THE EMPTY TOMB: A PLACE OF REMEMBERING
The Resurrection of Our Lord
March 27, 2016
Luke 24: 1-12
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and from our risen Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
It’s easy to get overwhelmed at Easter with the lilies, the Easter bonnets, the praise, the celebration of Christ’s victory. It’s easy to get overwhelmed. But when you listen to Luke tell the Easter story, he focuses your attention on one thing. Remembering.
Think of it. The first Easter was a swirl of activity and emotion. Women come to the tomb with spices and find that the tomb is open and the body of Jesus is gone. They come across men who dress like lightning. And when these men talk, they know what these women are doing: “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” They know what has happened: “He is not here, but has risen!” and they even know what has been done and said in their past: “Remember how He told you, while He was still with you in Galilee that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified and on the third day rise” (Luke 24:5–6). These men know these women even though the women have never seen them before in their lives. And in the midst of all of this commotion, what does Luke focus our attention upon? Luke, when he puts it all together, calls our attention to one simple act: “They remembered His words” (v. 8). That’s what Luke wants us to know this morning as we celebrate Easter. On that first Easter morning, when Jesus rose from the dead, in the midst of the wonder, the fear, and the worship, His people simply and faithfully did one single thing: “They remembered His words.”
God on Easter morning sent angels to the tomb to help His people remember, and this morning through His Word He helps us to remember as well. God has made the empty tomb a place of remembering for us this morning in order that we might truly rejoice in what Christ does for us on Easter.
But what kind of remembering is this? You see, memory does many things. Have you ever noticed how a person, friend or foe, can come into your life and with a few simple words change everything? They simply say, “I remember when you used to . . .” or “Do you remember when . . .” And in that remembering, things begin to change. That’s the power of memory. But how do things change? This morning, I would like to consider two ways in which remembering changes our lives.
Two types of remembering: that which takes you away from the present and that which brings you more fully into it. The question I have for you this morning is what kind of remembering happens at Easter? What happens when God comes among us today and, through His Word, helps us remember? Does He take us away from our present or bring us more fully into it?
For the women at the tomb, remembering the Lord’s words brings them more fully into the present. With the words of Jesus, they begin to understand the strange new world that surrounds them. Empty graves and men who dress like lightning. Angels who have been with you all of your life. These things make sense: Jesus had talked about a heavenly kingdom. The world is God’s, and God’s kingdom has come. Suddenly, life for these women has become worth living, and they run from the tomb to live fully in His grace.
Remembering, therefore, can bring us more fully into the present. But our world will tell you differently. Our culture shakes its head at us Christians. When we remember Easter, our culture acts as if we have entered the realm of the imagination and lost touch with the present. “A Savior rising from the dead? A world filled with sin and the devil and angels and demons? That’s a world with outmoded morality and strange views of creation and answers to questions that people no longer ask,” they say. “Too much of this and you will no longer be able to function. You won’t be able to enjoy the good life. You will not get ahead in business if you try that ‘love your neighbor’ kind of stuff.” That’s the world’s reaction. But this morning, we’ve learned that God’s ways are not our ways. His thoughts are not our thoughts. When He causes us to remember the resurrection, He does not take us away from this world and lock us up in some religious belief system that has no connection to the present. No, God sets us free to experience life today in His kingdom with deeper meaning.
Today, the Church remembers the death and resurrection of Jesus because this event makes life in this world richer and full of meaning. All of us have sins in our past that make us fearful about going on. Anger at your boss has fractured your working relationship. Gossip about co-workers has made friends your enemies. A broken marriage, a broken childhood, a broken relationship with God. These things come to mind, and we are uncertain how we can move on. It seems as if our past has destroyed our future. But God comes today and speaks to us. He says, “Remember My Son. Jesus. He gave His life for you. Your sins are forgiven. He has risen and rules and is now the author of life. Through Him, you are a child of My kingdom. In Him, you are a member of My family. With Him, your life is now part of My work in history.” When God makes His love known in Jesus, we are freed from our sins and live in God’s kingdom. Christ has risen. He has defeated death. He has overcome sin. He is the author of life. Now and forever. And when Jesus is the author of your life, every day deepens in meaning.
Did you notice in the Gospel that Luke stops in the middle of the story to give us the names of these women? Luke writes, “Returning from the tomb they told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women with them who told these things to the apostles” (vv. 9-11). Luke stops in the middle of the story to give us their names because these women have suddenly become something. They have become witnesses to the working of God. They went to the tomb as mourners, but now they come back as witnesses. They have names and a life experience and a story to tell.
When God graciously intervenes and brings people into His kingdom, He makes their lives relevant. People are relevant not because of anything in them or anything done by them but simply because they are God’s and they live in God’s world and God has a strange way of pouring out all that He has for the sake of reaching out to His world. Daily business is more than business: it is a vocation. The fragile moments of our lives are filled with a meaning beyond our making and a love beyond our strength. Our lives are in the hands of God, and there, in His hands, we become part of the way God is at work in the world. For us, as for these women, life becomes more meaningful because Christ has risen and sends us forth to live in His world by His grace.
Today, Luke proclaims the resurrection and asks us to remember. Remember the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In Him, you are forgiven. By Him, you have new life. With Him, your life is part of His unfolding kingdom. Yes, it is easy to get overwhelmed at Easter. That’s because this love of God . . . it’s overwhelming. Amen.
GOLGOTHA: A PLACE OF SIMPLE LOVE
Good Friday Tenebrae Service
3/25/2016
Luke 23: 44-49
Grace, mercy and peace to you on this most holy night from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Have you ever noticed how when people tell you directions, they tend to either use landmarks or science? The landmarkers are the ones who tell you what you “can’t miss.” “Just turn right at the big Walmart,” they say. “And then go down the street until you come to the big white fence. If you turn right, you’ll see an old ranch house with a big oak tree leaning across the front yard.” “You can’t miss it,” they say. Walmart and white fences and a big oak tree leaning across the front yard. These are directions for the landmarkers. On the other hand, you have the scientists. Although they aren’t all this bad, sometimes you need a compass. “Just go north on Bradley 3 miles until you reach Hampton. Then go west, until you reach the 2100 block, and turn south there.” Using landmarks or science, either way people seek to give you directions. But what they don’t know is that how they give directions creates a certain kind of following. For the scientists, you need a compass and street signs and a numbering system. For the landmarkers, however, you only look to what is obvious and you clearly find your way.
In his Gospel, Luke has been rather scientific in his approach. As he tells us about Christ’s birth, he opens for us the world of kings and kingdoms. It was in the days of “Caesar Augustus . . . while Quirinius was governor of Syria” that “all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem” (2:1-4). It is Luke who tells us approximately when Jesus began His ministry: it was around the time of John the Baptist, “in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being the governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip tetrarch of Ituraea and Traconitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas” (3:1-2). Luke, in telling us about the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, has been scientific in his approach. This creates a certain kind of following. We recognize these events as part of history. We read the Gospel, aware of the dynamics of the political situation. We try to discern the division of the kingdoms and the position and relative importance of the cities in the land.
But notice the difference tonight. When Luke moves to the crucifixion, he begins to use landmarks. He points to creation and to the temple. What he tells us touches the very foundation of life on this earth and eternal life with God. “It was now about the sixth hour,” he writes, “and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two” (23:44-45). You don’t need a map of the Holy Land to know what is happening at the crucifixion. You don’t need to be able to tell the difference between a governor and a tetrarch. No, Luke uses what is obvious so that anybody in the world can see what is happening and all will believe in the graciousness of God.
Luke speaks tonight for all who have ever been lost in a religious system. If you have ever been lost, listen to Luke. He points to something as important and central to religion as the temple. He says, to understand what is happening at this crucifixion, think about worshiping where a huge curtain separates the people from their God. When that temple curtain is ripped, you know something has happened. The way of worship has changed. God is no longer hidden from His people, needing to be reached by the blood of sacrifice. He does not need our religious activities, our efforts to find Him. He comes to us and forgives us by the death of His Son. Here is God’s simple love: on the cross, He opens the door to eternal forgiveness. Through the sacrifice of His Son, God opens to you His heart. Jesus suffers the punishment of sin that you might receive the love of God.
