The Master of the Vineyard: Fair? No. Merciful? Yes. Matthew 20: 1-6

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel reading from Matthew 20.

My brother-in-law, Josh, is one of the wisest fathers I know. Years ago, when his kids were little, like most young ‘uns, they were very worried about things being fair. “That’s not fair,” they determined, based on their respective opinions of course. From permissions given to punishments received, the kids kept close tabs to make sure someone wasn’t slighted while another was seemingly favored. After one-too-many litanies about fairness, Josh put his foot down. “Fair isn’t equal and equal isn’t fair,” he said. His point, of course, is that circumstances, situations, abilities, and a whole slough of other things all factor into decisions besides “fairness.”

I tell you this as a way to understand today’s parable. In the story, the first-hired, longest-working hand is worried about fairness. He spent the day hard at work in exchange for a day’s pay. When it was Miller Time and the crew lined up to be paid, he observed another hand, who only had an hour on the time clock, receive a denarius, a day’s full wage. Seeing this, he started calculating how this would go for himself. If a hand who worked just an hour earned a day’s wage, then he should have an absolute windfall in his paycheck. When it was his turn, he expected a ten-fold blessing. When a single denarius was deposited into his tired, sore, blistered hand, he was infuriated. That’s not fair! Equal, yes; fair, no.

Rembrandt - The Laborers in the Vineyard

I suspect that most of us, including Samuel Gompers, would line up on the side of the sweat-soaked worker. From a standpoint of fairness, he has a point, doesn’t he? If an hour’s work is worth a day’s pay, ten a day’s worth of work should be all the more. Anything less just isn’t fair.

But, is that presumption itself fair? Let’s reconsider and change our perspective of the narrative. Think of the story through the lens of the Master. He had promised a day’s wage for a day’s labor. The man whom he hired early in the day accepted that proposition for a day’s pay for a day’s work and, at the end of the day, he was paid as promised. Anyone at the US Bureau of Labor would say that is a complete contract and completely fair. So, the question becomes what did the Master do wrong – either with the first hired or the last hired? Answer: nothing. The Master fulfilled his obligation. Also, you notice that the last hired was promised nothing but a job. The parable doesn’t say what his rate of pay would be. I imagine that he assumed he would receive a portion of a denarius, a couple of shekels. What he received instead was a full day’s pay out of the Master’s generosity. He didn’t do anything to receive such a tremendous gift. The Master wasn’t guided by fairness. He was acting out of His own grace and mercy towards the hired hands whom he chose, and that included both the first and  the last-hired ones.

Here’s where the story gets interesting. Listen again to verses 11 and 12: “And on receiving [the denarius], [the first-hired ones] grumbled at the master of the house saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” Now, here is my question to you: what were they complaining about? Here’s a clue – it wasn’t their pay. They had no issue with their own denarius. They got what was promised. That was fair. They were lamenting what the others received. The others, the late-hired ones, got the same, equal pay. It wasn’t fair that they got the same pay as the ones who worked all day. There’s a fun word in German, gluckschmertz, that means to have pain in someone else’s pleasure. It’s like jealousy on steroids. Instead of experiencing joy at the blessing that those last-hired ones received, the first-hired were filled with gluckschmertz at what the others received instead. It’s not fair.

But, is that really true? Were they really upset at what the short-time workers received? I don’t think so. What were the first-hired ones really complaining about? It wasn’t really that they last-hired received the same pay. They were complaining about the Master’s abundant graciousness, specifically in His giving the same pay to those who only worked a short time. This moves the statement from “It’s not fair” to “You’re not fair.”

Parables, you remember, are stories that are told to help us understand something about Jesus’ reigning in heaven and on earth. But, they aren’t just dropped out of the blue. There’s a context, something that spurred Jesus’ telling of the story. The context, here, is that at the end of chapter 19, Jesus has a challenging conversation with a young man who thinks he can do something to have – literally, to obtain – eternal life. Speaking of salvation, Jesus tells the man, “With man, this is impossible; with God, all things are possible.” For Peter, if salvation isn’t partly due to what the 12 have done as followers, you know – credit where credit is due - that is troublesome. You also remember that we said the Peter and the Twelve are anticipating their own places in the Kingdom. Expecting Jesus’ to be an über-Messiah, they are expecting to be thus honored by Him for being The Twelve. Jesus’ answer, though, crashes against that idea. So, Peter utters, “See – we have left everything and followed you. What, then, will we have?” I take the question to be something like this: Hey, Jesus…we left everything for you – family, business, everything! – and we’ve been following you for almost three years. It’s not fair that others suddenly climb on board this discipleship experience with us and inherit the Kingdom as well!” You can hear the unsaid “It’s not fair” lurking just below the surface.

You see, Peter is worried about everyone else. Peter has forgotten what the 12 have already received, themselves. More importantly, Peter has forgotten from whom the gifts come and why they are given in the first place. From being called to be a disciple to being eyewitnesses of His ministry to being sent out in His name and in His power, it has all been by God’s grace through the words of Jesus. He chose the Twelve; He equipped them; He forgives them for their foolishness and arrogance; He will show mercy to the Eleven who all run away as He dies. He will even reinstate Peter and Company after the resurrection.

Fair is a dangerous prospect when argued against God’s judgement. The Old Adam and Old Eve think they can argue fairness based on the merits, on getting close, on doing pretty well, on being self-worthy. Fair is daring to tell God what we think He should do. But if you want to argue fairness against God, it will come back to bite you. Do you want fair? The wages of sin is death. Do you want fair? Be holy, as I the Lord thy God am holy. Do you want fair? Do this and you will live. Do you want fair? Whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it. Standing in the presence of God and arguing on the basis of fairness is a deadly proposition, indeed. Standing before the holiness and fulness of God, the only place to turn is His mercy for the sake of Christ Jesus.

When it comes to mercy, Jesus’ gift is equally perfect. Grace doesn’t see any of the marks or standards that we might use to measure worthiness. God’s grace doesn’t depend on the length of service as a disciple, or the strength of our faith. His grace doesn’t hinge on the greatness of our works or the power of our good deeds. Grace isn’t dependent on the frequency of worship attendance or the fullness of the offering envelope or the number of Bible passages memorized. Grace doesn’t apply more if you’re a fifth generation confirmed member of a Lutheran church or if the only time you’ve ever set foot in a church is for a friend’s funeral. Grace is based on nothing more than the love and compassion of God for sinners that caused Him to sacrifice His Son so that those sinners would not die into eternity. Grace isn’t about how good, that is worthy, you think yourself to be – or, unworthy you consider yourself, for that matter. Grace is not for “good Christians,” but it is for the faithful Christian who trusts in Christ and His death alone.

If you want to see unfairness, look no further than the cross. The death of Jesus is the single, most unfair thing, moment, in the history of all history. A perfect Man died for imperfect people; a holy Man died for the most unholy of deeds; a sinless Man died for the sins of the world that deserved hell; a spotless Lamb was sacrificed for sin-stained people who, themselves, should have been sacrificed. Jesus died for sinners. “God made Him who knew no sin to become sin for us,” Scripture says. Fair? Not hardly. Yet, although He was God, He did not count equality with God to be grasped and took upon Himself the death of the sinner in our place. Although not fair, the exchange was equal: Our sins became His; His holiness became ours. His life exchanged for our death; His death exchanged for our life. He suffered hell – the complete absence of the Father – for us, so that we would be welcomed into eternity with Him. It was never about fairness. It was about His faithfulness to the Father’s will for us.

