Finding Your Rest in Jesus - Isaiah 55:6-9

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

I like listening to audio books while I drive. Helps pass the time. Last week, I was listening to a mystery. A man had been killed and the case was drawing a lot of interest because the victim was a suspect in another criminal case. Between the two events, many people’s lives were impacted, directly and indirectly, by the whole sad narrative. The local newspaperman was interviewing the county sheriff asking about details. Even the reporter seemed melancholy and pensive by the whole sordid affair and, as the interview ended, he asked, “Does it ever seem to you that the world is getting tired? [1]”

Does it ever seem to you that the world is getting tired? I’ve thought about that question all week. Given all that has happened, is happening, and continues to happen all around us – and by “us” I mean all of creation, not just Mission Valley – I imagine that the world is growing weary.

Covid-19 continues to be in the headlines, both because of what it has done and because of the concerns of what it could do. We are in the high peak of hurricane season and the Atlantic Basin is doing its best to teach you all the Greek alphabet. While the upper Gulf Coast from Louisiana to the Florida panhandle struggles with record flooding and power outages from their own hurricanes, an unwanted Beta is scheduled to knock on our door in the next day or two. The West Coast is battling wildfires that turn the midnight sky into a smokey, eerie orange. Violence continues in major cities across not only the United States but the world. Accusations of sexism, favoritism, racism are levied against people – some rightfully, some wrongly, and some sheerly out of spite and vitriol. Innocent people, in the wrong place at the wrong time, have their names, reputations, vocations and even their bodies ruined by hate-filled actions of others who forget that all lives matter. And, that’s all by the end of the 6am news.

In the meantime, for all of us with children and spouses in school, we’ve wrestled with in person or virtual learning and we’ve learned what synchronous and asynchronous means. We see the anxiety and stress in their eyes and voices every day as they leave for class and the frustration as they come home with ever more work to do. We go to our own jobs and struggle with declining revenues and shrinking markets. Meanwhile, our bodies are continuing to age. The knees hurt more and the back doesn’t straighten out as quickly and the eyes can’t see quite as well to thread that needle or to read the spec sheet. The doctor tells us our blood pressure is up and our triglycerides are down and we need to exercise more, but not how to find the time to take care of ourselves, let along everyone else who needs a piece of our time. We go to bed exhausted and wake up not fully rested and turn on the 5am news and it all starts again. Coffee just doesn’t quite fight away the tired that remains in our body, in our mind, and in our heart.

Tired. That’s a good word, isn’t it? We’re tired, our families are tired, and yes – even the world seems tired. And, as God’s people, we know the answer to our fatigue: we seek rest in the Word of God in the Holy Scriptures. This morning, Isaiah invites us to seek the Lord, to search for Him, to pray to Him who is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble, and to call upon Him while He is near. And we do. We lift up our weary eyes to the hills, from whence cometh our help (Ps. 121), but even the hills seem to be groaning under the strain of it all (Romans 8:22). Our cries, uttered in faith, echo the Psalmist, “How long, O Lord, how long” (Ps. 13)? Maybe we even find the words of Job echoing in our own prayers, “I cry to you for help and you do not answer me; I stand, and you only look at me. You have turned cruel to me” (Job 30:20-21). It seems there is only silence amidst fires, flood, famine…fatigue.

But Isaiah would not allow us to merely offer up a grocery-list of laments and complaints. He is not content to leave us grounded in the foolish notion that we should, somehow and someway, be exempt from such sufferings this side of heaven because of our goodness, our “innocence,” our self-righteousness, our Christianity. Isaiah will not let us stand on our own terms. Rather, Isaiah rightly places us before Almighty God. He is God; we are His people, the sheep of His hands.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” God uses the tiresome, wearisome things of this world to draw us back to Him. In these things that take place around us, that we see on the screen or in the paper, that we hear of from friends and family, God is at work, even in these moments that seem so out of His control, to lead us to repentance.