Do you still need directions? Luke points to something as universal as creation. He says that to understand what is happening at this crucifixion, you simply need to have lived in a world where the sun rises in the morning and makes its way from one side of the sky to the other. When it is the middle of the day, between the sixth and ninth hours, when the sun is in the middle of the sky and that sun stops shining, you know something has happened. The way of the world has changed. The power of darkness has come close to Jesus and, for a moment, creation bows its head and closes its eyes. There is night like no other: when Jesus dies for a fallen creation. But then there will be a morning like no other: when Jesus rises and brings about a new creation and a never-ending age. Jesus comes to you this night, takes the wrath of God for you, that you might awaken in a new creation. There, you will never faint or grow weary, for your God is alive. When Luke tells of the crucifixion of Jesus, he uses landmarks as important as worship and as universal as creation so that no one can miss the significance of this event.
But for those who need words, Luke offers one more landmark along the way. As Luke tells the story, there are many reactions to our Lord’s death. The crowds beat their breasts. The women stand afar off. And Joseph, a member of the council, asks Pilate for the body. Yet, in the midst of all of these, you have one strange reaction. The Roman centurion. Listen to what he says when he sees our Lord’s death. Luke writes, “The centurion, seeing what had happened, praised God and said, ‘Surely this was a righteous man’ ” (cf. v. 47). This is the only spoken word that Luke records between the crucifixion and the resurrection. When the lips of Jesus are silent in death, Luke records one voice. One voice in the face of deadly silence. You can’t miss it. And what does Luke call it? He calls it a word of praise. That’s what Luke writes. The centurion praised God.
Praise is what happened whenever Jesus performed wonders. When the miraculous occurred, people opened their mouths and praised God. The shepherds in the field saw heavenly wonders, ran to see Jesus, and opened their mouths in praise. The people of Nain attended a funeral. When Jesus raised a widow’s child from the dead, their mouths were opened in praise. A leper was healed and ran back to Jesus, a blind man finally saw and took a good look at his Lord. Their mouths were opened in praise. The miracles of Jesus led people to praise. And, now, when you would think that the time for miracles has passed; now, when you would think that all wonders are over; now, when Jesus is dead on a cross, Luke records a word of praise. Why? Because Luke wants you to see a wonder beyond all wonders. God has made a marvelous exchange. In exchange for your sin, He has given you His righteousness and, in the place of all sinners, He has punished a righteous man. Regardless of the complexity of your life, regardless of your decisions and indecisions, regardless of how many books for the spiritual life that you have upon your shelf, one thing remains certain: the righteousness of Jesus saves you from sin. The cross has become for us a place of praise. God looks at our lives, sees our sin, and yet chooses to call us righteous for the sake of His Son. This is His work, not ours. His obedience, not ours. His love, not ours. His grace, not ours. Only one voice is speaking, and it shares one simple truth: this was a righteous man and by His righteousness we are saved.
We live in a world filled with complexity, and in that complexity, it is easy for us to lose our focus. We try to balance our love for our children, our care for our parents, our love for our spouse, and our obligations at work. And in the midst of this, we don’t find easy answers. We struggle, we pray, we love truly, and we live sincerely. At times, we falter and lose our way. You don’t need to know us long to see our sin and our failures. You don’t need to be a genius to recognize our weakness. But, even when in our weakness we fall into sin, God remains a Savior bringing us salvation. As long as we live and as long as we struggle, there is one thing that does not change. You can point to my sin, but I can point to my Savior: Jesus. This one who died on the cross, He was a righteous man. And lest any should doubt, Luke has given all of the directions anyone would need. The heavens, the temple, and the people proclaim that here, tonight, on the cross is the glory of God. God has made this place, Golgotha, a place of praise. Tonight, God opens the kingdom of heaven. In Christ, He forgives you your sin. Take comfort in that certainty. Though our lives are complex, God has given us life in the death of His Son. For this simple saving love, we give thanks and praise. Amen.
THE LAST SUPPER: A PLACE OF FORGIVENESS
Maundy Thursday
3/24/2016
Luke 22: 7-23
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
We have moments in life when our world gets a little bit smaller. Oh, there may be no visible scars to mark your past, but we all carry scars from the things we have done. Then, in a moment, our world becomes smaller as we find ourselves surrounded by people who don’t know what we’ve done. We are intensely aware that we are alone here. Alone with our scars. We’ve had a failed marriage. We’re a recovering alcoholic. We have a parent we haven’t spoken to for a long time. We’ve fought with our children for so long that we don’t know how to begin again. Sin disrupts the lives of God’s people and leaves its scars. Then, when we gather, we are aware of how radically different it would all be if the people around us only knew. Our back tenses up, a polite smile masks our face, and we open our mouth, all the while thinking, “If you only knew where I’ve come from, what I’ve said, what I’ve done, you wouldn’t even be talking to me. If you only knew.”
Tonight is Holy Thursday, a time when we remember our Lord’s Last Supper and celebrate the Sacrament. As we do this, we gather in the presence of a God who does know. We draw near to worship a God who knows all about us. As you meditate upon our Lord’s Passion and come to receive His body and blood this evening, my prayer for you is that you experience the wonder that He knows and that this table is a place of forgiveness.
In Luke’s account of the Last Supper, he is very clear to let us know that Jesus knew about Judas. Like a movie where you see one person and then another and then both of them together, Luke joins Jesus and Judas in this account. First, he points to Judas. Luke tells us the Feast of Passover is approaching and Judas goes to the rulers to betray Jesus. This was the Passover preparation of Judas-betraying his Lord. Then, Luke points to Jesus. He tells us the day of Passover has come and Jesus sends Peter and John to locate the room where He will eat His Passover meal. This was the Passover preparation of Jesus-preparing a table for His disciples. Then, Luke brings Jesus and Judas together. Luke tells us that the hour of Passover has come. We have moved from Passover approaching to the day of Passover and now to the hour of the feast. Luke sets before us Jesus and Judas and the Passover table. And here is where Luke tells us that Judas is in the presence of a God who knows. At the Passover table, Jesus says, “the hand of him who betrays Me is with Me on the table” (22:21). “I know,” Jesus says. “Judas, I know.”
How did the disciples react to this knowledge? They had an argument. Luke tells us that the disciples began to argue among themselves. Which one of them was it? Here, at the conclusion of a religious celebration, the disciples are involved in an argument about sin. Typical, huh? Most rumors in churches rise out of similar questions. Someone talks about an unnamed member who once had a gambling problem, and everyone wonders, “Who is she? Who is he talking about?” Somebody says, “I would like to pray for someone here who is having marital problems” and the questions and the gossip and the quarreling begins. And soon, the spiritual work of God is set aside and everyone is digging around in everyone else’s closet looking for the certainty of sin that is present there. So Luke shows us disciples no longer looking to Jesus but looking among themselves. And that’s what happens. In the shadow of wrongdoing, we become engrossed in seeking out the certainty of sin.
But not Jesus. That is what is so amazing about this Last Supper. Jesus knows about this evil. He begins the meal by talking about His suffering, and He closes the meal by talking about His betrayal. Yet in the face of certain evil, Jesus does not try to keep Judas away from His disciples. He doesn’t turn His disciples against Judas, and He doesn’t run to another city in fear. In the face of certain evil, Jesus does the certain work of God. Yes, one will betray Him and another will deny Him and all will fall away. But in the midst of all that is wrong and weak and evil about human flesh, there remains one other thing that is true: God is alive. His love is certain. And this night, the kingdom of God is coming into the world. In the face of certain evil, Jesus offers certain forgiveness. “This is My body, which is given for you. . . . this cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in My blood” (vv. 19-20).
The freeing of Israel from slavery. That’s what the Jewish people remembered in the Passover. Tonight, however, Jesus calls His disciples to remember Him. He is their freedom. In Him is the new covenant. In Him is eternal love. In Him, sin, death, and the power of the devil are destroyed. In His body, He will bear the punishment of our sins on the cross. With His blood, He will claim us as His own so that the angel of death sheathes His sword. In this body and blood are eternal forgiveness, and as often as we eat this body and drink this cup we proclaim the benefits of the Lord’s death for all people until He comes.
There, at this Last Supper, we see the gracious work of God among His disciples. Here, in the Lord’s Supper, we see the gracious work of God among us tonight. Yes, we come tonight with scars, with parts of our lives that we’d rather not remember. There are things we have done that make us say, “if you only knew.” For all of us, God knows. He sees and knows, and tonight we confess to Him the certainty of our sin. But tonight, God comes and proclaims the certainty of your salvation. In the death of His Son, He has forgiven your sin. In His body and blood, He comes tonight to assure you of the certainty of His love. Here, you are no longer known as a sinner; you are known and acknowledged as a child of God. Tonight, God prepares a place for you at His table. A place of forgiveness. Come. I invite you to experience the wonder that happens when God knows all about you: He chooses to know you only through the gracious work of His Son.
