Christ is Coming Soon: A Word of Hope (!) in Grey & Latter Days - Rev. 22:6-21

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

This weekend is supposed to be the beginning of summer vacation. It’s supposed to be about graduations, barbeques, family get togethers, cakes and gifts. It’s supposed to be the celebration of the end of a school year, passing another grade level on the way to life’s greater accomplishments and the excitement of summer ball, vacations, hanging out with friends, swimming and driving brothers and sisters nuts. By tonight, parents and teachers are both supposed to be counting down the days until the kids return to school – albeit for different reasons.

That what is supposed to happen.

Two hundred miles to our west, this weekend is now one of mourning after more than twenty victims, kids and adults, were killed by a shooter who was just a kid, himself. They join ten families in Buffalo, New York, some 1600 miles away, as they grieve the death of their loved ones killed by a man filled with hate at minorities. Fourteen hundred miles away, in Laguna Beach, California, worshippers at the Taiwanese Presbyterian church will again struggle this morning to be at peace in their sanctuary after a gunman killed one and wounded five. For these families, summer begins with a level of emptiness and sorrow that few will be able to comprehend.

Sadly, there is nothing new under the sun. Violence has been happening since Cain was jealous of God accepting his brother’s sacrifice. Five minute’s search of any newspaper of any size, any locale, any state will give plenty of examples of human life being destroyed in violent, horrific ways. Too often it’s hidden, using words that don’t pop on our radar screen – “illegal,” or “gang,” or “criminal,” or “inner-city.” We parry these stories to the side: it’s not us, it’s not people like us, it’s not our community. Even worse, we dismiss it completely with the terrible assumption, “it’s what happens to them….”

But when it suddenly hits close to home, or when it hits people like us, or when a place that is supposed to be safe is suddenly thrust into the center-stage of a violent death; when it touches us because we have kids or grandkids at that age, or our spouses or our adult children are teachers, or our friend owns a store nearby, or we know someone in that area, that street, that community, then suddenly, we raise our self-righteous voices and demand answers for why.

The pundits, the politicians, the so-called experts are all quick with their explanations of why there our society is so violent. Depending on who is asked and what network they are on, they blame two years of isolation and semi-isolation that has broken down social skills; the pressure and demand for excellence with no toleration of mistake or failure; the implosion of generational social, racial, and economic assumptions; our love of violent entertainment in movies and video games; the failure of the mental health healthcare system; the marketing of firearms; the breakdown of the family unit and the home. Liberals blame conservatives, conservatives blame liberals. The list goes on. And, of course, God is blamed as well. Either he is impotent to stop the hateful heart of man, or he is not as loving as what people say.

Christians are not exempt from this, wondering why. With our left foot firmly planted on the earth, we are part of the speculation that swirls through the media and society; yet, our right foot is planted firmly by faith in heaven and we know God to be gracious and merciful even in the midst of things we do not yet understand. Hymn #764 echoes this two-footed position as it sings:

When aimless violence takes those we love, when random death strikes childhood’s promise down,
When wrenching loss becomes our daily bread, we know, O God, you leave us not alone. [1]

So, our prayer, while similar to those prayers offered around us in the question why, is not one of demanding that God answers us, as if he owes us. When Job argued that before God, God firmly yet gently answered saying, simply, “I am God, you are man; I am creator, you are creation. Even if I were to explain myself to you, do you really think you could comprehend what I say?” The answer, of course, is no – neither Job nor any of us can comprehend the mind of God. So our cry of “why,” instead of being one of demanding, is one of grief and sorrow, placing ourselves at the foot of the throne of God, admitting our failure, our weakness, and weeping for the fallenness of the world we live in but are not part of. We join the millenia of faithful people of God who have suffered and experienced tragedy first and second-hand, including those who wrote the Psalms, and we pray, “Lord, have mercy.”

In a blog post on The Jagged Word,[2] the author echoes the psalms through the promises of Jesus, especially in the Beatitudes, and prays:

How long, oh Lord, must we wait?

How long, oh Lord, until you return?

How long, oh Lord, must we feel this pain, this grief, and mourn?

How long, oh Lord, elevate the meek, until you humble the proud?

How long, oh Lord, until you bring unity to your creation and cause division to cease?

How long, oh Lord, until you give those who suffer reprieve, until cancer and terminal illness no longer slowly drain life?

How long, oh Lord, until our babies born into eternity are raised from the dead?

How long, oh Lord, until our children who entered classrooms that were tombs will be brought back to life?

How long, oh Lord, until the tears of parents will bring justice?

How long, oh Lord, until our firearms are melted down into plowshares?

How long, oh Lord, must we live within this body of death?

How long, oh Lord, until you come again?

How long, oh Lord, until resurrection?

How long, oh Lord?

Please, Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy… and come quickly.



I have two words for you this morning, words of hope (remember – Hope!) and, perhaps, even joy – albeit a bit subdued today. In our first reading from Revelation, John is bringing his incredible report of the heavenly vision to its grand conclusion. For twenty-one chapters, he has reported what the Spirit has allowed him to see of the resurrected Christ and the church in heaven rejoicing that their time of suffering has ended. In a wonderful, three-dimensional picture, John sees Christ through the Church, the bride of Christ, and he sees the Bride, the church, in Christ. “Who are these?... These are they who have come from the great tribulation and have made their robes white in the blood of the lamb,” (ch. 14). We even echo part of the heavenly hymn with our own liturgy, “For the Lamb, who was slain, has begun His reign. Alleluia!” And there is Christ and there is His Church and it is good.

Remember: the Spirit gave John this revelation to write for the church that is still on earth, that is still militant, that is still struggling under the weight of the fallenness of creation. So, while the picture is clear of what is to come – remember, that foot that is firmly planted in the heavenly realm – John is writing to us with our other foot stuck in the muck of this world.

