Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, A+D 2010

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Listen to the parable Jesus teaches. It's a story about a father. About a father's outrageous grace, a grace that forgives and forgets everything. A story about the Father's overwhelming joy, His joy at finding what was lost.

There once was a man with two sons. The younger son was kind of a jerk. He didn't have the patience to wait for his father to die to get his inheritance. He wants his inheritance NOW and so one day he goes to his dad and demands his share of the inheritance up front. It's unprecedented, it's not very kind... but it's what the younger son does. And his father gives in.

And so the younger son, this irresponsible son, takes his windfall of cash and does what most young, irresponsible young men do when they come into a bunch of money. He travels. He lives large. He parties. And in the process, of course... blows all the money on reckless living.

It's then that famine strikes. Hunger, unemployment, economic depression, maybe a stock market crash. In despair, the young man hires himself out to a local pig farmer, which is about as low as it gets for a good Jewish boy! It's the lowest of the low.
Finally, when the second son realizes he's actually jealous of what the pigs are eating, that he comes to his senses. "I will ... go to my father," He decides, "and ... say to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants" (vv.18-19). Anyway, that's the plan. The boy sets out for home. And he makes the long journey home, still reeking of pigs, rehearsing his little speech.

It's at the very end of this journey, as he's cresting the final hill on the road home to his father, that his father sees him. His dad has been standing in front of the house and looking down the road, as he had every day, wondering, hoping, praying. He sees the lonely figure straggling down the road. He sees the shuffling gait. It may lack the self-confident swagger of the young man who set out from home with a fat wad of cash in his pocket, but it is unmistakably his son.

Joy. The father takes off running down the road, his heart pounding with joy. Nearly knocks the boy over as he throws his arms around his neck and kisses him. The young man can barely breathe in his father's bear hug. He tries to say his little speech. "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I'm no longer worthy to be called your son." But he doesn't get far. Before he even gets to the part about being a hired hand, the father is ordering up the son's best robe, a signet ring. Bring some shoes for this boy's feet. Kill the prize calf and prepare a feast. "For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found" (v.24).

Do you see the Father's grace? Do you see the extravagant mercy of a Father, a Father who's so lavish with his grace that he runs down the road to embrace a rebellious son— a rebellious son who wished him dead, who wasted his inheritance, who smells like a pig. The stunning thing is that, even in the pig pen, the boy never ceases to be his father's son. And there's no room in his father's embrace for cutting a deal. At most, it's simply a confession.

Notice, by the way, that the father doesn't check to make sure the boy is really good and sorry and promises never to do it again! He's too busy putting on the robe and the ring and the sandals and the food. He is rejoicing. He wants to celebrate with his family and friends.

How many times, my dear friends in Christ, have you been the younger son? Sinful by nature, constantly taking God's eternal inheritance for granted? Wasting your inheritance, wallowing in the pig pen of sin and calling it a life, trying to live independently of God, wishing Him dead? Even though it may seem at times like you can't go home again, not with what you've done... Even though it seems like you can't go home again, not with the way you've treated God, not with the way your life smells.... well... Jesus' parable reminds you that you can always come home to the open embrace of a Father who's ready to forgive.

The parable reminds us that God never disowns his children— not even for a second. God the Father is always ready to rejoice with us, to forgive us. God the Father has, in fact, forgiven you already, even before you confess your sin! His forgiveness is already embracing you! He's already putting the robe of righteousness on your shoulders. He's already slipping the ring of sonship on your finger (see Gal 3:26-27).

We have all been the younger son. The good news is that you don't need to make a deal with Him... not with the loving Father who loved so much that He gave His own Son Jesus to die for your sins on the cross! All there is? is the father's embrace... the robe and the ring and the sandals and the feast... and the rejoicing— a party to end all parties for no other reason except God's joy that you are home. Home in the arms of a merciful God the Father who loves you.

This is the outrageous, the "filled-with-joy," the "hard-to-imagine" grace of God. It's also an outrageous, prodigal grace that knows no bounds and which —sadly— is so offensive to the religious. "The Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, 'This man receives sinners and eats with them' " (v.2). I mean, "people should have to earn their way back into favor." "If you want forgiveness," they say, "after all you've done, it shouldn't be that easy, and you certainly shouldn't throw a party for these kinds of deadbeats. They need to be taught a lesson, instead." Remember, in Jesus' parable, the man had TWO sons. The older son, the respectable son, was in the field, doing his work, as he always did. When he hears the revelry, he called a servant who tells him about how his brother has come home and how his father is celebrating (v.27).

Does the older brother, too, rejoice? No— he's not joyful; he's furious. He stalks off in a rage and refuses to come in. So his father comes out to him. Just as the father had run out to meet his youngest on the road, so he comes out to meet his firstborn in the fields. "Won't you come to the party?" he asked. But the older son is angry, bitter, enraged. "Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!"

Did you catch exactly what the older brother said? He amplifies his brother's sin to make himself look good. As Jesus told the story, the younger son wasted his inheritance with reckless living. The older brother spices things up a bit and says it was with prostitutes. He emphasizes and exaggerates his brother's sins and over-emphasizes his own goodness and worth. How often we build the cathedrals of our religion out of the specks from our brother's eye! (Matt. 7:3–5).