Tonight, we have a Savior who invites us with wounded hands to His table. With these wounds, He continually reminds us of a love that our God will never forget. These scars are the marks of a God who truly knows His creatures, knows their suffering, their sin, and the punishment of their death. But these scars are also on the hands of the risen Savior. He carries these with Him, after death. They communicate His perfect love. So, you see your scars. You wonder what would happen “if anyone really knew.” Well, know this. God does know. But He knows you in love, because of the death and resurrection of His Son. For this reason, Jesus invites you to His table this evening. A place of forgiveness. He comes to feed you. To forgive you. To cover your scars with His wounded hands. To cover you with the wonder of His love. Amen.
Palm Sunday
Palm Sunday/ Sunday of the Passion
3/20/2016
Philippians 2: 5-11
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Have this mind in yourself, which was also in Christ Jesus: be humble. To be proud, to think more of yourself than you should, to expect others to serve and admire you, or to despair of your worth, to hate your body and what God has given, is to engage in idolatry. Both errors make you the center of attention. Christ was humble but He did not despise Himself any more than He despised His neighbor. Rather, His humility acted itself out in patience and obedience in love for His Father and His neighbor.
This is the humility that you are called to: a humility of patience and obedience, a humility that serves. We live, however, in a narcissistic, hedonistic age. Obedience is seen as weakness. Patience is derided as fear. Humility is considered almost to be a vice. This is not just a problem for pagan Americans. This is a problem for us all. Repent.
Christ was humble. Though He existed before all creation in the Eternal Godhead, He did not cling with all His might to the prerogatives and privileges of His divinity. In love, He was ready to divest Himself of the glories of heaven, to take our mortal nature upon Himself even though it meant for Him pain like no other mortal has ever endured. He humbled Himself. He took up our flesh. He joined our cause. He became a mortal, subject to betrayal, torture, and death.
In this great humility, He remained steadfast in His obedience. That obedience would not allow Him to consider calling forth the holy angels to fight in His defense and it certainly wouldn’t allow Him to come down from the cross or heal Himself. Nor would it allow Him to give in to anger or take any honor. In obedience to His Father, He submitted to evil, petty men, to kangaroo courts, for the sake of the very men who condemned and murdered Him. He submitted to their execution. It was not a common death, such as we might hope for. The Lord was beaten and whipped and crucified. He died not only with torture of body and soul, but also with the deepest shame. For He died as the lowest malefactor, the worst and most despicable of men. He was counted with kidnappers, with treasonous soldiers who shoot their comrades, and with men who carry out their perversions by violence.
Let this mind, this obedience and patience, be also in you. Do not hold your honor or privileges as essential. Submit in love. Serve your neighbor, your wife, your children. Do not be lazy at work and do not gossip about your co-workers. Turn the other cheek.
And know this: to follow the example of Christ’s humility is also to participate in His resurrection. The Father, who forsook Him on the cross and made Him an oblation and holocaust for our salvation, also raised Him to preeminent height. He gave Him the Name above all names, above all dignities and titles. His prerogatives and privileges have all been restored along with His equality, but He does not leave behind His assumed humanity. He is raised from the dead, Body and Soul, and the Name above all names, above all dignities and titles, that to which every creature will bow, is the human Name: Jesus. That Name means “the Lord, Yahweh, saves.” Along with the marks left by nails and spear, it is His greatest glory and honor to be called not just the “Lord who is,” or even “the Lord who provides,” but to be called “the Lord who saves”: Jesus.
Your God is a Man, crucified and risen and ascended for you. You then are not just a creature, indistinct from whales and chimpanzees, an animal trying to find your way in this world. You are His beloved, the One He sought and rescued at terrible price. The earth, the sun and stars, the entire Universe is here to serve you. Though you were a little lower than the angels, you are elevated in Him to the inner sanctum of the Holy Trinity. You call His Father your Father and His Spirit your Spirit and He, Himself, is your Brother and your Bridegroom. You are the reason the earth is not destroyed and your repentance is the cause of angelic rejoicing.
It turns out that obedience to His Law is not a burden: it is joy and a privilege to be part of His Kingdom. Patience is not a cross: it is a blessing and a building anticipation. For the Christian, the very Bride of Christ, humility is purest honor. “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zechariah 9:9, ESV). Amen.
We Were Lost. Now We Are Found
Fourth Sunday in Lent
3/6/2016
Luke 15: 11-32
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
This parable stands before us as “the pearl of parables,” “the gospel in the gospel” of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is the last of three parables. First comes the lost sheep; then the lost coin; and then this, the lost, or prodigal, son. These parables all illustrate that God seeks unworthy men to love and to save. They were spoken especially to the Pharisees because the Pharisees did not like the company that our Lord kept. St. Luke records, “And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, ‘This man receives sinners and eats with them’” (Luke 15:2). Our Lord responded to that complaint with these parables—ours the last, and most poignant, of the three. They are meant to explain why Jesus receives and eats with sinners and to shame the Pharisees for their failure to love their neighbors.
The parable of the prodigal son, as it is commonly known, is, in fact, an allegorical history of man. It shows man in his innocence, in his rebellion, and, finally, in his redemption. It is an allegory of conversion, but it is also an allegory of the life of Christ because the life of Christ and the lives of His children are closely intermingled. The life Christ lived, He lived as the new Adam. The parable shows the ready character of divine grace. The Lord wants to take us back again. It is also a description of what it is to be a Christian, to repent and return and to find that it was God who was working on you all along.
The parable is also a kind of poem. Its refrain, “My son was dead, and is alive again, was lost, and is found,” rings forever as the great song and joy of heaven. The angels rejoice over one sinner who repents, and they are nearly as happy, as giddy, as the Father Himself when a prodigal returns. Of course, it is we who were dead and are alive, who were lost and are found, who should be overcome with joy and laughter. But as in all things, our joy pales in comparison to those whose will is perfectly at one with the Father. We are the beneficiaries, but they appreciate it and are happier for it than we are. Such are the mysteries of heaven.
This parable is also prophetic. It speaks directly to us. It both reproves and encourages us, for we have been the prodigal son, and we have also been the elder brother. The parable is both Law and Gospel for the prodigal son. He should repent and stop being wasteful and stupid, but the father loves him with forgiveness and acceptance. It is also Law and Gospel for the elder brother. He is tempted to jealousy and judging, but he also is invited into the feast by the father’s grace.
The parable receives a particularly bright light by being set alongside the account of Jacob’s deception of Isaac. Grace comes to unfaithful sons and usurping liars, not to those who have a claim by birth or by works. For us Gentiles in particular, Jacob is our patron saint, the lesser, the second born, the usurper, the lying, unfaithful son who gets the blessing that belongs to another. We get the blessing that belongs to the blessing that belongs to another. We get the blessing that belongs to the faithful Son, Jesus. We are welcomed back to the feast despite our sins.
Whatever we have been-wasteful or judgmental, lying or arrogant-let us now again be repentant. He who is found, and found alive, is welcomed back into His Father’s embrace in perfect, unexpected grace. We were lost. We are found. We were dead. We are now alive. The feast is before us. The Father has come out to entreat us, to beckon us to come and eat. Let us eat. Amen.
Tempted in the Wilderness
McConnellsburg Lutheran Parish
Invocabit- 1st Sunday in Lent
2/14/2016
Gospel Text: Luke 4: 1-13
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Beware O Christian! This devil, Job’s ancient accuser, who so sublimely led our first parents into death has been honing his craft for a very long time. Repent. You are no match for him. Return to the Lord your God. Too often this devil’s lies have found upon us willing ears, his seduction an easy mark in our wayward hearts. Repent. For now is the Day of Salvation. No man knows what the future holds. Tomorrow may be too late.
Repent, but do not be sad. Do not be afraid. For there is an escape. There is grace. God, born of Mary, wearing your flesh, your Brother, is like you, but not like you. He obeyed. He did not fall. He did not succumb to temptation. He overcame the Tempter. And that, not merely in the desert, but in the city as well, and in the back-water Galilean villages, at the sinners’ tables, in the synagogue, and in the Temple. Then, at last, He faced that old serpent in the fiercest showdown of all time on a hill just outside of Jerusalem, home of the prophet martyrs, the city of peace when Melchizadek prayed and offered sacrifices, from when King David ruled.
