Getting the King's Ransom: Luke 24:23-47

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is Luke 23:26-43

Today is the Last Sunday of the Church Year. It’s also called Christ the King Sunday. These last Sundays of the Church year, we especially focus, as we say in the Creed, that “He will come again with glory to judge the living and the dead, whose kingdom will have no end.” And, when we think of Christ’s return we think – rightly! – of the pictures painted in the Scriptures of what that day will be like. In those pictures we have in our minds, we think of a glorious and majestic event with trumpets, and lights, and angels, and all the heavenly host in attendance as Jesus descends. And every eye shall see and every ear shall hear and every one – faithful and unfaithful, in Christ and outside of Christ, the body of Christ and those who separated themselves from Christ – everyone shall know Christ is Lord.

But our Gospel reading does not take us to the glorious return of Jesus. Last week, we heard Jesus’ words direct us to a tree, to the tree, as He drew closer to the cross. Today, St. Luke leads us to that very tree, to the foot of the cross, where we see and hear the narrative of Jesus’ crucifixion. Strange scene, isn’t it, an odd picture to be given to us on the day we proclaim Christ the King to instead see Jesus as Victim, the sacrifice. Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.

The world expects glory in parades, pomp and circumstances. Christ shows His glory in the exact opposite: in His innocent suffering and death. The world expect a king to reign from behind the walls of an expansive castle while sitting on the finest of thrones. Christ reigns outside the city walls, near the town dump, with his throne being the lonely place of the cross. The world expects a king to wear a crown made of the finest of gold, silver and precious jewels. Christ wears a crown made of thorns – the curse of the garden of Eden literally coming to rest on His brow.

A king is surrounded by his subjects, bowing and scraping before his feet. Jesus is surrounded by the crowds who mock and jeer. A king stands with soldiers at his side, ready to do his bidding. Jesus hangs with two criminals, one on each side. A king rules in majesty. Jesus rules in humility. A king rules by fiat and royal edict. Jesus rules in mercy and grace. A king threatens and punishes wrongdoers and, in Jesus case, even punishes the innocent. Jesus forgives not only the unwitting participants, but also the penitent sinner who only asks to be remembered. A king is heralded with trumpets and armies. Christ was mocked, with just a note to declare Him “The King of the Jews.” A king fights tooth and nail to live and to hold onto his earthly kingdom. Christ takes spear and nail to die and to surrender his life for the ransom of many. A king’s bedchamber is filled with the finest of pillows, the softest of beds, and faithful servants to minister to his every whim and need. Christ’s bedchamber was hewn out of stone, his bedclothes a grave shroud, and laid to rest hurriedly by faithful but frightened disciples. When a king dies, there is national mourning and heads of state offer words of consolation.

Where earthly kings enjoy every kind of service and servant, Christ came not to be served, but to serve. Where kings command and people die, Jesus gives His life as a ransom for many.

A strange king, this One who takes the place of His people. Abdicating His heavenly throne and divine royalty to take up human flesh. A strange kingdom, indeed: reigning to die. No one has ever done such a thing before.

That’s because no king has ever loved like this One. Christ, the King, does all of this to trade places with His people: one, innocent death to take the place of all people of all time. He does it to stand under God’s own judgement – judgement that otherwise would have fallen upon us.

In the Old Testament sacrificial rite, when an animal was slaughtered for sacrifice, the blood of the animal would be caught in a bowl. The animal would be prepared and placed on the altar and then half of the blood would be poured out on top of the sacrifice. Using a hyssop branch, the high priest would dip into the blood and fling it on the worshippers, sprinkling them with the blood of the animal. Life is in the blood, Deuteronomy says, and the collecting, pouring and sprinkling of the blood signified that the life taken from the animal is life given to the people.

But once a year, on Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement – the High Priest would enter into the Holy of Holies in the Temple with his basin of blood. There, the blood would be sprinkled, not on the sacrifice, but on the Ark of the Covenant, the place where God promised to dwell among His people. This place, the lid of the Ark of the Covenant, was called the mercy seat. God would show mercy by receiving the blood of the sacrificial bull and remember His pledge and promise that He would not destroy His people. He would accept a sacrifice in their stead. Then, the priest would sprinkle the blood on the people of Israel. The covenant of God was signed in blood.

