the experience Christians will have who want to be faithful messengers of God. Jesus doesn’t keep this a secret. He says, “If they have hated me, they will also hate you.” If you want to be a disciple of Jesus, then you will take up his cross and follow him. The hatred of rebellious sinners that is really against God will be poured out on those who remain faithful to his Word.

The anger of rebellious sinners is understandable, if you will only consider how you yourself are. I don’t know of anyone, including myself, who likes to hear criticism of themselves. My first reaction is to strike out against the one who tells me I’m wrong. Although this is understandable as an immediate reaction, may God grant us grace so that we come to our senses. We should realize that we are not just dealing with flesh and blood. God is behind the faithful messenger. We should not be like Herod and Herodias, who did not come to their senses. They continued on in unbelief and unrepentance.

If we are looking for an example to follow, we should be like John the Baptist. He is an example of faithfulness. John loved God and Jesus. Because John loved God, he made it his ambition to please God. John was not ashamed of God’s commands or God’s promises. John believed that the surest way to happiness and eternal life was by following what God teaches in the Bible.

John was very brave. He condemned sin wherever it might be found regardless of the power or authority of the ones who were sinning. He called the highest leaders in the church at that time a “brood of vipers,” because they were a brood of vipers. He called Herod and Herodias adulterers because they were adulterers. This last diagnosis, even though it was true, resulted in his death.

John could have easily avoided death and a whole bunch of trouble if he would only have not cared about God’s commands or God’s promises or God’s kingdom. All that John would have needed to do was to say, “Never mind. No big deal. Let’s all just life and let live.” Immediately he would have been released from prison. If only John would have melted into the general population, who are quite baffled and cowardly when it comes to spiritual things, he wouldn’t have been opposed. John could have had a much more comfortable life.

But if John would have been like that, then he would not have been the bright and shining light that he was, leading people out of the devil’s kingdom into God’s kingdom. He would have left people just the way they were, lost in sin and unbelief. God’s Word would remain unused. John wouldn’t have accomplished anything that he did accomplish. John’s faithfulness to God’s Word helped an untold number of people to escape hell by repenting of their sins and believing in Jesus. John baptized an untold number of people for the forgiveness of their sins. He pointed to Jesus and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” John was a good and helpful man.

You can be like John too. You are fully equipped with what John had. You have God’s commands. You have God’s promises. Those commands and promises bring about repentance and faith in those whom God has chosen. You can be a bright and shining light that helps people escape from the devil’s worthless lies and leads people to God’s truth in Jesus that saves all who believe in him.

But this will not necessarily be easy or painless. You will be tempted to please people rather than trying to please God. You must be brave in the face of opposition. There are so many ways that people might want to punish you for being different from the general population, for being proud of God’s commands and promises, which are the path to eternal life.

It is not beyond the realm of possibility that you could share a similar fate as John the Baptist. You could be thrown in prison. You could have your head chopped off. That wouldn’t be the worst thing. If that is the way that God would have you meet your Lord and Savior, then let that day come speedily. You will have lost nothing and gained everything by being faithful to Jesus.

Martin Luther says in his famous hymn, “A Might Fortress is Our God.” God is a mighty fortress fully sufficient to save us in uncertain times. With the troubles we heard about last night in our nation, God’s commands and promises are still our faithful guide which cannot and will not let us down. A mighty fortress is our God, and he remains that way no matter what happens. Martin Luther says as much at the close of that hymn:

And take they our life,

Goods, fame, child and wife,

Though these all be gone,

Our victory has been won;

The Kingdom ours remaineth.

Be faithful unto death, and you will receive the crown of everlasting life.

240630 Sermon on God working contrary to expectations (Pentecost 6) June 30, 2024

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Jesus said, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.”

A person might feel jealous hearing our Gospel reading today. There was a lot of healing. Jesus was told about Jairus’s little girl who was extremely sick. While he was on his way to heal her, a woman who had a flow of blood was healed. By the time that Jesus got to the house the little girl had died, and Jesus raised her from the dead. Jesus showed his great powers of healing. Some of you might like some healing for yourself, or for someone you know and love. Why can’t Jesus heal some more?