And there, take heed O Christian, there, it “seemed” as though the whole thing had been for naught! For surely He led a blameless life and never sinned, but there on the cross with brutal force and undisguised glee, in malicious violence, Satan through his evil agents drove the nails into the hands and feet of Immanuel, and put Him to death! It “seemed” as though Satan had won. It “seemed” as though the victory in the desert did not last. It still “seems” that way today. The devil and his demons work hard, after all, at making “seems” seem like reality. But the Truth is that in that seeming defeat, that dark hour of God’s death, the ransom was paid, atonement made, the lost found, and heaven opened! The Son of man was glorified and coronated as our King.
He rose the Victor. Death released the Lord of Life. And after parading through Hell—so that whatever lies Satan might peddle, he himself would have no excuse of not knowing or understanding that he had most certainly lost that showdown—the Lord appeared to the faithful, and to the unfaithful. He ate with them. He taught them. He blessed them. He forgave them. And He gave them His Victory. For He had won it for them—and for us.
And so it is, that even as our Lord battled the devil in the desert, battled him across the promised land, battled him through death and into Hell that those prison bars which held us were broken down, so still, He wages this holy war for us in us. He fights for His children against that same foe inside His children. And still the battle is fought, as it always has been, with, and for, the Word of God.
Temptation is always temptation to break God’s Word, to go against it. God says: “Do this,” or “Don’t do that.” And the devil says: “Oh, come on now! That is not practical. You’re being a prude, old-fashioned, no fun. Surely God didn’t really mean it. And even if He did then it is only because He is holding out on you. What kind of a God is He, anyway? I thought He was supposed to love you.” This is the way he attacked Adam and Eve in the garden. It is the way he attacked our Lord in the desert. It is the way he attacks each of us here and now. Eve could not bear the assault. Adam failed to protect her. He, and she, gave in, and became children of Satan and you are the seed of their loins. But the Second Adam, the perfect Adam, suffered these temptations also. And He did not fail. He overcame. He lived the perfect life of faith and with nothing more than the Word, He drove the devil back.
This Word is stronger than the strong man. It is more nourishing, more essential to life, than bread itself. It can command the mountains into the sea, or call down fire from heaven. After all, it called the sun, the stars, the moon, indeed all things, into being. This Word is a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path. It leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. It reveals the God of Abraham to us poor sinners and makes us a people- a people belonging to God.
Christ, our Lord, our Captain, our Hero, our King, has succeeded when Adam failed. He does not stand idly by as Satan and his legions taunt you with their siren songs of destruction and death. For Christ intervenes. He shields you, His beloved, but weak, Eve. He protects and defends you. He attacks those who would harm you. He goes in your place, overcomes what you and Eve could not.
He did not need to do this for Himself. He did it for you. He removes death’s sting, the grave’s morbid victory. The roaring lion who once terrified you is now but a barking dog with no bite. His teeth, his claws have been removed. He is chained to his own torture which will never end. And he cannot have you. He can harm you none. For you have a Master, a King, a Benefactor, and a Protector. You bear the Name He placed upon you in Baptism. You belong to Him. Not just because He made you, but also because He bought you.
So be forewarned. Be prepared. Make yourself ready for warfare, ready for sneak attacks, and dirty underhanded tricks. Make yourself ready by eating and drinking the provisions provided by God’s grace, that which He has given and shed for you. Open your ears. Hear the Word of God. Pray that He would strengthen and sustain you in the days to come. Pray, lest you fall into temptation. And learn to pray once again, O Christians, the pray He taught, the prayer He gave. And learn to pray as the early Church so fervently prayed, “Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly!”
As the author of Hebrews writes: “Seeing then that we have a great High Priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:14-1). Amen.
In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The Conversation of Heaven
McConnellsburg Lutheran Parish
The Transfiguration of our Lord
2/6/2016
Gospel Text: Luke 9: 28-36
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
What is the conversation of heaven? What did Peter, James, and John overhear Moses, Elijah, and the Messiah discuss on the Mount of Transfiguration? Jesus' departure, His exodus from this world, the laying down of His life in perfect obedience to the Law to appease His Father's wrath and in perfect love for His neighbor to welcome them into His Grace. Heaven is obsessed with this. Heaven loves it, devotes itself to it, talks of nothing else. There is, therefore, a somewhat unfortunate line in the Palm Sunday hymn "Ride on, Ride on" where speaking of Our Lord's looming crucifixion the holy angels are said to "look on with sad and wondering eyes." They are not sad. They rejoice over one sinner who repents. The thought of God's sacrifice does not fill them with sadness. It fills them with joy for they love the holy works of God, they love God being God, God keeping His Word. And nothing is more holy, nothing is more essential to who God is, than God in the Flesh lifted up from the earth on Hellish sticks in order to draw all men unto Himself. That is what they sang about in Bethlehem. It is what they, along with all of creation, had been waiting for. Neither were Moses or Elijah shy about this during their time on earth. They certainly weren't shy about it in heaven. For there in heaven, having come to faith's reward, they love the works of God as much as the angels do. They love the Messiah they foretold. They love the keeping of the Promise, the pouring forth of innocent blood to make men clean. It is what they waited for while on earth, what they hoped, what they prayed, why they praised God and now in heaven they love it more than anything, more than they thought possible. So why is it that the thought of Our Lord's demise so often fills us with sadness? Why is it that we have even felt guilty about it? Maybe even preferring Easter to Good Friday? Have we been somewhat ashamed, maybe a little afraid of it? Do we like the symbols of our faith sanitized and rated "G", without blood, without agony, without a body pierced through on the cross? Why? I suppose it is for the same reason St. Peter had for wanting to stay on the Mount of Transfiguration. We see but dimly, as in a mirror, not yet fully comprehending who our God is for us and barely scratching the surface of His great love. We're caught up in our own tragedies, enduring secret battles, suffering under temptation and the evil that is all around us. The devil, the world, and our sinful nature do not want us to hallow God's Name or let His kingdom come. They would deceive and mislead us. And from the perspective of all that, from inside the skin of sinful men, from the pain, frustration, and sorrow that beset us on every side, Our Lord's crucifixion seems like just another injustice, just another unnecessary bit of sorrow, just another life cut short that failed to live up to its potential, one more lonely widow, one more failed friendship, one more shattered dream. But we are sorely mistaken when we think that way. Such ideas only add to our troubles. That is the talk of the devil. For the injustice Our Lord suffered He suffered of His own will. He does not regret it. He is not ashamed of it. He was a victim, a Sacrifice, but He was also the Priest. No one took His life from Him. He laid it down of His own accord. What this cost Him we can scarcely imagine, for Life Himself to endure death, for the truly Righteous Man to become sin, to suffer the agony in His soul for the guilt of betraying Himself, of misusing His own Name, of caving in to peer pressure or being seduced by depraved pleasures of the flesh, to be guilty, truly guilty for our sins, and to be forsaken by His Father because of them, this is pain far beyond our imaginations or abilities to comprehend. The stress was so great His sweat fell as blood in the garden. No other man, not even the saddest victim of torture in the worst place on earth, has ever suffered so. But He did not flinch. He did not turn away. He did not complain. He took it upon Himself to be the Messiah, the One who remembers His people and calls them by Name, the One in whom the Father is well-pleased, the One who saves. He is the Redeemer. He is full of love. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. And He desires nothing so much as the salvation of your soul, and nothing pleases Him so much as the thought of spending eternity with you in perfect bliss. That is what held Him to the cross. He hung there in agony and sorrow, with bloody sweat in His eyes. He was glad to do it for you. Now we stand on the edge of Lent. For 40 days the Church will catechize us in the way of the cross. We will contemplate Our Lord's bitter suffering and death. We will fast from our Hallelujahs and who knows what else. We will prepare ourselves, body and soul, to celebrate the victory on Good Friday and the opening of the earth's womb on Easter Sunday. Let us not then be gloomy and despondent. But like Peter, James, and John, let us be encouraged and strengthened by the conversation of heaven. Heaven is not sad. The cross of Jesus Christ is nothing to cry about. This is how He loved us, and your crosses will soon be lifted as well.