And, it is the Father’s perfect will to welcome into the Kingdom any and all whenever they trust His mercy, by grace through faith, in Christ as the crucified and risen Savior of the world.

 

 

The High Cost of Forgiveness - Matthew 18: 21-35

I’ve been a parish pastor for over 25 years. In my experience, the single greatest issue that God’s people wrestle with is that of forgiveness. If you are among those who struggle with forgiving those who have harmed you, I assure you that you are not alone. I pray that there is a word here that encourages and comforts you, as a child of God, who is forgiven by God’s grace through faith in Christ, that you might share that same grace with those around you. 

Remember, we are picking up right where we left off last week with Jesus instructing the disciples that “Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” With forgiveness on his mind, and with the Master Forgiver at hand, Peter asks “How often do I forgive the one who hurts me?”

Let’s talk about forgiveness for a second. “To forgive” means to no longer hold a sin against someone; that is, to deliberately choose to not seek an eye-for-eye and tooth-for-tooth resolution. Forgiveness is an act of love, surrendering the self for the wellbeing of the other. To forgive is to say “It is finished.” The goal of forgiveness is restoration. This is true of God’s gift of forgiveness in the vertical realm as well as our sharing of forgiveness in the horizontal realm. Now, humanly speaking, we may need to have a discussion about the repercussions and, this side of heaven, there may be consequences, some of which can be terribly painful – broken families, ruined careers, incarceration. This can be true even though the sin itself is forgiven.

Let me re-state Peter’s question: “How often do I reject the right to get even with someone who continues to sin against me.” Set aside, for a moment, what you and I know from reading Jesus’ answer. Taking Peter’s question and proposal at face value, forgiving a person seven times seems rather generous. Sin is serious stuff, so treat it so: “The wages of sin is death.” Nevertheless, Jesus doesn’t say dismiss the sin; He says forgive. And, by “sin,” we’re not talking “hurting my feelings.” Let’s sharpen the point a bit: “How often do I forgive my spouse for adultery, my neighbor for rustling my cattle, my coworker for slanderous speech, my own child who tells me to…” In that light, Peter’s suggestion is actually quite laudable and noble.

Funny thing with Jesus. When you ask a question of Law (the Law points to us, remember: “How often do I…”), you get a Law answer. “Forgive seventy times seven.” Don’t get caught up in the detail whether this is 77 times or 70x7. Really, the math doesn’t matter and it misses the point. (Who’s going to keep a crib sheet and count score, anyway?) If forgiving your neighbor seven times is tough, how on earth (or, for that matter, under heaven) are we supposed to forgive 490 times? For that matter, how are we supposed to forgive 490 times, or 70 times, or even 7 times when sometimes, it feels impossible to even forgive a person once?

Now, I want you to turn the question from the Law-question of “how often do I forgive?” to “how often do I need forgiveness?” To use another of Jesus’ images, stop looking at the spec in your neighbor’s eye when you have a telephone pole in your own. Suddenly, you have a completely new perspective. Rather than we being the ones giving out forgiveness in a limited number of drips and drops, we realize our own need for forgiveness is vast, beyond limit and number. Our own debt – or, as we pray in the Lord’s Prayer, our trespasses - are beyond number. “For I daily sin much and indeed deserve nothing but punishment,” the Catechism says (5th Petition of the Lord’s Prayer, Explanation).  How often do I need forgiveness? Constantly, frequently, daily, hourly. What do I need forgiven? Everything.

To explain this, Jesus tells a parable that expounds on the idea of “having been forgiven much, we forgive much.”

In Jesus’ day, “talents” referred to money. A day’s wage was worth a denarius. A talent was equal to approximately 6000 denarii – over 16 years’ worth of work!  Do the math: how big was the first debt in the parable? A debt of 10,000 talents at 16 years each…it would take 60 million days to repay. (If you are curious how this looks in today’s American economy, per the US Bureau of Labor, the average daily pay in the US is about $170. With that as our base, 10,000 talents would be roughly $10,260,000,000.) No lender in his right mind would allow a single person to accrue this kind of debt. Yet, when the debtor ridiculously asks the king for time, the king feels pity on the man. Pity – not anger! The idea behind pity is that “one’s guts hurt for the other person.” Not only does he release the debtor, he forgives the debt because he has compassion. The man leaves, restored.

I’ve had people argue with me that forgiveness is too easy. Someone sins and asks for forgiveness and – boom! - the slate is wiped clean. Yes, in that forgiveness is a constant, but no, forgiveness is anything but easy. The issue with that thinking is that it forgets that our sin is serious and stands as a debt to God with the lien being against our life. The wages of sin is death, remember. In the parable, the master forgives the servant’s debt of 10,000 talents. He is choosing to not seek restitution. Literally, by forgiving the debt, it costs him 10,000 talents. The point is that forgiveness is neither cheap nor easy.

Since parables are pictures of the reigning of Jesus (“the Kingdom”), it tells us something about Him as well. When God forgives your sins, it is because the debt has been paid in full. Not with gold or silver, or with the stroke of a pen on a receipt. Your sin-debt is paid with the holy, precious blood of Jesus and His innocent suffering and death. He doesn’t count how often have you sinned…seven sins, seventy transgressions, seventy-seven violations of the Law against Man, 490 desecrations of the Law against God!  You recognize your sins and realize your desperate need for grace – Lord, have mercy on me a sinner! – and God, for the sake of Christ Jesus, gives you what you need.

Actually, He already gave it. Jesus paid your entire debtor’s price in full so that you do not carry the burden into eternity, His one death for the sins of the world. Your sins have been atoned for, covered in the blood of Christ, and you have been redeemed, purchased and set free.

With this understanding, then, the other half of the story becomes all the more shocking. Freshly forgiven his own unpayable debt, when our forgiven friend runs into a guy who owes him three month’s work, he locks the guy up and throws away the key because he can’t pay it, even after the man begged for the same mercy that he himself had received. Forgiveness for me, but not for thee… When the king hears of the first man’s behavior, the debt is restored until every penny is paid…which, of course, will never happen.

Matthew 18:33 - Full of Eyes
Permission Granted for Use

Taking this to our own selves, what does it say to God when we refuse to forgive those who have sinned against us? Anwer: it’s a sin against the First Commandment. We make ourselves out to be God, as if we can determine who is “worthy” of forgiving and who is unworthy. Forgiveness is not our judgement to make. Forgiveness of sins was won at the cross. What right do we have to try to meter it out?

Go back to the initial question for just a second: “How are we supposed to forgive 490 times, or 70 times, or even 7 times when it feels impossible to even forgive a person once?” In short, you don’t. God has already forgiven the brother or sister for the sake of Christ. For you to forgive is to only repeat what God has done for you and to the brother or sister who sinned against you. It’s having the attitude, “Since God has forgiven me for the mass of terrible sins I committed against Him and against my neighbors, and since He has also forgiven you for your sins, what else can I do but likewise forgive you for the picayune thing you have done to me?”

The question is often asked “But, what if I want to forgive, but I just can’t because the hurt is just so deep or the sin was so terrible.”  First, there is a huge difference between wanting to forgive and struggling to do so verses flatly refusing to forgive. Refusal is acting as judge, jury and executioner.  That was the forgiven-but-unforgiving servant in the parable. That does not bode well, as one who dares to stand in the place of God.

