A One Stop Shop

The title of my blog is "Crosses and Woodshavings," and in the initial post I promised both theological discussion as well as some woodworking stories. Thus far, two months into this project, all it has been is my ruminations, contemplations, rumblings and bumblings as a pastor and child of God.

That is - hopefully - about to change.

My shop has power. My shop is about to come to life.

By way of a quick back story, when I interviewed at Zion back in February, the congregation discovered I enjoy woodworking. So, after I accepted the Call, they decided to build a free-standing shop for me to use. (That, along with the beautiful covered porch they also built, tells you something about the people of Zion and their generosity.)

The shop was built - a beautiful 20x20 shop that is well-insulated, high-roofed, and with plenty of windows for air flow - and ready for our arrival. But, due to circumstances beyond the control of the congregation, an electrical contractor didn't get an installation correct, and then there was an issue with the power company, and then there was a question about what we really wanted and needed for power supply. So, instead of the shop being ready me to make sawdust at move-in, it took a few weeks to get this wrinkle ironed out.

Tuesday, Victoria County Electric Co-Op made the necessary changes to the power supply and, with a flick of six circuit breakers, I had power in the shop. With a quick check with a circuit tester to make sure everything was good to go, I flipped on the lights and, for the first time, plugged in Dad's old radial arm saw and fired it up. (Pic is from the house in Crosby - not the new shop)

I'm as excited as I can be. I need to get things organized and squared away. I need to figure our the best floor-plan for efficiency as well as maximization of my space. I need to...

...thank all of those who generously and thoughtfully made this shop a reality. I understand there was an "anonymous donor" (or donors) who covered all of the expense so the church didn't have to incur construction costs on the shop. There were several men who stopped by, regularly, during the building process to make sure things were going as planned. After the electrical snafu, there were several other men who were involved in getting things figured out, communicating with electricians and the Co-Op, and making sure it was done correctly per code. Thank you, thank you, thank you...for this incredible gift of a woodshop.

And one of these days - soon, I hope - I'll be making big boards into toothpicks and sawdust. I'm good at that.

Groaning in Hurt; Groaning with Hope - Romans 8:18-26

“Groaning in Hurt and in Hope”

Romans 8:18-26

Dear friends in Christ Jesus our Lord:  Recall with me for a few moments the first seven days of recorded history in Genesis.  In the beginning there was only one thing – one being, really – God.  There was nothing else.  From nothing – ex nihilo – God created the heavens and the earth.  Over the course of six days, God created everything from the incredible vastness of the universe to the most microscopic organism; from water to land; from plants to animals; from fish swimming under the sea to birds flying through the air; with creation culminating with that which was made in His image: man.  Everything, God created from nothing (even Adam, strictly speaking, was formed from the dirt which God created) using His Word, “Let there be…”  And, as each piece of creation was created, God declared it to be good – holy, pure, godly, as He created it to be. 

Man was created in the image of God – that is to say that Adam and Eve knew God as He wishes to be known; they enjoyed a perfect, inter-personal relationship with Him, seeing and talking with Him face-to-face, and living a truly God-pleasing life without sin.  All of creation was in perfect harmony with God.  Everything was good.

Then came the single most devastating day the world has ever known.  Adam and Eve, in order to be more like God in wisdom and knowledge, ate from the forbidden tree.  We use the expression “the world seemed to collapse” to describe tragedy that is almost – well, indescribable. But on that day in the Garden of Eden, in a heartbeat, the goodness, the holiness, and the perfection of the whole world collapsed into the mouthfuls of fruit that Adam and Eve swallowed.  Where only a few heartbeats earlier was eternity and joy and man stood in perfect unity with God, there was only the rubble of hell, sorrow, and separation from God, man’s life a pit devoid of true joy and peace and happiness.  As St. Paul wrote in this morning’s Epistle lesson, “For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it” (Rom. 8:20, NIV) and creation groans in pain of sin.

Now, today, instead of man living in harmony with God and the sounds of laughter and joy and peace, man is surrounded by the groans of creation.  But it is not just creation that groans.  Mankind groans as well, suffering with all of creation in this world of sin.  

Children, in the wrong neighborhood at the wrong time and wearing the wrong colors, awaken in Chicago-area hospital bed to the groans of pain because rival gangs wanted to send a message to the community about who is really in charge.  Creation groans in sorrow.

An elderly widower cries himself to sleep every night because he is lonely, having buried his wife ten years earlier.  Creation groans in loneliness.

An older woman groans in agony as the effects of childhood polio grow stronger, and arms and legs that once moved freely and easily now do so only slowly, erratically, and with great pain.  Creation groans in agony.

California and Nevada forests, once full of vegetation and life, moan as the wind blows through the charred mountainside.  Creation groans in desolation.

In parts of New Orleans, people used boats to float across flooded streets, wondering how much worse it might get; and, when the rain stops, what it will take to rebuild.  Creation groans in misery.