In my sermon last week I spoke of fighting or wrestling with God. Our reason is skeptical of there being any benefit for ourselves from engaging in this. How could we ever win? God is much stronger than us. And in a way our reason is correct. In the examples of the fighters and the wrestlers with God that I spoke about with you last week, the people didn’t come out of the contest stronger. They came out weaker. But, as Paul says, “When I am weak, then I am strong.” The bones that God has broken rejoice. These fighters were humbled, but they believed that God would exalt them. They came into the fight with an idea of what they would like God to do for them, they came out the other end with God having done something that was different from what they expected, but also something that was more.

What I’ve just described is what some people have called “the theology of the cross.” The cross that is being referred to is Jesus’s cross as well as our cross as Christians that Jesus talks about when he says, “If you want to be my disciple, then take up your cross and follow me.” The term “theology of the cross” is a way to summarize the strange way that God works.

Think of how God worked when the Father sent his Son to be the Christ. You might expect God to have sent him with great power and glory. Jesus is God after all. But you know what God does. He causes Jesus to be born in a stable. Away in a manger, no crib for a bed. Those are humbler circumstandes than you were born into. Even if you were born in a house, that’s nothing compared to Jesus’s birth. And the humility continued. He gave and gave.

Finally the Father had his Son nailed to the cross. To all outward appearances, from the perspective of reason, it was no longer possible to believe in this man was God’s Christ. It looked like it was impossible that he could be or remain king. He just became weaker and weaker until he died.

We, of course, know that God was accomplishing the most glorious and beautiful things through the bloody, gory cross. We know that God made peace between himself and sinners. Although God humbled Jesus to the point of death, even death on the cross, God has raised him from the dead. God has highly exalted Jesus so that his name is above every name. At the name of Jesus every knee will bow in heaven, and on earth, and those under the earth. Jesus Christ is Lord!

But who’d have thought it while seeing him gasping and crying out from the cross? Nobody! Not even his disciples could continue to believe in him. They thought it was all over and done with. Thomas, one of the twelve, wouldn’t even take his fellow disciples’ word for it. He was never going to believe in Jesus again unless he saw the marks and felt the wounds. So it goes. Such is the power of reason. Reason rises up against what God says and does, declaring him to be unacceptable.

Reason can strike out at the cross—the very core of our faith. To my mind there is no more direct way to disagree with Christianity than to say that what God did to Jesus was wrong. Perhaps you’ve heard this referred to as “divine child abuse.” It can have a ring of truth to it. Why did God do it like that? Why didn’t God just snap his fingers and make everything all better? Maybe you’ve wondered that before. If we were God we wouldn’t use that nasty cross.

So it is that reason and faith go their separate ways. Reason says that the cross is crude, ugly, unnecessary. Faith accepts and loves the cross because faith trusts in the God who put Jesus on that cross. Faith waits for the salvation that God has promised even if that salvation may tarry for a time.

Now let’s go back to the thought with which I began. I mentioned how some of you might be jealous upon hearing how Jesus did all this healing. You or someone you love needs healing. Our reason can be the enemy to our faith here. Our reason might ask, “Why doesn’t Jesus heal right here, right now, in the way that I want him to?” What’s his problem? Why doesn’t he do what I want?

To be a human being means that we have our reason. It is not strange that our reason should act this way. What makes a Christian a Christian, however, is believing that Jesus Christ is Lord. Jesus Christ is Lord with all his forgiveness. Jesus Christ is Lord with all his resurrected power and glory. Jesus Christ is Lord with his cross, with his testing, with his waiting, with his wrestling, with his humbling, with his exalting. Jesus is who Jesus is. We can’t pull him apart and take those things that we like best about him and dump the rest in the garbage.

Maybe one of the things that you don’t really like about Jesus is that he hasn’t healed you, or that he hasn’t healed someone that you love. If you could, you’d dump that part of him into the garbage. Well, my advice is that if you feel that way, then you should say that to him! We talked about this last week as well. Your prayers don’t need to be polite. God already knows how you feel, so you might as well be honest about it. More prayers are better, not less. Tell him what you want. God will hear your prayer.