To the person who desires to forgive but feels unable, I have two words: the first is, repent of this. Confess your own sin of weakness (feeling unable to forgive) to God, trusting that Christ died for this, too. Doing so strips satan of his lies and accusations. Recognize, too, that sometimes human weakness prevents us from doing what we want to do. Even St. Paul wrestled with “the good I want to do, I don’t do; the wicked I do, I don’t want to do.”  Continue to strive for a day where you can say, “And, even this, I have forgiven.” The second thing I would say is that I think we sometimes equate “forgive” with “forget.” Again, our minds don’t always work that way. And, in truth, sometimes those sins have big hurts; big hurts don’t disappear overnight. Because you haven’t forgotten it or the feelings of hurt haven’t gone away, you assume you haven’t forgiven it. Since it’s hard to discern wherein truth lies, chose to forgive again: “I still feel the hurt from this, but I continue to forgive.”

As an aside, you often hear people say, “You have to forgive yourself.” Nope. It’s impossible. Could that man with a 10,000 talent debt write off his own debt? It doesn’t work that way. A Christian doesn’t forgive himself or herself. If I am weighted by guilt, how am I to unweight myself? A Christian receives the forgiveness of God for the sake of Christ through the means of grace, confession and absolution, and the Word of God. So, rather than “forgive yourself,” the Christian is encouraged to trust the forgiveness of the cross is theirs, too. It’s a return to one’s baptism, where God declares you are His beloved, forgiven child. It’s the “Amen” to “You are forgiven, dear child.”

I fully acknowledge this is a simple (but not simplistic) sermon of forgiveness. If you find yourself wrestling with forgiveness of someone who has harmed you, or if you are struggling because of your sins against a brother or sister, I would encourage you to visit with your pastor. Here, especially, the gift of private confession and absolution is a great blessing. Allow him to speak God’s word of comfort to you, sharing the mercy and forgiveness that has so richly been given to you, and encourage you to do the same.

And to you who, in gratitude for being forgiven much, wrestle to faithfully forgive 7, 70, or 70x7 times, come and eat…the table is prepared. Amen.

The Greatest in the Kingdom is....the Least! - Matthew 18: 1-6

Matthew 18 is fantastic chapter for the child of God seeking to be a faithful disciple. It is also a challenge for a preacher to fully cover. Today's Gospel reading, 18: 1-20 could easily be three separate sermons. I'm choosing to focus on the first 6 verses instead of trying to cover it all. -JFM

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. “Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”

“Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” That was the disciples’ question. I don’t know if they were referring to themselves – who among us is the greatest – or if it were a more general question – who among all of Your followers, Jesus, is the greatest. I don’t know who they were asking about, but I think I understand that question. It’s not just Maverick and Goose - it’s a natural inclination, wondering who the best is. Speaking for myself, every time I go into a pastor’s conference, I look around and I’m critiquing myself over and against the other pastors in the room. You know what I’m talking about – you do it, too. That’s why we have competitions, from elementary school jump rope contests to company employee of the month. Speed, skill, talent, knowledge, ability – all of these come together to that pinnacle moment when a person is declared the best with the honor and glory, recognized with a laurel and a hearty handshake or something more tangible. Everyone, it seems, wants to be the best.  

Once upon a time, Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce was working emergency triage – where medical staff determine who needs help first and fastest – when someone grabbed his arm. “I’ve been waiting here for hours! You keep taking people who came in after me! Don’t you recognize me – I’m a Very Important Person! When is it my turn!” Dr. Pierce looked at him and said, “This is the only place in the world where the most important person is the one who is hurt the most, who is losing blood faster than the other, whose body is more broken than the next.” He was speaking of a hospital ER, remember, but without knowing it, Hawkeye’s description of the MASH 4077 perfectly fits the church as well.     [MASH Season 1, Episode 7]

Too often we act as if we are that Very Important Person. We come to the Lord’s house all dressed up in our finest. I don’t mean our clothes; I mean our finest façades, our best masks, our best disguises that cover up all of our shame and all of our guilt so we can present ourselves in the best possible light. After all, we want to be the best. We’re just fine, we say; everything is just peachy keen. But, inside, our conscience is weeping, as we remember what was said to our spouse the other night, how we reacted to our kids when they didn’t complete their homework, what happened after work that night, those lust-filled thoughts that continue to race in the mind. Truth be told, we know how far we are from being the best, but we want others to see us whole, healthy and strong. Even as satan holds these into the light of our memories, we try all the harder to present ourselves as being a good Christian.

“Good Christian:” there’s an oxymoron if there ever was one. The common perception is that a “good Christian” has his or her stuff together. They have no doubts or fears. Their family life is as perfect. They know every answer to every question in Sunday school. They even have a monogrammed Bible cover.

This is backwards thinking; in fact, it’s wrong, plain wrong. A “good Christian” has nothing in and of himself or herself to boast about. If you are looking for a definition of “good” Christian, it’s nothing more than this: a sinner who realizes just how weak he is and just how desperately she needs Jesus for rescue, and turns to Him, in faith, trusting that He will hear the cry, “Lord, have mercy.” That’s the point Jesus is making when He refers to a child.

Jesus and the Little Child (Jésus et le petit enfant) · Brooklyn Museum

Our North American culture still holds onto the Romantic idea that children are innocent, priceless, angelic treasures. Put that away for a moment. In Bible times, children were tolerated as adults waited for them to grow up to become a productive part of the culture and society. Boys were to be put to work in the family business, be it a rudimentary industry or agriculture; girls would help their mothers cook, clean, and help tend some animals until they were old enough to marry and become another man’s problem. So, when Jesus brings out a child and uses a child as a model of what it is to be great, it would have seemed totally backwards to those gathered.

Jesus says, “Unless you turn and become like children you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom.” The child is the greatest among them because the child has the greatest need. The child is completely dependent upon the parents for food, shelter, care – all of the first article gifts included in “daily bread.” It is this very dependence that makes the child the greatest. A child can’t do. A child is dependant; a child can only receive.

But Jesus is using the child to illustrate that the greatest in the Kingdom isn’t a “good Christian,” the strongest, the most powerful, the richest, or those who are closest to Him. Rather, the greatest – the most important person in the kingdom – is the one who, like a child, is totally dependent on someone else, someone whom the world sees as the weakest. In other words, to borrow from Dr. Pierce, in the church the most important person is the one whose soul is hurt the most, who is in danger of losing their faith, whose conscience has become so twisted that they are trapped in their sins and can’t find their own way out.

But, there is a way out. Jesus says one must turn and become like children. “Turn” is a Hebraism for repent. Repentance is turning away from ones sins and, in sorrow for what was done and in faith in Christ alone, to the cross of Jesus. The family fight, the lustful thoughts, the foul language, the words used as weapons, repent of them: confess them to Christ and receive His forgiveness. And, then, stop trying to carry them, stop trying to hide them behind a façade, stop pretending to be “good Christians.” For that matter, repent of being a good Christian. Instead, be as dependent as a child, repenting of all of the foolish thinking that you have something to offer, that you are great in and of yourself, and instead turn only to Jesus.

Martin Luther once said that the church is a hospital for sinners. It’s where the child of God receives grace, mercy and forgiveness for wounding other Christians. It’s where the soul finds healing, restoration, and strength from being wounded during the week. The term “safe place,” has become popular in today’s culture. It usually has something to do with not having your feelings hurt. The church isn’t a safe place – in fact, part of the church’s responsibility is to proclaim the Law that cuts to the heart of the sinner. It’s going to hurt. The church isn’t a safe place; it’s a sanctuary. You hear the word “sanctus” hiding there; it means holy, a place that’s set apart. What sets it apart is it is God’s house, where He promises to abide. But, He never lives alone and by Himself. He dwells among sinners. He dwells among the weakest, the most broken, the ones who need Him most.