A young woman goes out on a date with her boyfriend who wants to go further than she will allow. To get even, he begins spreading rumors about her.  Her reputation at school, in the neighborhood, and at church is tarnished forever and the Eighth Commandment is shattered.  Creation groans in sadness. 

Your yard – along with almost all of the state of Texas - is slowly becoming parched, the grass and plants you so painstakingly cared for crackles like paper in the hot wind, and trees droop under their own weight because of lack of water. Creation cries out to cloudless skies in hopeless desperation.

Creation and mankind groan at the result of sin.  Our lives are filled with pain, suffering, sorrow; sometimes, it seems as if it is hopeless. 

Yet, Holy Scripture tells us of another time when the groans of another Man filled the air.  One can only imagine the groans of agony which escaped Jesus’ lips on Calvary as He bore the burden of the creation’s guilt and pain and suffering on Himself.  The groans of creation are a reminder of the fallen nature of creation.  The groans of Christ were not because He was guilty of sin; He was perfect in every way and without sin.  The groans of Christ were really not His groans… they were our groans, transferred to Him.  He groaned for fallen creation and all of its misery and pain.  And, when at the end He bowed His head and the last groan passed through His sin-chapped lips, it was a groan which literally shook creation as if the world were about to collapse.  The ground trembled, tombs were ripped open, and even the Temple curtain was rent asunder. 

For three days, the haunting sound of that groan hung in the air until early Sunday morning when, instead of a groan, a weeping woman heard a still, gentle voice say, “Mary.”  That afternoon, two men living in Emmaus heard the voice clearly explain to them all that the Scriptures foretold about Christ, and heard those wonderful words, “Take and eat.  Take and drink.”  Later that night, ten terrified disciples heard the still, gentle voice declare, “Peace be with you,”  and a week later, another man was told to see…touch…stop being a doubter and be a believer. 

The One who had groaned His last is now breathing and alive!  No longer does He groan under the painful load of creation’s sin on the cross; now, He stands in victory at the right hand of the Father, waiting to come again to judge the living and the dead.  No longer does the weight and pain of sin and death and the devil threaten to crush; Christ, in His resurrection, has crushed satan and his power over sin and death.  In Christ’s victory, we have been given the gift of our adoption as sons and daughters of the Father. The adoption price has been paid in full by the blood of Christ, and the adoption has been sealed as we are baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus.  St. Paul writes, “We were… buried with Him through baptism into death in order that just as Christ was raised form the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may have new life” (Rom 6:4, NIV).

I need to explain a word to you – that word is “hope.” Our culture has taken “hope” and bent what it means. We buy a lottery ticket and say “I hope I win.” We build a fantasy football team with the hope that our team wins the big game. But, in both of those instances, it’s a rather hollow hope – isn’t it? It’s a one-in-a-trillion hope, a “well, I don’t really thik it’ll happen, but maybe it will” kind of attitude. Ask me, there’s not much “hope” in that kind of hope. Contrast that with what the Bible describes as our hope in Christ. I want you to think of hope as certainty, confidence, and absolute trust in what isn’t seen. Hope’s power rests in the power of the One who makes the promise – God Himself. So, when we say we have Christian hope, I want you to hear that with the Amen and Amen of St. John’s Revelation: It is so!

Creation’s voice now has this sense of hope, a sense of joy in the future to come when there will no longer be groans, but shouts of joy.  Our lips will forever sing the glory of God, tongues proclaiming His mercy, mouths speaking the Holy Name of the Triune God.  As Martin Luther taught us in his Small Catechism, we can boldly declare, “This is most certainly true!”  This is God’s promise and it is for you, dear Christian!

While the promise is ours and the guarantee is certain, the adoption papers sealed in Christ Jesus, we are still waiting for our bodies to be delivered to the Father for eternity.  We continue to “groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”  Yet, our groans as we wait in hope are different than those groans which are without hope.  Do we still suffer the horrific effects of sin – yes.  Does creation still groan?  Yes.  Yet, those groans have a purpose. As we groan looking forward, in hope, for what is to come.  St. Paul said, “For in this hope we are saved. Now hope that is seen is hot hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”   We hope for what is to come – the final resurrection when Christ comes again.  On that great day, our bodies and souls will be reunited in perfection as Adam and Eve were first created.  We will again know God perfectly and be in His image.  Tears, sorrow, sufferings, and anger will all disappear.  There will again be true peace and joy and love for eternity at the foot of God.

There is one other word of comfort for us in this morning’s text. For those days when creation’s fall weighs heavily on you and the world’s weight is squarely on your shoulders; when you read the paper or hear the news and you wonder “How much longer, O Lord?”; when you scan the sky praying for a drop of rain; when your heart beats faster because the doctor calls you personally…on those days when you can not even frame words into a prayer for God’s mercy, St. Paul says “the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groaning too deep for words.” Even when you don’t know what to pray for, or how to pray, or what words to say – or even if all you can do is groan literally and loudly – the Holy Spirit fleshes your prayers into perfect petitions for your Father in heaven to hear.