When one hears the word, it's often met with resistance – especially over and against things out of our control. Repent is neither a popular nor easy word. It implies guilt – that there is something to repent of. Our culture much prefers self-defense of innocence or, at least, it's not my fault – it’s someone else’s. How do and why should I repent for the riots in Minneapolis, or sexual harassment in Hollywood, or for fires burning in Oregon?  The entire Christian life is one of repentance, the recognition and acknowledgment that we are sinners living in a fallen world. We repent for that which we have done and that which we have left undone in our lives. We repent of misrepresenting ourselves as co-equal with God, as if He owes us a reply. We repent of breaking our relationship with God in our sinfulness. We repent of our demands for answers. We repent of our expectations that all is fair. Repentance humbles, not defends. It is reflective on God’s voice, not defiantly raising ours. It is admission that we need help, not a spotlight.  So, our Lord through Isaiah calls us to return to the Lord. Our cries join that of creation, creation calling to Creator, and we seek the Lord: “Lord, have mercy.”

Repentance has two aspects. The first is sorrow for our sins. That’s the plea for mercy, that we do not receive what we deserve. The second is faith that trusts that God is inclined to show mercy to us because of Christ. I suspect we forget that part, that repentance includes faith.  The entire life of the Christian is one of repentance, remember – sorrow for our sins, yes, but more than that, it’s the faith that trusts Jesus died to rescue and redeem this fallen world and all of us who are in it.

Faith seeks the Lord where He has promised to be: at the cross. At the cross, Christ carried the unrighteousness and wickedness of the world into Himself. He was separated from His Father so that we would never be isolated from God’s grace. Jesus suffered hell on earth so that our sufferings would be only temporary and not last into eternity. Jesus died as a condemned sinner, not only for you and me, but even to redeem creation. The heavens marked His guilty-as-hell death by cloaking the mid-day sun with darkness and with the ground shaking in fear that the God of Creation died, the earth swallowing His body into the burial chamber for a three-day rest.  

On the third day, Christ arose, living, breathing, triumphant. His resurrection declares that sin, death and the devil have been conquered, and that the fallen world and our own fallen selves have been rescued and redeemed by Him.

So, when you are world-weary and sin-worn, turn to the One who knows full-well about being world-weary, sin-worn, and He knows the need for rest. But He not only knows the struggle, He gives the victory. In His resurrection, He invites us to “Come to me who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28). Seek Him where He has promised to be: here, in His house; in Water and Word, in Bread and Wine. He is present in the fellowship of the saints who speak Christ’s own words of comfort and blessing, and when a brother or sister helps you, in the name of Jesus, when you are weak and struggling.

“Does it seem like the world is getting tired?” This side of heaven, we will continue to struggle and we will have those days when we feel oh, so tired and not sure that we want to know what tomorrow will bring. Those days make us yearn for the promised day of resurrection when our rest shall be perfect and the fatiguing factors of this lifetime are forgotten. Until then, do what is in front of you and do it to the best of your ability. Repent of your sins and in faith that you are already forgiven in Christ. And then rest – rest your body, your mind, your soul – in Christ Jesus who died and was buried for you, knowing that His three-day rest in the tomb sanctifies your rest. And, then, when you awake, make the sign of the cross as a reminder that Christ is near and with you. Go about your day, renewed in Christ Jesus.

Amen.

 

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[1] Johnson, Craig. The Cold Dish. I was listening to an audiobook, so I don’t have a page citation.

When You Get What You Ask For - Matthew 18: 21-35

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

Be careful what you ask for – you’ve heard that sage advice, haven’t you? But, do you know there’s more to it? The full quote continues, “Be careful what you ask for; you just might get it.”

Be careful when you ask a question of Jesus that is based in the Law. When you ask a Law question, be careful because you may get a Law answer.

How often will my brother sin against me and I forgive him? It’s another question of Law, and it comes hot on the heals of Jesus’ instruction “If you brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and he alone. If he listens, you have won a brother. If he does not listen, take another with you…” (18:15ff). You notice Jesus didn’t give restrictions, conditions or exceptions – he simply says, “if he sins against you.”

I suspect Peter is realizing that this process of forgiving could become rather burdensome and most certainly repetitious. Peter wants some clarification, a limitation, a boundary on how often forgiveness is to be doled out. After all, isn’t there a time of accountability, a point where enough is enough, where forgiveness ceases and justice prevails? How often, Jesus? Peter proactively makes a rather generous seven-time offering – seven is a perfect number, a holy number, a number of fullness and completion, an offer of forgiveness that is twice what the Jewish rabbis taught. Forgiving a repeat sinner seven times seems rather generous.