I imagine chapter 22 as if John is slowly waking up from this revelatory vision and Jesus gives some final words. First, there is the promise, “I am coming soon.” Christ has not forgotten His church. He died for it, to rescue, redeem and save it. He will not abandon those whom He loved enough to die for. If He did not return, not only would his death have been a complete waste, but He would be a liar of liars for He promised He would return. He fulfills His promises – He’s been fulfilling His promises since the beginning of time, including the one that He would be the world’s Savior. He will not change now.

Jesus repeats again, “I am coming soon,” and then adds this, “I am coming soon, bringing my recompense with me, to repay everyone for what he has done.” For those outside of Christ, for those whose feet stand only in the world, His recompense, His judgement, His payment for their wages will be swift and it will be terrible. For the hurt and the pain and the loss they have caused, for their sins against God’s people, for their sin against God, they will receive the wages of sin into the eternal damnation of hell where nothing, nothing, will soothe or assuage their suffering. They rejoice now; they will suffer greatly later.

For those in Christ, for the faithful people of God who suffer in this world, we will be rewarded for what we have done as well. This is often misunderstood, either as if we will stand under the same judgement or that our good works will save us. Not true. God sees us through the cross of Jesus, washed in the blood of the Lamb. Remember that three-dimensional picture: God sees Christ through the Church and God sees the church in Christ. Everything you have done has been done through faith in Christ. The good works you have done have been made complete through the perfection of Christ. The sins you have committed have been covered through the blood of Christ. Through Christ – that is the key. Our judgement will be through Christ and we will be judged as holy through Him.

And, remarkably, there will be some in that group, the faithful, the church, the bride of Christ, who did terrible things in this life. There will be people formerly known by the name of what they had done: thieves, cheats, adulterers, liars, and, yes, even mass murderers. That is who they were; that is what they were. By God’s grace, through faith in Christ, they receive a new name, shared with us: Christian. That’s what they are, that’s who they are through Christ. That’s why Christ waits, why He has not yet returned, so that others may likewise repent and not perish eternally. They will join the thief on the cross who repented of their sins, just as you and I repent of ours, and through faith in Jesus, are forgiven much. And we will look at them and they will look at us and we will rejoice together for we will receive our reward which is in the resurrection of Christ which will also be ours.

And, on that day, both feet will be planted firmly at the base of the throne of the Lamb who is the very light of heaven. There will be the fullness of joy, the culmination of our Hope, the consummate peace of the reunion with God the Father, through the Son, with the Holy Spirit, surrounded by angels and archangels and all the company of heaven.

But we are still here – one foot on earth, one foot in heaven – watching and waiting. In this world there will be terrible trouble. We heard Jesus say that last week. But, He adds, “take heart, I have overcome the world.” That is the gift that you and I share with those who hurt today. We have an answer that transcends the pain of the world. I don’t know how to resolve our culture’s problems, at least not this side of heaven. All those expert ideas, there is probably a measure of truth there. What I do know is that only the Church has the Word of God that addresses the condition of man’s hearts and the Answer to our sinfulness in Christ.

The Spirit and the Bride, the Church, we pray for the Lord to come. And you and I, who have heard the voice of the Lord, we offer the invitation to others to come, join us as we wait. We share the cool drink of the Lord’s Word to those who weep in pain, who mourn the death of loved ones too soon taken, and who decry a society that cheapens life, to those who thirst for righteousness this side of heaven, and the life giving water of the Word of Jesus is offered to them without price. Christ has already paid it. He has overcome this world.

Jesus tells John one, final time - a final reminder as he wakes from his revelatory vision. "Surely, I am coming soon." And we echo with John, "Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!"

Through long, grief-darkened days help us, dear Lord, to trust Your grace for courage to endure,
To rest our souls in Your supporting love and find our hope within Your mercy and love. Amen.[3]






[1] #764, LSB “When Aimless Violence Takes Those We Love” verse 1


[2] https://thejaggedword.com/2022/05/26/how-long-oh-lord/?fbclid=IwAR0SupStJo_kYc4ql8KPuU-LdEfYd8300Il1SJa3AoAuvEE7LNsCb7j5zRM


[3] LSB #764, “When Aimless Violence Takes Those We Love,” verse 5

"I Have Overcome the World." - John 16:22-33

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

You may know the name Stephen Furtick. He is a rather famous, modern American pastor at Foundation Church in Charlotte, North Carolina. He doesn’t have the brand of Joel Osteen, but he’s no slouch. Furtick is watched on television, the internet, and listened to on radio. His podcast gets thousands of downloads each week. His books are hot sellers. If you went to your favorite store and polled shoppers, I suspect a wide majority would at least have some idea of who he is.

In an Instagram post last week, he wrote, “In between denial and despair is destiny – the place where you stand and know that God has planted you to produce your purpose. You have a disappointment in your life? It is what it is. No need to deny it. You fell short? It is what it is.  But whatever you’re looking at, it’s not the end. It’s a portal to your potential. It’s what’s beneath the surface. It’s not buried; it’s planted. It’s not over; it’s just a transition.”

Boy, that sounds slick. Having a bad day? Boss disappointed in your work? Did you fail a final exam? Did you get cut from the team? *shrug* No worries… “It’s a portal to your potential!” We say things like this all the time to our kids, to our spouse, even to ourselves when things don’t go quite right. You can do it. It’ll get better. It builds character. You’ll rise above it. You’ll be a better person coming through this. It’s a life lesson. It’s part of our unique American-pan-Christian pop-theology that pats our back and sooths our struggles. Nothing like an attaboy to give you a boost after an “aw, man” moment. The theology of glory tells you everything is OK when things are far from it.