God's grace, you see? In Jesus? It's so prodigal (it's so outrageous), it angers us. "I've gone to church my whole life," we think, "and this guy who's done nothing but party and live for himself, who never set foot one inside a church can confess Jesus on his deathbed and get the same inheritance!" The deadbeat son gets a robe, a ring, good shoes and a feast!?!!!

The father speaks tenderly to his older son: "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found' " (vv.31-32). Put aside your anger, your self-righteousness, your indignation.... and rejoice! Rejoice in the Father's grace! Rejoice in His mercy and forgiveness!

And there, of course, the parable ends. The scene fades and the credits roll. What do you think? Will the religious older son join the party? Will he recognize that he is just as lost in the field as his deadbeat little brother was in the pig pen? Will he put aside his thinking that he's somehow better than his brother and realize that no one gets what they deserve. That if you want to get what you deserve, you can skip the party and go straight to hell? That God gives His grace freely? That God rejoices over all sinners who repent and come to Christ for forgiveness?

Or will he exclude himself from the party because he can't stand the idea of a father who operates by grace? Will we? For we are that son, too. Will we come in? Or will we look down our religious noses on others who just can't seem to get it right? Will we rejoice at the prodigal goodness, the recklessly extravagant goodness of our Father? At the Father who wants all of his sons and daughters (the good, the bad, the religious and the unreligious) at his party? The funny thing about all this— all that indignation, that "holier-than-thou" attitude we like to adopt, that "I'm better because I do this... or don't do that" posture we pretend to— the funny thing is, it just hurts ourselves. Let's drop the anger and indignation and come in. Come into the party. Come in and rejoice with a Father who longs to have all His lost children be found and alive in Christ.

God "desires all to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth" (1 Tim. 2:4). God wants all to come to repentance, "not wishing that any should perish" (2 Pet. 3:9). The joyous good news, our reason for rejoicing is that God our Father is crazy about the lost— like a crazy shepherd who leaves the 99 for one lost sheep, like a crazy woman who wastes a whole day searching for one lost coin. Like the prodigal father who welcomes the lost son with open arms. God is passionate about sinners. He welcomes them; He eats with them. The Lamb is slain, the wine is flowing, the feast is ready. The lost are found in the death of Jesus. Now THAT'S a reason to rejoice! In the name of Jesus, Amen.

The peace of God which surpasses all understanding, guard and keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Sermon for the Third Sunday in Lent, A+D 2010

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Hurricanes and earthquakes. What do we do? [pause] When the heavens roar and the earth shakes, when tragedy strikes, and you're not a policeman or a Guardsman, when you're there sitting in your living room watching the hurt and the heartache and pain of others... what do you do? How do God's people respond to suffering and death?

This question was on the minds of those who came to Jesus, as we read in Luke 13. They came to Jesus and told Him about a religious and political atrocity— some Galileans who were murdered in the temple as they brought their sacrifices forward to the priest. Their own blood mingled with that of the sacrifice they were bringing. "What do you think, Jesus? Isn't that outrageous?" "Shouldn't we do something?"

"Well... I don't know," Jesus says. "Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered in this way?" (v.2). In other words, what do you think? Do sin and suffering go together, like crime and punishment? If you act badly, will you at some point have to pay the piper? And by the same token, if something bad does happen to you, doesn't that mean that you must have done something to deserve it? It's pretty simple moral arithmetic. In the book of Job, that's how the three friends analyzed Job's misery. Since he's suffering, he must have sinned. That's also how Jesus' disciples reacted to a man born blind. "Who sinned, this man or his parents?"

After tragedies, whether they be manmade or natural (terrorists or tornados), there are always some who will point the finger at all those "sinners" out there who brought this calamity on themselves. After the earthquake in Haiti last month, maybe you heard about how Pat Robertson blamed the earthquake on the Haitans making some sort of "pact with the devil?" I mean, this is wrong, but yet it's something we all have a tendency to do, to try to read the headlines like tea leaves, trying to figure out "what God is trying to tell us."

What about the Galileans? Jesus was asked. "What do you think of this tragedy, Jesus?" "Is God on our side our not?" "Why did God let this happen?" I love the way Jesus answers. Knowing how politically charged the Galilean issue was, knowing that some would rightly blame the Galileans because of their political activities, Jesus neatly sidesteps it. "Forget about the Galileans and Pontius Pilate for a second," He says. "What about the tower in Siloam that toppled over and killed eighteen people?" The insurance companies call those things "acts of God." Freakish accidents. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Again, Jesus poses the question: "What do you think? Do you think they were worse offenders than all the others who lived in Jerusalem?"

That's a tough one, isn't it? A random tower randomly toppling on random people? "Innocent" people in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have happened to anyone. The ground starts to shake in Haiti and Chili... a deadly bus crash kills student athletes... a pain in your throat turns out to be a malignant tumor. And we wonder why? Why does this happen? What does this mean? What's God trying to tell us? How do we respond?

"Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish." The response to sudden and tragic death, Jesus tells us —whether political, religious, manmade or natural— is repentance. To repent is to re-think, to come to a different mind. To repent is to recognize... recognize that death, even tragic death, isn't the worst thing that can happen to you. Death is the sign that things are not right between God and us. "The wages of sin is death" (Rom. 6:23) and unless we repent, we will be worse off than the Galileans Pilate had executed and worse off than those eighteen bystanders killed by the collapsed tower.

