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
No comments:
Post a Comment