However—and this is a big however—he might not answer your prayers the way you want or expect. He might not answer your prayers the way that you would want to require of him. “If I’m going to pray to you, then you better do what I want.”

This is true even in the cases of healing that we heard about in our Gospel reading. I doubt very much that that woman with the flow of blood prayed that she would suffer from her condition for twelve years, that she would spend all her money on doctors, that she would be the victim of medical malpractice. When she touched the hem of Jesus’s robe, that was when the time was right.

I doubt that the father and mother of that sick little girl prayed that they wouldn’t get their request to Jesus on time, that Jesus wouldn’t get there in time, and that their little girl would die. They didn’t pray that their little girl would lose all the color in her cheeks so that mother and father would cry rivers of tears. I’m sure they prayed, “O God! Save our daughter!” And he did—just not in the way that they were expecting.

Nevertheless, at the end of all of this, despite their tears and sorrows, I am sure that all of these people whom Jesus blessed were better off than if they had been healed in the way that they were expecting. God does better to us that we would ever do for ourselves. But to believe that requires faith. Our reason might have all kinds of things to say to the contrary.

We can easily apply this to ourselves and our desires. All of us have things we want from God. We should make our requests known to him, firmly believing that he will answer our prayers. If, for no other reason, we should be confident because we know that God has given us Jesus. Jesus is God’s most precious treasure. If God has given us Jesus, then he has to give us every good thing.

But here’s the thing: We don’t know how he will do it. We don’t know if it will take twelve years. We don’t know if we will lose all our money. We don’t know if we or that person you love will have to die first before the healing will take place. But it will take place. And it will be glorious. You will be better off on the other end than if God would do everything exactly the way you want him to do. But to believe that takes faith. May God grant you such faith! Amen.

Jesus said, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.”

240623 Sermon on lamenting to God (Pentecost 5) June 23, 2024

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“When I am weak, then I am strong.”

“Don’t you care that we are dying?” That’s what the disciples said. The wind was too strong. The waves were too high. Some of them were probably trying to use anything they could find to bail out the boat. They were fighting for their lives. What was Jesus doing? Sleeping. Didn’t he care?

Our Old Testament reading is from the book of Job. Job had been a very good man. He loved his family. He prayed for his kids every day. Then his life became miserable. His property was destroyed. His children were killed. He lost his health. Most of the book of Job is made up of conversations between Job and his friends. They discussed how God could do this to poor Job. Didn’t God care?

In both of these situations you can tell that there were some pretty raw emotions. When the disciples said, “Don’t you care that we are dying?” they were yelling so as to be heard above the wind and the waves. Job, also, in his discussions, said stuff like, “Why did you do this to me God?” and “I wish I had never been born.” They were fighting with God.

Fighting with God doesn’t seem like it should be a good idea, but this is one of many instances having to do with our relationship with God when we should not be led by our reason. We should let our reason take the lead with many things in life, but not with our relationship with God. Our reason has a surprising amount to say about the topic of God. We naturally have ideas about how things should be, how God should be, what he should do. Our reason says that God should act in such a way where we don’t ever have to fight with him. If we are fighting with him, then things must be really bad, our reason says.

The Scriptures speak differently. The greatest figures in the Bible struggle mightily with God. Think of Abraham. God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son, his only son, Isaac, whom he loved. What a fight Abraham must have had!

Think of Abraham’s grandson, Jacob. One night Jacob was at the lowest point in his life. He was pretty sure that at least half of his family was going to be annihilated the next day by his brother Esau and his men. Then, in the middle of the night, a strange man shows up out of nowhere so that Jacob had to fight for his life. This was God. And God played kind of dirty—he popped Jacob’s hip out of joint so that he walked with a limp the rest of his life. Jacob, though—that wonderful man—wouldn’t let God go until God blessed him. And God did bless him. God gave him his new name of “Israel,” which means “wrestler with God.” The people of God in the Old Testament came to be called by this name, Israel, which means “wrestler with God.”