The issue, you see, isn't about who sinned, or who deserved what? The issue is God's justice! The issue is what we deserve. Ezekiel 18? "The soul that sins will die" (v.20)? That's God's justice! "The free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus" (Rom. 6:23)? That's God's mercy. God hates sin and kills the sinner... that is His justice. God also forgives sin and redeems the sinner because of Jesus. That is God's mercy.

"How could God allow those noble Galileans to die?" "How could He allow His temple to be desecrated?" Behind that thinking is the idea that people should get what they deserve. But stop and think—  do you really want God to dish out this justice to you? And if you think that would be a good idea, maybe you haven't spent enough Lenten time with the ten commandments. Look into their mirror of God's Law, and then ask yourself, "Do I really want to get what I deserve?" Because hell is where people get what they deserve.

By contrast, however, the great Christian truth is that in God's mercy, Jesus Christ got what we deserve. First Thessalonians 5: "God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ" (v.9)... Jesus Christ, "who died for us" (v.10). According to God's Law, we get what we deserve. But according to God's mercy, according to God's love, Jesus got what we deserve, and we receive forgiveness.

To repent, then, means to stop! Stop trying to justify ourselves. Stop trying to make our case before the bar of divine justice. Once we saw God as judge and ourselves as good, upright, religious people deserving justice from a just God. But now in repentance, our minds are changed; our viewpoint is changed. We see God as Savior and ourselves as sinners seeking mercy. And we trust the promise of God in the death and resurrection of Jesus, that by the blood of Jesus undeserving sinners like you and I... are forgiven!

Jesus drives the point home with a parable. A man plants a fig tree. It lives, it grows, but it never bears fruit. In frustration, the owner, who is the spokesman for God's justice, says, "This tree is worthless. No figs?!? It's a waste of good soil and space. It doesn't even give any decent shade. Cut it down." That's how it is with the Law– produce or die. Every favor to those who keep the commandments. But if you fail, well, the axe is laid to the root my friend (Luke 3:9). That's how the Law works. The good are rewarded, the bad are punished. It sounds good until you realize that we are the fruitless fig tree. that the axe is about to be swung at our root.

The gardener, though, who is the spokesman for God's mercy, has a different plan. "Hold on. Put the axe down for a minute. I've got an idea. Let's forgive it its lack of fruit. "Let's forgive the tree," he says. "Instead of chopping it down, I'll dig around its roots and put on some fertilizer and we'll see what happens." That's how it goes with God's mercy— forgive and feed. Forgive us with his suffering at Calvary, and feed us with the faith-building Word. Forgive us by his sacrifice on the cross, and feed us with the cleansing waters of Holy Baptism. Forgive us by his Passion and death, and feed us with the Body and Blood of Christ in the Holy Supper.

God's Law, you see, is pretty clear. Apart from Christ, we all will get what we deserve. But His Gospel, the good news of Christ? The Gospel is that the master of the vineyard is also a Lord of Mercy. All tragedies — whether they be earthquakes or massacres or collapsing buildings— they all point to one thing: to a cross on a hill outside Jerusalem and a dark Friday afternoon when God's justice was poured out on Jesus... out of mercy for us. Buildings collapsed on people in Haiti and crushed them, but the cross of Jesus lifts up the world (see John 12:32). The death of Christ is the one Death wherein every death finds its meaning. This is the one Death that embraces all of us— every victim of oppression, of genocide, of violence and tragedy. Every death finds its meaning, its purpose, its fulfillment in the death of Jesus on the cross.

Let's pose the question from the beginning again. Look at Jesus in His awful death. Consider the cruelty, the injustice, the suffering? Was he a worse offender than all the others? No. He was innocent, sinless, perfect. And yet. For our sake —in our place— for us and for our salvation, He became our sin. He embodied our sin in His sinless body, so that we might receive the forgiveness of sins. So that we might receive mercy, instead of justice. Jesus was the one fruitful tree cut down to save the fruitless. His Word, His Body and His blood are food for all the fruitless fig trees of this world, sinners the likes of you and me, giving forgiveness and life.

How do we respond to tragedy? When you hear of tragic death on the news, or when disaster hits dangerously close to home, there's only one thing you can do. Repent. Confess your sin. Seek the Lord's mercy. Be forgiven. Be fed.

Dear beloved brothers and sisters in Christ, let the tyrants rage and the towers fall. We all must die one day —of one thing or another— whether tragically or quietly. But with Jesus' forgiveness, trusting in His mercy and fed with His body and blood, you will not perish, but live forever. In Jesus' name, Amen.

The peace of Christ which surpasses all understanding, guard and keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent, A+D 2010

Before reading the sermon, please read the lessons from God's Holy Word.

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

So what do you do? Let's say you have an enemy who hates you. He hates you and is always starting rumors about you and turning your friends against you. Now, let's say that one day this enemy suddenly starts to act like your best friend. Do you trust him? When Lex Luther comes to Superman with a helpful suggestion, should Superman say, "gee, Lex, thanks for the tip!" Or should he maybe be extra careful to watch for a trap? If Bin Laden shows up at Army Headquarters in Afghanistan with a suggestion about where and when to send our American troops, should the U.S. general gratefully follow Bin Laden's advice? Or not?