In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The Resurrection of Our Lord
March 27, 2016
Luke 24: 1-12
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and from our risen Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
It’s easy to get overwhelmed at Easter with the lilies, the Easter bonnets, the praise, the celebration of Christ’s victory. It’s easy to get overwhelmed. But when you listen to Luke tell the Easter story, he focuses your attention on one thing. Remembering.
Think of it. The first Easter was a swirl of activity and emotion. Women come to the tomb with spices and find that the tomb is open and the body of Jesus is gone. They come across men who dress like lightning. And when these men talk, they know what these women are doing: “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” They know what has happened: “He is not here, but has risen!” and they even know what has been done and said in their past: “Remember how He told you, while He was still with you in Galilee that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified and on the third day rise” (Luke 24:5–6). These men know these women even though the women have never seen them before in their lives. And in the midst of all of this commotion, what does Luke focus our attention upon? Luke, when he puts it all together, calls our attention to one simple act: “They remembered His words” (v. 8). That’s what Luke wants us to know this morning as we celebrate Easter. On that first Easter morning, when Jesus rose from the dead, in the midst of the wonder, the fear, and the worship, His people simply and faithfully did one single thing: “They remembered His words.”
God on Easter morning sent angels to the tomb to help His people remember, and this morning through His Word He helps us to remember as well. God has made the empty tomb a place of remembering for us this morning in order that we might truly rejoice in what Christ does for us on Easter.
But what kind of remembering is this? You see, memory does many things. Have you ever noticed how a person, friend or foe, can come into your life and with a few simple words change everything? They simply say, “I remember when you used to . . .” or “Do you remember when . . .” And in that remembering, things begin to change. That’s the power of memory. But how do things change? This morning, I would like to consider two ways in which remembering changes our lives.
Two types of remembering: that which takes you away from the present and that which brings you more fully into it. The question I have for you this morning is what kind of remembering happens at Easter? What happens when God comes among us today and, through His Word, helps us remember? Does He take us away from our present or bring us more fully into it?
For the women at the tomb, remembering the Lord’s words brings them more fully into the present. With the words of Jesus, they begin to understand the strange new world that surrounds them. Empty graves and men who dress like lightning. Angels who have been with you all of your life. These things make sense: Jesus had talked about a heavenly kingdom. The world is God’s, and God’s kingdom has come. Suddenly, life for these women has become worth living, and they run from the tomb to live fully in His grace.
Remembering, therefore, can bring us more fully into the present. But our world will tell you differently. Our culture shakes its head at us Christians. When we remember Easter, our culture acts as if we have entered the realm of the imagination and lost touch with the present. “A Savior rising from the dead? A world filled with sin and the devil and angels and demons? That’s a world with outmoded morality and strange views of creation and answers to questions that people no longer ask,” they say. “Too much of this and you will no longer be able to function. You won’t be able to enjoy the good life. You will not get ahead in business if you try that ‘love your neighbor’ kind of stuff.” That’s the world’s reaction. But this morning, we’ve learned that God’s ways are not our ways. His thoughts are not our thoughts. When He causes us to remember the resurrection, He does not take us away from this world and lock us up in some religious belief system that has no connection to the present. No, God sets us free to experience life today in His kingdom with deeper meaning.
Today, the Church remembers the death and resurrection of Jesus because this event makes life in this world richer and full of meaning. All of us have sins in our past that make us fearful about going on. Anger at your boss has fractured your working relationship. Gossip about co-workers has made friends your enemies. A broken marriage, a broken childhood, a broken relationship with God. These things come to mind, and we are uncertain how we can move on. It seems as if our past has destroyed our future. But God comes today and speaks to us. He says, “Remember My Son. Jesus. He gave His life for you. Your sins are forgiven. He has risen and rules and is now the author of life. Through Him, you are a child of My kingdom. In Him, you are a member of My family. With Him, your life is now part of My work in history.” When God makes His love known in Jesus, we are freed from our sins and live in God’s kingdom. Christ has risen. He has defeated death. He has overcome sin. He is the author of life. Now and forever. And when Jesus is the author of your life, every day deepens in meaning.
Did you notice in the Gospel that Luke stops in the middle of the story to give us the names of these women? Luke writes, “Returning from the tomb they told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women with them who told these things to the apostles” (vv. 9-11). Luke stops in the middle of the story to give us their names because these women have suddenly become something. They have become witnesses to the working of God. They went to the tomb as mourners, but now they come back as witnesses. They have names and a life experience and a story to tell.
When God graciously intervenes and brings people into His kingdom, He makes their lives relevant. People are relevant not because of anything in them or anything done by them but simply because they are God’s and they live in God’s world and God has a strange way of pouring out all that He has for the sake of reaching out to His world. Daily business is more than business: it is a vocation. The fragile moments of our lives are filled with a meaning beyond our making and a love beyond our strength. Our lives are in the hands of God, and there, in His hands, we become part of the way God is at work in the world. For us, as for these women, life becomes more meaningful because Christ has risen and sends us forth to live in His world by His grace.
Today, Luke proclaims the resurrection and asks us to remember. Remember the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In Him, you are forgiven. By Him, you have new life. With Him, your life is part of His unfolding kingdom. Yes, it is easy to get overwhelmed at Easter. That’s because this love of God . . . it’s overwhelming. Amen.
GOLGOTHA: A PLACE OF SIMPLE LOVE
Good Friday Tenebrae Service
3/25/2016
Luke 23: 44-49
Grace, mercy and peace to you on this most holy night from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Have you ever noticed how when people tell you directions, they tend to either use landmarks or science? The landmarkers are the ones who tell you what you “can’t miss.” “Just turn right at the big Walmart,” they say. “And then go down the street until you come to the big white fence. If you turn right, you’ll see an old ranch house with a big oak tree leaning across the front yard.” “You can’t miss it,” they say. Walmart and white fences and a big oak tree leaning across the front yard. These are directions for the landmarkers. On the other hand, you have the scientists. Although they aren’t all this bad, sometimes you need a compass. “Just go north on Bradley 3 miles until you reach Hampton. Then go west, until you reach the 2100 block, and turn south there.” Using landmarks or science, either way people seek to give you directions. But what they don’t know is that how they give directions creates a certain kind of following. For the scientists, you need a compass and street signs and a numbering system. For the landmarkers, however, you only look to what is obvious and you clearly find your way.
In his Gospel, Luke has been rather scientific in his approach. As he tells us about Christ’s birth, he opens for us the world of kings and kingdoms. It was in the days of “Caesar Augustus . . . while Quirinius was governor of Syria” that “all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem” (2:1-4). It is Luke who tells us approximately when Jesus began His ministry: it was around the time of John the Baptist, “in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being the governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip tetrarch of Ituraea and Traconitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas” (3:1-2). Luke, in telling us about the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, has been scientific in his approach. This creates a certain kind of following. We recognize these events as part of history. We read the Gospel, aware of the dynamics of the political situation. We try to discern the division of the kingdoms and the position and relative importance of the cities in the land.
But notice the difference tonight. When Luke moves to the crucifixion, he begins to use landmarks. He points to creation and to the temple. What he tells us touches the very foundation of life on this earth and eternal life with God. “It was now about the sixth hour,” he writes, “and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two” (23:44-45). You don’t need a map of the Holy Land to know what is happening at the crucifixion. You don’t need to be able to tell the difference between a governor and a tetrarch. No, Luke uses what is obvious so that anybody in the world can see what is happening and all will believe in the graciousness of God.
Luke speaks tonight for all who have ever been lost in a religious system. If you have ever been lost, listen to Luke. He points to something as important and central to religion as the temple. He says, to understand what is happening at this crucifixion, think about worshiping where a huge curtain separates the people from their God. When that temple curtain is ripped, you know something has happened. The way of worship has changed. God is no longer hidden from His people, needing to be reached by the blood of sacrifice. He does not need our religious activities, our efforts to find Him. He comes to us and forgives us by the death of His Son. Here is God’s simple love: on the cross, He opens the door to eternal forgiveness. Through the sacrifice of His Son, God opens to you His heart. Jesus suffers the punishment of sin that you might receive the love of God.