There are almost countless other examples I could give you. Wrestling—fighting—with God is not forbidden. In fact, it seem to be how we grow. But it’s hard. It’s deeply unpleasant. We don’t want God to act in such a way where we have to wrestle with him. We want what those disciples undoubtedly wanted. We want smooth sailing forever. Each day should be better than the one before. But then suddenly, out of nowhere, a great windstorm arises and you are in a fight for your life.

What are you going to say about that when that happens? Is it just bad luck? Has the wheel of fortune landed on bankrupt? Does God exist? Would a good and omnipotent God do such awful things? These are the kinds of thoughts that our reason comes up with in order to avoid fighting with God. We want a nice life, and if God isn’t going to help us have a nice life, then be done with him.

But this is the worst thing that we can do. Even with human relationships, the lowest point is not when there is fighting and wrestling. The lowest point is when the person despises the other, won’t have anything to do with them. There’s no fighting. There’s no heart-to-heart. The best to be hoped for is polite chit-chat.

There is a way to have a kind of spiritual chit-chat with God, too. The politeness reveals something terrible—a huge distance between the person and God. God never commands us to be polite with him, nor do the examples from the Scriptures bear that out. The disciples were not polite with Jesus. They screamed at him: “Don’t you care that we are dying!” And Job too: “I wish that I had never been born. I wish I had died while I was still in my mother’s womb.” Those are ugly thoughts. They are accusatory too. “It’s your fault, God!” “Why did you do this?”

The many examples of the greatest figures in the Bible give us permission to open our hearts to God and let him have it. This is called lamentation. We have a book of the Bible that’s called Lamentations. We have psalms of lament. King David, the greatest of the psalmists, composed the saddest songs. He said stuff like, “God, why won’t you answer me?” and “Why have you forsaken me?” and “Turn away from your fierce anger and be merciful to me!”

One of the benefits of using the Psalms is that they teach us a much larger vocabulary for our prayers and praises. Our vocabulary is very often limited because our reason tells us we need to be polite. I could imagine that God might get sick of all this politeness, just like we get sick of the cold politeness we receive. God wants our heart. The greatest commandment is that we should love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind, and that we should love our neighbor as ourselves. We need to open ourselves up to him. Tell him what you really think. And that might mean that you will wrestle with him and fight with him.

And what can we expect to happen when we wrestle with God? Our reason is very interested in this question. We want what’s best for us, and so will this wrestling and fighting business make us better off? The answer is that we will be better off, but not the way we would expect. We expect that we will become stronger, but what the examples from the Scriptures reveal is that we will become weaker.

Jacob, for the rest of his days, walked with a limp. Job finished up his conversation with God by saying, “Therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” Consider the words that Jesus spoke in our Gospel reading. He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” Maybe before this ordeal they thought that they were doing pretty well, that they had a strong faith. After wrestling with God they discover that they had no faith at all.

Why should a person enter into a contest with God if it is only going to reveal one’s own weakness, helplessness, faithlessness, and so on? A person should do that because of this wonderful saying from St. Paul with which we began. He said, “When I am weak, then I am strong.” Paul knew that when he was weak then he was strong because God had said to him, “Don’t worry about your failings. My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

It’s God’s power that we want and need, not our own power. When I feel good or strong or righteous or whatever, that doesn’t mean that I really am those things. A windstorm could show up out of nowhere, and prove that to me. When I am weak, however, when I’m not relying upon myself, when I’m placing all my trust and hope in Jesus, then I am strong—even infinitely so, because Jesus is infinitely strong.

We see this play out in a wonderful way in our Gospel reading today. The disciples’ wrestling match with God—the disciple’s wrestling match with God’s wind and God’s waves—revealed that they were not as strong as they thought they were. Their terror during the ordeal revealed that their faith wasn’t as resilient as they thought it was.

But what does any of that matter? We don’t save ourselves by our own strength, nor do we save ourselves by our estimation of our own faith. Jesus saves! And through this experience the disciples were turned away from themselves and became completely captivated with Jesus. They tinkle with fear and say, “Who is this that even the wind and the sea obey him?” That is the spot to be in.