In the meantime, as we continue to wait and hope for Christ to come again, creation continues to groan.  But it is a different kind of groaning.  Do we still groan in sorrow?  Yes.  Do we still groan in pain.  You bet.  But our groans also have a sense of hope for that which is to come.  The hymn writer Martin Franzmann expresses the groans of hope well:

Give us lips to sing thy glory,
Tongues, thy mercy to proclaim,

Throats that shout the hope that fills us,
Mouths to speak thy Holy Name.

Alleluia, alleluia!
May the Light which thou dost send

Fill our songs with alleluias,
Alleluias without end!  Amen.

(Lutheran Service Book #578.5)

Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. (Romans 15:13, NIV)

Stir and Season to Taste

The other evening in Bible study, we were commenting on St. Paul’s instructions to husbands and wives in Ephesians chapter 5. Speaking mostly with older couples who are veterans of marriage and who have made the deliberate choice to make the marriage relationship work, even in difficult days, is always an interesting time. After all, last week marked my 21^st wedding anniversary – I’m no wedded rookie. But being in the same room with couples who have been married twice or even two and a half times as long as we’ve been married is quite humbling. Their stories, with their lives intrinsically intertwined like a decades-old mustang grape trellis, mark significant milestones of 40, 50, or more years of marriage as husband and wife. To God the glory!

In the midst of what had been a rather fun and freewheeling discussion for the past hour, I paused to ask for questions. One woman jokingly interjected, “Where have you been my whole life?” As the room erupted in laughter and then subsided to a few titters, she added that these are things that each couple needs to hear – not just those preparing to be married. Given the length that some of these couples had been married, I was quite humbled she thought highly of my teaching.

But, having just celebrated my 17^th ordination anniversary on Sunday, and then my 21^st wedding anniversary, I thought about the journey the Lord leads each of us on from day to day, from place to place, interacting with different people each day. The Lord daily uses each event, each place, each person we deal with, each vocational challenge we face helps to shape, to mold and teach us for what we face next. All of those “little things” – seemingly so unimportant in the time and moment in which they take place – add up to become the tapestry with which we live our lives and our faith in daily events.

Seventeen years ago, I thought I had every theological answer in the bag. Freshly ordained, minted, pressed, folded and squeezed into the clergy roster of the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod I thought I was ten feet tall and bullet proof. I was Super Pastor, better than the preceding pastor in the parish I served and, probably, I thought I was better than most pastors around, too. That lasted about six weeks. A couple came to me with concerns about their adult son’s eternal salvation; a widow spoke with me about missing her husband who had been dead for a decade; a young man was concerned about his relationship with his girlfriend. I wasn’t ready for these questions. Perhaps I skipped class the day those were discussed; maybe I didn’t read those Bible passages that would have been helpful; I suppose I could have forgotten what was covered in pastoral theology class.

And, then again, perhaps it wasn’t that I didn’t skip, or read, or forget: I simply wasn’t yet “seasoned enough” to be able to answer those questions well.

If you’ve ever used cast iron, there is a trick to it. Do not, under any circumstances, go buy a cast iron skillet and plan to use it the same night. It just won’t work. You’ll wind up ordering from Lee’s China Inn as you deal with a baked on, caked-on, burned-to-a-crisp mess in your cast iron skillet and a pledge to never use it for anything other than an outdoor chime to call the kids home from the neighbor’s house. No – cast iron needs to made ready to return to you wonderful deliciousness that can only be achieved in a well-seasoned pan. Briefly, you massage the cast iron with shortening and, low & slow, bake the oiled pan in your oven. Leave it alone and let it cool, sitting quietly and undisturbed overnight with the excess shortening pooled in the pan. The next day, wipe out the old shortening and re-grease it with fresh shortening and do the process again. And again, one more day, maybe one more time after that if you want. The point is to get the pan well-oiled – “seasoned” – so it will become a handy instrument for cooking and baking. There’s no “buy it today, cook on it tonight” here, folks – it takes time to turn that cast iron pan into your friend.

Pastors also need to be seasoned, although – as a general rule - we prefer not to be coated in oil and slow roasted. Save that for the Sunday dinner of pot roast and ‘taters that you want us to help eat. Pastors are seasoned with the difficulties of the people in our parishes: the marriage conflicts, the children who are in trouble in school, the work-related issues, the unemployment office, the job transfer, the infidelity, the infertility, the twins (or triplets!), the loan shark, the growing debt, and leaking roof, and even the mother-in-law. Yes, we approach each situation – hopefully – with the Word of God and with prayer, but there are some things that just can’t be taught in a Seminary classroom or in a textbook or even by reading the Bible. Some things only come with the seasoning of experience accumulated over the years of seminary preparation and parish experience, and finally with a dash of sanctified common sense.

Martin Luther described the pastor’s life as one of prayer, meditation and “tentatio” – the struggle of the office of the ministry. That’s what I am describing here: the seasoning. Sometimes, the seasoning is salty, sweet, or spicy hot depending whether the lessons sting, encourage, or burn. And, just because it stings or burns, it’s not necessarily bad; likewise, just because it’s encouraging doesn’t mean it’s always the most helpful thing at the time.