Do you still need directions? Luke points to something as universal as creation. He says that to understand what is happening at this crucifixion, you simply need to have lived in a world where the sun rises in the morning and makes its way from one side of the sky to the other. When it is the middle of the day, between the sixth and ninth hours, when the sun is in the middle of the sky and that sun stops shining, you know something has happened. The way of the world has changed. The power of darkness has come close to Jesus and, for a moment, creation bows its head and closes its eyes. There is night like no other: when Jesus dies for a fallen creation. But then there will be a morning like no other: when Jesus rises and brings about a new creation and a never-ending age. Jesus comes to you this night, takes the wrath of God for you, that you might awaken in a new creation. There, you will never faint or grow weary, for your God is alive. When Luke tells of the crucifixion of Jesus, he uses landmarks as important as worship and as universal as creation so that no one can miss the significance of this event.
But for those who need words, Luke offers one more landmark along the way. As Luke tells the story, there are many reactions to our Lord’s death. The crowds beat their breasts. The women stand afar off. And Joseph, a member of the council, asks Pilate for the body. Yet, in the midst of all of these, you have one strange reaction. The Roman centurion. Listen to what he says when he sees our Lord’s death. Luke writes, “The centurion, seeing what had happened, praised God and said, ‘Surely this was a righteous man’ ” (cf. v. 47). This is the only spoken word that Luke records between the crucifixion and the resurrection. When the lips of Jesus are silent in death, Luke records one voice. One voice in the face of deadly silence. You can’t miss it. And what does Luke call it? He calls it a word of praise. That’s what Luke writes. The centurion praised God.
Praise is what happened whenever Jesus performed wonders. When the miraculous occurred, people opened their mouths and praised God. The shepherds in the field saw heavenly wonders, ran to see Jesus, and opened their mouths in praise. The people of Nain attended a funeral. When Jesus raised a widow’s child from the dead, their mouths were opened in praise. A leper was healed and ran back to Jesus, a blind man finally saw and took a good look at his Lord. Their mouths were opened in praise. The miracles of Jesus led people to praise. And, now, when you would think that the time for miracles has passed; now, when you would think that all wonders are over; now, when Jesus is dead on a cross, Luke records a word of praise. Why? Because Luke wants you to see a wonder beyond all wonders. God has made a marvelous exchange. In exchange for your sin, He has given you His righteousness and, in the place of all sinners, He has punished a righteous man. Regardless of the complexity of your life, regardless of your decisions and indecisions, regardless of how many books for the spiritual life that you have upon your shelf, one thing remains certain: the righteousness of Jesus saves you from sin. The cross has become for us a place of praise. God looks at our lives, sees our sin, and yet chooses to call us righteous for the sake of His Son. This is His work, not ours. His obedience, not ours. His love, not ours. His grace, not ours. Only one voice is speaking, and it shares one simple truth: this was a righteous man and by His righteousness we are saved.
We live in a world filled with complexity, and in that complexity, it is easy for us to lose our focus. We try to balance our love for our children, our care for our parents, our love for our spouse, and our obligations at work. And in the midst of this, we don’t find easy answers. We struggle, we pray, we love truly, and we live sincerely. At times, we falter and lose our way. You don’t need to know us long to see our sin and our failures. You don’t need to be a genius to recognize our weakness. But, even when in our weakness we fall into sin, God remains a Savior bringing us salvation. As long as we live and as long as we struggle, there is one thing that does not change. You can point to my sin, but I can point to my Savior: Jesus. This one who died on the cross, He was a righteous man. And lest any should doubt, Luke has given all of the directions anyone would need. The heavens, the temple, and the people proclaim that here, tonight, on the cross is the glory of God. God has made this place, Golgotha, a place of praise. Tonight, God opens the kingdom of heaven. In Christ, He forgives you your sin. Take comfort in that certainty. Though our lives are complex, God has given us life in the death of His Son. For this simple saving love, we give thanks and praise. Amen.
THE LAST SUPPER: A PLACE OF FORGIVENESS
Maundy Thursday
3/24/2016
Luke 22: 7-23
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
We have moments in life when our world gets a little bit smaller. Oh, there may be no visible scars to mark your past, but we all carry scars from the things we have done. Then, in a moment, our world becomes smaller as we find ourselves surrounded by people who don’t know what we’ve done. We are intensely aware that we are alone here. Alone with our scars. We’ve had a failed marriage. We’re a recovering alcoholic. We have a parent we haven’t spoken to for a long time. We’ve fought with our children for so long that we don’t know how to begin again. Sin disrupts the lives of God’s people and leaves its scars. Then, when we gather, we are aware of how radically different it would all be if the people around us only knew. Our back tenses up, a polite smile masks our face, and we open our mouth, all the while thinking, “If you only knew where I’ve come from, what I’ve said, what I’ve done, you wouldn’t even be talking to me. If you only knew.”
Tonight is Holy Thursday, a time when we remember our Lord’s Last Supper and celebrate the Sacrament. As we do this, we gather in the presence of a God who does know. We draw near to worship a God who knows all about us. As you meditate upon our Lord’s Passion and come to receive His body and blood this evening, my prayer for you is that you experience the wonder that He knows and that this table is a place of forgiveness.
In Luke’s account of the Last Supper, he is very clear to let us know that Jesus knew about Judas. Like a movie where you see one person and then another and then both of them together, Luke joins Jesus and Judas in this account. First, he points to Judas. Luke tells us the Feast of Passover is approaching and Judas goes to the rulers to betray Jesus. This was the Passover preparation of Judas-betraying his Lord. Then, Luke points to Jesus. He tells us the day of Passover has come and Jesus sends Peter and John to locate the room where He will eat His Passover meal. This was the Passover preparation of Jesus-preparing a table for His disciples. Then, Luke brings Jesus and Judas together. Luke tells us that the hour of Passover has come. We have moved from Passover approaching to the day of Passover and now to the hour of the feast. Luke sets before us Jesus and Judas and the Passover table. And here is where Luke tells us that Judas is in the presence of a God who knows. At the Passover table, Jesus says, “the hand of him who betrays Me is with Me on the table” (22:21). “I know,” Jesus says. “Judas, I know.”
How did the disciples react to this knowledge? They had an argument. Luke tells us that the disciples began to argue among themselves. Which one of them was it? Here, at the conclusion of a religious celebration, the disciples are involved in an argument about sin. Typical, huh? Most rumors in churches rise out of similar questions. Someone talks about an unnamed member who once had a gambling problem, and everyone wonders, “Who is she? Who is he talking about?” Somebody says, “I would like to pray for someone here who is having marital problems” and the questions and the gossip and the quarreling begins. And soon, the spiritual work of God is set aside and everyone is digging around in everyone else’s closet looking for the certainty of sin that is present there. So Luke shows us disciples no longer looking to Jesus but looking among themselves. And that’s what happens. In the shadow of wrongdoing, we become engrossed in seeking out the certainty of sin.
But not Jesus. That is what is so amazing about this Last Supper. Jesus knows about this evil. He begins the meal by talking about His suffering, and He closes the meal by talking about His betrayal. Yet in the face of certain evil, Jesus does not try to keep Judas away from His disciples. He doesn’t turn His disciples against Judas, and He doesn’t run to another city in fear. In the face of certain evil, Jesus does the certain work of God. Yes, one will betray Him and another will deny Him and all will fall away. But in the midst of all that is wrong and weak and evil about human flesh, there remains one other thing that is true: God is alive. His love is certain. And this night, the kingdom of God is coming into the world. In the face of certain evil, Jesus offers certain forgiveness. “This is My body, which is given for you. . . . this cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in My blood” (vv. 19-20).
The freeing of Israel from slavery. That’s what the Jewish people remembered in the Passover. Tonight, however, Jesus calls His disciples to remember Him. He is their freedom. In Him is the new covenant. In Him is eternal love. In Him, sin, death, and the power of the devil are destroyed. In His body, He will bear the punishment of our sins on the cross. With His blood, He will claim us as His own so that the angel of death sheathes His sword. In this body and blood are eternal forgiveness, and as often as we eat this body and drink this cup we proclaim the benefits of the Lord’s death for all people until He comes.
There, at this Last Supper, we see the gracious work of God among His disciples. Here, in the Lord’s Supper, we see the gracious work of God among us tonight. Yes, we come tonight with scars, with parts of our lives that we’d rather not remember. There are things we have done that make us say, “if you only knew.” For all of us, God knows. He sees and knows, and tonight we confess to Him the certainty of our sin. But tonight, God comes and proclaims the certainty of your salvation. In the death of His Son, He has forgiven your sin. In His body and blood, He comes tonight to assure you of the certainty of His love. Here, you are no longer known as a sinner; you are known and acknowledged as a child of God. Tonight, God prepares a place for you at His table. A place of forgiveness. Come. I invite you to experience the wonder that happens when God knows all about you: He chooses to know you only through the gracious work of His Son.