Let’s think about this for a minute - is it true? Your boss tells you that due to shrinking markets and profits, Friday will be your last day.  There you are, between denial and despair, but then he adds, “Don’t worry – it’s just a portal to your potential.” As a process server hands you the paperwork that you are being sued, and you stand there, between denial and despair, concerned that you may have to sell your house and empty your retirement to pay the lawyer. Fortunately, he says, “But don’t worry – it’s a portal to your potential.” Could you imagine a doctor, or a fireman, or a funeral director, at the worst moments of your life, telling you, “It is what it is…it’s a portal, a transition…”?

The Gospel lesson takes us again into the upper room on that first Maundy Thursday with the disciples. Jesus is speaking with the Disciples, but the conversation is drawing to a close. The hour is coming, Jesus says, where the disciples will flee and scatter and leave Jesus alone. He knows; they do not yet understand what is about to happen. They don’t know the arrest, the betrayal, the soldiers and torches, the trial, the servant girl. Led by Peter’s boast of dying rather than denying, they don’t understand that, ironically, Jesus is going to do just that: die rather than deny the Father’s will. Our salvation is Christ alone; for our salvation, Christ will be alone. This is the hour that is coming.

Heavy, sorrowful words. Talking about death and dying always is when it is someone you love. Had Jesus left the conversation there, had He stopped with “you will leave me alone,” it would have been a sad-and-true prophecy that would soon find conclusion. But Jesus, even in these last hours, instead speaks through the suffering with words of hope and delivers a promise of life. Instead of seeing His soon-arriving Passion as a thing of mere sorrow and pain, they must understand – no, rather, they must believe - this is for their salvation over sin, death, evil, and the fallen world that rejoices when the disciples and the church fail.  “I have said these things to you that in Me you may have peace.”

Peace: we spoke of this a few weeks ago. Restoration, wholeness with the Father, reunition into the family of God through Jesus’ death and merit. This only happens one way, and it’s not with platitudes and simple buzzwords. Jesus is again pointing the disciples to the cross. Peace, restoration, comes through the cross of Jesus Christ. Iin His innocent death, Jesus overcomes sin’s power. He suffers so that suffering is no longer the end in all things. He undergoes a terrible suffering for you.

But Jesus does not take the disciples out of the world. “This will happen,” Jesus said; “you will have trouble.” Discipleship won’t be a life free from difficulty. In fact, difficulty will begin for the disciples a few hours after these words were spoken and difficulty will not end until Jesus returns in glory for the great resurrection. He does not offer an “Easy button.” He does not give a convenient time travel so we can zip past that which is uncomfortable or unpleasant. He doesn’t snap His holy fingers and make things disappear. And He doesn’t pretend that suffering is a portal, potential, or transitory. He didn’t do it for Himself; He does not do it for His people. Jesus calls it what it is: tribulation. Difficulty, sorrow, suffering and death. While there is some truth in suffering because we live in a fallen world, given the immediate context, I think Jesus means tribulation because of Him, because they follow Christ.

You know this. There are times that we suffer for the sake of Christ. Granted, our suffering in this country is pretty mild; more of an inconvenience, really. HR calls us in and tells us we can only have one religious item in our cubicle or on our desk. Students can pray at lunch or before a test, but classmates snicker and tease. You decline an offer to go watch a certain movie because of its coarse language or eat at a particular restaurant because it’s objectifies women and coworkers roll their eyes. Yet, there are other times and other places. At Columbine in 1998, the gunman asked, “Are you a Christian?”  Churches are attacked, here and across the world. In China or in the Middle East, you dare not wear a cross on your person, or openly read a Bible, or even speak the name of Jesus without losing your home, your family, your life. “In this world, you will have tribulation.” Jesus doesn’t try to reframe or rebrand it. He calls it exactly what it is: suffering because the world hates Jesus, His church, His disciples, and His Word.

In this lifetime, it always appears that the world is winning. It looked like it when the soldiers tied Jesus and drug Him to stand trial. It certainly appeared when authorities condemned an innocent Man to die. It seemed so when Jesus was crucified, mocked, and left to die on Good Friday. It looked like it when He was buried in a tomb – out of sight out of mind. It looked like it as the disciples were martyred, one by one and the church scattered. The devil and his minions and the world all rejoiced. And the world rejoices, still. The world that hates God and opposed His Christ rejoices when power is more important than compassion. The world that hates God and opposes His Christ rejoices when glory is more important than the cross. The world that hates God and opposed his Christ rejoices when we want feel-good, empty promises and reject the difficult truth about suffering in this life for the sake of Jesus. The world rejoices with love that dies and we grow cold with indifference. The world rejoices. And we should weep.

What He does give, even in the midst of present-day sufferings, is peace. “But,” Jesus says to the disciples, “take heart for I have overcome the world.” Running away won’t help them. Hiding in the darkness will not save them. What will save them is His victory over sin, death and the fallen world. The world’s rejoicing is loud and it is boisterously obnoxious, but it’s time of celebration is limited for Christ has overcome the world. There will be a day that the world’s joy is brought to a screeching halt. Blessedly, that will be the same day that our suffering – the suffering of God’s people – will also end. The roles will reverse. The world will weep and suffer into the eternal fires. And God’s people will rejoice because Christ’s victory will be seen by all.

His disciples are about to enter a dark tunnel. Jesus is about to be arrested. The road down into the Valley of the shadow looms large. I suspect you know this trail. What do you do, what do you say, what do you pray as you enter the valley, knowing Christ has overcome the world but still seeing the shadows lengthening towards you.