I think we forget that sometimes, the truth that God dwells with sinners. That was the very reason Jesus became enfleshed in the womb of Virgin Mary: so that He, filled with grace and truth, could become Immanuel, God With Us. Jesus dwells among the sinners, lives with tax collectors, eats with prostitutes, and associates with those whom society cast out. Your Lord comes to spouses, and children, and students, and employees and employers and retirees and, yes, even pastors who are so caught up in being the greatest and the best, and He calls out and says, “turn…become like a child. Stop trying to be the best and the greatest and instead, repent.”  Jesus, the Great Physician of Body and Soul, said “It’s not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick.” He wasn’t just referring to palseyed limbs and blind eyes and deaf ears – He was speaking of sin’s illness that cannot be cured by human medicine. Only Christ’s healing is into eternity.   He brings us to His house, this sinner’s hospital, and here He cleanses us with Baptismal water, He wraps us in the balm of the Good News of sins forgiven, He feeds us with His Body and His Blood. The bill, paid in full, signed with simply a cross.

If you want to see greatness in the Kingdom, you see it at the cross of Jesus. Stripped of His clothes, and wrapped in the sins of the world, Christ’s weakness was on full display. When His dry, raspy throat cried out “It is finished,” Satan and his minions thought they had won the victory. But, remember, Jesus said, “My power is made perfect in weakness.” From the weakness of His death on the cross to the greatness of Easter resurrection comes the full gift of forgiveness.

In my office is a wooden crucifix – a cross with the body of Jesus on it. It was given to me by Mr. H. Mr. H was an old man. He was nearly blind by the time I met him, only able to read the largest of large print on good days. He would come to the Lord’s Table to receive the Lord’s Supper, and tears would be streaming down his cheeks. They would stop as He received Christ’s gifts for Him hidden beneath in bread and wine. As the blessing was said, he would raise his face toward my voice and he would smile, a big, goofy grin and tears would again form in his eyes.  One day, visiting with him in his living room, I asked why he cries every Sunday when receiving the Sacrament. “Pastor,” he said, “you know how St. Paul called himself ‘chief among sinners’? He was an amateur! He had nothing on me. Yet, Jesus invites me to eat with Him at His table? I’m so unworthy. Some Sundays, I’m afraid there will be a voice that says, ‘Take and eat…but not you…not you.’ But, every Sunday, I come to the Table and I kneel and every Sunday Jesus says, “This is my body and my blood for you. Take and eat.” And I do. And in that moment, Christ is for me – who else can stand against me? And my tears become tears of joy because I am forgiven. Me…Christ forgives me.”

That’s what it looks like when the greatest becomes the least, and when the weakest becomes the greatest in the kingdom of God. Amen.

Get In Front of Me, Jesus! - Matthew 16: 21-28

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel reading from Matthew 16.

Last week, we read about Peter’s answering Jesus’ question, “Who do you [the disciples] say that I am?” Led by the Spirit, he confesses Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God (16: 13-19). Jesus then praises Peter’s confession and pledges that He will build His church on that confession.

That’s what makes this week’s reading so startling – so much so that it makes our brains go, “Wait…what just happened here?” In a very short time, Peter went from being a great confessor of Jesus-as-Messiah to being not just a tool of the devil, but as if he were satan himself!

Why did Jesus say this? What happened to cause such a fall?

Matthew says, “From that time Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” Recent events, which included the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus saving Peter from a watery grave, Jesus commending the faith of the Canaanite woman, and other miracles were leading people – including the disciples – to think of Jesus more and more as an earthly powerhouse, a potential royal dynamo who could challenge Rome and restore Israel as it was under David. Jesus could deliver the goods with bread and fish in surplus-a-plenty. Add His ability to control creation, heal the sick, and captivate the crowds with His words, and what a king He would make!

So, Jesus’ plain language, stating that He was going to Jerusalem to die and rise, must have startled the Twelve. Don’t be too hard on them; consider how we react when we hear of a terminal illness for a loved one. There’s denial, there’s disbelief, there’s determination to do everything to avoid dying. If that’s true of us, so also then Peter, who truly loved Jesus, dares to try to dissuade Jesus from doing what He said He must do. And that was the problem.

James Tissot, Get Thee Behind Me, Satan!.
http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=57497
Used with permission.

Must: it’s a small word, but a key word. “Jesus began to show His disciples that He must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things.” The cross is ahead – period. There can be no shortcuts, no round-abouts, no bypasses. The way of salvation for the world goes through the cross. The cross is where payment for the sins of the world would be made. Remember last week’s word, propitiation, the blood covering? That can only happen through the cross. Life is in the blood, Deuteronomy says, and at the cross Jesus’ life-blood would be shed and taken. The cross becomes the perfect altar for the singular sacrifice of the perfect Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. The cross would be the place where atonement is made for the sins of the world. The cross is also the place where satan would be defeated, where death would be destroyed, and three days later, where even the gaping maw of the grave would silenced in the resurrection of Jesus. 

And satan would do anything to stop Jesus’ ascending to Jerusalem, to the people who would put Him to death, to the cross. Satan tried it early in Jesus’ ministry, going head-to-head against Jesus in the wilderness, tempting Jesus for 40 days with hunger, trust, and power – again, anything to distract, anything to deter Jesus from the cross, from God’s plan of salvation. Satan triple-temped Jesus with, “If you are the Son of God,” and Jesus thrice answered with Scripture, finally commanding the devil to “be gone.” “You shall worship the Lord your God, and Him only shall you serve.” In Luke’s narration of the temptation, he adds a brief note, “And after he ended every temptation, the devil left him until an opportune time…” (Luke 4: 13). In the mouth of one of the Twelve, in the well-intended but terribly misunderstanding and misguided intention of Peter, satan made his sneaky reappearance, once again trying to deter Jesus from the cross.

Anything, anyone who would get in the way of Jesus’ going to the cross is an instrument of satan. Anything that prevents Jesus from completing God’s plan of salvation and the fulfillment of the kingdom goes the way of hell. That would be just fine for satan. No cross, no substitutionary atonement, no death means no defeat for him.

So when Peter, confused, flummoxed, and flustered, tries to deter Jesus from going to Jerusalem, to the Jewish leaders, to His cross and death, he is doing not the things of heaven, but the things of hell; not the things of the Father, but the things of satan. Point for point, the words Jesus spoke to Peter only a short time earlier are replaced: Earlier, Peter was called blessed; now, Jesus says, “Go away, satan.” Peter’s heaven-sent answer was the rock upon which Christ would build the Church; now Peter stands as a stumbling stone potentially causing others to trip and fall. Peter’s confession was heaven-sent; now his thoughts are of man, not of God. Perhaps that last is the most shocking of all: God’s words are replaced with human thoughts and, no matter how well-intended or loving they may have been, the authority and power of God is replaced by the fearful words of man. In that moment, God is not at work. In that moment, satan – in the voice of Peter - is on the prowl, trying to distract Jesus. Thus, Jesus must put satan, and Peter, in their place: behind Him. Nothing can stop Him. He must go to Jerusalem, to the cross.

It’s the climax of God’s plan of salvation, His heilsgeschicte. He would offer His Son, His only begotten Son, for the salvation of the world. The cross, then, is not a sudden, tragic intrusion, a plot twist that catches Jesus off guard. It stands as the very essence, the focal point, of His mission and ministry. By saying that He must go, Jesus is demonstrating that He accepts what is in store for Him. He is not a hapless victim, caught unawares by an enemy or manipulated by His own Heavenly Father. He sets His face toward Jerusalem willingly, knowingly, deliberately. Four times in the next few chapters of Matthew, Jesus repeats the same message: He must go; He must do this, for the salvation of the world and the redemption of man.