How many times do I forgive? Remember: a Law question merits a Law answer. Peter wants a quantity, so Jesus gives Peter a quantity, but not what is expected. Jesus ups the ante: seven isn’t sufficient; even seventy is not enough. How often do you forgive, Peter? How about seventy times seven.

People ask me frequently how to forgive someone who has sinned against them – a terrible, grievous sin, one that hurts at the deepest core and is hard – almost impossible – to forgive. How do you forgive the drunk whose decision to drive cost your wife her life? How do you forgive the man who sexually assaulted you? How do you forgive your classmate who posted ugly lies about you on Twitter and Instagram, making you the laughing stock of school? How do you forgive your spouse, son, daughter, or parent, that person who violated your trust and love?

If you think forgiveness is yours, it is something you do, if it is within your power, your ability to give to someone else, you will never be able to forgive. You will always have limits, exclusions, restrictions on your forgiveness. It might be in quantity: I’ll forgive you seven, or seventy, or seventy-times-seven times, but not one more. It might be in quality: I can forgive everything else, but this? It becomes selective: I’ll forgive you and you and you, but you…nope. It can also be dismissively self-righteous: it’s OK for someone else to forgive you but not me…no, sir. If you think forgiveness is yours to meter out and dole out as you wish, you are always under the burden of the Law. If you think forgiveness is what you do, you are like the servant when he encounters another servant – I’ll forgive you, but only when payment is made in full and I get my pound of flesh in the process.

And, if you think forgiveness is yours to meter out, you are in danger of following the footsteps of the first servant who encounters the second servant.  One hundred day’s wages is too much to pass by, so the first throws the second into jail because he can’t pay up. That’s dangerous thinking; foolish thinking. Remember: this is the way of the Law. Be careful what you ask for…you may get what you’ve asked for. When restitution is demanded of someone else, it then is also demanded of you. He who had been set free is jailed and tortured; he, who refuses to forgive the one who owes him, has his own forgiveness nullified.

Now, I want to help you to turn the question. We’re going to change it from “how often do I forgive?” to “how often do I need forgiveness?” In other words, stop looking at the other servant and see only yourself. Suddenly, you have a completely new perspective. Rather than we being the ones giving out forgiveness in a limited number of drips and drops, we realize our own need for forgiveness is vast, beyond limit and number. Our own debt – or, as we pray in the Lord’s Prayer, our trespasses - are beyond number. “For I daily sin much and indeed deserve nothing but punishment,” the Catechism says (5^th Petition of the Lord’s Prayer, Explanation).  How often do I need forgiveness? Constantly, frequently, daily, hourly. What do I need forgiven? Everything.

But, how do you repay a debt you can’t repay? Both servants thought they could negotiate. One owed ten thousand talents. Given a talent is about 20 years wages, he had accrued 200,000 years worth of debt. The other servant owed 100 denarii. With a denarius being a day’s wage, it would be three and a half months’ work. Both men argued they would repay it, given a little more time, a little more grace, a little understanding. But, in reality, neither could afford the repayment price. All they could do was ask for mercy.

When we see ourselves as a servant with an insurmountable debt, that we are the ones who need forgiveness, that our sins far outweigh and outstrip any hope we have of repaying the price ourselves, the parable comes to life. You are the servant whose sins are an insurmountable debt; you are the one who needs forgiveness; you have accumulated a sin-debt that far outweighs and outstrips any hope you could possibly have of repaying the debt accrued. You are not the King who decides how often to forgive but as the one who oh, so often stands with the servants and implores, “King, have mercy on me a sinner.” All you can do is stand at the foot of the King’s throne and ask for mercy with your hands open and empty.

The ironic thing is that we ask for mercy from the very One against whom we have accrued our sin-debt. We confess this: We have sinned against God in thought, word and deed, by what we have done and what we have left undone; and we have sinned against our neighbor by not loving him and her as ourselves. We ask the King of Kings for mercy; we ask God to forgive us.