A moment ago, I said that the cross was Jesus’ throne. It also served as an altar, an altar upon which Christ is offered as the once-for-all sacrifice, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.  In Christ’s crucifixion, the cross becomes a throne-altar, the mercy seat, where Jesus blood is shed, poured out for us for the sins of the world.  It is, truly, the King's ransom for you.

As blood-covered and mercied people of God, we call out in repentant faith, “Father forgive us, for we know not what we do.” And, God, rich in mercy through the blood of Jesus, speaks to each of us: Today, you will be with me in paradise.

That sounds strange, to be sitting here in this sanctuary in South Texas on the Last Sunday of the Year. Today? As beautiful as this place is, it is hardly paradise. Paradise – that is, eternity in the presence of Christ in the resurrection of all flesh – paradise is yours, today. You are baptized, you are redeemed, you are made whole in Christ. Christ has died for you, Christ has fulfilled the Law for you, Christ has completed the Father’s will for you.

Christ is your King. But, here’s what’s remarkable: He makes you royalty as well so you can be an active part of the Kingdom. “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His own marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people. Once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.” (1 Peter 2:9-10)

Here’s why that’s important. You are made holy for a purpose. Not just for your own salvation, but for sharing the news of the King with those around you. Some people hear that and think they have to be missionaries, or pastors, or at least Sunday school teachers. No. You are proclaimers of the King in your daily vocation. When you stand in line at the grocery store, when you attend your grandson’s concert, when you make the kids’ lunches, when you change someone’s diaper, when you are pumping gas, when you eating lunch at the Barn, when you and your family eat together – in any of those moments, in what you say and do, you proclaim Christ and His mercy and grace. You, who received the King’s ransom, now share it with those around you.

In the name of Christ, the King.
Amen.

The End is Near! Go Watch a Tree. Luke 21: 5-33

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel, Luke 21:34-36.

We are now in the last Sundays of the church year and you will notice that the readings become quite dark and heavy with anticipatory warnings. They sound like the apocalyptic doom & gloom TV shows and movies that were so popular a few years ago. Whether global flooding, an asteroid strike, nuclear winter, or alien invasion, these shows and movies got the attention of millions and made millions of dollars as well. But, viewers knew that when the show or movie was over and they got off their sofas or left the theater, it was right back to the same ol’ same ol’ routine. Life was normal, boring, routine and safe.

Oh, sure – there are plenty of real-world stories about war and conflict and political unrest on the evening news. Occasionally, we hear of Christians being martyred over in the Middle East and we pause for a moment to reflect on our ability to gather here. But these stories catch our eye only for a moment. We see the terrible firestorms that swept California and watch with horror at homes and livelihoods and lives that are destroyed. It’s funny…we watch and listen to these kinds of stories and, other than that moment or two of discomfort, we quickly change the channel, close the webpage, fold up the paper, and head to work or to bed and with hardly another thought, forget and move on with our own lives.

But when Jesus speaks of wars and destruction of what we know by earthquake and fire and conquest, and then say that those things are just the beginning, it catches our attention. We’re not used to Him speaking this way. The idea that your parents or children or aunts or cousins might turn against you to deliver you and other faithful Baptized Christians to governing authorities to be arrested, tried and convicted, that makes us uncomfortable, to say the least. To realize that droughts and famines and other so-called “natural disasters” that we know and experience are only the beginning, and could drive our world to a screeching halt like we’ve never experienced, like Hollywood only can begin to imagine, we wonder how we would survive such a thing.

These aren’t some attention-grabbing headline you see in the grocery store tabloids. These aren’t something on a cheesy internet channel. This isn’t a reporter trying to drum up ratings. Jesus is speaking with full, Divine authority, prophesying what will come.

This does cause us to pause and reflect on our sitzenbleiben – our place in life, especially our standing before God.

For some, these readings strike fear into the heart, and it’s easy to understand why. We look around at our homes, our families, our world in which we live and realize all of this can be gone, literally in a moment. It’s frightening to think any of these things could happen at any time. Things are beyond our control in every sense of the word. It seems that politically and socially, everything stands against the church and then even creation gets into the act.

For others, the response is more dismissive. After all, Jesus spoke these words 2000 years ago. Some flippantly comment that yes, it’s happening all around, but it’s not happening here; it won’t happen to me. Still others offer the glib and wry comment that we can’t do anything about it, so we may as well eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we may all die. Les bon temp roulet – let the good times roll.