Although Jesus speaks to Peter harshly, as He once did to satan himself in the wilderness, there is a notable and important difference. In the wilderness, against satan, Jesus ordered the devil, “Be gone!” Here, Jesus doesn’t banish Peter, but He does tell Peter, “Get behind me.” Its as if Jesus is telling Peter, “Stop trying lead me and instead simply follow behind.” It wasn't Peter's place to stand in front of Jesus, between Him and the cross. Peter is to get behind Jesus.

Behind Jesus. That’s where disciples belong. That’s where Peter belongs, along with all those who love, trust and believe in Jesus’ as the Messiah, as Peter had once confessed. The way of following Jesus, the way of discipleship, is the way of the cross. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the well-known German Lutheran theologian martyred at the command of Hitler, described this life behind Jesus as “the cost of discipleship.” We are as inseparable from the cross as Jesus was. Being a disciple of Jesus means bearing the cross of servitude, of mercy, of compassion, of setting aside ourselves.

Jesus doesn’t debate the point, offering neither arguments nor reasons for cross-bearing. He simply calls people to follow. “Deny yourself” is not some kind of stoic philosophy where less-is-more. It means get rid of the arrogant notion that we know better than Jesus how to save ourselves (or anyone, for that matter). “Taking up our cross” is to follow in the footsteps of Jesus – that is, in faith, to trust Him for the salvation of the world. It’s being a disciple who follows instead of a disciple who tries to lead.

And, such thinking is completely opposite what the Old Self wants to do. That message is as offensive today as it was for Peter, 2000 years ago. So many wanted Jesus to be the power-house, the authority figure to counter Rome and give them their hearts’ desires. Jesus instead spoke of death, dying, and sacrifice. Today isn’t all that much different. Both the religion of the secular world and the world’s secular religion teach that bigger is better and affluence makes one more blessed and being lesser is a sign of being a loser. However, it is the way of the New Self, the New Adam, the New Eve, the baptized child of God – which, by the way, is nothing more than the way of the cross.

“Don’t you know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into His death,” St. Paul rhetorically asks (Romans 6). We already lost our lives! In our baptism, the Old Selves are drowned. But we also gain new life as the New Selves – holy, forgiven, marked with the cross of Jesus – are raised with Christ. We decrease; Christ increases.

That baptismal promise is not merely a past-tense memory. Your baptism is a present-tense gift that keeps on giving, the pledge of eternity with Jesus, of sins forgiven, of His name – Christian, “little Christ” - emblazoned upon you so that the Father will see you as His own on the day Christ returns. Your sins will be covered by Jesus’ holiness so that what you have done - even your sins that are confessed, by grace through faith - is declared holy and redeemed.  When the Father sees you on that great day, He will look at you, not seeing a single sin-stain because of Jesus. To you will be paid the eternal gifts of His loving grace: forgiveness, life and salvation.

Jesus told Peter to get behind him. Baptized into Christ, we are so closely connected to Jesus that we are inseparable.

Christ with me,

Christ before me,

Christ behind me,

Christ in me,

Christ beneath me,

Christ above me,

Christ on my right,

Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down,

Christ when I sit down,

Christ when I arise,

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in every eye that sees me,

Christ in every ear that hears me. Amen.

Who Do You Say the Son of Man Is? - Matthew 16: 13-20

When Jesus asks a question, that question has a way of getting to the heart of the matter quickly and directly of what it is to be His disciple and who He is as the Son of God.

In Matthew 16, the questions are asked near Caesarea Philippi. This was on the northern border of Israel, geographically about as far from Jerusalem and the Temple as you could get and remain in Israel. Politically, it was far from Jerusalem, too. King Herod the Great’s son, Phillip the Tetrarch, had named the city for himself, adding the ascription of Caesar to his name. It was an odd mixture: a Jewish king was also claiming to be a Roman deity. With few Jews living there, the region became Hellenized very easily. That tells you something about the theology of the land, too, and Cesarea’s theology was far, far from the sacrifices and prayers of Jerusalem.

So, when Jesus asks the question, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” it is far from an innocuous question. When Jesus asked it in Jerusalem, the Pharisees, scribes and Sadducees didn’t know how to answer. Jesus was, among other things, a threat to their position. The people thought He was a bread-king, a socialist, a leader primed for rebellion. The Canaanite woman that we heard of last week, a heathen foreigner, she confessed Jesus as the Son of David – she at least understood the Messianic fulfillment in Christ. Even Peter had his moment, remember, until he lost sight of Jesus, both literally and figuratively, when the waves surrounded his sinking feet. So, when Jesus asks the question about the people in this region far from the Temple, it was a very real question: do these people way up here, so far from Jerusalem, do they get it? What are they saying about me?  So, the disciple’s answer becomes even more notable when they say some are considering Him to be John or Jeremiah or a prophet as of old. The people don’t quite get it, that Jesus is Messiah, but at least they are seeing Him as a man of God, powerful in word and deed.

Jesus turns the question from the people “out there” to the disciples. “How about you Twelve? Who do you men say I am?” Peter, acting as spokesperson for the Disciples, answers with a Spirit-given confession of faith: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” This is the confession that Jesus will build His church. (Our Roman Catholic friends misunderstand this, arguing Jesus has been praising Peter, and he is the antecedent of the pronoun “this” noting the play on words - in Greek, Peter is Petros and rock is petras. However, for Jesus to build His church on a sinful man, even one like Peter, it would be antithetical to a church built on Christ and His being the Son of God.)

Now, go back to that first question for a minute: “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” That question is as pertinent today in this community as it was 2000 years ago in Caesarea Philippi. Ask that question, have that question in your mind when you are in Aisle 6 at Jumbo and you see that mother with two small children arguing over which cereal to buy; who does she say the Son of Man is? When you’re pumping gas in Hennessey and the kid on the other side of the pump, with questionable music lyrics blaring out the windows of his car and with a big pentagram tattooed on his arm, who does he say the Son of Man is? What about Margaret, that you play dominoes with, or Manuel who coached your grandson’s baseball team, or your next-door neighbor who you see but don’t talk to, who do they say the Son of Man is? What about your CPA who has a copy of the Book of Mormon on his credenza, or your mechanic who has a painting of the Virgin Guadalupe in his shop, or the Vietnamese lady who did your mani-pedi with the jade Budda at the counter, or the homeless teenager who is digging through the dumpster at Aldi for a bite of still tolerable food, who do they say the Son of Man is?

What if you asked them? Instead of talking about baseball, or the debate, or the weather, or the price of groceries, or the highway project, what if you dared to ask, “Who do you say the Son of Man is?” What might happen? What happens if you approach people that way – whether out loud with a literal question, or if you just start to see them that way, as people who may or may not know who Jesus is?