I’ve had people argue with me that forgiveness is too easy. Someone sins and then asks God to forgive.  Tabula rasa: the slate is wiped clean. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy. No consequences, no problem, good to go. The issue with that thinking is that it forgets that sin is a debt that must be paid. In the parable, the master forgives the servant’s debt of 10,000 talents. Literally, by cancelling the debt, he is paying debt himself; that is, it costs him 10,000 talents. When God forgives your sins, it is because the debt has been paid in full. Not with gold or silver, or with the stroke of a pen on a receipt. Your sin-debt is paid with the holy, precious blood of Jesus and His innocent suffering and death. He doesn’t count: how often have you sinned…seven sins, seventy transgressions, seventy seven violations of the Law against God and Man! You asked for it – Lord, have mercy on me a sinner! – and God, for the sake of Christ Jesus, gives you what you need. Jesus pays your entire debtor’s price in full so that you do not carry the burden into eternity, His one death for the sins of the world. Your sins have been atoned for, covered in the blood of Christ, and you have been redeemed, purchased and set free.

In your baptism, you were marked with the sign of the cross on your forehead and heart. The cross of Jesus marks your entire body. Those hands that were once empty, reaching out for the King’s mercy, are now marked with the cross of Jesus. You are released from your debt, the bill stripped from your hand, and you are forgiven all of your sins. Your idolatry, your misusing God’s name, your laziness in the Word and in prayer, your ugly words spoken against your parents, children, spouse, and elected officials, your mismanagement of company time, your wandering eyes and wondering mind…all of it, forgiven in Christ. You stand before the Master transgression-free. So there is never any doubt, absolution is spoken again and again, you are reminded of your baptism again and again, you receive Christ’s body and blood again and again so that you are constantly reminded that you, having sinned much, have been forgiven even more.

Earlier, I asked how do you forgive someone who it seems impossible to forgive? You don’t. Forgiveness is not yours to do. But Christ forgives, fully and perfectly. And that includes the other servant who has hurt you. Your fellow servant also stands before the King, also imploring His mercy. They are fellow servants of the King, whose transgressions have likewise been taken from them. They are servants for whom Jesus died, servants who have likewise been marked with the sign of the cross on their forehead and heart and washed in the water of Holy Baptism. Do you see their hands? Empty, emptied by Christ and marked with His blood. Your hands, empty; their hands empty. By God’s grace, through faith in Christ, you – plural – are forgiven.

In being forgiven, you are then enabled to share that forgiveness with other sinners. Christ has forgiven you and set you free so that you become a forgiveness sharer, sharing Christ’s forgiveness with those around you. It begins with humility, seeing your own sin-burden and knowing you, too, stand in front of the King of Kings asking for your own measure of mercy.

Knowing, believing, trusting and relying that you have been mercied much, you pray that the King enables you see that person who hurt you as a fellow servant who likewise has been forgiven by Jesus. With deepest of humility, instead of clenching your hands into fists of anger, hold out that cross-marked hand and extend it in compassion and love to your brother or sister in Christ. Now, remember  - be careful what you ask for because you may get it! Your heart begins to soften and you start to see him or her as a fellow redeemed servant. And, in that moment Satan will do everything he can to stir those old feelings again. Repent, be forgiven, and deliver forgiveness again. This side of heaven, the gift of forgiveness between sinners may never be perfect; it may need to be repeated every time you see that person. That’s life under the cross, as one sinner who has been forgiven much to another sinner who also has been forgiven much.

Be careful what you ask for. “How often do I have to forgive?” That’s a question of law with limitations and restrictions. When you see yourself as one who daily needs forgiveness, and who daily receives the forgiveness of God in Christ Jesus, the question changes. It’s no longer how often do I have to forgive, it becomes “How often have I been forgiven?” The answer is, simply, always.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

The Greatest are the Weakest and the Weakest are the Greatest - Matthew 18: 1-6

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus says, “Unless you turn and become like children you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom.” The child is the greatest among them because the child has the greatest need. The child is completely dependent upon the parents for food, shelter, care – all of the first article gifts included in “daily bread.” It is this very dependence that makes the child the greatest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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