A few weeks ago, Mother’s Day, was also Good Shepherd Sunday. We prayed the 23^rd Psalm together. Those words of David provide great comfort. I suspect that for most of us, that comfort comes from the pastoral opening: shepherd, sheep, pasture, water, paths of righteousness. Sometimes, we feel like we are there, in the grassy field soaking up the sun. But there are other times when it’s not so pleasant. I think that’s where David was when he writes, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me.” In the middle of the valley, it’s dark, spooky, and sometimes borderline overwhelming. The Good Shepherd doesn’t swoop in with a helicopter and pull us up and out of trouble; He doesn’t send in His heavenly version of the Navy Seals to attack the enemy and keep us safe. Instead, He goes into the valley with us. Actually, He already went through it to the cross. We aren’t going anywhere where the Good Shepherd hasn’t already been. He leads us through the valley to the place where He has made a place for us. He prepares a table in the presence of our enemies that He has already beaten. He anoints us with Baptismal water, cleansing the stains of sin from us. He fills His cup and it overflows with mercy and grace and places it in front of us so we can drink deeply. His goodness and mercy surround us with His peace.

Last week’s theme was “Easter brings Joy.” That was Part 1. Today is Part 2. Be at peace. Christ has overcome the world. Amen.

 

One Million... And counting.

A very sad comparison:

May 12 marked the one millionth recorded American death from Covid-19. We will probably forevermore mark the accuracy of that number and date, but nevertheless, it will stand as an official anti-milestone.

One million... That's almost too big a number. Even if you live in a city or county of 1 million plus, it doesn't feel that way. At most, you observe hundreds of thousands at a time. If you have ten thousand dollars in your bank account, it would be a million pennies. Who would ask, "Could I get that in small coins, please?" Most of us simply have no concept of a million anything, other than a number consisting of a One followed by six zeros. 

For perspective, if you take the top 10 largest NCAA football stadiums and fill them to reported capacity, you would have just over 1,010,000 people. 

Ten stadiums' worth of people. That is how many have died in our country. Could you imagine those stadiums' sitting empty on a Saturday in October? What if each empty seat had a name - not just for season ticket holders, but for holders and livers of life. 

One million mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers; one million mostly faceless names, or worse, patient numbers, nameless persons who only added to a terrible statistic. 

I cannot fathom a million, but I can fathom the few I knew, and the funerals I conducted, and the families who remain, remember, and relive those terrible days. 

It's been called a battle, a war, a fight against an enemy, and other military-esque images. There is the Vietnam Wall, the WW2 monument, the Korean War statue, the Goliad monument and Alamo centotaph, and dozens and dozens of Civil War and Revolutionary War battlegrounds, all which stand to remember those who died. 

With apologies to A. Lincoln, whose famous speech marked another terrible tally of death in a Pennsylvania field, what could we possibly build to dedicate, consecrate, hallow, remember and represent one million Americans dead, let alone the millions worldwide?

Sadly, the answer is probably nothing. The cost will be too great, they'll say. Which will be ironic, for the cost in human life was already too great. 

Let's build a new football stadium instead.

Easter [Still] Brings Joy - John 16:12-22

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

I’ve discovered that long-time pastors develop all sorts of interesting phrases, mostly well-intended, but sometimes a bit, well, pastor-ish. So, perhaps members of a congregation are struggling with their past or with anxiety or fear – you know, the kind of things that all Christians struggle with. When I was dealing with my own issues, a dear friend said, “You know, Jon, you don’t have to be well adjusted to be saved.” Thanks, I think. Another friend likes this line: When you become a Christian, it does not come with a personality transplant. You’ve heard me say, “Our Old Adam died in baptism; the problem is, he’s a proverbially good swimmer.” I recently heard a variation on that that I might have to steal: “My problem is that I take me with me wherever I go.”

The reason I like these lines is that sometimes the way we talk as Christians, especially when we are feeling particularly pious, that our faith is really strong and hitting on all 8 cylinders, it makes it sound that we’ve got this Christian joy thing all figured out. Or, the alternative side of that coin is we look at others who seem so confident in faith, so passionate for the Gospel, so filled with joy that perhaps they have it right and me…well, I seem to be missing out and my joy is hauntingly empty.

There’s a lot going on here in John chapters 14 through 17. We can't even touch on everything that Jesus said and the few verses we heard. But I do want to focus on the way that Jesus speaks of a sequence of a “this-and-then-that.”  He says in “a little while” this; “Again, in a little while” that. And even more to the point listen to verse 20 again, “Jesus says, ‘Truly, truly I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy.” Then after this powerful illustration of a woman in labor – of childbirth - and the joy that follows, Jesus says in verse 22, “So also you have sorrow now but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.”

When I first read that, I thought, “Really? There are lots of days, and lately I’ve had more than a few, when I have not been particularly joyful.” And I suspect that that was true also the apostles who first heard Jesus speak that Maundy Thursday night in the upper room. And, I suspect that is true of you, as well. So, is Jesus talking about you, me, and the disciples all being certain, confident, model apostles? Does He mean that we should be, must be, joyful all the time? What can he mean?

I’d like spend a few minutes, then, talking about what these words meant, a long time ago, to those men whom He spoke to in the upper room. And, I want to also speak about today and where we are as disciples in today’s day and age. There is a common idea that unites God’s people of old with God’s people of today and that is this: Easter turns sorrow into joy. Let me say it again: Easter turns sorrow into joy.

Now of course the original disciples didn’t get it. They didn’t get it in the upper room, they didn’t get it at Golgatha, they didn’t get it at the open tomb. Jesus warned them of it: “I have many things to say but you can’t bear them, understand them, grasp them, now.” This is all happening from John 13 thru John 17, the Upper Room discourse. In those four chapters, there’s a lot of things difficult for them to grasp on their side of Easter. Don’t fault them, don’t blame the disciples because it’s even challenging for us to grasp and try to understand on this side of Easter, but this much at least is clear: that Jesus is talking to them about His coming suffering and death, and about His coming Resurrection from death, his return from death. And Jesus says, plainly and clearly, “You will weep.”