Our Lord Jesus could tell you, for that is exactly what happened to Him, as we read in St. Luke. For Jesus, it was the Pharisees. The Pharisees, who've been testing Jesus and trying to trick Him and trying to discredit Him. The Pharisees, who've been actively scheming and plotting ways to get Jesus killed, suddenly seem to take an interest in His well-being and safety. "Get away from here," Jesus, "for Herod wants to kill you" (v.31). King Herod wants to kill you, they said. Just like Herod's father, Herod the Great, tried to kill Jesus back when He was an infant in Bethlehem. So knowing that one of the Pharisees goals is have Jesus killed, why would they come to Jesus and give him this warning about Herod?

Strangely enough, Jesus doesn't seem worried. "Go and tell that fox," He says, "Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I finish my course" (v.32). Not exactly the response we might expect. Not only does Jesus seem indifferent to the news about Herod, He seems even less worried about the fact that His one-time enemies are starting to give him advice! Instead, all we get is this hint about a third day and the resurrection.

Dear friends, Jesus was confident in the face of death. He was confident because He knew His mission— to die and rise again for the forgiveness of your sins. That was why He came and no one could deflect Him from His course, —not Herod, not the Pharisees, not the devil himself.
"Besides," says Jesus, "it cannot be that a prophet should perish away from Jerusalem" (v.33). Jerusalem had a reputation, you see, for stoning the prophets, for killing God's messengers. 


Like the story of the people trying to get Jeremiah killed from the Old Testament. But yet this is how it works— when people reject God and His Word, they usually don't reject God directly. No, that'd be too scary. We don't say, "I hate God and His Word." Oh, well, there's always a few, but not many. No, it's much safer to hedge our bets and attack God's message instead. That's safer, a step or two removed from God. They try to poke holes in the Bible and its message, or we find fault with the preacher, or we find fault with the congregation. "We weren't rejecting You, Lord. We just didn't like how things were done there." Or, "we're not rejecting You, Lord, we didn't like the message."

It's kind of like flag burning. You know how sometimes in demonstrations people burn the American flag in protest? It's a lot safer to attack the symbol of a country than to actually attack the country. Right?


It's the same way with God and His means. When we reject God's means, we also reject God. Because He loves us, the Holy God of heaven and earth doesn't deal with us directly. He uses means. He uses messages and messengers. He speaks to us through the preached Word, the "mouthed Word" as Luther put it. He spoke to the Old Testament people through prophets. He spoke to the New Testament people through His Son Jesus. After Jesus' ascension, He spoke through His apostles and evangelists and He speaks to us today through His called pastors. Jesus said to the seventy: "The one who hears you hears me, and the one who rejects you rejects me, and the one who rejects me rejects him who sent me" (Luke 10:16). If a preacher, for example, is faithfully preaching the Word of God then we need to listen to that Word- for it is not his Word, it is God's Word. As Jesus said in Luke 10, it is the Word of Christ Himself.


Conversely, to reject Christ's Word is is to reject Christ. We can't say, "I believe in Jesus Christ my Lord and yet reject the Word of Christ. We can't say, 'I love Jesus, and yet despise all the things Jesus has to say to us. It was the same with the Pharisees vis-a-vis Jesus. They claimed to love God but they wouldn't listen to what Jesus had to say. The Pharisees were sure they were serving God, sure that God was pleased with them.They went to Church without fail. They fasted. They tithed regularly and spoke out against injustice. They were fine upstanding, moral citizens. But then along comes Jesus. The Jesus who teaches that that isn't enough. Then along comes Jesus, who teaches that the way into the kingdom of God? It's not the broad way of commandment keeping; it's the narrow way of death and resurrection. His death and His resurrection.


Do you want to know why the Pharisees hated Jesus so much? Why they wanted Him dead? It's because He was taking their religion away from them. Taking away their good works. Jesus taught that our salvation is achieved solely by God's grace— that it is God's free gift to sinners. It's the total opposite of the Pharisees who trusted in their own goodness. They flat out refused to believe in something outside themselves. They were so focused on EARNING their way into heaven that they totally turned their backs on the one who came to GIVE them heaven.
And it drove Jesus to tears. "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!" Unbelief, you see, breaks Jesus' heart. It hurts him. Every time God's messenger was killed. Every time God's servants were stoned to death for speaking God's Word. "It's not you they have rejected," God once told Samuel, "they have rejected, they have rejected me" (1 Sam. 8:7).


The point is this: when we reject God's message, in truth we are rejecting God. When we find things to quibble with the Word, we are doing the devil's work. We are rejecting the Lord... and rejecting His salvation.


And hence, Jesus' grief and sorrow. When we turn aside from Jesus, when we let the devil lead us away from the Lord and his saving gifts, Jesus laments. He weeps over unbelief. "How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!" (v.34)


It's such a tender and yet tragic picture— imagine there's a hail storm and it's caught out a mother hen and her chicks in the open. The mother hen is desperately clucking after her little ones, trying to gather them under her protective wings, trying to save them from the murderous hail. She's willing even to sacrifice herself to save them, and yet they ruse. They won't come. They won't shelter under her sings. They refuse to let Mom protect them! That's Jesus' love for Jerusalem, for His Church, for us. He longs to gather us under His wings. He calls us again and again to duck under His wing, to find shelter and safety under His outstretched arms.