If you’ve read this blog, you know I’ve recently moved to my 3^rd parish. I hope I’m more seasoned than I was 17 years ago. To the saints of Grace Lutheran in Crockett, TX, I offer my thanks for your patience with a bland, flavorless seminary graduate and the many insipid and flavorless things I said and did there. Yet, your interaction with me helped shape me and season me in ways you never got to see. After 13 years in Crosby, as I was gleaning and cleaning out old files, I discovered my initial sermons from 2004. While the theology was good, it was like I was only cooking with salt and pepper – the seasoning wasn’t quite right, yet, although it started to taste better. As time went on, and as the events and interactions continued to season me, my pastoral practice became more flavorful, leading me to what I am today as a parish pastor.

Lest any reader think this is about me tooting my own horn – or, to continue the cooking metaphor, buzzing my own cooking timer – let me assure you, that is not my point. Any cook will tell you – the seasoning’s job is to enhances the flavor of the main ingredient, not to replace it. As pastors become more seasoned, the Holy Spirit uses us to help people more clearly see Jesus and His mercy and grace, delivered through Word and Sacrament, to the people. Suddenly, the flavors of God’s rich spiritual food begin to burst upon our spiritual palate. Well-seasoned pastors are able to dip into the pages of Scripture and apply, with wisdom and gentleness and insight, the truths of God’s Word to hurting, or grieving, or struggling, or questioning hearts and minds. Instead of simply a “by the book” answer out of a Seminary textbook, a well-seasoned pastor takes that truth, seasoned with his own life experiences and interaction with other saints of God, and melds those flavors into an essence of a God-given gift in that moment and time.

And that brings me back to the woman’s comment the other evening. “Where have you been my whole life?” I was where God had me, slowly being seasoned and prepared for a new place and time of ministry.  Sometimes the seasoning stung; sometimes it was rather sweet; sometimes the seasoning was so spicy that I was tempted to just give up and sell cemetery plots. Looking back, I wouldn’t want to do a lot of it again, but I am thankful for it all – even the dark days of my dumbassery (see previous post) – because it shaped me to who and what I am today as a pastor. With my ordination almost two decades in the rear-view mirror, a lot of the sharp edges have been worn away – that’s good. I’m no longer as sharply pressed as I used to be, my folds are a little deeper and it takes more effort to squeeze into my alb on a Sunday morning – I’m fine with that. And I am eternally grateful that youthful arrogance has been replaced with confidence that comes from experience and (thank God!) a keen understanding that Romans 8:1 applies to me, too (look it up…).

I’m not done being seasoned, yet. There’s more to come - I hope!. Right now I know I’m enjoying a time of sweetness – what we call “the honeymoon phase” of a new ministry. There will come a time when the seasoning will sting a bit or burn a while or even leave a scratch or two. That’s part of the tentatio. With God’s grace, the seasoning will continue to meld and shape me so that the Gospel that is preached continues to have new flavor and never be bland.

Small Town Funerals: A Reflection

Tomorrow is my first funeral at Zion. The gentleman who fell asleep in Jesus was a good ol’ boy, a long-time resident of the area, and between his “in town” job and his work on the family’s century farm, it seems like everyone knows him.

It’s interesting milling around, listening to folks talk. First of all, I’m the newcomer which makes me, by default, the outsider. Back in the day, the expression was “the red-headed stepchild,” but that’s probably not politically correct, so I can’t use that. So, let’s just say folks look at me out of curiosity – even though I’m wearing the clerical collar which sets me apart from most other vocations – wondering how and why I’m here.

But as I listen, it’s amazing the interconnectedness of this community. People stop others and, like long-lost-cousins, they introduce themselves and, faster than the old 7 degrees of Kevin Bacon game, they are related somehow. Or they’re related to a neighbor. Or they remember someone’s grandpa or grannie.

It’s a bit melancholy, too, that the reason these folks are getting together to mark the passing of another octogenarian.  To be fair, there are a lot of octogenarians who are in the congregation gathered to meet and visit with the widow and her kids and grandkids. Perhaps there is a touch of melancholy that another of their generation of classmates, co-workers, and 42 players has passed. Perhaps there is a touch – just a whisper, but I think it’s still there – that they are here to say “goodbye” and it’s not the other way around.   And then again, there’s also a fog’s breath of sorrow that says “why was he so fortunate to pass when all I want is to see my beloved again.”

I guess most funerals are that way. I’ve done over five dozen funerals in 17 years of ministry, so I have a pretty good case study to draw from. This one is a little different because I’m new – only 5 weeks on the job – and still trying to learn these names myself. So, as I try to connect my own dot-to-dot of families, it’s a bit mind-boggling listening to the spider-web of families that makes up the South Texas Genome Project.

