An Angel, Mrs. Stahl, and You: Unto You, A Savior - Luke 2:10

Glory to God in the highest and peace to His people of Zion. Amen.

Tonight we recall with wonder and amazement how the dark, night sky was illuminated and the silence of the Judean countryside broken by the presence of the Lord’s angel. The angel – remember, angel means “messenger” – delivered the good-news message of Christ’s birth. "Unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior which is Christ the Lord," he said. "And this shall be a sign unto you: you shall find the babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” The solo voice was soon joined by an angelic orchestra who filled the sky with song and light: "Glory to God in the highest and peace to His people on earth.”

Tonight I want to tell you about another angel – Mrs. Stahl. Mrs. Stahl – spelled S-T-A-H-L – was my kindergarten teacher at Holy Cross Lutheran Church in Emma, Missouri forty years ago this fall. The funny thing is, besides her name, I remember almost nothing about her. I think she had curly hair, but I’m not sure. I don’t remember her face, or her voice; I remember her as being kind, but not why. I actually remember our classroom better – it's wood floors, 70's pink walls, and desks with the chairs attached - and I remember her desk in the front of the room, off to the side, near the windows, with an honest-to-goodness blackboard passing behind her across the front wall.

I remember this placement because every Friday, we stood beside her desk to recite the week’s memory verse to her. Every Monday we were given a Bible verse to learn, by rote. We practiced it every morning, saying it together, but Fridays we were on our own. With our back to the class, we faced her and said our assigned verse.

What brought all of this to mind is the very first memory verse I learned was from the Christmas narrative of Luke 2: “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord.” So, there I was, standing next to her desk and I ripped off those nineteen words like a 5 year old auctioneer. A Plus, Gold Star, thank you very much, and I turned around to go sit down, quite proud of my accomplishment. But that’s not where my memory stops. I can’t remember her hair color, or the smell of her perfume, but I remember what Mrs. Stahl did next. She touched my arm and stopped me – in those days, teachers could still touch students. When I turned around to face her, she praised me for getting the words right, but then asked, “Now, can you tell me what it means?” I don’t remember my answer; maybe I said something about Christmas and Baby Jesus but it’s also possible that I just shrugged my little shoulders. Mrs. Stahl said, “The angel told the shepherds Jesus was for them. But it also means Jesus is for you. He was born to be your Savior. Jesus is for you, Jonathan.” Then, one by one, as each child came to her desk and recited their memory, she told each child the same thing: Ellie, David, Brett, each child one by one, Jesus is for you.

It took many years for me to get it, to figure out what she did and why Mrs. Stahl did that on that fall morning in 1979. In that Emma, Missouri classroom, Mrs. Stahl was an angel. I don’t mean a being with wings who descended from the heavens in radiant light like happened that first Christmas outside Bethlehem. Angel means “messenger,” remember, and angels have both a message to deliver and someone to deliver it to. Mrs. Stahl was an angel and the message she delivered was the Gospel, the Good News, that Jesus is the Savior. And her audience was a group of four, five, and six year old kids in western Missouri.

We weren’t all that different from the shepherds, I suppose: an unlikely audience, overlooked by most folks, important to our families but at the same time insignificant in the scope of things. Like the shepherds, we kids probably weren’t completely sure what was being told to us, yet we realized this angel-messenger-teacher was trying to tell us something, that her message was unique and special: that Jesus wasn’t just the Savior, or the Savior of the world, or the Savior for our parents and adults but a Savior for us.

That Bethlehem night some 2000 years earlier, God became enfleshed to dwell among those whom He came to save. Conceived by the Holy Spirit, born to His Virgin mother Mary and stepfather Joseph, God the Son humbled Himself to fulfill the Father’s promise made to another woman millennia earlier. Through Eve came the curse of man; through Mary came the salvation of man. To Eve came the promise of a seed who one day would crush satan’s head; to Mary was born the one who would be bruised but conquer. Through Eve, hope was passed from generation to generation. Through Mary, the hopes and fears of all the years were fulfilled.