Those arms which were extended on the cross bearing your sin. Those arms which were extended over you in your Baptism. Those arms which extend over you again when the pastor speaks God's Word, proclaims God's Absolution, and with You the Holy Supper.


The point is: Jesus longs to gather you in. Do not reject His gifts; use them. He gives you His Word in a Holy Bible. He sends you faithful pastors to teach it and proclaim it. He gives you forgiveness in Baptism and Supper. He gives these things to us because He loves us. He loves us even to the cross.


I won't lie to you. If you're looking to find fault with the way the message is taught here, with the pastor or anything else... you'll find it. We are sinners living in a sinful world. The devil, your own worst enemy, loves to pose as your best friend, helpfully pointing out all the things wrong with your neighbors, with your Church, with the message. But know this: the devil has one goal and one goal only, to lead you away from the Word of God which is Christ Jesus our Lord. But who listens to their worst enemy?


Instead, listen to Jesus— Jesus Christ who loves you, who loved you all the way to the cross. Jesus Christ who loves you and always will, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The peace of Christ, which surpasses all understanding, guard and keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Funeral sermon for Charles D. Lau (1939 - 2010)

Beloved family and friends, members of our church family here at Hope, and especially you Donna: grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
Charles Lau was born on March 18, in the year of our Lord 1939. He was baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Confirmed in the faith of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, Charles spent the last 25 years of His life here at Hope Lutheran Church. It was as a member of this congregation and of the one holy Christian and apostolic church that Charles drew his final breath this past Monday. He died in Christ on February 22, in the year of our Lord 2010. As St. John narrates from the Book of Revelation, "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from this time forth" (Rev. 14:13). Amen.
Hear the Word of the Lord from the mouth of Simeon in the temple: "Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation."
I chose this verse as the text for the sermon today in part because both Charles and Simeon died in peace. Not to say that they both wanted to die, from my understanding in my conversations with Charles, he most definitely wanted to live... to spend time with his loved ones, especially with Donna, his beautiful wife of 40 years. You see, in the short time I knew Charles, it became obvious to me that Charles was a man who understood so very well, like Simeon did in our reading, that life is a gift. Life is a blessing, especially if life is lived with faith in Jesus. Such a life, after all, is the only life well worth living. And such a life is the one that Charles lived, as Simeon lived long ago. It's Luke chapter 2, verse 29: "Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him."
What this means is that Simeon was a man who had lived a full life. He had lived his life in faith in God, and he knew that his time was near. One day, led by the Spirit, the old man went his way once more to the temple of God, his mind firmly holding onto that special promise from God that he would not die before he had seen the Christ, the Messiah. It's when that belief is rewarded, when Simeon finds the child, that he took that baby Jesus in his arms, holds him up and pours out his soul to God: "Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation."
These words of Simeon, dear friends, were loud in my ears that day last Saturday when I had the gracious opportunity to give to Charles one final foretaste of heaven, when together we celebrated the Sacrament of the Altar, and Charles ate and drank of the body and blood of Christ for the forgiveness of sins. You know, it's funny; it's one of those things that you never can really describe... but at that moment, after receiving God's gift... you could just SEE that Charles was at peace. I don't know how else to describe it. I mean, what does "peace" look like? I don't know, all I can say is that Charles had it. By the grace of God, our brother was allowed to do just what Simeon did, to "depart in peace."
How does someone get this peace? Allow me, if you will, to read a verse that I shared with Charles the first time I met him. It's from First Corinthians 6. St. Paul says: "You are not your own; [for] you were bought at a price." It hearkens back to our adoption into God's family. The day Charles received God's gift of water and the Word, he received the benefits of the greatest price ever paid. esus paid for Charles' life by dying on the cross. It is that price of blood that makes today —not a somber day, not a mournful day— but a joyous day. Joyous because Charles was "bought at a price." Joyous because that price paid his entry fee to heaven where all who trust in Christ receive rest from their labors... in the paradise of heaven where Jesus Christ Himself, the Lamb of God, welcomes us home.
This is important because— you see, Charles, like all of us, was not perfect. Charles, like all of us, was born under the power of sin, death and devil. Charles, like all of us, Charles needed a Savior. He needed someone to come and to make things right between him and God. He needed someone to come and make peace between him and his God. He needed someone to buy him back from these forces of evil that ensnared him and us. He needed someone and by the grace of God, he received someone, that same someone that Simeon took in His arms that long ago day in the temple in Jerusalem, the consolation of Israel, the savior Jesus Christ the Son of God. The same Jesus Christ who would buy Charles and all people back from sin, death, and the power of the devil, not with gold or silver, but with the precious blood of Jesus Christ, shed for us on the cross so many years ago.
Now this has eternal significance for Charles, just as it does for you and me. Because he was bought with a price, that means that he belongs to God. He is one of God's children, holy and precious in His sight. That means that today —even now at this very moment!— Charles is with our Lord in heaven. When Charles died, because of his faith in Christ, he went to heaven. It's that simple. And one day soon, Charles, and all of God's saints, will rise from the dead, his body will be restored to him purified of sin, and he will live forever That's what Job was talking about in the Old Testament when he said, "[even] after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God" (Job 19:26). And again, St. Paul writes, "Behold, I tell you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet" (1 Cor. 15:51).
What a glorious day that will be, when heaven and earth are joined together again, when Charles and all who have died in the faith are lifted up out of the grave and reunited in the flesh, when all of God's children— living and dead are joined together in Jesus Christ! That is his future, and that is yours as well, all you who trust in Christ Jesus for your salvation. That day will be glorious, I promise you, but until that day, we grieve. We grieve because we miss him. We grieve knowing that, even though he died in peace, and at peace... still things just don't seem quite right with him gone. But dear friends in Christ, when you grieve, don't "grieve as others do who have no hope " (1 Cor. 4:13), for we grieve with hope. Our grief is tempered with the knowledge that that "twinkling of an eye" is coming, that "last trumpet" when Christ will come again in power and glory. We grieve and mourn, but we do so knowing that our grief will come to an end.
For this is the great Christian truth, the heart of Charles's faith, of Simeon's faith... the heart of the faith of that whole great cloud of witnesses with which the Church is surrounded: If we believe in Jesus our Savior and our King... if we put our lives in God's hand, all will be well. We also will truly "depart in peace." And falling asleep in peace, we will awaken in the arms of our Savior... to eternal life and eternal joy. In Jesus' precious name, Amen.

Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent, A+D 2010

Before reading the sermon, please read the lessons from God's Holy Word.

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

A forty-day fast. Can you imagine? I mean, I get tired and weak after a twelve hour fast to get my cholesterol checked! Forty days in the wilderness, with probably nothing but water. You ever wonder why? What's the point of Jesus beginning His ministry with this self-imposed suffering and weakness? The answer is clear. According to St. Luke it was so that Jesus could be "tempted by the devil" (v.1). I mean, think of it: WE pray "lead us not into temptation," but Jesus —hungry, weak, vulnerable Jesus— is led into temptation.
It's an epic battle. The devil desperately trying to get the sinless Son of Man to sin and so derail the Father's plan for our salvation. Just get Jesus to sin once... and so disqualify Him as the Lamb of God... just get Jesus to think about Himself first, instead of us... just get Jesus to choose just once the easy path, take the shortcut... and if ever Jesus was vulnerable, this was it. Because Jesus was hungry.
I mean, Jesus was hungry! Hungry with a hunger you and I have never known. Forty days without food and Jesus must have been hungry to the point of delirium. And so, enter [stage left], "If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread" (v.3). It's almost a dare, if not a taunt. "You ARE the Son of God, aren't you? You're hungry, aren't you? You can do anything with a word, can't you? You made the whole universe, didn't you? If you really are Him, go ahead, who's gonna know? Speak to this stone and make it fresh baked bread and fill that starving, painfully empty belly of yours. Spare yourself this pain, this self-imposed suffering. You can do that, can't you, if you are the Son of God?"
And, you know, the devil's right. It wouldn't take any work at all for Jesus to change stone into bread. All He had to do was speak. And why not? He's hungry, why shouldn't He? Why didn't He? He didn't for this reason: "Man [does] not live by bread alone" (v.4). What He means is this: Bread, the things we need to live... yes, it's important for this life. It's important, but it's not ALL-important. Daily bread (that is– food, shelter, and clothes)... it's doesn't last. Nor can it give you what you really need. We cannot (we dare not!) live by bread alone. For that would, in the end, only bring us death. Jesus will do much for daily bread— because He knows it's important, but that doesn't mean He'll do ANYTHING for it. He knows our eternal bread is much much MUCH! more important.
And yet... by contrast, WE will do almost anything for bread. To get ahead in this life, to provide for ourselves... how readily we sacrifice our principles. How readily we sacrifice our relationships. We sacrifice unborn children who aren't affordable and elderly people who aren't convenient. Heck, we'll even trade the Word and the Supper of Christ for the Sunday paper and Sunday brunch. How quickly we put aside the things that last for that the fleeting.
But Jesus resists the temptation. He refuses to sin. Jesus refuses to turn aside from His mission. He will not use His divine power for personal gain. His mission is to do the will of His Father, to lay down His life as a sin offering for the world. He will not take a shortcut, he will not turn aside from things of eternity for the fleeting pleasures of this life. Jesus knows the stakes and He stands firm on the Word: "Man [does] not live by bread alone."
But the devil is not done. He brings Jesus up to a high mountain and shows him all the kingdoms and powers of the world. He proposes a deal. "It's all yours, Jesus. All the authority and splendor of the word." "If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours" (v.7). Oh, and not just for yourself, Jesus. Think about how you could change the world. You could bring about world peace and solve the problem of world hunger and you could do it on a Monday afternoon. Who needs Good Friday and the cross when you have money and influence and power and can pull all the right strings? All for one little act of worship.
Tempted? Maybe you don't have the kingdoms of the world dangling in front of you, but even a small slice of the kingdom will bring us to the bargaining table. George Washington once said, "Few men have the virtue to withstand the highest bidder." It's an eloquent way of saying, "Everyone has his price." The price dangling before Jesus was enormous— all the wealth and power and influence in the world, all for one act of worship. Bend the knee, bow the head.