As the stories are told of how the families are connected and interconnected, I may not be connected by blood but I’m connected by vocation as I become part of the story of the community. One of these days, maybe I’ll be able to figure out which branches of the Mission Valley family tree they are from, too.

But even then, I’ll still be the newcomer.

Who Carries What? Matthew 11:28-30

“Who Carries What?
Matthew 11:28-30

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

“The things they carried were largely determined by necessity. Among the necessities or near-necessities were P-38 can openers, pocket knives, heat tabs, wristwatches, dog tags, mosquito repellent, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes, salt tablets, packets of Kool-Aid, lighters, matches, sewing kits, Military Payment Certificates, C rations, and two or three canteens of water. Together, these items weighed between 15 and 20 pounds, depending upon a man's habits or rate of metabolism.”

That is the second paragraph of Tim O’Brien’s book THE THINGS THEY CARRIED, his novel about being a soldier in the Vietnam war. Through the first chapter, he describes – in great and sometimes graphic detail – the things the soldiers carried with them into combat.

What do you carry? You carry the struggle of the words said last night over dinner. You carry the loss of the night she packed her bags and left. You carry the pain of your teenager slamming a door while screaming “I hate you” four, five, six times. You carry the hurt of knowing that you were wrong when you insisted to your spouse that this is the way it was going to be and that’s just too bad. You carry the sting knowing that there are some things you can’t simply fix with a hug and a kiss goodnight. You carry the shame of feeling that you’re never a good enough person and that you constantly let people down. In short, you carry the guilty weight of your sins you have committed against your family and your brothers and sisters in Christ, and you carry the shameful sting of the sins that have been committed against you by your family and your brothers and sisters in Christ.

What do you carry? Joy? Sorrow? Anger? Excitement? Frustration? What do you do with those things?

Here’s what most strong-willed and stiff-necked Christians try to do each Sunday:

With a groan and a sigh, you got up this morning and you hefted the burdens that you carry – unseen by everyone except yourself; boy do you ever feel it, too – and you squeezed yourself into the car along with a full load of guilt and shame and angst and sorrow and pain and you pulled into the parking lot here at Zion. You got out of your car, or truck, or SUV and, just like you do with your grocery trip from HEB where you see how many bags you can grab in each hand before the circulation stops to the fingers, you pull out your load from the car. Burdened and encumbered, loaded and laden with the guilt and shame and angst and sorrow and pain, you stagger from your car or truck or SUV and walk into the house of the Lord. And, for a moment, teetering as on the edge of a precipice, you wonder if you’ll make it. Yet, as you enter, step by step you drop your burdens one at a time. Guilt, shame, angst, sorrow, pain…one by one, they fall; step by step you stand a bit more upright and you walk a little straighter. “I can do it!” you say, and with just a little pep talk, you make it inside thinking that for an hour, you can sit and breathe and rest.

But then something strange happens. Someone is sitting in *your* pew and frustration simmers up. Then you see her over there --- she stole your momma’s peach pie recipe ten years ago and won the pie contest with it. Then you see him over there --- he borrowed your mower last summer and bent the blade and, when you confronted him, pretended to know nothing about it. And there is your secret crush but they never gave you the time of day, laughing about your clothes or hair instead. Suddenly, the the benediction is said, and the hymn is sung, and you are released from your pew, you start to feel weight climbing back into your hands – uninvited, yet somehow strangely welcome, the burden increases. Step by step, the guilt and shame and angst and sorrow and pain finds its place in your pockets and purses and wallets and keyrings and, staggering once again under the full weight, you wonder how you’ll make it again through another week until this sweet hour of prayer.

Have you made such a journey before? Where the burden is so heavy that it threatens to crush you? Where the yoke of “I can do it myself” threatens to beat you down? Where no matter how much you set down it seems that the burden doubles the next time? Where the effort is so damning – and I use that word deliberately in this context – because it seems you can never find escape? If so, then please…listen to Jesus.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me that I am gentle and kind, lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

He is speaking to His people of all ages – not just the disciples of 2000 years ago in Ancient Israel. He continues to speak these words to the disciples of Mission Valley and the surrounding community in the year 2017. He is speaking to you. He speaks to people who are burned up and burned out from the weight of living in this world of hardship and harshness, and I don’t mean the climate and the geography. I mean the hard reality of living in a fallen world with illness and family conflict and divorce and leaving friends and leaving home and death. All around us, pop culture and conventional wisdom tells us to suck it up and cowboy up and grab it by the horns and wrassle it to the ground and show it who’s boss…

But Jesus? He doesn’t say we have to do anything. Instead, He extends His nail-pierced hands in invitation: “Come.” It’s not a command, something you gotta do. It’s an invitation, a Gospel-gift where He calls, gathers, enlightens and sanctifies us by His Spirit and welcomes us into His presence. He sees, knows, and understands all too well just how heavily we struggle – remember, He is true God and also true man so He can know and understand our struggles. He knows we are weak both in faith and in heart, laboring in the world and in faith, wondering how we will make it another day. “Come,” Jesus says, “all of you who labor  - the KJV says “weak” - and are heavy laden. I will give you rest.”