It’s no wonder that the disciples, walking with Jesus, ask the question that Christians have wondered since Jesus spoke these words of warning 2000 years ago. Across time and spanning generations, the question echoes: “Teacher when will these things be and what will be the sign when these things are about to take place?”

Jesus gives us a picture: that of a tree. “Look at the fig tree, and all the trees,” Jesus says. He’s using the tree to demonstrate the passing of time. As the seasons change, so does the tree: first the leaves come out, then fruit is produced, then the leaves wither and die.

With each passing season, so the kingdom of God draws closer. With each sunrise and sunset, with each rolling forward of the news cycle, whether the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70, or the arrival Hurricane Harvey in 2017, whether fires in Australia or school shooting in California, whether social unrest in a foreign country or the foolish political posturing of Washington, with each passing story that we hear about or live out, Jesus’ return draws closer. Inversely, with each spin of the earth on its axis and each revolution around the sun, the earth with all of its chaos and loss, this world draws closer to its end. The day is coming when Jesus will return. He will set all things right, restore creation, claim His throne, and to rule with glory and honor.

In all those movies and shows, have you noticed they always follow the same theme. In a moment of weakness, someone will say “Can we do it?” and the rest, with Bob the Builder positivity, say “Yes, we can!” With a combination of science, ingenuity and good old fashioned muscle, the heroes muster the courage, strength and wherewithal to survive and conquer. As we wait, Jesus would not have us look to ourselves. He would not turn us science or wisdom, technology or muscle. These things are good, and they are helpful, but they cannot save.

With the drawing close of the kingdom, from the beginning of the kingdom of Israel to these gray and latter days, there is only one response that the children of God: look at the tree. Look to the Tree. Not a fig tree, or an oak tree, or a pomegranate tree; not a fir or a cypress or a cedar. Look to the tree upon which the Lord of Life hung.

Look to the Tree. Jesus was nailed to the Tree after His own betrayed Him to be arrested, tried and convicted. Jesus was left alone to defend Himself when all His brothers fled in fear. Look at the tree where, as Jesus breathed His last, the sun fled from the sky and the earth shook with sorrow at His innocent death. Look to the Tree where it seemed the fires of hell consumed the One who died. Look to the Tree, stripped of its own leaves of life, supporting the one who had life stripped from Him. Look to the Tree. Look to the cross. There, at the Tree, the Lord of Life redeems the world with all of its fallenness, all of its destruction, all of its pain. At the Tree, Jesus conquers it all for us.

So, look to the Tree. Look to the Tree with repentance, confessing your sins. Look to the Tree with faith. With our cries of “Lord, have mercy,” confessing in faith that Jesus will rescue and save, look to the Tree with hope. That, even as this world falls and fails around us, when Christ returns, this world will be recreated and restored and renewed in the resurrection of all flesh.

As our fall season deepens, look at the trees around you. They simply go on being trees. They don’t fear the winter to come, and God in His grace, provides for them and He prepares them for winter when the leaves fall and they have their season of rest. Then, after their rest, comes new life, springtime, a season of Easter even for creation. It’s a metaphor for our lives now as we prepare for that which is to come. Look to the trees. But, more than that, look to the Tree for grace and strength to endure that which is before us. “But watch yourself lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and cares of this life, and that day come upon you suddenly like a trap. For it will come upon all who dwell on the face of the whole earth. But stay awake at all times praying that you may have strength to escape all these things that are going to take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”

Oh, For Heaven's Saints! Revelation 7:9-17

What does heaven look like? Take a moment and picture it. Maybe you have clouds and angels playing harps in your head. Maybe rainbows and green valleys, or something like a golf course. Maybe you just thought of the Field of Dreams in Dyersville, IA.

St. John was exiled to the prison island of Patmos for being a Christian. There, as an old man, he had a marvelous vision – and he wrote down what he say. We call that writing, “The Book of Revelation”. And while Revelation is filled will all sorts of the images John saw, some of them even quite scary, we also see here some of the clearest pictures of heaven in all of scripture.

One striking thing about heaven, pictured in Revelation, is that it's not so much a place as a people. Or, should we say, a situation – between God and his people. John doesn't so much describe the surrounding environment – that's not what's important. But what is important is who is there, and why.

God is there. That's what makes it so heavenly. That's what makes it a good place – a place we want to be. Heaven means a blessed reunion of God and man – a relationship restored to full and perfect harmony, after it was lost in the ancient paradise of Eden. To be cast away from God forever is Hell. But to be in his presence forever, singing his praises, is heavenly. John certainly pictures God throughout his vision – both as a mighty king on his throne, but also also as the Lamb who once was slain – Jesus Christ, the firstborn of the dead.