How easily we fall into it, as easily as Adam and Eve biting into forbidden fruit with the promise that they'd be wise as God. The same reflex is there in each of us. The man who says, "I would never be tempted to cheat on my wife," hasn't met the right woman. The woman who says, "I would never take a bribe," hasn't seen a big enough bribe. The old Adam is more than happy to bargain and cut a deal for anything promising power.
But Jesus refuses. Again, He stands squarely on the Word: "It is written, 'You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve'" (v.8). Worship? Absolutely— but worship the true God of heaven and earth. The One who made you and redeemed you. The One's whose kingdom of grace comes with a cross and a tomb. With a death and a resurrection. Anyone who promises glory without a cross and a kingdom without a death is a fraud. It may be great for a while, but in the end it won't last and it certainly won't save you.
Finally the devil takes Jesus to Jerusalem, brings Him to the peak of the temple. "If you are the son of God, throw Yourself down from here," the devil says. He even quotes the Bible. From Psalm 91: " 'He will command his angels concerning you, to guard you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone'" (Luke 4:10-11). "So go ahead. Jump. It's right there in the Bible. The angels will protect You. You have God promise You won't even stub Your toe. Or, don't you believe that? Did God really say that?
It's the temptation to doubt, to test God's Word. God says, "Trust me," and the devil says, "Make Him prove it." Did God really say you'll die if you eat from the tree? Did God really say the angels will guard you? Did God really say your sins are forgiven in the death of Jesus? Did Jesus really say this bread is His body, this wine is His blood?
Again Jesus resists the temptation with the Word. "You shall not put the Lord your God to the test" (v.12). Jesus knows, as we do too, that God never goes back on a promise. And because we can trust that God will keep His promises. we don't need to have Him prove it. Besides, hasn't he already proved it by sending His Son Jesus to die and rise for our sins? What's more, we know from history that the angels really were watching over Jesus. Even in His death the angels were there. They sat on the rock outside His tomb. They attended His resurrection. They're watching over you too. God never goes back on a promise.
We are tempted, you and I, every day of our lives. Tempted in all the areas of our lives... tempted in our strengths, but especially tempted in those place where we're the weakest. We are wide open and vulnerable to temptation, and if anyone here thinks he or she is strong enough to overcome temptation, be very careful. Every time you think you're strong, you're on the edge of a fall. The devil, who is very real and very active and very truly conspiring against you, to lead you astray.
And don't think for a moment that being a Christian makes things easier. If anything, being a disciple of Christ makes it harder. The devil works extra extra hard to tempt us. In fact, He focuses all his attention on Christians. The baptismal sign of the cross upon your forehead and upon your heart marks you not only as redeemed by Christ the crucified... it also serves as a bullseye for the devil's work. You are marked men and women. You, too, will be driven out into the wilderness of the world. But know this and remember this. You do not go there alone. Jesus has gone ahead of you. He waged war against Satan and conquered him with the Word. You have that Word too. The sword of the Spirit and the shield of faith "with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one" (Eph. 6:16–17).
The good news today is that Jesus was tempted for you. Tempted in every way as you are. And you, in Him, have been led through the wilderness of temptation to victory and life. Lean on Jesus, who has withstood temptation already on your behalf. And if you fail, don't despair, repent and turn again to Him. Remember that Jesus, despite being hungry and weak, and vulnerable, succeeded against all the devil's temptations. He has won your eternal life. Romans chapter 10: "For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved" (v.13). In Jesus' name, Amen.