Unto you... Those two words take the Christmas narrative and deliver it to hearers across the globe, across the ages, across borders, across languages. Unto you… Those words still echo to this evening of Christmas. They carry from the mouth of the heavenly angel…unto you. Unto you all…Jesus, born; Jesus, Savior; Jesus, Christ the Lord.

I lost touch with Mrs. Stahl. She left Holy Cross, and two years later we moved to Texas. But I’ve never forgotten what she taught me that morning. She taught it better than most of the PhD professors I had at the Seminary, in fact. The Gospel of Jesus isn’t just words in the Bible for pastors to read and memorize. It’s Good News for people, people who included shepherds, kindergarteners, and each one of you here this evening. It’s delivered in classrooms and fields, in homes and hospitals, in prison cells and in battle zones. Unto you. And when one person shares that Good News of Jesus with someone else who needs to hear God’s grace and mercy freely given, without any strings attached; that God deigned to be born in a Bethlehem stable so He could live among us and die for us; that Baby Jesus, laying in a manger, was already your Savior… when one person tells another this story, they…you!... – in that moment – become an angel, a Christmas messenger.

And, in that moment, whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or a week from Thursday, whether it’s your parent or child, a favorite in-law or a struggling step-child, a friend or a complete stranger, you can say with the angels, “Unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior which is Christ the Lord.”

Say it with me: “Unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior which is Christ the Lord.”

Unto you…a Savior. Unto you.

Amen.

The Simplicity of the Nativity Amidst Christmas Chaos - Matthew 1:18-25

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is Matthew 1:18-25.

For most of us, the past month or so has been consumed – or at least, nibbled at from the margins – with Christmas. From the music playing while lights are strung; from the annual argument whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie to the abundance of Hallmark shows; from the argument of artificial vs real; fun, then frustrated then frantic shopping for the perfect – or perfectly adequate – gift; parties, secret Santa’s, and running to kids and Grandkids events, it's been part of our daily thoughts.

Now, here we are - we’re days away from Christmas. Kids are so excited you could power small houses off the energy they emit. You can smell, see, taste, feel it: Christmas is here. And with it comes the romance of the night. I would say magic, but that doesn’t seem appropriate, does it? No - let's stick with romantic awe of the night. Singing Away in a Manger as we imagine angels hovering and glowing, shepherds fearing and listening - but going; Baby sleeping, Mary beaming, Joseph wondering. People will sit in the pews with candles are lit, the lights bumped down, and we sing Silent Night, filled with awe, wonder and amazement. Then it's home and presents and food and whatever else your family does. That's what it's all about, right?

Or, is it?

In the midst of our final rushing about and somewhat growing, jaded thoughts – have you even noticed kids JUST CAN’T WAIT FOR CHRISTMAS TO GET HERE, but adults can’t WAIT [sarcasm] for Christmas to be done? -  St. Matthew pulls us back to reality and re-grounds us, our hearts, and our minds as to what this, this Advent, this preparation, this anticipation is all about. He does it simply and succinctly with one sentence: “Now the birth of Jesus Christ came about this way.” With those few words, we are humbly reminded, as Saint Linus (of Peanuts fame) says “This is what Christmas is all about.”

“The birth of Jesus Christ.” In a baby, conceived in a supernatural way, but born in a wonderfully common way, God comes to us. This is both a wonder and a mystery. That God, who is almighty, all-powerful, and all-knowing, sets aside His full divinity and enters both our time and space to and takes on human flesh is a mystery to us. How is this possible, we wonder, that God could do such a thing? It’s a mystery, but not one that we must try to solve or even resolve. We know it is true, for the Bible tells us so. Even though we cannot fully explain it, or understand it, we believe it for God tells us it is so.

It is equally remarkable that the perfect, holy and sinless Son of God should make His dwelling among us. Why would someone, who is beyond reproach, chose to live among sinners who will, eventually, want nothing to do with Him? The greatness of His love moves Him to dwell among those who will turn against Him, reject Him and murder Him.