Ah…blessed rest. Another passive gift. Not “you better figure out a way to get some rest.” No, this is Jesus. “I will give you rest where you do not have to work for I have done it all,” Jesus says. Rest, peacefully, in those same nail-pierced hands. Rest, wrapped in the arms that stretched out upon the cross to take all of your guilt and shame and anger and pain into Himself so you do not have to carry the eternal burden of these sins. Rest, as His eyes look upon you in kindness and gentleness and mercy, filled with love that let Him take your place in suffering the Father’s wrath for you. Rest your very soul, for His soul, anguished to the point of death, suffered so you will not suffer so.

Where can we find such rest? You know the answer for that question…it’s here in the Lord’s House. Christ is truly present where His Word is preached in purity and where His Sacraments are administered according to His Word and promise, our confessions say. Come to me, Jesus says, come to my house of rest with all of your burdens. Come, deposit them here…

That sounds so easy, Pastor, but how is it supposed to work? I keep trying byt the load just seems to come back? What am I supposed to do?

This is the gift of repentance. Repentance isn’t a quantity – you gotta be REALLY REALLY sorry to be forgiven. Repentance is simply sorrow that I have sinned against God and I admit it and confess it. God, have mercy on me a sinner. But true repentance doesn’t stop there. If that’s all it was, it would just be sadness. Repentance also looks to the cross of Jesus and believes that there, He died for you. Repentance believes Jesus forgives you.

Do you know what Jesus wants from you? Some people say He wants your heart or your life or your love or your good works or your something or another. Wrong. The only thing Jesus wants from you is your sins. Remember: His very name means Savior, for He has come to save His people from THEIR SINS. So, give them to him. Drop your guilt as you enter into this holy house. Drop your shame as you sit in His presence with your brothers and sisters in Christ who, I might add, are dropping their burdens as well. It’s called confession. When you confess your sins, drop your angst and your sorrow and whatever other burden you have. Drop the load at the foot of the Cross. And, this time, leave it there.

What you discover is that when you give your sins to Jesus and refuse to allow satan to trick you into picking them up again…with a few new ones on the way…is you are now carrying the remarkably light yoke of Jesus and His mercy instead of the damning – again, using that deliberately – idea that you gotta do it yourself.

The yoke of Jesus is simply this: that your Savior Jesus, gently and humbly went the sinner’s path to the cross and carried the entire burden for you. No matter what the devil, or the world, or your own redeemed-but-also-fallen conscience tells you, it is no longer yours. It is not yours to claim, or carry, or haul, or resolve. You have been redeemed, by grace through faith in Christ – not by the carrying of your sins. He’s done the heavy lifting. He’s done the heavy carrying. He’s done the heavy load of dying under the wrath of God at the cross. Jesus has already emptied out all of the sacks at the foot of that cross. Leave the burdens there.

And Jesus takes your empty sack and He fills them up with His gifts. He fills up a bag of mercy as the triune name of God is spoken in remembrance of your baptism. He fills up a bag of joy as your sins are absolved in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. He fills a bag of peace as you receive Christ’s true Body and Blood into your mouth, not only for the forgiveness of your sins but also for the strengthening of your faith. He fills a bag of grace as you depart with the Lord’s name spoken in blessing. With your bags filled with the gifts of God there isn’t room for the guilt and shame and angst and sorrow any longer. Besides…you left them at the cross --- remember? Don’t turn back.

Sometimes the burdens are so great that you find no matter how many times you drop them off at the foot of the cross, they somehow make their way back into your pocket or purse, wallet or keychain. There’s one other gift the Lord gives to help release a burden: your pastor. You are not alone as you wrestle with these burdens. It is a pastor’s privilege and call to walk with you through these weighty times. I’ll walk with you. That’s why you called me: to walk with you. And, armed with prayer and blessing, with the Lord’s Supper and Holy Absolution – and, by the way, if you missed it in my installation vows, whatever is confessed to me remains with me, unable to be shared with anyone including my wife – the Lord Jesus will be present for you, individually, one-on-one, and one-by-one He will take your burdens from you and replace each one with the yoke of His Gospel.

Lest anyone think that this means you carry Jesus – let me assure you, nothing is further from the truth. He carries you. For Him, you are not a trouble. For Him, you are not too heavy. Let Him carry you. Stop trying to carry all of your troubles. Drop them at the cross. Let Him fill your sack with His gifts. And then, with your sack refilled, He’ll carry you.

The Cross of the Christian Family - Matthew 10:34-39

The Cross of the Christian Family – Matthew 10:34-39

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

In this morning’s Gospel lesson, Jesus is continuing His instruction and warnings concerning the life of discipleship. To help understand what the life of discipleship is like, he uses the visual image of the cross. : “Whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.”