But on this All Saints Day, it's worth noting who else is there – his people.

In Revelation 7 we see two pictures of God's people. First, we have the 144,000. Contrary to the teachings of some, this does not mean there's a limited number who can be saved. It's not as if heaven has a big flashing “no vacancy” sign, and the rest of us are out of luck unless you’re one of an uber-select group who received a secret invitation to get in. Here is a symbolic number – 12, the number of God's people throughout scripture – is squared and multiplied by 1000. It really stands for the totality of all God's people, the church, the chosen ones of God. This is the people of God on earth, the church militant who still struggles under the cross. This is you, me, and the Christians across the globe who are still living, this side of heaven, waiting for the day of Christ’s return.

Then there is the great multitude no one could count. And these are really the same people – God's people – but it’s the view from the other side of the resurrection on the last day. This is the picture of all who have died in the faith, from the days of Adam and Eve, until the day when Christ returns to judge the living and the dead. It’s a crowd that is so vast that no human eye can count them all who are saved and stand before God in heaven.

John sees this great crowd, and one of the elders asks, “who are they?” We might wonder the same, but the answer is obvious. One wonders, too, if John didn't even recognize some of them. Perhaps as he looked on the crowd he saw Christian friends – apostles and martyrs who had gone before him. “Oh there's Peter, there's Matthew. There's my brother James”

Who are they? Its obvious. “Sir, you know” he says. But this moment is worth comment. Of all the visions in Revelation, few are explained to this extent. The elder makes it plain, “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb” These are believers in the glory of God's eternal presence.

These are, in fact, all the saints. Can you see their faces? There are our parents, our children, our grandparents; our neighbors and friends; distant family members; co-workers; Edna and Sandy. Heroes of the faith of generations past – all standing there before the Lamb of God.

But it’s not just them. By the grace of God, you and I will be there, too. For in Holy Baptism, our robes are washed clean in the blood of the lamb. There you were first clothed with Christ. And his righteousness covers you even now, and even forever. You are declared holy; you are sainted through Christ. Now, you are part of the church militant, struggling in this world; then, you will be part of the church triumphant. And all the trouble of this world, or as Revelation calls it, “the great tribulation” - none of it compares to the glory revealed there. There, in the presence of God, there is no more pain, hunger, thirst, suffering or sorrow.

What a beautiful picture it is, that God will wipe every tear from our eyes. Like a loving father whose kiss makes the boo boo all better, but even more perfect and full. His tender, loving, mercy will take away all cares and troubles, not just for a moment, but forever. It's almost impossible to comprehend.

By rights, heaven is already yours. You already stand in the merciful presence of God, by grace through faith. One day we will see it in all its fullness, but we possess it even now.

Yes even now, God gives us a taste of it. We have the forgiveness of our sins, and the peace with God that brings. We have the promises of blessings now and future, and in those words we trust. We have the hope of the resurrection, the certainty of things unseen. And we have his gracious presence even now - “Lo, I am with you always” and “where two or three gather in my name, there am I”.

Even now, before the great marriage feast, we have a foretaste, a sample, if you will, of that blessed banquet. When we gather at the rail and kneel to receive his body and blood, we participate in the great communion – the community – of heavenly host, together with angels, archangels and all the company of heaven. It's as if the saints themselves are here with us, praising and thanking the God who has brought us salvation.

That's why we sing the same songs. Power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and blessing and glory to God and to the Lamb, forever and ever, amen. We, like the saints, are blood-bought and victorious in Christ. We, like the saints, will live forever. And that eternal life with God has already begun.

All Saints Day – not a day to mourn or bemoan those who have departed this world, but a day to rejoice in triumph with those who have joined the everlasting company, the great multitude in the eternal presence of God. All saints – all holy people – who continuously praise the Holy One, our Lord and savior Jesus Christ.

Today we see images, visions, with St. John of the glories of heaven – not a place, as much as a state of being – God, in mercy, dwelling with his people forever.

For the promise of glories to come, and for the present blessings he so richly reveals – we thank you, O Lord. For all the saints who from their labors rest, we thank you, O Lord. And for the grace to remain in that great company here in life and there for eternity we pray, keep us always, O Lord, in Jesus Christ. In his name. Amen.