"Christ's Charge to St. Peter" - Raphael
(The Sistine Chapel c. 1515)

I suggest two things might happen: one, you might find out what they say about Jesus. Be prepared to be surprised, both in a good way and a bad way. Your CPA with the Book of Mormon might say, he’s a great liberator of the poor. That kid with the pentagram and blaring heavy metal, he just might say, “Dude…He’s the Savior, and He forgives me even for getting this stupid tattoo.” And dear, sweet Margaret just might say that He means nothing to her because He didn’t answer her prayers the way she wanted. That Vietnamese lady might lean up and whisper, “I’ve heard about this Jesus. He is a fool for dying like that.” And the kid might crawl out of the dumpster with a loaf of moldy bread, tear off the worst part, and say, “He gives me the crumbs I need each day.” There are lots of answers, lots of good answers, and you hope and pray that some of those people might have those answers as well. Some might say Jesus is the Good Shepherd, or even the Lamb of God. Some might say He’s the Alpha and the Omega. Some might even make a personal connection – He is the vine and I am the branch. So, there are lots of good answers. Even Pilate’s answer, The King of the Jews, though sadly not offered in faith, was right.

That answer, good or bad, right or wrong, impacts you. That answer touches you. That question and its answer has a way of getting right to the heart of the matter because the answer literally has life-or-death repercussions.

Perhaps another question to ask is, “and why are these answers such a big deal?”

Jesus’ name gives us the answer. Jesus means “Savior.” He came to save the world from their sins, to take our place under God’s wrath, to satisfy the Law’s demand of perfection that no one else could attain, and be the once-for-all vicarious atonement (substitutionary price) for us. There’s another fancy word that is used in the Bible: propitiation. It means “blood covering.” His blood cleanses us from all sin. To describe it another, simpler way: His death earns our forgiveness from the Father.

Forgiveness of sins is only obtained by God’s grace through faith in Jesus as that very Savior. Any answer that offers something besides Jesus, that denies His saving work of dying and rising, that even alludes to the idea that one can save him or herself is no answer at all. No other name, no other person, no other act can save. Only Jesus at the cross through the God-given faith that trusts that saving act.

Every Sunday, that is the message proclaimed in the Word that is read, the sermon that is preached, and in the Sacraments that are administered. It sounds like just words; it seems like plain water; it’s just a bite of bread and sip of wine. But, in those simple elements, forgiveness is delivered, because Christ promises it. “Whoever’s sins you forgive, they are forgiven.” That includes the most grievous of sins and the most grievous of all sinners. Jesus forgives people like them…and you, by grace through faith in Him.

A moment ago, I said that when you ask what people think of Jesus, two things might happen. The first one, I said, is that you might find out what they say about Jesus. The second thing that might happen is that you are then asked in return, “And you – who do you say the Son of Man is?” Now, to be fair, Jesus is asking all of the Disciples, not just Peter – it’s the plural you, “y’all;” Peter just speaks for the men. But, that “y’all” in and of itself gives you the clue of how you might answer it, personally. You have the confession of the Church that stretches back to that moment at Caesarea Philippi. You don’t have to be creative. You don’t have to come up with some unique and profound truth on your own, something that would make a seminary professor applaud in awe and wonder. No – you confess that which has been revealed to you by the Father, through the Holy Spirit who has been at work in you in water and word, creating, sustaining, and growing the faith that says, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Last week, I mentioned the objective Christian faith of the Scriptures. Use the language of the Christian church – I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son our Lord, who was conceived of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary…” Or, perhaps you want to narrow it down a bit with a confession that is unique to Lutherans, from the Small Catechism, “I believe in Jesus Christ, true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, also true Man, born of the Virgin Mary, is my Lord, who has redeemed me a lost and condemned creature…” Or, maybe you simply want to speak of your subjective faith, “Jesus died for me so I can go to heaven.” There are lots of good answers, remember, answers which flow from the Father through the Spirit in the Word which is given to us.

St. Peter – the one whose faith ebbed and flowed, who confessed Jesus and who in a week or two we’ll read of him being called satan for getting in the way of Jesus – when Peter wrote his epistle, he included the instruction, (1 Peter 3:15), always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect…” As he wrote those words, I have to think he thought of his own swing-and-a-miss. Always be prepared…

Be prepared… In the business world, there is what is called the “elevator pitch,” the idea being that you have the time for an elevator ride to sell your idea to a fellow elevator traveler. Now, what if you had to do that with the Gospel? What if you had the opportunity to explain Jesus, or the Gospel, or the Christian faith in the amount of time of an elevator ride? Make it simple, make it concise, but make it as full and rich as possible. That was the challenge issued by David Heim, the executive editor of the magazine THE CHRISTIAN CENTURY. Heim decided to ask various theologians to try this exercise: what is the essence of Christianity in seven words or less? (https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2012-08/gospel-seven-words) The contestants could offer follow-up explanation of why they wrote what they wrote, but they could only use seven words to convey the message.

Using that idea, here is your assignment for next week – except, since Peter had 10 words, I’ll give you ten words also. In ten words or less, answer Jesus’ question: “Who do you say I am?” Prayerfully consider the question, read through the Scriptures this week, and then give an answer. Bring it with you next week.  I won’t embarrass anyone, I promise.

I know this isn’t fair – I’ve had time to work on this – but here is my seven-word answer: Who is Jesus? “Through the cross, He’s the Savior of the world.”

Interestingly, when Jesus dies, Peter and Company are nowhere to be seen (except for John). Peter’s bold confession is silent, scared quiet by a little servant girl. Only one person is recorded as understanding who Jesus is, and what His death meant. A Roman soldier, who had witnessed His crucifixion and death, gets it right: “Truly, this Man was the Son of God.”

When you think this way, with these two questions, as you are out and about in the community, in your place of business, where you rest and relax, at the grocery store, the mechanic’s shop, the salon, the gas station, even at the stop light, you see the world in a different light. And, it impacts what you say and do in those places so that Christ may be seen and heard in and through you.

In the name of Jesus.
Amen.  

 

Faithful Stubbornness that Clings to Jesus - Matthew 15: 21-28

Have you stood in the footsteps of this unknown, unnamed Canaanite mother, begging, pleading to God, only to have it feel like God is against you? Perhaps not so much with a child who has a demon, but perhaps one who is critically ill, or your spouse, or a parent; perhaps it was your own self with a heavy diagnosis or even fighting for your life; perhaps you were the most recent round of layoffs or outright fired unexpectedly. Whatever it was, your world was rocked, turned upside down, inside out, and every which way but loose. As a child of God, you know – as the hymn says – to take it to the Lord in prayer. You practically wore out the knees in your pants and put bald spots in the carpet from where you knelt at night beside your bed, you wore the finish off the chair at your dining room table where you sat, Bible in front of you, calling God’s name, seeking help, praying for an answer. You prayed, invoked, cried out, wept, sought an answer, yearning for just a word of hope, encouragement, asking for the Lord’s hands to be gracious and merciful to you, your family, your loved one, and instead you get a hand held up: Stop.

That doesn’t make sense, does it? We think of Jesus’ hands and the many, many times they were extended in mercy and compassion. Just a few weeks ago, we read about Him having compassion on a hungry crowd and feeding them, those hands breaking and blessing bread and fish to feed 5000 plus people. Last Sunday, we read of Jesus’ hand dipping into the wind-tossed waters to rescue a sinking, drowning, faith-shaken disciple who only a moment earlier asked to come out to Jesus on those same waters. We think of His hands held in blessing even as He is ascending into heaven, hands delivering words of encouragement and hope to seeing-yet-not-understanding disciples. We think of these moments, moments that show us love that is without end, mercy without extinction, compassion without limits. If He has compassion - even over His enemies while being crucified!!! – why is His hand held against me?

People sometimes speak about the silence of God, and how terrifying that can be. True. I’ve been there. But even harder is when it seems God isn’t merely silent, but actually standing against you.