But, perhaps, the most remarkable thing of all is that Jesus is born. Such a simple thing, being born. It happens every day as mothers deliver baby boys and baby girls. Births today are, generally, so mundane and ordinary that we take the birth process for granted. Although more-or-less a normal thing, we still speak of births as miraculous, this process of bringing human life into the world. Jesus’ birth truly was a miracle. The sign, the miracle, virgin birth, long waited as Isaiah declared. The Bible speaks of original sin being passed on through the father, not the mother, so the virgin birth means Christ is born without sin. Yet, He is born.  God choses to birth His Son, not just “zap” him into existence.

But, consider this: we cannot ascend to God, so He descends to us. We cannot become as gods, so God becomes as one of us. We will never understand what it is to be God, and we will never be able to live under the expectation of fulfillment of the law in our thoughts, words and actions, so God takes on human flesh to fully understand, know, and experience all that humanity knows and experiences. Quite literally from birth, to death, and all things in-between, Jesus will experience it all.

Upon a manger filled with hay,
In poverty, content he lay.
With milk was fed the Lord of all,
Who feeds the ravens when they call. – Martin Luther

His name is Jesus. Our English name Jesus comes to us after an interesting journey from Latin, preceded by Greek Iasous, which was rendered from the Hebrew Yeshua. When you trace the word, you discover that Jesus’ name is the perfect explanation of who He is and what He is to do: “You shall name Him Jesus for He shall save His people from their sins.” Matthew notes He is Jesus Christ. People misunderstand this, thinking Christ was his second name, so when Jesus was in abacus class, the teacher would have called out Christ [comma] Jesus. No; Christ is not a last name. In that age, last names were usually connected to the father, such as Simon, son of Jonah. Christ is a title, the Greek version of what we know in the Old Testament as Messiah. Messiah means anointed. Jesus, the Savior, is the Annointed One who will rescue His people from their sins.

It’s tempting, and in these last days and hours before our family celebrations, it’s easy to lost focus, to lose sight of this very thing: Christmas is about God’s plan of salvation, coming to fruition in the fulness of God’s timing, conceived in Mary’s womb, and born a human – and Divine – child, fully God and fully man.

Have you ever had a bowl of corn flakes – just plain, old corn flakes? Years ago, Kelloggs sales execs noticed that sales were lagging on this long-time label. Not wanting to cut the historic cereal – one of the first dry cereals – they hanged their marketing slogan. Instead of slick advertising pictures, or boasting its vitamin counts, or having family breakfast, they simply showed a tight shot of the cereal being poured into the bowl, then milk splashing over the flakes. As a spoon dug in and lifted towards an open, expectant face, the voice-over simply said, “Kelloggs Corn Flakes: taste them again for the first time.”

If you find yourself harried and hurried, flustered and flummoxed these next days, stop. Open your Bible or your Bible app on your phone and read or listen to Matthew 1 and 2 or Luke 1 and 2. Pray the Holy Spirit gives you peace that you can see, that you can hear, the simple joy and wonder of the Christmas narrative, so you can see and hear it again for the first time.

John the Baptizer: "Repent! The Reign of Christ is Near!" - Matthew 3:1-12

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is Matthew 3:1-12.

John the Baptizer never read Dale Carnegie’s “How to win friends and influence people.” He never studied Gary Chapman’s “The Seven Languages of Love.” He never studied the difference between IQ and EQ. He is a man without a filter, a man who calls it like it is, who puts it out there directly and straight for everyone to hear it. He lets the chips fall were they may.

That’s too astringent, too acerbic, too bitter in our ears, so we try to neuter John. We try to romanticize him as a half-crazy wilderness itinerant preacher. We imagine him as an exotic aborigine who just needs a little culture and a good bath and he’ll be OK – sort of a Biblical Tarzan.