Crosses…we have them all around us as Christians. In my office, I have a cross wall. They are made out of various materials, of different sizes, of different styles. Some were mass produced and commercially available and a few were made by hand – including by me. They were mostly picked up by friends, family, and church members who thought I would like them. But Jesus does not mean by “take up your cross from the shelf at Hobby Lobby.”

We sometimes use the expression, “it’s my cross to bear,” when referring to a particularly difficult moment, challenge, disability, illness, or unpleasant task. So, you will hear of cancer, or alcoholism, or an unpleasant boss, or a dangerous job, or grief over the death of a loved one all referred to as “a cross.” While those certainly are difficult and unpleasant things to deal with in this life, Biblically speaking, those are not crosses, either. These, too, are not what Jesus means by “take up your cross.”

Biblically speaking, crosses are difficulties and challenges placed upon us by God Himself, directly or indirectly, as part of the life of discipleship – that is to say, because you are a Christian. A Christian doesn’t have a higher risk of cancer or alcoholism, or suffering the death of a loved than a non-Christian. But a Christian, placed into a context by the very hand of God and who suffers in that place and time because of the Christian faith, that Christian carries a cross.

To the disciples and those gathered around, crosses were the ultimate illustration of suffering. Crosses were used to put people to death in a terribly agonizing, humiliating way at the slowest possible rate of death. There was nothing quick about death by crucifixion; there was no easy way out. Someone who was crucified would suffer terribly for hours, sometimes days, until their heart and lungs gave out. So when Jesus speaks of crosses, it got people’s attention. These are powerful and profound words. Jesus is speaking this way – father against son, wife against husband – to get people’s attention. He cuts through all of our sinful and foolish selfishness and demythologizes the family and those who would practice non-charitable authority within the family.

In today’s Gospel lesson, when Jesus speaks of “take up your cross,” he is talking about the cross of the Christian family. Before a “mother-in-law” joke goes racing across your brain, let me assure you: this is no joke. There is no punchline here. Jesus is as serious as can be when he places the family in the context of the cross.

Martin Luther once said that family is one of the hands of God and it is through the family that God bestows His first blessings to a human being. As Christians we know and recognize this gift to be from Him – thus the 4^th commandment grounds all authority in the vocation of parenthood. Because the family is a gift of God, the devil will do anything he can do to destroy it. He attacks a family constantly, and no matter what age, no matter the family connection, no matter how many people are at home or if you live along he works overtime to see this gift of God destroyed.

Whether you are single or married, older or younger, you are part of a family. And when God joins a man and woman in marriage, uniting one sinner to another sinner, there’s going to be trouble. I have had a few couples tell me over the years that they don’t fight. I’m not going to argue with them – I’ll take it as true, but I’ll also submit that those couples are the exception, not the rule. But it doesn’t stop there with man and wife. When husband and wife have a child, guess what? They have produced another sinner. And just as the family multiples, so troubles and conflict multiply, sometimes exponentially. To Christians who might naively think that every Christian home will be peaceful and loving and kind and as Christian as any utopian possibility, Jesus says, “I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person’s own enemies will be of his own household.”

Do you know what is at the heart of most the fights you have in your own home – husband vs wife, wife vs mother-in-law, daughter against mother, dad against son? You might think it’s about toothpaste, or toilet seats, dishes in the sink, or dirty clothes on the floor, failure to call home, or calling too often, but those are symptoms of a greater issue. The core is when one family member starts making exclusive claims, either out loud or in their mind, about themselves, in effect declaring themselves god of the castle. One individual holds himself or herself as superior to others, free to do as he or she wishes, demanding obedience from the rest of the family, vaunting themselves beyond the limits God has established in a relationship where freedom is surrendered in loving servitude. Instead of faithfully fulfilling the vocation of father or husband, mother or wife, child or sibling, and submitting to one another in love, the individual tries to become a god – lowercase g – and the demanding, dominating voice of the situation. In other words, at heart, these kinds of fights are sins against the 1^st Commandment when we try to make ourselves out to be the god. This is true of children, parents, grandparents, husbands, wives, in-laws and out-laws: when you arrogantly make yourself the center of the family, you are guilty.

Repent. Repent of the arrogance and self-centered-ness and foolish pride; repent of making yourself out to be god in place of the Triune God. Repent of failing to see your family as a gift of God – imperfect though it may be, yes – it is still His gift for you. Repent of complaining about your mother in law to your own mother, your wife to your father, your sister to your best friend for this family is the dearest and closest relationships you will have this side of heaven. Repent…and believe the Gospel.

The Gospel says that Jesus took up His own cross for you. He, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross and scorned its shame, He took picked up His cross for the times you failed to carry your cross. He picked up the time when you told your daddy that you wished your husband would be half the man he was; He picked up the time when you angrily told your mom that you were done with her and you wanted nothing else to do with her, ever; He picked up the angry words whispered behind the locked bedroom door so the kids couldn’t hear. He picked up all of your sins and took them to the cross, paying for each and every time you made yourself out to be god in His place, trusting in your own power and authority instead of submitting in love to Him and to those whom He united you to in your family. He picked up your sins and died for them, paying the debt of condemnation with His own blood. It was no easy burden to bear. Physically, the load was so terrible that Simon of Cyrene had to come along side Jesus and carry the beam but that was only part of it. Nailed to the cross, Jesus died alone – isn’t that ironic? When we sin against our family, we do it together as a family but Jesus…Jesus died alone, abandoned even by God the Father.