That should not be surprising because when Lazarus died even Jesus wept. Jesus knows pain, loss, and tears.

“You will weep,” Jesus says, “but the world will rejoice.”  That, too, should not be surprising. This is the world that hates God it's maker. This is the world that wants nothing to do with Jesus. This is the world that wants nothing to do with the Gospel, or the Lord’s Church, or His people.

Neither the disciples nor the world knew what was going to happen “in a little while” – literally, for them, in just the matter of hours. They didn’t get it; they didn’t understand it; they didn’t believe it.  Jesus death is a good reason for his disciples to weep because, to speak a little obviously, death kills Jesus. The Lamb takes the sin of the world on himself and that sin kills him. And then they don’t see him, as Jesus said, they can’t see him because He's buried in a tomb, covered up by the dirt and stone He once created.  But it’s not just dirt and rocks: He's smothered under sin and wrapped up in death. He's dead and everyone – disciples, the Romans, the Jewish leaders – everyone thinks he's just dead…and gone.

So, please don’t criticize the disciples for weeping when Jesus died. Yes, you can be critical of them because they didn't believe what was going to happen in a little while. Having tears, no; lacking faith, yes.  

But remember: Jesus says your sorrow will turn into joy.

Same men; same personalities. But, then Easter happened and they saw Him again, as He promised. Easter happened and it turned sorrow into joy. Then they knew; then they got it. It took them a little while to get it, but finally they knew that the Good Shepherd has laid down his life for His sheep – for them! - in order that He might take it up again. They knew that Jesus had laid aside His robes and become a servant to wash their feet, but then he took up his garments again as Lord and Master. They knew that death had ruled over Him for a three-day-rest, but then death’s temporary mastery was broken.

You heard it three weeks ago, John 20: three times Jesus said peace be with you.  Then, two weeks ago, John 21, how on the shore of the lake they had nothing to offer Him in thanksgiving - they couldn't even catch any fish - but Jesus said come and have breakfast. And to the greatest traitor of all, to the greatest denier of all, Jesus agreed yes Peter, you do love me, and yes, Peter, you’re right I know everything. Now, follow me.

The disciples were empty. Their joy was not manufactured from anything within them. No - John chapter 20 verse 20, “And the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” The joy came from without, from Jesus risen from death.

Easter turns sorrow into joy.

Now our situation is vastly different from theirs. We know what happened. We're five weeks into the Easter season, 22 centuries later. But here’s the thing: even though our life is different from theirs,  the final Easter has not dawned - not yet. And so we find ourselves living in a sequence, in a struggle - that is, unless you've given up entirely - you struggle with weeping and with mourning while all the world is rejoicing.

And the world does rejoice. The world that hates God and opposed His Christ rejoices when celebrity and money are more important than compassion and wisdom. The world that hates God and opposes His Christ rejoices when comfort is more important than discipleship. The world that hates God and opposed his Christ rejoices when we hide our hatred for others behind a mask of piety, and we claim that we are protecting the gospel or the church or the faith when we’re really just venting our spleen at a brother or sister. The world rejoices with love that grows cold and we only talk to the people who agree with us, and we refuse, we simply refuse, to humble ourselves, lay aside our garments, and serve and wash their feet with our tears. The world rejoices. And we should weep.

So where's the joy? Easter.  Easter turns sorrow into joy.  Because you can look for your sins, but you won’t find them. You can’t see them. The lamb took them into the tomb and He left them there. And there, there is joy.

You look at a world that seems out of control. There is vile and vitriol that babies in the womb should live. There is fighting and warfare where, bad enough soldiers die, but civilians are tortured and murdered.  The skies tease rain but only offer dry winds; or, skies tease sunshine and bring tornadoes that destroy. There is hunger and there is fear and there is uncertainty.

And then you remember… You remember that death could not hold Him. He is risen, ascended, and seated at God’s right and He is worthy. No one else in all creation but Him, He is worthy to break the seals and reveal the Father and to rule all things by the Word of His power. You feel the world beating against you, pushing and bending you over, where you are almost ready to break and then you remember that Jesus is strong.  Jesus has shrugged off death. That he lives! He lives to grant you daily breath, He lives and you will conquer death!  Oh, where is the joy? Easter! Easter turns sorrow into joy.

A couple weeks ago, I went to that pastor’s conference. Over the three days, we gathered for worship six times. The preacher used the Easter greeting, “Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed, alleluia.” To be honest, a couple of times it felt a little forced. Was he trying to wake us up a bit, to gin up a little Easter joy from within us? Did he feel he had to do it so he wouldn’t be criticized by a room full of pastoral critics? A couple of guys really thundered the reply; most spoke it normally; a couple mumbled; one or two didn’t say anything.  I wondered; maybe some of the guys were more filled with Easter joy. Maybe a few had their joy emptied by life, or their parish, or family issues; and, maybe, there were some who were simply out of gas. Maybe you can relate. If your joy had a gauge, where would it register? Full? Empty? Somewhere in-between?

Here’s the thing. It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it. It’s not about you. It’s about Easter.

So, here’s what we’re going to do – we’re going to do the Easter greeting now - you’re going to be so sick of this when you leave – and we're going to do it a couple of times. Are you ready?

