Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savoid Jesus Christ. Amen.
I was a delegate to the LCMS National Convention in 2010. Three-time incumbent, Rev. Jerry Keischnick, was defeated by Rev. Matthew Harrison on the first ballot. Now, before anyone gets concerned that this is a story about politics, please bear with me - it’s not, I assure you. I don’t remember the total number counts; the vote wasn’t a landslide, but it was more than just a few points between them.
I remember a couple of things happening as the numbers came up on the screens to the left and right of the stage. There was almost simultaneously a gasp of shock from those who voted for the incumbent and a victory shout and clapping by those who voted for the challenger. In an instant, Rev. Keischnick’s face showed surprise and then reality as his brain registered that he had lost the election. It was a strange moment because he was also the chairman of the convention. Not only had he just been defeated, but now he had to graciously accept his defeat, acknowledge his opponent’s victory in as churchmanly of a way as possible, and continue through the remainder of the convention as a lame-duck chairman. He took a moment to gather himself and then congratulated President-Elect Harrison and invited him to the dais to say a few words.
I’ve always wondered what hurt him more that day - that he had lost, or that people - fifty percent of the delegates are pastors - were literally cheering and whistling that he had lost and didn’t seem to care that his heart was breaking in front of them.
As Harrison began walking to the front from the very rear of the convention hall, at first there was applause. Some, I’m sure, was from people merely being polite, but others were applauding as if it was Jesus entering Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. I use that metaphor deliberately and intentionally with all the misunderstood Messianic weight it carried 2000 years ago and on that July afternoon in Houston. The camera found him walking down the aisle and you could then see him on the screens. He was motioning with his hands, not as a victor, but in a “stop, sit down, settle down, that’s enough” sort of way. As people saw this, they began to quiet down, and there was almost silence as he arrived at the stage.
For a moment, as he stood behind the podium, that silence was held. If you’ve not met President Harrison before, he’s about my size - not quite as big around, but his mustache is much more awesome than mine, much closer to Tom Selleck and Sam Elliot. He’s an imposing figure. Then, he began to speak.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You have continued the perfect tradition of electing a sinner as president of the Lutheran Church - Missouri Synod.” He spoke for just a few minutes and offered a few comments, thanked President Keischnick for his years of service, his wife for her support, and the Convention for its trust in electing him to the office.
And then he said this - and this is the somewhat belated point of this story - “To all of you, regardless of whom you voted for, or what you think of President Keischnick or me, or our ideas, or what we discuss in the remainder of this convention, please remember this: this is still, and always will be Christ’s church.”
This Reformation Sunday, if you remember nothing else, that is what I want you to remember: “this, this is still and always will be Christ’s Church.”
It’s easy enough to think otherwise. We live in a world that focuses on the horizontal. Our culture, our society thinks of things in terms of “yours and mine,” or “ours and yours.” This was my work, this is your responsibility, she took my parking spot, he copied your homework, they can’t park in our lot, y’all can’t stop us. Our sinful nature is encouraged by anything that elevates the self. We do it at work, at school, at home, at the ballpark, in the gym. We even do it in the church.
Think about how we talk about brothers and sisters in Christ. Sometimes it’s funny. Years ago, the church I served went from 2 Sunday services to one. At the 8am service, Grandma Schmidtke sat in a particular pew. At the 10:30 service, the pew was taken by Mr. and Mrs. Luther. When we merged into one service, they literally raced to see who would get to the church first and claim that pew with a purse or a Bible. It’s my pew, not yours. Now, that was somewhat in fun, but what about when it’s not fun but deadly serious. “Well, that might be your opinion, but we’re going to do this anyway.” Sides are taken; co-conspirators and opposition lists are drawn, former friends become enemies and former enemies become friends, all for the sake of expediency. I started with the story of President Harrison’s election. Hate to tell you this, but politics in the church can be a dirty business and that one, in particular, was rough. Blogs, websites, even internet commercials and advertisements told their side of the story and flung mud at the other. And, remember, half of the delegates were pastors. Pastors as politicians is the worst kind of mixing church and state. Funny - men who are called to point people to Jesus as the means of salvation were instead pointing to their candidate, their cause, sometimes even themselves as knowing the truth that would, presumably, set the Synod free.
The church does not belong to a Synodical president, or a parish pastor, or a congregation or a group within a congregation. The Church – and here, I mean Capitol C Church, as in the whole Christian Church in heaven and on earth – the Church is Christ’s. It is never mine or yours or theirs as if we own it, control it, direct it, or even die for it. That honor belongs to Jesus and to Jesus alone, who loved the Church so much that He was willing to take the greedy, self-centered harlot as His own bride, to die for Her, to redeem Her, to wash Her, to cleanse Her with His blood, and make the Church His own bride bestowed with His name: Christ’s church; the Christian Church.
The answer is not in the horizontal. Lord, have mercy for when we seek answers among us! Instead, look vertically, heavenward, to the eternal Gospel that St. John saw in this morning’s First Reading. This is the message of the Scriptures, the heilsgeschichte, the plan of salvation for the world in Christ Jesus. From the first promise in the Garden of Eden for a seed of Adam and Eve that would be a head-crushing, satan-stomping savior, through the life and ministry and the death and resurrection of Jesus that John himself had witnessed, this message is for all people, languages, and nations under heaven on earth.
At the time John saw and wrote the Revelation, the church was experiencing great suffering and persecution. John, himself, had been exiled to the island of Patmos, cut off from the congregations, the Church, and the people whom he so loved. The other disciples had all been martyred. He was the last of the Twelve. If John heard anything from the mainland, he would have heard about a church in defeat, being ground down and wiped out by the wrath of the Roman Empire as Christians were martyred for their faith. It would have been easy to think that following Jesus was a losing cause and a waste of life, both now and into eternity.
So, the Holy Spirit lets John see the angel flying past, carrying the Gospel. It’s as if the angel is saying, “No matter what you see or hear, John, the Gospel – the Good News of Jesus Christ, His life, death, and resurrection, His paying for the sins of the very world that wishes to destroy Him and His people, His rescuing His people both now and into eternity – the Gospel cannot be stopped. It will continue being sent.”
And, so there was no doubt, the angel does speak. “Fear God and give Him glory,” he said, “because the hour of his judgements have come and worship Him who made heaven and earth, the sea and the springs of water.”
The angel speaking to St. John does so with the authority of God Himself. Remember, John is still on the island. Yet, the promises of God, when given, even though they will not be fulfilled for some time, they are spoken as if they have already happened. God’s future promises are already yes and now in Christ. The judgement has come – it was poured out on Jesus at the cross. That was His hour and that was His glory. The church – God’s church, Christ’s church, the Spirit’s church – the church of the Triune God, it endures in heaven and on earth, from sea to sea.
At the time of the Reformation, the church on earth had lost sight of that, misplacing Christ’s church with the church of man. Grace was replaced with works; faith was replaced with effort; the Scripture was replaced with ecclesial decrees. Luther and the Reformation returned the focus to Christ, grace, faith, and Scripture. It was Christ’s church, after all. We follow in the footsteps of Luther and the other Reformers who, themselves, stood on the shoulders of those who came before them. We do not worship Martin Luther, or the other early Lutheran fathers, but we thank God for them, using them to again allow the bright light of the Gospel to shine forth into the world.
There’s a saying, “Ecclesia semper reformanda.” “The Church always needs reforming.” Some see this as an excuse for radical change and shift in theological ideology and practice. Not at all. It’s the reminder that we, the Church, must always be re-formed into the likeness of Christ. It’s our baptismal identity, after all. It’s His church. This, this is still, and always will be, Christ’s church, remember.
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