Tonight, we have a Savior who invites us with wounded hands to His table. With these wounds, He continually reminds us of a love that our God will never forget. These scars are the marks of a God who truly knows His creatures, knows their suffering, their sin, and the punishment of their death. But these scars are also on the hands of the risen Savior. He carries these with Him, after death. They communicate His perfect love. So, you see your scars. You wonder what would happen “if anyone really knew.” Well, know this. God does know. But He knows you in love, because of the death and resurrection of His Son. For this reason, Jesus invites you to His table this evening. A place of forgiveness. He comes to feed you. To forgive you. To cover your scars with His wounded hands. To cover you with the wonder of His love. Amen.
Palm Sunday
Palm Sunday/ Sunday of the Passion
3/20/2016
Philippians 2: 5-11
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Have this mind in yourself, which was also in Christ Jesus: be humble. To be proud, to think more of yourself than you should, to expect others to serve and admire you, or to despair of your worth, to hate your body and what God has given, is to engage in idolatry. Both errors make you the center of attention. Christ was humble but He did not despise Himself any more than He despised His neighbor. Rather, His humility acted itself out in patience and obedience in love for His Father and His neighbor.
This is the humility that you are called to: a humility of patience and obedience, a humility that serves. We live, however, in a narcissistic, hedonistic age. Obedience is seen as weakness. Patience is derided as fear. Humility is considered almost to be a vice. This is not just a problem for pagan Americans. This is a problem for us all. Repent.
Christ was humble. Though He existed before all creation in the Eternal Godhead, He did not cling with all His might to the prerogatives and privileges of His divinity. In love, He was ready to divest Himself of the glories of heaven, to take our mortal nature upon Himself even though it meant for Him pain like no other mortal has ever endured. He humbled Himself. He took up our flesh. He joined our cause. He became a mortal, subject to betrayal, torture, and death.
In this great humility, He remained steadfast in His obedience. That obedience would not allow Him to consider calling forth the holy angels to fight in His defense and it certainly wouldn’t allow Him to come down from the cross or heal Himself. Nor would it allow Him to give in to anger or take any honor. In obedience to His Father, He submitted to evil, petty men, to kangaroo courts, for the sake of the very men who condemned and murdered Him. He submitted to their execution. It was not a common death, such as we might hope for. The Lord was beaten and whipped and crucified. He died not only with torture of body and soul, but also with the deepest shame. For He died as the lowest malefactor, the worst and most despicable of men. He was counted with kidnappers, with treasonous soldiers who shoot their comrades, and with men who carry out their perversions by violence.
Let this mind, this obedience and patience, be also in you. Do not hold your honor or privileges as essential. Submit in love. Serve your neighbor, your wife, your children. Do not be lazy at work and do not gossip about your co-workers. Turn the other cheek.
And know this: to follow the example of Christ’s humility is also to participate in His resurrection. The Father, who forsook Him on the cross and made Him an oblation and holocaust for our salvation, also raised Him to preeminent height. He gave Him the Name above all names, above all dignities and titles. His prerogatives and privileges have all been restored along with His equality, but He does not leave behind His assumed humanity. He is raised from the dead, Body and Soul, and the Name above all names, above all dignities and titles, that to which every creature will bow, is the human Name: Jesus. That Name means “the Lord, Yahweh, saves.” Along with the marks left by nails and spear, it is His greatest glory and honor to be called not just the “Lord who is,” or even “the Lord who provides,” but to be called “the Lord who saves”: Jesus.
Your God is a Man, crucified and risen and ascended for you. You then are not just a creature, indistinct from whales and chimpanzees, an animal trying to find your way in this world. You are His beloved, the One He sought and rescued at terrible price. The earth, the sun and stars, the entire Universe is here to serve you. Though you were a little lower than the angels, you are elevated in Him to the inner sanctum of the Holy Trinity. You call His Father your Father and His Spirit your Spirit and He, Himself, is your Brother and your Bridegroom. You are the reason the earth is not destroyed and your repentance is the cause of angelic rejoicing.
It turns out that obedience to His Law is not a burden: it is joy and a privilege to be part of His Kingdom. Patience is not a cross: it is a blessing and a building anticipation. For the Christian, the very Bride of Christ, humility is purest honor. “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zechariah 9:9, ESV). Amen.
We Were Lost. Now We Are Found
Fourth Sunday in Lent
3/6/2016
Luke 15: 11-32
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
This parable stands before us as “the pearl of parables,” “the gospel in the gospel” of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is the last of three parables. First comes the lost sheep; then the lost coin; and then this, the lost, or prodigal, son. These parables all illustrate that God seeks unworthy men to love and to save. They were spoken especially to the Pharisees because the Pharisees did not like the company that our Lord kept. St. Luke records, “And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, ‘This man receives sinners and eats with them’” (Luke 15:2). Our Lord responded to that complaint with these parables—ours the last, and most poignant, of the three. They are meant to explain why Jesus receives and eats with sinners and to shame the Pharisees for their failure to love their neighbors.
The parable of the prodigal son, as it is commonly known, is, in fact, an allegorical history of man. It shows man in his innocence, in his rebellion, and, finally, in his redemption. It is an allegory of conversion, but it is also an allegory of the life of Christ because the life of Christ and the lives of His children are closely intermingled. The life Christ lived, He lived as the new Adam. The parable shows the ready character of divine grace. The Lord wants to take us back again. It is also a description of what it is to be a Christian, to repent and return and to find that it was God who was working on you all along.
The parable is also a kind of poem. Its refrain, “My son was dead, and is alive again, was lost, and is found,” rings forever as the great song and joy of heaven. The angels rejoice over one sinner who repents, and they are nearly as happy, as giddy, as the Father Himself when a prodigal returns. Of course, it is we who were dead and are alive, who were lost and are found, who should be overcome with joy and laughter. But as in all things, our joy pales in comparison to those whose will is perfectly at one with the Father. We are the beneficiaries, but they appreciate it and are happier for it than we are. Such are the mysteries of heaven.
This parable is also prophetic. It speaks directly to us. It both reproves and encourages us, for we have been the prodigal son, and we have also been the elder brother. The parable is both Law and Gospel for the prodigal son. He should repent and stop being wasteful and stupid, but the father loves him with forgiveness and acceptance. It is also Law and Gospel for the elder brother. He is tempted to jealousy and judging, but he also is invited into the feast by the father’s grace.
The parable receives a particularly bright light by being set alongside the account of Jacob’s deception of Isaac. Grace comes to unfaithful sons and usurping liars, not to those who have a claim by birth or by works. For us Gentiles in particular, Jacob is our patron saint, the lesser, the second born, the usurper, the lying, unfaithful son who gets the blessing that belongs to another. We get the blessing that belongs to the blessing that belongs to another. We get the blessing that belongs to the faithful Son, Jesus. We are welcomed back to the feast despite our sins.
Whatever we have been-wasteful or judgmental, lying or arrogant-let us now again be repentant. He who is found, and found alive, is welcomed back into His Father’s embrace in perfect, unexpected grace. We were lost. We are found. We were dead. We are now alive. The feast is before us. The Father has come out to entreat us, to beckon us to come and eat. Let us eat. Amen.
Tempted in the Wilderness
McConnellsburg Lutheran Parish
Invocabit- 1st Sunday in Lent
2/14/2016
Gospel Text: Luke 4: 1-13
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Beware O Christian! This devil, Job’s ancient accuser, who so sublimely led our first parents into death has been honing his craft for a very long time. Repent. You are no match for him. Return to the Lord your God. Too often this devil’s lies have found upon us willing ears, his seduction an easy mark in our wayward hearts. Repent. For now is the Day of Salvation. No man knows what the future holds. Tomorrow may be too late.
Repent, but do not be sad. Do not be afraid. For there is an escape. There is grace. God, born of Mary, wearing your flesh, your Brother, is like you, but not like you. He obeyed. He did not fall. He did not succumb to temptation. He overcame the Tempter. And that, not merely in the desert, but in the city as well, and in the back-water Galilean villages, at the sinners’ tables, in the synagogue, and in the Temple. Then, at last, He faced that old serpent in the fiercest showdown of all time on a hill just outside of Jerusalem, home of the prophet martyrs, the city of peace when Melchizadek prayed and offered sacrifices, from when King David ruled.