Just consider this Canaanite mother. Although she is outside the family of Abraham, she comes to Jesus with the prayer of faith used by God’s people for millennia: “Have mercy on me.” Her request is actually not for her, but for her demon-possessed daughter. Surely, the mother understandably thinks, this Jesus who has been merciful in healing others, would also be merciful to my own child! Yet, Jesus is silent. The disciples shoo her away like a mutt sniffing at ankles, and it seems that even Jesus is agreeing. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” He answers – and, notice, He is speaking to the disciples, not the woman! If it were in our modern culture, I could see Him nodding and throwing His shoulders up and adding, “What can I do?” Refusing to take silence for an answer, she rushes around, gets in front of Jesus, and falls to her knees, pleading for a favorable answer for her daughter: Lord, help me. This time, she is flatly and directly dismissed by Jesus Himself. “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”  Don’t think Jesus is calling her an unflattering name. He’s using a powerful image to describe her place as a Canannite, as a woman, as someone who is outside the family of the children of Israel. Regardless how it’s intended, it’s as if his hand is held up – Stop! This isn’t for you! Think of how I treat my dog when she wants the pizza crust, and you get the idea.

So, what does faith do when the object of faith – Jesus – seems to be behaving in a way that is so contra what we expect, so opposite of what we know of Him and His character? What do you do when it seems Jesus is being unfaithful to who He is as the Son of God?

The book of Hebrews defines faith as, “The substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.” We speak of faith in two ways: a noun, the Christian faith, the objective and unchanging truth of Scripture as we summarize in the Creeds; and a Christian’s faith, the verb, the subjective believing of what the Scriptures say which, at times, ebbs and flows, hot and cold. In both aspects, the Christian faith and a Christian’s faith, faith rests in the invisible working of God for our salvation and the culmination of all things in the person and work of Jesus. Thus, the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.  That is the challenge of Christianity; that is the challenge of the Christian faith.

While both the Christian faith and the Christian’s faith rest in the invisible, the Invisible is the very promises of God, all which are found in fulfillment in Christ Jesus. And Jesus is not a figment of the imagination, a will o’ the whisp idea that someone came up with. He is God’s Son who entered into time and took on human flesh to dwell among us. According to His human flesh, He experienced everything you and I know including – back to our theme today – including when He prayed that, if possible, His upcoming cup of suffering might be taken away and His own Father seemed to say, “No; stop; away from Me, dear Son. Away…away…away!!!” A short time later, Jesus cried out to the Father, “Why have you forsaken me?” Where was the still, small voice that spoke to Elijah or the voice that thundered on Sinai? Of all, Jesus should have been heard in His holiness and purity!

This was for you. He not only died the sinner’s death, completely contaminated with our sins, He also endured the silence of God, the separation from the Father on your behalf, suffering hell on earth for you. For three days, the silence of God echoed from heaven to earth. The morning of the Resurrection, the silence was broken by the angel’s proclamation, “He is not here; He is risen as He said.” That declaration stands as evidence that the Father accepted His Son’s death for us, assuring the our sins are forgiven and uniting us with the Father through Christ Jesus. That union, then, means that the Father will never turn His back on us and the Son’s nail-marked hands are never held against us.

This is most certainly true. Yet, there are those moments in life when it seems as though God is silent, as if Jesus’ hands are held out against us. So, the question remains: what does faith do when the object of faith – Jesus – seems to be behaving in a way that is so contra what we expect, so opposite of what we know of Him and His character? What do you do when it seems Jesus is being unfaithful to who He is as the Son of God? “It’s not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”

I like the way the poet, Jan Richardson [1], helps us understand how faith doggedly clings to the promises of God, even when it seems the hands of the Lord are held out against us.

Stubborn Blessing

Don’t tell me no.

I have seen you
feed the thousands,
seen miracles spill
from your hands
like water, like wine,
seen you with circles
and circles of crowds
pressed around you
and not one soul
turned away.

Don’t start with me.

I am saying
you can close the door
but I will keep knocking.
You can go silent
but I will keep shouting.
You can tighten the circle
but I will trace a bigger one
around you,
around the life of my child
who will tell you
no one surpasses a mother
for stubbornness.

I am saying
I know what you
can do with crumbs
and I am claiming mine,
every morsel and scrap
you have up your sleeve.
Unclench your hand,
your heart.
Let the scraps fall
like manna,
like mercy
for the life
of my child,
the life of
the world.

Don’t you tell me no.

Don’t misread this: yes, the woman wanted her daughter to be healed, but more than that, she was willing to sit at the base of the table and receive whatever little bits of grace the Lord has to offer her. Her faith was great. It was not great because the woman thought she could wear Jesus down by nagging Him enough, or if she used the right words, or if she could just pull hard enough at His heart strings. Her faith rested in who she knew who Jesus is – even when it seemed His hands were held out against her. She knew Him to be both Lord and Son of David. He was Israel’s Messiah who comes with such abundance that there were leftovers for someone like her, a woman from Canaan. And, out of His great generosity, His mercy overflows outward from Israel to her, a Canaanite woman who knew she deserved nothing except by God’s grace which made her welcome at the table of Jesus.

 You cling to what you know about Jesus, not what it seems, but what you know is objectively true of His mercy and grace. “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” It’s as if she’s saying, Jesus, even the leftovers of your compassion are enough for me. In other words, you cling to what is true about the mercy, love and compassion of Jesus, even if you don’t see or feel how it can be true.

By grace, through faith in Christ, Jesus’ hand that seemed to be held up saying, “No, I don’t think so,” becomes a hand that is held up in blessing. The hidden mercy of Christ is revealed. Baptized into Christ, we are welcomed to the table, no longer dogs worthy of just the scraps but of the finest of bread and wine, the rich fulness of Christ’s body and blood. In answer to your prayer, “Lord have mercy on me,” here, the Son of David welcomes you, not as dogs, but as Sons and Daughters of the King: come and eat. The table is prepared.

 

---

[1] Stubborn Blessing « The Painted Prayerbook

Roots and Foundations: The Beginning of the 2026-2027 School Year -- Colossians 2: 6-7

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The theme for this school year is “Rooted” based on Colossians 2: 6-7: “Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.”

In just a few more days, roughly 72 hours, St. Paul’s Lutheran School will begin a new school year, continuing a century of Lutheran, Christian education in Enid. If we could trade places with each other, traveling through time, all of us – from 1926 and 2026 - might be surprised at the differences. They would probably be surprised at how the footprint of the school building has changed, and they would likely be somewhere between amazed and frightened at students using iPads and Promethian Boards instead of chalk and blackboard. I wonder how our kids would feel about classroom discipline back then, or the lack of air conditioning, and no internet access. Then again, we might all be surprised at similarities. I suspect the kids back then complained just as much as today about having to get out of bed and go to school instead of spending a day playing and goofing around with friends. And while educational standards, techniques and methods have all changed dramatically since then, one thing remains the same: we preach and teach Christ crucified. From the morning bell to the dismissal in the afternoon, the Jesus we teach with our mouths and demonstrate with our lives is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And, while those kids from 1926 might be blown out of the water that they can hear the Bible being read to them on-line, they would be able to sit right next to our students reading on their iPad and say, “Amen, amen: this is so.” And, if we were to ask the pastor and teacher in 1926, Pastor J.H. Holtmann and Mr. A.W. Leitz, and the pastor and principal in 2026, “What is the purpose of St. Paul’s Lutheran school?”, I would think all four of us would say, “That the children we teach, and their parents, might hear of Jesus, believe in Him, and receive eternal life through the death and resurrection of Christ.” May it be so; amen.