I know that for some of you terrible windstorms have come upon you. Out of nowhere the smooth sailing is over. Learn from the Scriptures what to do. The Bible teaches us a different way, as we have talked about today. Open your heart to the God who has wounded you. That takes a lot of courage! Don’t let him go until he gives you a blessing, and you will be blessed. As David says in Psalm 51, “The bones that God has broken will rejoice.”

“Cast all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” Amen.

240602 Sermon on why the Pharisees wanted to destroy Jesus (Pentecost 2) June 2, 2024

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“The Pharisees went out and immediately held counsel with the Herodians against Jesus, how to destroy him.”

Perhaps you’ve noticed before that there are some people who like laws and rules, and there are others who don’t. Those who like laws and rules usually also like organization. They like to have their things in their proper places. They like to be on-time. Those are nice things that can be said about them. There are also negative things that can generally be said about them. They can be unimaginative and boring. They can be judgmental and rude. Those who don’t like laws and rules as much can be somewhat the opposite. They are often more flexible. They can be more fun. But they might not be as good at organization or getting tasks done.

Between the two, I think those people are more highly valued who like laws and rules. They often make better employees. They do as they’re told. And if the meaning of life is to have a job or to make money, then these folks are better. They’re more productive.

Among many of the Jews at Jesus’s time the purpose of life was to follow the laws of Moses. That can be hard for us to imagine in our money-soaked culture, but so it was. There were Jews whose stated ambition was to follow God’s Law carefully and zealously. That doesn’t sound like it should ever be a bad thing, but as we heard in our Gospel reading, these people became Jesus’s enemies. They hated him and wanted to destroy him. Why? Because he didn’t follow their rules.

The rules that were especially at issue in our reading had to do with the third commandment: “Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy.” God commanded the Israelites not to work on the seventh day of the week. The Jews were extremely careful about keeping this commandment. They came up with well-organized lists of things that ought not be done because such things would be “work.” No work was to be done on the Sabbath.

You heard in our reading how the disciples were walking through the grainfields on the Sabbath. What were they doing? Work—according to the Pharisees. They were plucking heads of grain, rubbing off the chaff, and popping them into their mouths. They were harvesting and threshing.

And you might think that this is no big deal. It was just a few kernels. But you’d be wrong. Anyone who knows anything about rules knows that if you let them take an inch they’ll take a mile. These disciples were just harvesting a few kernels, but what if somebody else started to take handfuls? What’s to stop someone from getting out the sickle? Before you know it, the whole field has been harvested on the Sabbath! No! Nip it in the bud. Not even a single kernel is to be harvested on the Sabbath.

Then, in the second half of the reading, Jesus came into a synagogue on the Sabbath. There was a man whose hand was withered. They wondered whether Jesus might do the work of healing on the Sabbath. Lo and behold, he did! Just as they suspected. Jesus was a Sabbath-breaker.

We might understandably be critical of these Pharisees and immediately come to Jesus’s defense, but I think we can learn some important things if we look at the situation from their perspective. They were fully convinced that they were right. They were doing what they’d always been doing, and what they’d always been doing was to be extremely serious about the Sabbath. They liked to get things just right. They had read many books about it. They’d built up a vast knowledge of what was allowable, what was forbidden, and what might be in the middle. According to this vast knowledge they knew that Jesus was dead wrong.

This left them in a predicament—although it wasn’t really a predicament. Either they could forsake all their learning and all their practices and follow Jesus, or they could reject Jesus. It wasn’t a hard decision. Who was this Jesus anyway? Somebody from the sticks. Everybody knows that nothing good ever comes from Nazareth.

So the Pharisees were not troubled by their decision, but in point of fact they had made a terrible mistake. They believed that the world needed them and their organization. The world needed their books with all of their wisdom. They were wrong. The simplest Christian knows what the world needs. The world needs Jesus. Truth and goodness will only come through faith in him.