Yes…that’s the kind of Baptizer that I like:  So we make him rugged enough on the outside, but kind of soft and cuddly down deep. Not too challenging; not too edgy. We skip over that “Brood of vipers” preaching. None of that awkward discussion about how Jesus can raise up sons of Abraham from stones. No, we want a John who is safe, soft and cuddly.

And, that’s how we like God’s Word, too – isn’t it? We like it soft and safe, too. We like the 23rd Psalm, and the Lord’s Prayer, and the Beatitudes. We like Jesus’ baptism, and we like His miracles. We like Peter preaching at Pentecost and Paul converting the Corinthians. We love the romance of the Christmas narrative, and our hearts pound on Easter morning with the cries of “Christ is risen, He is risen indeed, Alleluia!” We like taking our Scriptures a sentence at a time for Portals of Prayer, and we like a quick recollection of a Sunday school story we heard – it’s fuzzy in our memory, but we remember the simple color cartoon-like picture of Jesus laying his hands on the children. To paraphrase a Sears commercial from 20 years ago, we like the softer side of the Word. Don’t push me, don’t challenge me, and no matter what you do, don’t correct me and call out what I want to do. Don’t call my freedom into question, don’t dare declare my choice a sin and everything is going to be A-OK. 

A safe John the Baptizer, delivering a safe and fuzzy word of God…Easy-peasy, Advent squeezy.

Or is he? Is John safe? Is he going to just let us be, leave us alone, to do what we want to do while he sits idly back and watches? If that’s your idea of John the Baptizer and his preaching, then be prepared. 

That’s exactly what John came to do: prepare. John was anything but safe, soft, and gentle. He was the last of the Old Testament prophets who spoke into the wilderness, declaring “Thus sayeth the Lord!” He was big and bold, even for a prophet, preaching the way Jeremiah and Ezekiel and Isaiah preached. There was thunder in his voice and fire in his words. He saw the lives of his contemporary Israelites – both people and leaders – and it wasn’t a life of faith, but a life of farce. It was no longer about trusting in the promises of God given to the prophets of old; it was about trusting that they were doing all of the “right” things to please God. It was about living their lives as sons of Abraham, instead of living as children of God.

John saw it and he called the people out – out of their sins, out of their comfort, out of their daily routines – and he called them out to the wilderness. The wilderness. There’s a stark reality to wilderness. Get down to deep, deep south Texas or west, west Texas and get off the main roads. There, you get a sense of wilderness. There is nothing there – no one, nothing to trust except God’s mercy and grace. And, there in the wilderness John preaches, thundering, calling God’s people back to faith, back to trust, away from their self-centered lives of contentedness and back to what God has declared will come.

His message was harsh to soft ears; the words hard on his tongue, cutting deeply into the hearts of the people. Repent. Return to the Lord your God. Turn away from your sinfulness. Turn away from your soft-serve reading of the Prophets. Turn away from your selfishness. Turn away and turn to God’s grace and mercy. He is faithful; He is always willing to receive those who repent, in faith, and return to Him.

As a sign of God’s faithfulness and His mercy, John baptized those who came out to him. A washing of repentance, it was more than just a symbolic gesture. It was delivery of God’s grace – the same grace that had poured out abundantly on the ancient Israel in the wilderness at the rock of Moriah, when water rushed forth to quench thirsty mouths, John stood in the Jordan river, baptizing to quench the aching hearts, souls and consciences troubled at His preaching.

This gift is for you, John was saying. God’s mercy is for you – all of you who know, believe, and trust that God has your eternal welfare at heart; who trust the promises of God in Messiah who is to come; who believe that God will rescue and redeem in His marvelous way; who wait for His arrival – God’s mercy is for you who realize how desperately you need a Savior. He is coming…He is coming soon.

That was John. He was not safe, nor was he soft. But He was God’s faithful servant of the Word. John was the last of the breed – the final Old Testament prophet who would preach a Messiah to come. He was foretelling how God would act in time in sending the one long-ago promised to Adam and Eve, Moses, David, Isaiah and Malachi. 