And there, take heed O Christian, there, it “seemed” as though the whole thing had been for naught! For surely He led a blameless life and never sinned, but there on the cross with brutal force and undisguised glee, in malicious violence, Satan through his evil agents drove the nails into the hands and feet of Immanuel, and put Him to death! It “seemed” as though Satan had won. It “seemed” as though the victory in the desert did not last. It still “seems” that way today. The devil and his demons work hard, after all, at making “seems” seem like reality. But the Truth is that in that seeming defeat, that dark hour of God’s death, the ransom was paid, atonement made, the lost found, and heaven opened! The Son of man was glorified and coronated as our King.
He rose the Victor. Death released the Lord of Life. And after parading through Hell—so that whatever lies Satan might peddle, he himself would have no excuse of not knowing or understanding that he had most certainly lost that showdown—the Lord appeared to the faithful, and to the unfaithful. He ate with them. He taught them. He blessed them. He forgave them. And He gave them His Victory. For He had won it for them—and for us.
And so it is, that even as our Lord battled the devil in the desert, battled him across the promised land, battled him through death and into Hell that those prison bars which held us were broken down, so still, He wages this holy war for us in us. He fights for His children against that same foe inside His children. And still the battle is fought, as it always has been, with, and for, the Word of God.
Temptation is always temptation to break God’s Word, to go against it. God says: “Do this,” or “Don’t do that.” And the devil says: “Oh, come on now! That is not practical. You’re being a prude, old-fashioned, no fun. Surely God didn’t really mean it. And even if He did then it is only because He is holding out on you. What kind of a God is He, anyway? I thought He was supposed to love you.” This is the way he attacked Adam and Eve in the garden. It is the way he attacked our Lord in the desert. It is the way he attacks each of us here and now. Eve could not bear the assault. Adam failed to protect her. He, and she, gave in, and became children of Satan and you are the seed of their loins. But the Second Adam, the perfect Adam, suffered these temptations also. And He did not fail. He overcame. He lived the perfect life of faith and with nothing more than the Word, He drove the devil back.
This Word is stronger than the strong man. It is more nourishing, more essential to life, than bread itself. It can command the mountains into the sea, or call down fire from heaven. After all, it called the sun, the stars, the moon, indeed all things, into being. This Word is a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path. It leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. It reveals the God of Abraham to us poor sinners and makes us a people- a people belonging to God.
Christ, our Lord, our Captain, our Hero, our King, has succeeded when Adam failed. He does not stand idly by as Satan and his legions taunt you with their siren songs of destruction and death. For Christ intervenes. He shields you, His beloved, but weak, Eve. He protects and defends you. He attacks those who would harm you. He goes in your place, overcomes what you and Eve could not.
He did not need to do this for Himself. He did it for you. He removes death’s sting, the grave’s morbid victory. The roaring lion who once terrified you is now but a barking dog with no bite. His teeth, his claws have been removed. He is chained to his own torture which will never end. And he cannot have you. He can harm you none. For you have a Master, a King, a Benefactor, and a Protector. You bear the Name He placed upon you in Baptism. You belong to Him. Not just because He made you, but also because He bought you.
So be forewarned. Be prepared. Make yourself ready for warfare, ready for sneak attacks, and dirty underhanded tricks. Make yourself ready by eating and drinking the provisions provided by God’s grace, that which He has given and shed for you. Open your ears. Hear the Word of God. Pray that He would strengthen and sustain you in the days to come. Pray, lest you fall into temptation. And learn to pray once again, O Christians, the pray He taught, the prayer He gave. And learn to pray as the early Church so fervently prayed, “Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly!”
As the author of Hebrews writes: “Seeing then that we have a great High Priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:14-1). Amen.
In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The Conversation of Heaven
McConnellsburg Lutheran Parish
The Transfiguration of our Lord
2/6/2016
Gospel Text: Luke 9: 28-36
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
What is the conversation of heaven? What did Peter, James, and John overhear Moses, Elijah, and the Messiah discuss on the Mount of Transfiguration? Jesus' departure, His exodus from this world, the laying down of His life in perfect obedience to the Law to appease His Father's wrath and in perfect love for His neighbor to welcome them into His Grace. Heaven is obsessed with this. Heaven loves it, devotes itself to it, talks of nothing else. There is, therefore, a somewhat unfortunate line in the Palm Sunday hymn "Ride on, Ride on" where speaking of Our Lord's looming crucifixion the holy angels are said to "look on with sad and wondering eyes." They are not sad. They rejoice over one sinner who repents. The thought of God's sacrifice does not fill them with sadness. It fills them with joy for they love the holy works of God, they love God being God, God keeping His Word. And nothing is more holy, nothing is more essential to who God is, than God in the Flesh lifted up from the earth on Hellish sticks in order to draw all men unto Himself. That is what they sang about in Bethlehem. It is what they, along with all of creation, had been waiting for. Neither were Moses or Elijah shy about this during their time on earth. They certainly weren't shy about it in heaven. For there in heaven, having come to faith's reward, they love the works of God as much as the angels do. They love the Messiah they foretold. They love the keeping of the Promise, the pouring forth of innocent blood to make men clean. It is what they waited for while on earth, what they hoped, what they prayed, why they praised God and now in heaven they love it more than anything, more than they thought possible. So why is it that the thought of Our Lord's demise so often fills us with sadness? Why is it that we have even felt guilty about it? Maybe even preferring Easter to Good Friday? Have we been somewhat ashamed, maybe a little afraid of it? Do we like the symbols of our faith sanitized and rated "G", without blood, without agony, without a body pierced through on the cross? Why? I suppose it is for the same reason St. Peter had for wanting to stay on the Mount of Transfiguration. We see but dimly, as in a mirror, not yet fully comprehending who our God is for us and barely scratching the surface of His great love. We're caught up in our own tragedies, enduring secret battles, suffering under temptation and the evil that is all around us. The devil, the world, and our sinful nature do not want us to hallow God's Name or let His kingdom come. They would deceive and mislead us. And from the perspective of all that, from inside the skin of sinful men, from the pain, frustration, and sorrow that beset us on every side, Our Lord's crucifixion seems like just another injustice, just another unnecessary bit of sorrow, just another life cut short that failed to live up to its potential, one more lonely widow, one more failed friendship, one more shattered dream. But we are sorely mistaken when we think that way. Such ideas only add to our troubles. That is the talk of the devil. For the injustice Our Lord suffered He suffered of His own will. He does not regret it. He is not ashamed of it. He was a victim, a Sacrifice, but He was also the Priest. No one took His life from Him. He laid it down of His own accord. What this cost Him we can scarcely imagine, for Life Himself to endure death, for the truly Righteous Man to become sin, to suffer the agony in His soul for the guilt of betraying Himself, of misusing His own Name, of caving in to peer pressure or being seduced by depraved pleasures of the flesh, to be guilty, truly guilty for our sins, and to be forsaken by His Father because of them, this is pain far beyond our imaginations or abilities to comprehend. The stress was so great His sweat fell as blood in the garden. No other man, not even the saddest victim of torture in the worst place on earth, has ever suffered so. But He did not flinch. He did not turn away. He did not complain. He took it upon Himself to be the Messiah, the One who remembers His people and calls them by Name, the One in whom the Father is well-pleased, the One who saves. He is the Redeemer. He is full of love. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. And He desires nothing so much as the salvation of your soul, and nothing pleases Him so much as the thought of spending eternity with you in perfect bliss. That is what held Him to the cross. He hung there in agony and sorrow, with bloody sweat in His eyes. He was glad to do it for you. Now we stand on the edge of Lent. For 40 days the Church will catechize us in the way of the cross. We will contemplate Our Lord's bitter suffering and death. We will fast from our Hallelujahs and who knows what else. We will prepare ourselves, body and soul, to celebrate the victory on Good Friday and the opening of the earth's womb on Easter Sunday. Let us not then be gloomy and despondent. But like Peter, James, and John, let us be encouraged and strengthened by the conversation of heaven. Heaven is not sad. The cross of Jesus Christ is nothing to cry about. This is how He loved us, and your crosses will soon be lifted as well.
In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.