Jesus tried to help the Pharisees. He tried to show them that he was the Messiah, the Christ, the King. Jesus mentioned King David. King David and his disciples ate the showbread from the tabernacle that was supposed to be eaten only by the priests. The Jews had been waiting for someone like David, and here he was! Jesus and his disciples could take the liberty of plucking heads of grain just as David had taken liberty with the showbread.

Admittedly, that demonstration is a little subtle, but the other things Jesus said and did were not subtle at all. They were very direct. Jesus flat out said that he is the Son of Man—a messianic title. “The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath,” he said, referring to himself. And Jesus showed his power by healing the man’s withered hand. He produced a miracle to validate what he had been saying.  

But the Pharisees were blind. They weren’t literally blind, but what they should have seen they didn’t see. They should have seen that Jesus is the Christ, but they saw an enemy instead. They didn’t see a miracle; they saw a Sabbath-breaker. It’s like they were bewitched. Here Jesus was with all his grace and power, but all they care about are their stupid little rules. Their stupid little rules have never saved anyone, nor will they save anyone. There is only one Savior—Jesus of Nazareth. Everything else can and must be cast aside for this pearl of great price. There is no organization, no institution, no proud history that can stand in the way of the One whom God has sent. They were wrong.

Let’s now consider how this might apply to us. We can learn important things from these Pharisees who rejected Jesus. Imagine if Jesus would have taken a different tack with the Pharisees. Imagine if he come up to them and spoken their language, so to speak. What if he would have talked about how they, as the most fastidious Jews, were the real Jews. The other Jews were Jews-in-name-only. Those ignorant people didn’t even know what Rabbi Hillel had said about this or that... If Jesus would have talked with them like that, then Jesus would have been part of their club. They would have loved him as one of their own.

So it is with us. Imagine if Jesus were to sidle up to us and say, “I’ve been paying attention, and guess what? You’re the best. Yep. I love everything that you’ve been doing. Those other people—they just don’t get it. But you? You know what’s what. Keep up the good work!”

I think we might respond: “Well thanks Jesus! I always did think you were a pretty swell guy. I like how you think.”

Ridiculous! Jesus is God, not us. Jesus leads, Jesus teaches, and we follow; not the other way around. If we were to reverse this order it would be blindness and stupidity. If we were to reverse this order, then we would only agree with Jesus insofar as he already agrees with us. That is exactly what was going on with the Pharisees. They had no problem with Jesus except when he disagreed with them. When Jesus did disagree with them, they didn’t repent and change their minds. They went stubbornly ahead with their own thoughts and actions because they believed that they were right.

In our sad and decaying times the one thing that everybody has in common is that everybody believes they are right. The people on the right are completely convinced that they are right. The people on the left are completely convinced that they are right. The people in the middle are completely convinced that they are right. Everybody is completely right.

That isn’t surprising if you will think about yours. Nurturing the belief that we are so right and others are so wrong feels so good! We like that feeling. The Pharisees liked that feeling. It felt good to harrumph that Jesus was nothing but a lousy Sabbath-breaker. They enjoyed labeling Jesus as an evildoer. They enjoyed their hardness of heart.

Nobody has to force us into being blind and stupid, especially when it comes to the belief that we are right. We do that quite naturally. What is so unnatural that it requires a miracle of the Holy Spirit is for us to turn away from ourselves and the celebration of our own rightness, and to glorify, not ourselves, but the Son of God instead. That can be quite painful. These Pharisees would have needed to toss aside all those commentaries that they loved so much. They would have had to toss aside what made them most proud about themselves.

What beloved parts of your identity that you pride yourself upon need to be tossed aside?

Paul said that he regarded the best parts of himself to be a loss—the best parts of himself were garbage. These were not shameful things. They were things that others would admire, but Paul says they are garbage. Why? Why was Paul so hard on himself? Because knowing Jesus reveals that all that other stuff is garbage. Perhaps the things that we love best about ourselves are the exact things that we should most deeply repent. We aren’t prone to worship ourselves for the things we don’t like about ourselves. We are prone to worship the stuff we like. That makes us blind.

Open your eyes. The celebration of yourself will end badly. Glorify Jesus instead.

Jesus Christ is Lord! Amen.