In our modern day and age, there are too many who are content to follow after the soft-and-fuzzy John the Baptists, with sugary sweet speeches of encouragement that are far, far removed from the John of the Jordan. John will not let us do this. John will not let us be lackadaisical in our lives of faith. He calls us back to the wilderness – back to God’s Word – and John speaks to us with the same message for today: Repent. 

Repent. It’s a word we don’t like to hear. Our itching ears lead to believe that our freedoms, our choices, our opinions, our feelings are paramount. The world tells us it’s all about the unholy trinity – me, myself and I. Our own sinful flesh bites and believes, hook line and sinker, that whatever that trinity wants, it should get. John calls us and says “Repent. Turn away from your selfish desires. Turn away from your wants. Turn away from your greed. Turn away from your arrogance. It’s not about you; it’s about Jesus.  Stop pretending you can save yourself. Stop pretending that you can be your own Messiah. Repent. Return to the Lord your God for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” 

We hear that word “repent,” and we think that means we have to be sad all the time to show how sorry we are. That’s not it at all. Repent doesn’t mean we must become Lutheran Eeyore’s. Repent means turning away from our sinfulness and, by the grace of God’s Spirit, be returned to following  His Word. It means trusting that we live in God’s grace and we are fully and freely forgiven – not because we demonstrate how sorry we are with hang-dog looks, but because Jesus died for you. His death covers all of your sins. Your greed, your arrogance, your self-trust…in faith, trust that Jesus died and carried all of that to the cross. 

There was nothing “soft” about that moment. It was the harsh, hard, reality of God’s justice: the perfect payment of an innocent man for the sins of the unfaithful, sin-stained world. Jesus, taking into Himself the sins of the entire world, dying the condemned death of the damned so that you and I would not have to. 

Repentance turns to the cross where Jesus died and says, “I believe that cross is where Jesus paid my price. And because He did that, I am forgiven.”

That’s the John the Baptizer that the Scriptures gives us. Simple, yes, but not simplistic; neither soft nor fuzzy. He keeps John as a simple character so he doesn’t get in the way of Jesus. 

Is John safe? Of course, not. But he is good. He’s the Prophet, the baptizer, the forerunner who calls us back to the coming King. 

Who is This? Christ, the Coming One. Matthew 21:1-11

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is Matthew 21:1-11, especially this sentence: “And when Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred up saying, ‘Who is this?’”

Who is this? Fair question, isn’t it? So, let’s also be fair and charitable towards those who were asking. I suspect that many had a genuine curiosity, a real desire to know what the fuss was all about. Who is this, in the sense of “What’s going on? I don’t know, I don’t understand – someone help me figure this out.”

But for others, it was not so much about information, about an inquisitiveness into the person who is arriving, but it is more of a challenge, rich in sarcasm, loaded with demands and expectations that someone explain what this guy is doing. Who is this, in the sense of, “Who is this guy who thinks he can ride into the city like He is a modern-day King David?” Who is this?

Who, indeed? Who is the one whom even the wind and the waves obey? Who is this in our boat? Who is this who claims to forgive sins? Who is this who heals with spit and mud? Who is this who touches the dead and brings them back to life? Who is this who says to a lame man, “Take up your bed,” and he can walk? Who is this who speaks about being lifted up and drawing all peoples to Himself? Who is this who says if He is destroyed, He will be raised three days later? Who is this who looks so plain but speaks so powerfully? Who is this who has a ragtag group of fishermen and women following Him, who eats with sinners and tax collectors, who stops to care for the weakest and most meek, who dares to challenge the social and religious leaders, who performs miracles in the way of Elijah?

Who is this? It is a primal question, one that is asked by many, and is at the heart of each and every person and each and every people of all time…including us. Who is this?

Jesus comes to Jerusalem amidst crowds that a politician, or a hometown hero, or a victorious sports team could only imagine. Crowds lined the city streets, shouting “Hosheanna! Hosanna!” Some stripped off their outer cloaks, others tore off palm branches, laying garments and leaves together on the road, paving the path before Him. The excitement was palpable, the air charged with the energy of the people’s expectation. But this wasn’t a football team. It wasn’t a warrior, or a government official, or anyone who oozed power and authority.