Here’s the first go around.  I want you to pretend that you’re enthusiastic and happy and answer that way. If you can’t feel it, I want you to pretend, remember a time you felt that way, and answer like that. Ready? Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

Now I want you to remember when you were weary and when you were just worn out. You might be that way today. Answer that way.  Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

Now I want you to pretend that you're uncertain, maybe a little worried about the future, maybe concerned about how things are going and the direction they seem to be heading. Pretend that you're anxious. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

Whether excited and enthused, weary and worn, or worried and concerned, or anywhere in between, remember this: Easter turns sorrow into joy. In the name of the father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Mothers: A Gift of God (A Mother's Day sermon)

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

On May 8, 1908, Marva Jarvis’ mother passed away. Two days later, May 10, at her mother’s funeral, Marva gave each guest a white carnation in memory of her mom. Carnations were her mother’s favorite flower. As the years progressed, so did the momentum of setting aside a day of honoring mothers. What began in Jarvis’ hometown spread and grew until Woodrow Wilson declared it a national day of recognition in 1914. Since then, Mother’s Day has grown into a huge affair. Greeting card companies, telephone companies, jewelry stores and restaurants all mark this as their busiest day of the year as sons and daughters, husbands and fathers seek to honor their moms and the mothers of their children. Moms get everything from dollar-store chocolates and home-made cards to exquisite custom designed pieces. For one day, moms are the queens of the castle.

Motherhood is, quite literally, almost as old as time. When Adam was naming the animals of creation, no helper was found suitable for him. So, God put Adam to sleep and, using one of his ribs, God created Eve, literally making her to stand at Adam’s side. When Adam awoke from his surgical slumber and he saw the gift of God, he rejoiced and named her Eve. Names mean things, and Eve means “Mother of All Living Things.”

You, dear mothers, stand arm-in-arm among a long line of mothers. From Eve through the generations down to your mother, then to you, and – perhaps, God willing – one day your own daughter or daughter-in-law as she becomes a mother, you are among those whom God has chosen and called to be mothers. Eve named her first son Cain. Cain means “gift;” Eve recognized her son as a gift of God and named him appropriately. No Elon Musk strange character choices here. Simply, my son: a gift.

Motherhood is, indeed, a gift – yes? Oh, the joy of motherhood! Those treasured moments of holding the newborn, hearing “momma,” watching the face light up when you are nearby, watching her grow into a young woman, a lifetime of firsts from first steps to first date. But, then there are the times when the gift turns upside down – not a curse, exactly, but the gift turns into the hurt, both physical and emotional, of motherhood, right? The discomfort of pregnancy followed by the intense agony of childbirth, sore body and sleepless nights, sometimes a less than helpful spouse, the delicate balance, or imbalance, of home and work, the first time a child says “I hate you,” when your child is hurt and bleeds, when you or the doctors and, it seems, even Jesus just can’t fix that boo-boo.

Maybe you identify with the blogging mother who wrote about the phrase, “Enjoy every moment.” It’s a difficult phrase to agree with, she argues, because there are some things that are pretty hard to enjoy. She said:

Nothing makes me feel quite as overwhelmed as the words “enjoy every minute”.

Like do you mean right now while my kid is spread eagle on the Target floor demanding a slushy? Do you mean when I make dinner and half of the family is crying because it looks weird?...

I can do it; it’s worth it. But enjoying every minute is a different type of pressure.

In truth, there are a whole lot of minutes I feel annoyed or tired.   [1]

Whether the moments are joyful, stressful, frustrating, or almost overwhelming, you stand in the tradition of the Mother of All Living Things who watched as her gift murdered his brother Abel in a cold, jealous rage.  Mmmm…the joy of motherhood, indeed.

“Let not your hearts be troubled.” Pastor Adrain Baccarese, whom I knew up in deep East Texas twenty-something years ago, would have said, “That’ll preach, boy.” Jesus words, spoken to His disciples 2000 years ago, those words speak to you mothers as well, today, on this Mother’s Day, 2022. Because if we are honest, we would have to say that mother’s hearts *are* troubled, and they are troubled mightily.  

Mothers say: My husband’s job is in danger… My son is heading off to college in four months and I’m not ready to let him go… My house is a disaster since my kid came home from school with laundry piled on the couch and an empty pantry… My mental health and well-being isn’t so great these days… My kids need help with school, my boss wants even more work done, and I feel like I’m letting everyone down.  My marriage isn’t what I dreamed it would be… My kids are at each other’s throats… I am not the mother I dreamed I would be and if my mom saw me, she would be ashamed. Mothers hearts are beating with frustration, fear, hurt, anger, shame, guilt, and other things I cannot begin to understand as a man.

To you, hear this word of the Lord: Let not your heart be troubled. Thanks a lot, Pastor. I know what Jesus says, but I don’t know that he quite understands what we’re going through here, or what motherhood is like today.

If that’s you, pause for a moment. Take a breath and listen again to the word of the Lord: Let not your heart be troubled. Especially, I draw your attention to that word “heart.”

Jesus knows your heart, mother. He knows you better than you know yourself. He says let not your heart be troubled.

The troubles you have are external. They come outside of you. Sometimes, they feel internal, but that’s because satan seeds them carefully so that they do take root in your heart. All the thinking in the world does not take away that grief, that anxiety, that frustration, that guilt, all that trouble that we have in our hearts. This is where we carry the cross – in our hearts. We talk about it here in church, we think about it here in our heads, but we carry it here, in the heart. And this is, I suspect, particularly true for mothers who carry not only their own troubles but that of their husbands and their kids – of all ages – and perhaps even their own parents as well.

Jesus speaks to you: I have come for you – heart and mind, body and soul – all of you as a person, I came and care for you as a whole. His care comes to you, dear mothers, dear sisters in Christ. So also, He wants us to know God in all His Divine majesty.