Through the power of the Gospel and the spirit of God, you have been baptized into Christ Jesus. In that baptism, you are eternally connected to the cross of Jesus where forgiveness was earned for you. With the sign of the cross on your forhead and your heart in rememberance that you have been redeemed by Christ the crucified, all of your sins are washed away – even the ones you have yet to commit against your family – in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit. You are united to God through Christ…and so is your spouse, your child, your parents, your siblings…all likewise united to Christ.

And, that means not only are you united to Christ, but through Christ, you are united to each other. That means you aren’t just a family by blood, but also family through Christ.

Jesus reduces us to humility: the family is a gift of God, yes; but the family is always subject to God and His authority. “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me,” Jesus said. The family is called to show mercy and grace and compassion and love and charity within the family unit, but those all stem from what God has first demonstrated to us in Christ Jesus. In other words, family members can only show the grace and mercy and compassion and love and charity that is first received from Christ. And doing that – receiving from Christ and sharing with the family – reduces the pretense. Instead of making myself out to be God, I am instead a child of God who distributes what He first delivered to me.

 So, if you want to learn cross-bearing, you don’t need to go to an oncology ward or an AA meeting. Look in the home – look in your own home. You sit at the same table with knees tucked under the same table cloth. There are times you look at each other with so much love and fulness and joy and a sense of blessing that it brings tears to the eyes. And then there are times you look at each other with so much anger and loathing and frustration and near hatred that it brings tears to the eyes, too. You can’t be that close to each other, in each other’s space, without trouble arising. And so we get crucified in our families by people we love. “It’s her fault…” “If only he would…” “My brother is such an…” And our Old Adam and Old Eve creates self-serving liberty where freedom is to be surrendered in love through Christ.

Repent…and take up your cross. You won’t have to search too hard – I promise. Take up your cross. You don’t need to manufacture one or go find one somewhere. Wherever two sinners are, there are crosses. We make them for each other, sometimes by the gross, in an attempt for our Old Adam and Old Eve to make ourselves out to be superior, to be the god of the castle. These are the crosses you live with right now, in your daily life at home. You might not call it a cross or have considered it a cross before, but you recognize it and you hate it for the burden that it places across your shoulders.

To be clear: I am not speaking of abusive relationships, where your life is literally at stake. In that situation, in order to be able to take up a cross, you might need to flee for your own sake or that of your children. And if that’s you, know you are not alone. Your brothers and sisters in Christ are here, I am here, willing and able to help you walk with you and carry that cross to safety.

But after the cross comes Easter: Easter with its joy and celebration and promise of new life. Easter means the cross is in the rear-view mirror and the suffering is gone. Easter means there is a new beginning with sins forgiven fully and completely and restoration complete. Sinners, yes, but sinners washed clean in the blood of Jesus. Easter has come and Easter is coming again. I don’t mean April 2018 – I mean the day when Christ returns, the last day, the resurrection of all flesh. All of the promises made to you on that first Easter, 2000 years ago, will be completed and you will experience the joy of the burden of all of your crosses removed from you. What a day that will be!

But we’re not there, yet. Now, we still live under the cross. The newly weds arrive at the honeymoon hotel only to discover the groom, in his haste, booked the suite for the following week. The new wife looks at her new husband and wonders how he could mess up a wedding date and what that holds for their marriage. There’s a cross to bear. Parents, holding their brand new hour-old baby girl, start to move from the giddiness of their little baby to the real fears: how are we going to do this? There’s a cross to bear. A husband of 3 decades sits at the bedside of his beloved who, doctors say, has but a short time left in this life. There’s a cross to bear. The widower sits alone in a nursing home, no visits, no phone calls, no birthday cards, and he wonders why God hasn’t yet answered his prayer to be with his wife, fallen asleep in Jesus and waiting the resurrection of all flesh. There’s a cross to bear. Worries swirl around, fears threaten to overwhelm, and the cross looms large.

The Old Adam and Old Eve want Easter without Good Friday; the sinner wants resurrection without the cross. Newly-weds want romance without work; new parents want a soft baby without a loaded diaper. Jesus says that’s not the way of discipleship; that’s not the way of Christian life. Take up the cross.

Take up the cross and turn to your wife, who is your deepest joy and hardest struggle… Take up the cross and turn to your husband, who is all hands and no respect… Take up the cross and turn to your child who loves you when the car is gassed up and who hates you when they are grounded from going out with friends. Turn to them, take up the cross, and love them with the love of Christ Jesus. You are able to take up your cross because Jesus has taken up His cross for you and He promises that it won’t last forever…but His mercy does.