So, who is this? What’s all the fuss? They get the name right, the crowds, when they call Him, “The prophet, Jesus, from Nazareth in Galilee.” Yet, there’s a twist, foreshadowing Jesus’ own words five days later: they know not what they do, nor understand whom they welcome.

The question betrays the paradox, the dilemma that characterizes Jesus’ walk through life and His arrival, not only that spring day into Jerusalem, but all through His life and ministry. He slips into the world, hardly noticed, in a backwater town, in an unknown stable of an unknown inkeeper. He is welcomed by shepherds, a rather rough-around the edges group of men, both in image and in smell, and then soon after by strange men from foreign lands, yet an indicator of what His ministry is about and who He comes for. He slips into His Father’s house where he teaches with authority already as a 12 year old. He slips into Jerusalem, with all of the hubbub, where He seems to stumble into a secret plot to be murdered. Finally, after a terrible, torturous trial and crucifixion he slips into death.

Lots of slipping and sliding, if I may; and yet, part of that gentle and unobtrusive life. Who is this one, who is gentle and unobtrusive, hardly worth a second look? The One who comes to make a claim on this world in a different way – very different from the style of those whom most parades are arranged around.

This is the One who slipped from the grave, from the very grasp of death itself. He slips into the upper room, unnoticed at first, to deliver peace to those who were stuck in fear. He slips into bread and wine, into water, and into the Words of a Book. He slips into the lives of transformed people, all the while deepening and widening and expanding and expounding on this question, this haunting question, “Who is this?” 

Who is this who we’ve got here? Who is this who is among us?

Why, He still does this. He slips into us, and through us, to those around us to peoples whom these people in the New Testament had never heard of. He slips into our daily lives in Mission Valley and daily walks in Goliad and Cuero and Victoria, and He lives and brings life to people, to waiting people, all around us at work, at play, at doctors offices and fast food restaurants. This is the one who brings life in the face of, and life out of death.

Who is this?

Will we ever fully know the answer? Will we ever know the rich fullness of Him, He Who Was, Who Is, and Who Is to Come? Probably, no – at least, not this side of heaven. We will never completely understand all that has been revealed of Him, He who is the Word made flesh. The more we live with Him, the more we walk with Him, the deeper the mystery becomes. And, in a very real sense, this is a good thing. I don’t want a God that I completely understand. The mystery – and, here I don’t mean as if it’s something to discover, like a whodunit murder mystery, but rather, that which is beyond our full understanding – the mystery of His grace, and His love, and His ability to take broken lives and heal and transform them, and the mystery deepens the more we know.

Yet, this is why He came in human form because otherwise, He would be too baffling, too incomprehensible, even more than He already is. He came to live among us, to warm us, to warn us, to enliven us, to rescue us, to save us. None of this at the expense of the mystery – even those who closely followed, literally in his footsteps of the Galillean countryside, didn’t get it always.

So, Who is this? The crowds had it right, that Palm Sunday afternoon. They turned back to the Scriptures and found the answer before their question was ever asked. The Prophet Zechariah of Old Testament minor fame speaks through the New Testament Jerusalem crowd: “Behold: He is the coming you’re your coming King. Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.” This, this time of adventing, this time of arrival,  drives the season. Think of it: the Church sets aside a full month, one twelfth of the year, to get ourselves ready for the mystery of the incarnation, the mystery that pulls us, invites us, calls us, captivates us, and incorporates us into Him.

Who is this? He is the Advent One, the Coming One. The one who came, gentle and humble. He comes, to you in Word and Sacrament, and through you, in word and action to those around you. He has a coming to come to.

Who is this? If He is the Coming One, who are you?  You are the one whom He comes to. You are His, who welcomes the One who comes. Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.

Amen. Come Lord Jesus. Come. Amen.