There is a verse in 1 Timothy, chapter 2:15, where St. Paul wrote, “Women will be saved through childbearing.” I want every woman to understand this verse. It does not mean that you will see eternity only if you have a child. Rather, it points us to Jesus’ incarnate birth through the Virgin Mary. Our God is incarnational. Jesus becomes flesh to make His dwelling among us. And as God incarnate, Jesus knows your heart and your troubles. Even if you cannot explain it, even if you do not have the words to enflesh your troubles, He knows. Remember Thomas? He wanted to know the “where” – where are you going? Jesus directs him to Himself: I am the way, the truth the life. Philip – he wants to know the “who” – I want to see the Father. Jesus directs him to Himself: Know me, you know the Father. Jesus calls you to Himself, He who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, who has promised to prepare a place into eternity for you, dear mothers, where one day you will enjoy eternal rest and reward for your faithful labor and labors on earth in this vocation of motherhood.

You know that awkward moment when you are shopping, or walking down the sidewalk, or even walking through the narthex and you would and another person would meet and that awkward dance would begin: each one of you moving this way at the same time, then that way at the same time, until one or the other would laugh and say, “You go ahead.” Now, take that same picture, but this time, it’s Jesus. He wants to encounter you, to stand in your way, to make you stop and look at Him. He wants to come at you – heart, mind, body and soul – and then, joy of joys, He smiles at you. He doesn’t laugh at you, but instead speaks softly and gently, firmly and lovingly. He doesn’t push you aside but instead He holds you with His nail-pierced hands and says, “Let not your heart be troubled. I have stripped all of your motherly sins from you – the times you sinned against your children and your spouse and even yourself – they are removed as far as the east from the west. Your guilt, your shame is no more. Don’t let Satan tell you different. I am yours. You are mine. So, let not your heart be troubled, my sister.” He knows us better than we know ourselves.

You have probably learned this verse as “Let not your hearts be troubled.” Hearts, plural. Now, that’s interesting. In the original Greek text, your is plural (in Texas, we would say “all y’all’s”) but heart is singular: Let not your (plural) let not your heart (singular, not hearts) be troubled. English teachers would critique that sentence for failure of subject and verb agreement – plural subject, singular verb. Jesus does it on purpose. Here is why that is such an important note. Remember: He’s not a grammarian; He’s a Savior.

Jesus wants you to know that, in Him, we share a common heart. Each of us have our own heart, yes, and those hearts get twitterpated (great word, right?) over the things that happen to us – that is natural; it’s part of being a human being, under the cross, this side of heaven.  But God’s people have a common heart among us. It is a common heart that we share together, a common heart, filled with the Holy Spirit, that reflects the incarnate One that comes to us and unites us as the body of Christ under His headship. That common heart that encourages, cares for, uplifts, and supports one another even as our hearts race from problems and troubles.

On this Mother’s Day, know this: we men and women, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, we all share the common heart. And, while the focus today is on mothers, I want this to be clear: all of you women who are not mothers, whether by your choice, or by the mystery of God’s action, or by the sinfulness of this fallen world, that common heart of Jesus beats in you. United by Christ, we walk alongside you, sisters: together, caring for you, loving you, supporting you so that you know that in Christ you are never alone, you are never known by a lack of motherly vocation. Our common heart sets the Lord Jesus Christ before us, 24/7, day in and day out. With that common heart we give thanks to God for you, as well on this day.

Finally, dear mothers, receive this gift of God: the promise that the heart of Jesus beats for you.  He has taken all of your guilt, your shame, your worries, your fears from you. Your conscience is clean, also washed clean in Baptism. All of the mistakes you have made in the rearing of your sons and daughters, in loving your husband, and in how you see your own self, Jesus strips all of them from you. He has heard your cry, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me,” and He does exactly that. His heart beats alongside yours. Psalm 73 says “Whom have I in heaven but you, and there is none that I desire in earth but you. My heart and my flesh might fail, but God is my heart and my portion forever.” So today or tomorrow morning or Tuesday evening and any other time when your heart is threatened to be overwhelmed, His heart beats all the stronger. When your heart is troubled, His heart beats in peace. When your heart beats with guilt and shame, His heart beats a baptismal blessing reminding you that there is now no condemnation for mothers who are in Christ Jesus.

May His heart be yours and your portion forever. Amen.

 

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[1] https://wonderoak.com/2017/12/22/please-stop-telling-moms-to-enjoy-every-minute/

Restored to Follow - John 21: 15-19

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

Last week I attended a post-Covid respite retreat for pastors. I somewhat hesitate to call it a retreat because retreats give the image of golf courses, swimming pools, and adult-grade slurpee machines. This was far from restort-level R&R. From Monday through Wednesday, the days were filled with times of worship, prayer, and study as we were encouraged in our vocations as pastors. We were reminded that God has called us, imperfect sinners though we are this side of heaven, to service in His Kingdom among His people; that the same Gospel we preach to God’s people is the same good news that we need to hear and receive for ourselves: that the same Jesus, who died for you, He died for us as well. It was the simple joy of having a pastor place his hands on our heads, one by one, and pray a blessing over us in the name of Jesus with the encouragement to “Depart in peace.”

When I signed up for the respite retreat, I actually told the registrar that I was doing OK, that we hadn’t been hit as hard as other congregations and pastors, and that if there was limited seating and someone else needed the spot, I would gladly surrender my place to him. I was glad I didn’t get that phone call. I didn’t realize just how much I needed the respite. I left Wednesday afternoon in peace, refreshed and renewed and thankful for the teaching of Pastor Fleming and Doctor Yanhke and the preaching of Pastor Mesch and for having a little time alone to simply think and reflect on the good news of Jesus.