And, if we were to travel even further back in time to the first century AD, and ask St. Paul to help us identify the reason for this Lutheran school that bears his name, he might offer to us these words: “Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.”

It’s helpful to remember that when we read the Epistles, from Romans thru Jude, we are literally reading someone else’s mail. Each of the epistles – which means “letter,” by the way – was written to a church or, in some cases, a person, to address something that these first-century Christians were facing. Sometimes, it was a word of encouragement in the face of persecution. Other times, it was to correct false teachings or behaviors within the church. And, other times, it was to better understand how the church was different than the world around it because of the good news of Jesus.  The Holy Spirit saw fit that these letters have been preserved for us and, recognizing His inspiration of those sacred writers, the Church then assembled them into what is today is over half of the New Testament canon.

Paul’s letter to the Colossians is one of those epistles. Paul writes because he has heard from Epaphras, his fellow evangelist and the pastor at Colossae, that the young church was struggling against some of the philosophies and teachings of the community which were threatening to make inroads into the church and compete against the message of the cross of Jesus. There seemed to be three main problems, three false teachings, that were being spread. Together, they created a strange admixture of Judaism and Gentile religions which, together, were pressing into the church. From Judaism came the idea that that people had to follow all of their religious rituals, festivals, and even sabbath law to be a proper Christian. From the Gentiles came something called asceticism, a type of stoicism, where people were taught to deny simple gifts of God, like food or living together or even marriage, because these things, it was said, got in the way of achieving higher levels of thinking. But, the most dangerous one of all was a false teaching that actually found its roots back in Genesis, insinuating there was a secret wisdom of God that He was hiding, so Christians were to seek out ways to find the missing truths. In a sense, it wasn’t far off from how satan himself tempted Eve, insinuating that God was withholding what “evil” was.

These sound rather nebulous, at first. What’s wrong with tradition? What’s so bad about minimalism? What’s so bad about seeking deeper understanding of God and His Word? Stop and think about what such teachings do. The insistence was that these things had to be done – you had to follow the traditions to be a good Chistian; you had to get rid of things that got in the way of higher thinking; you had to find these secrets of God on your own. You, you, you. It’s backwards! These other things, these other teachings, were getting in the way of that message, daring to offer other, alternate ideas of what brings salvation. Instead of keeping the Christian’s eyes on the cross of Jesus, the temptation was to look elsewhere to less certain – actually, to completely uncertain and false alternatives.  

The message of the church, the message that had Epaphras proclaimed to the Colossians, is that all of God’s plans of salvation came to their completion in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. By God’s grace, through faith in Jesus’ once-for-all vicarious atonement – not by our own work, effort, and merit, but by Christ alone  – God’s people have the certain assurance of the forgiveness of sins, the promise of our own resurrection, and being welcomed into the family of God. Because of Christ, and His fulfillment of the Law and its terrible punishment of condemnation for those who break it, all of God’s promises are now yes through Jesus.

So, Paul, writing to the church in Colossae, urged them to sluff off anything other than Jesus only. He uses three images to help the Colossians understand this: walk in Him, be rooted in Him, be built up in Him. Walking would have brought to mind Jesus own talking on human flesh to dwell among us, to know our needs, to be temped as we are tempted, yet remaining without sin. As He walked among us, so walk after Him, not seeking to exceed Him but to follow after him so closely as to be in Him, connected in mind and spirit. To be rooted was an agrarian image, the roots of the Corinthian’s faith driving deeply into the love and mercy of God in Christ Jesus, drawing faith, life, and hope from Him. And the building image would remind the Colossians that they are part of the whole church, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets who have gone before them, with Jesus Himself as the living cornerstone. You’ve been taught this, Paul says. Instead of seeking alternate ways of finding God, rejoice and give thanks that in Christ He has found and rescued you, making you part of the body of Christ, the church.

Earlier, I made a few broad comparisons, similarities and differences, of the school year of 2026 verses 1926. I submit that the same is true in today’s milieu verses the world of Colossae some 2000 years ago. The world in which we live is not conducive to the Christian church. Satan is very much at work, trying to take our eyes off Jesus, His death and resurrection, His gifts for the church, and His mercy for us. From the false gods of me, myself and I, to brash consumerism, to “do whatever pleases you,” there is no shortage of things that he uses to distract us. If you allow me to set a theological premise as a math problem, to “preach across the curriculum,” if you will:  JESUS PLUS ANYTHING EQUALS NOTHING. Anything that is attempted to be added to Jesus as the only means of certain salvation actually diminishes the cross, causes confusion, twists the conscience, and makes satan dance with glee.

Dear teachers, that is the context against which you will be teaching the students entrusted to your care. There are a thousand and one other things that all seek to take the place of Jesus, or to at least offer a substitute means of “rescue.” Your calling, your vocation as a teacher at St. Paul’s Lutheran School, is to help plant the seeds of faith into the hearts and minds of these children and, prayerfully, those seeds might be extended into the home as well. With those seeds planted, you will then water, nurture, and fertilize those seeds so that they can grow and blossom into a deeply-rooted, strongly built foundation of faith. You will do this vocally, speaking of sin that deserves punishment and mercy that forgives. You will speak of Jesus’ death and resurrection as the salvific means through which God’s perfect Law is kept and His justice is measured. You will speak the very words of Scripture in your classes – sometimes verbatim, reading them together, and sometimes summarizing them in the moment of a conversation, one on one, or in front of the class, or in a message to a parent. And you will demonstrate that same Godly, Christ-like compassion in your actions so that what you do is just as loud as what is said. A quote, often attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, says, “Preach the Gospel at all times; if necessary, use words.” Going back to my preaching across the curriculum from theology to math, instead of JESUS PLUS ANYTHING EQUALS NOTHING, you will do the reciprocal (note: another math word): JESUS PLUS NOTHING EQUALS EVERHYTHING.

But let me say this, teachers – and to all of you at St. Paul’s this morning. Our theme verse, “Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving,” is not just for the children who will walk into our building Wednesday morning. It applies to you as well. Allow the Holy Spirit to strengthen and deepen your own roots of faith. Be vigilant in your own spiritual lives. Water the roots of faith deeply as you recall your own baptism, where your sins were washed away and you received the guarantee of salvation as a child of God. You will need that reminder constantly, because satan will take each and every mistake and sin you commit as a teacher and as a parent – and as a brother or sister in Christ – and throw it in your face that you aren’t good enough, that you shouldn’t be doing this noble task, that you are a mess. You combat his lies by remaining rooted in the faith which you have been taught. Be faithful and regular in church; be faithful and regular in reading the Word; be faithful and regular in prayer; be faithful and regular in receiving the Lord’s Body and Blood. And, when those times come when the guilt or shame is louder, heavier, and darker, seek out the words of absolution from your pastor. Know this: my door is (literally) open for you – anyone hearing this message today. It is my pleasure to assure you of God’s mercy for you in Christ with the sure, certain absolution of Jesus. And, know this as well: what is said to me, whether in my study or your classroom, or your home or hospital bed, it dies between us. I don’t discuss or share those conversations with others, including my wife, the school principal, or your spouse. I can’t because it’s gone, stripped from you by Christ.

Well, we’re now about 71 hours away from the beginning of school. I’m looking forward to Wednesday morning, greeting the kids, and then beginning the year here, in the sanctuary. We'll begin with the triune name of God, invoking His name and blessing upon us, faculty, staff and students. Beginning that morning, seeds will be planted; roots will take shape and begin to grow; and a spiritual foundation will begin to be laid. By God’s grace, we will walk together in love in Christ.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, may it be so. Amen.