The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, Amen.

Sermon for the Transfiguration of Our Lord, A+D 2010

Before reading the sermon, please read the lessons from God's Holy Word.
Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
"It's good to be here." I seem to recall saying those words the time I made it to the top of Larch Mountain— an extinct volcano out in Oregon. And let me tell you— when you're standing on its summit, 4,000 feet up in the air, literally surrounded by the peaks of mountaintops, volcanos... the outstanding view of nearby Mount Hood, Mount Adams, Mount Jefferson, Mount St. Helens... you can't help but think how good it is to be there. But maybe you've never climbed a mountain. Maybe for you it was camping with your family or casting your line out into the lake. Maybe it was sitting in a tree stand in early October or maybe just relaxing in the living room as the grandkids scamper around the room. Every one of us has a place we just love to be. A place where it's right and appropriate to say: "Yes. This is good. It's good to be here."

Well what I'd like to ask you about this morning is (predicably): what about this place, this church? How 'bout here? Surrounded by brothers and sisters who, despite our disagreements, brothers and sisters who share a united faith in Christ… fellow Christians who shoulder similar burdens… surrounded by fellow sinners who need a God who saves, who need God's love, His presence, His gospel? It is good to be here, isn't it? Where else throughout the week can you focus so intently on Jesus? Where else do you have the opportunity to put everything else on hold so you can see and hear only Jesus?
Consider with me for a moment another time when those words were spoken, when Peter spoke up to Jesus and said, as St. Luke records for us, "Master, it is good that we are here" (v.33). It's that scene on the mountaintop when Jesus has taken Peter, James and John up on the mountain so that Jesus can be transfigured, transformed: Now about eight days after these sayings [Jesus] took with him Peter and John and James and went up on the mountain to pray. And as he was praying, the appearance of his face was altered, and his clothing became dazzling white... Now Peter and those who were with him were heavy with sleep, but when they became fully awake they saw his glory... And a voice came out of the cloud, saying, "This is my Son, my Chosen One; listen to him!" (vv.28–39, 32, 35)
What a sight! What a sound! It was good for Peter and his brethren to be there— because it was a time for them to focus themselves oh-so-clearly on who Jesus was. It was good for them to be there because they needed... they desperately needed! to know TO KNOW! that this Jesus was truly God. Not a man with God-like powers, but God Himself... God in the flesh... God Incarnate come to us. It was important because all-too-soon, these three men would have some very different sights and sounds to cope with. With their eyes they would soon see Jesus arrested in the garden, flogged by Pilate and pierced on Calvary. With their ears they would soon hear the crowds say "Away with this man! Release Barabbas!" (Luke 23:18). They would hear the masses shout "Crucify him! Crucify him!" (Luke 23:21). And if they were close enough to the cross they would hear Jesus himself cry out in agony, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34) ...Because they would see all those things with their own eyes, and hear them with their own hears, it was important that they first get a chance to see and hear who Jesus really was. They needed to know who Jesus really was so they wouldn't get fooled by the crown and the cross.
It's important for us too. We're about to take another Lenten journey, tracing the somber steps of our Lord. But if the suffering and death of Jesus are to mean anything to us, we too need to know who He is suffering and dying for us. The Mount of Transfiguration reminds us that this wasn't just man— this is God Himself. We think about that when we see Him walking to cross, the weight of our sins –our evil– on His back; and the Mount of Transfiguration reminds us that (being God) He wasn't pushed or prodded. He wasn't coaxed or coerced. Nobody twisted His arm and nobody forced His hand. This is the Son of God, willingly offering up His life— for you. Do you remember what Jesus says in John 10? He says, "I am the Good Shepherd… I lay down my life for the sheep… no one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord" (John 10:15,18).
This is what was spoken by the Son of God. True, He was partially hidden, veiled in human flesh, but He never ceased to be true God, glorious God. The Transfiguration account reminds us that! Even though Jesus veiled His divinity in the flesh, even though Jesus is now hidden from us because He has ascended into heaven, the Mount of Transfiguration reminds us about just who this Jesus really is. We can see it: "And as he was praying, the appearance of his face was altered, and his clothing became dazzling white" (v.29). We can hear it, too: "This is My Son, my Chosen One; listen to him." Yes, listen to Him.
Peter, by the way, would have been wise to do a little more listening on the mountain. Instead, before listening (as was his wont), before getting all the facts, Peter starts to talk. Instead of keeping his mouth shut and figuring out what's going on, he talks; he starts spouting off about earthly shelters. Listening would have been a better option. Listening would have been a FAR better option.
But, again, before we get all up on our high horse, we're not so different than Peter. Without thinking and without knowing all the facts, we can do an awful lot of speaking sometimes. We can spend a frightful amount of time complaining about undeserved hardships or grumbling about burdens. We complain to each other. We complain to God! We think how better served we'd be if God would just listen to us a little more often. We climb up to the rooftops to sing out our own songs of self-praise. We open our mouths to make excuses for our bad behavior and our bad decisions. Yet at the same time, how quick we are to point out this person's fault and that person's fault. Basically, we like to talk!
But... listening is a far better option. Listen to Him. Focus your ears on the One who created you and then adopted you as His own through Holy Baptism.
Listen to Him, even when that's hard work: when He teaches you, in his Word, about right and wrong... when He looks under the rugs in your life and speaks against the dirt and grime in your heart. Listen to Him when He exposes selfish motives and material mindsets. Listen to Him when He indicts you for your half-hearted discipleship, your focus on worldly things. Listen to Him when He says: "cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the Book of the Law" (Gal. 3:10). Listen to Him because, hey!— He's not speaking to you in hypotheticals… He's speaking to you... directly against you!
It's a hard word to hear, but take heart!— because He's also speaking directly to you when He says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" (Matt. 11:28). Take heart!— because He's also speaking to you when we kneel before Him and He says those gentle yet powerful words: "Take; eat. Take; drink. You are at peace with God, your sins are forgiven." He's also speaking to you when (despite our being abandoned in our deepest need by friends and allies), when the voice of your Savior says "Never!" "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you" (Heb. 13:5). And even when that ancient foe, death itself, comes calling, your Savior's voice speaks with a greater authority: "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies" (John 11:25).
It's good to be here today because God is speaking to us. And the voice of God transfigures our perception. He's telling us —He's telling us not what we want to hear— but what we need to hear. He's telling us what we need to take with us when we walk out that door, back out into the world, back out into a place where we're no longer surrounded by like-minded Christians... where we're no longer encouraged by vivid reminders of our Savior... He's reminding us of what we need to hear when we find ourselves too-often surrounded by bad influences and visual distractions.
That's why, truly, it IS good to be here. It's good to be here where God's Word is proclaimed, spoken, shared, and sung. It's good to be here reminded of the true divinity of Christ. Know that the Lord Jesus Christ is anywhere and anywhen you call on Him. He is anywhere you read His Word or recall His Word. So hear the Good News to keep your eyes focused on Him and your ears fixed to His voice. Strive to see and hear only Jesus, not just today, but every day... and God will see you through. In Jesus' name, Amen.

The peace of Christ, which surpasses all understanding, guard and keep you in Christ Jesus, Amen.