Luther once wrote, “Prayer, meditation on the Scriptures and testing makes the theologian” – not Seminary classrooms. That testing, the German word is anfechtungen, that’s what happens when we live the life of discipleship, under the cross of Christ. It’s the crossroads where faith and life intersect and sometimes collide – that’s what makes and seasons pastors. To be honest, we should probably change that to say simply “disciples,” because it’s true for laymen, too. In faith, we see Jesus with His hands extended toward us in His mercy and grace; with our eyes we see the world around us, sometimes far, far removed from anything that seems to resemble the will of God. That’s where we, as God’s people, live. And we pastors, called by Christ to serve as His undershepherds, stand with you in that intersection, armed with prayer and the Word of God and we pray with you and for you as you utter, “Lord, I believe…help Thou my unbelief.”

And when you do that, you stand alongside Peter. Boy, you talk about a disciple who was full of himself. One minute, filled with wisdom that only comes from the Holy Spirit as he rightly makes the great confession of Christendom: “You are the Christ;” the next, filled with arrogance that only comes from the Old Adam within, Peter dares to put himself between Christ and the cross and tell Jesus, “You’ll go down there over my dead body.”  One minute, Jesus declares him to be Petros – Rock; the next, Jesus rebukes the Rock as satan. One minute, Peter pulls his concealed carry sword, chopping off the ear of one who does not listen that Jesus is the Messiah; a short time later, Peter flees from a servant girl who identifies him by his Galillean accent.

If it is prayer, meditation on God’s Word and testing of faith in life that makes the theologian, Peter fails miserably.

Let me ask you: what kind of congregation do you think would want such a pastor? Would Zion want such a man? Think of the characteristics of a good pastor – would you include arrogance, or brashness, or being called out as satan as characteristics you desire in your pastor? Did you include apostacy – the denying of Jesus – as a necessary trait? No…of course not. No church would want such a man to be pastor. No pastor would want to be on a ministry team with a man like that as a team mate.

Which is what makes this text from John 21 so incredible and remarkable. No congregation would want a man like Peter the Denier…but Jesus does.

In a remarkable, three-fold way, Jesus speaks to Peter: Twice, Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me so that you are willing to completely give yourself up for me?” Jesus is asking if he is still willing to die for Jesus. The irony isn’t lost on Peter; he can only answer with “Yes, Lord, I love you like a brother” – not I love you enough to give myself up for you. The third time when Jesus asks Peter, he uses Peter’s words: “Do you love me like a brother?” Three questions; three reminders of three denials. Can you imagine the guilt that Peter was carrying, knowing and remembering what he had done to Jesus? Can you imagine his shame after once boasting, “I would rather die with you than deny you,” knowing that he turned tail and ran into the darkness? It’s no wonder that St. John notes Peter is grieved when Jesus asks the third time, “Do you love me?”

Jesus loves Peter too much to leave him in his shameful grief. It’s as if Jesus is saying this: Peter, I not only love you as a brother, I love you so that I am willing to give myself up completely for you. I took your denial into myself. Where you ran into the darkness to hide, I stood in front of Pilate to be condemned. Where you swore you did not know me, I prayed, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Where you were not willing to die for me, I was willing to die for you. And, Peter, so that you know that my death for you was sufficient, I was raised to life again on Easter. You have now seen me, not once, not twice, but three times. And where you once denied me three times, I am now calling you back to ministry – not once, not twice, but three times. You know what it is to be forgiven, Peter. Now, go…feed my sheep and faithfully deliver this forgiveness to them as well.”

And in that moment of simplicity, Peter is forgiven, restored, and enabled to stand in the stead and by the command of Jesus Christ, who died for Peter and all those whom Peter would later serve as pastor.

Here is the beauty and power of this text for men of God who dare to stand in the stead of Jesus in the Office of the Holy Ministry. Jesus calls men like the thirty of us who gathered at the shore of Lake Dallas last week. We were from different backgrounds, serving different kinds of communities, with differing talents and abilities. Some were more worn than others, some nearly broken from the anfechtungen they have had to endure the last few years, some from Covid, some from being sinners among sinners. Just as Jesus takes a fallen man like Peter, calls him back to ministry, and uses him – with all of his faults, weaknesses, human desires, idiosyncrasies and quirks – for His glory, so also He uses us. With all of our failings, and foibles, and sins against both God and man, Christ holds out His hands in blessing and He calls us to faithful service. “Go…feed my sheep.” In the Office of the Holy Ministry, “pastors who have been forgiven much, love much.”

Jesus gives Peter a simple, final instruction: follow me. Peter will – he will follow Jesus from Galille to the mount of ascension, and then from there to Jerusalem, through Pentecost, and then out to the rest of the world. His message will be Christ and Him crucified. He will call people to repentance; He will call people to faith in Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit. Peter won’t be perfect – he will blow it when influential people from Jerusalem try to make him toe the Jewish party line regarding the necessity of living under the Law that had been fulfilled in Christ. It will take a public rebuke from St. Paul to correct Peter’s thinking. But Peter will remain faithful. He will follow Jesus. He will follow Jesus even to his own cross. Tradition says Peter, when arrested and sentenced to crucifixion, declared he was not worthy of dying in the same manner as the Lord, so they crucified him upside down, inverted, on the cross instead. The words of Jesus, spoken to Peter as part of his restoration, will come to fulfillment.

There’s a wonderful order to this: Jesus says “Follow me.” The Church, which is the body of Christ, remember, also follows Jesus. Generation to generation, we follow using the footsteps of Peter and the apostles, and our parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, friends and neighbors, and yes, the pastors who have gone before us. We follow them through the cross of Christ to the Font, from Font to Table. But Jesus won’t have us stay here. He has us go out into the world, still following Him and His footsteps.

Follow Him in peace and with great joy. Amen.