New Year's Resolutions: January 2024 Newsletter

 (This is my church newsletter article for January, 2024)

From the Desk of Pastor Meyer

 

As we end 2023 and enter 2024, many make New Year’s Resolutions. A recent Forbes.com article, New Year’s Resolutions Statistics (2024) – Forbes Health, has some very interesting reading. Over 60% of Americans feel some level of pressure to make New Year’s resolutions. The article says that the most common resolutions involve improving fitness (48%), finances (38%), and mental health (36%), which are followed closely by losing weight and improving diet. Laudable goals, all! What I find remarkable is that over 80% of those polled feel they will be successful in their plans with only 6% lacking confidence in their goals. Have you set your resolutions, yet? Did they touch on any of the Top 5? How confident are you in meeting those goals and plans for 2024?

I hate to tell you this, but the statistics are stacked against you. Sadly, looking at the historical trend, goals fall very short, and they do so very quickly. The article cites their own survey that says the average resolution lasts less than 4 months. On average, only 8% of respondents stuck with the goals for a month, 22% lasted two months, and 13% lasted four months. “In fact,” the article says, “failing at New Year’s resolutions is so common that there’s even a slew of dates commemorating such failures—some sources cite ‘Ditch New Year’s Resolutions Day’ as January 17 while others denote the second Friday in January as ‘Quitter’s Day’.”

I wonder why we are so poor at maintaining our resolutions. Is it the loftiness of the goal? Is it that we weren’t really invested in achieving the resolution? Is it that the only motivation behind the resolution was “change for change’s sake?” I don’t know. That might be an interesting study for some PhD somewhere. I’ll offer an uneducated opinion: usually, resolutions are merely made with ourselves, a self-promise to do X, Y or Z. If we fail, no harm, no foul. Unless pressed at a New Year’s Eve party to publicly share our resolutions, most people around us have no idea we have made such goals in the first place. In short: we lie to ourselves – we lie that we will do this thing knowing full well it was a smoke-and-mirrors idea in the first place, then we lie to ourselves that it’s no big deal, or we play games of semantics, it's not like I promised my wife I was going to stop watching Dukes of Hazzard reruns at 4am when I can’t sleep… Finally, we dismiss it to alleviate our soft guilt – there’s always next year. And, of course this begs the question, if we are guilty of not keeping our word to ourselves, how do we do in keeping our promises to others? Hmm…

As we come out of the Advent and Christmas season and prepare to move toward the season of Epiphany, which begins January 6 with the arrival of the Magi to see the infant Jesus (Matthew 2), it always amazes me to consider the promises of God and how they were fulfilled in the birth of Jesus. From the promise of God to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, of a Seed who could crush satan’s head, through the promise recorded by Micah that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem of Ephratha (Micah 5:2), they all pointed ahead to the coming of Jesus.

Remember, what we call the New Testament wasn’t “new” at the time it was written. God’s people in the first generation after Christ’s birth simply considered themselves the living extension of what had been written in the Torah, the Law, and the Prophets. So, Paul, for examole, in his letters did not conceive of them as being “New Testament.” He saw himself as a proclaimer of what was written in the Scripture which, at that time, was what we call the Old Testament.

I make this point because in the longest of Paul’s recorded sermons is in Acts 13: 13-41, preached at Pisidion Antioch in modern Turkey. The theme of this entire sermon is how God keeps His promises of salvation in Jesus Christ. Paul wrote, “From the offspring of this man [David], according to promise, God has brought to Israel a Savior, Jesus” (13:23). “To us the word of this salvation is sent out” (13:26). “And we preach to you the good news of the promise made to the fathers, that God has fulfilled this promise to our children [or, to us, their children] in that He raised up Jesus, as it also is written …” (13:32-33). The sermon falls into three parts, each beginning with Paul’s direct address to the congregation: The promise given (13:16-25); the promise kept (13:26-37); and, the Church’s response (13:38-41). Take some time and see how Paul skillfully leads the congregation through God’s promises (hint: that’s an easy resolution to keep!).

What you discover is what God’s people have known and proclaimed in both Old and New Testaments: God’s Word endures forever (Isaiah 40:8) and His promises do not change like shifting shadows (James 1:17). While He may appear slow in keeping His promises, that is because our consideration of time is not the same as His. For Him, a day is like a year and a year is like a day (1 Peter 3: 8-9). Even in the birth of Jesus Christ, it was in the fulness of His time (Gal 4:4).

This means you can always trust God’s Word. You can always trust His promises. This includes the promises made to you in your Baptism: your sins have been washed away, you are made His dearly loved child, and the eternity of heaven is already yours. There is never a time you are not forgiven; there is never a time you are not His; there is never a time you are not loved by the Father for the sake of Jesus, your Savior. This is no mere human resolution; this is God’s promise for you.

Make your resolutions. Set goals for yourself. Be honest, be realistic, and most of all, be gracious to yourself. When you succeed, rejoice! If you fail, rejoice! Even in your goal setting, you are a forgiven child of God!

As the New Year dawns and the Old Year fades into the rearview mirrors of our minds, we pray the Lord’s blessings as you ponder His promises for you, His beloved. In the words of the hymn: 

Let us all with gladsome voice, praise the God of heaven,
Grant us now a glad new year. Amen, Jesus hear us. (LSB 390:4)

Peace & Joy,

Pastor Meyer

Enjoy the Moments: Luke 2: 22-40

 

Chances are you have either heard someone say it to you as a parent, or you have heard yourself telling it to a new mom or dad, “Enjoy every moment, because they grow up too fast.” I’ve heard those words come out of my mouth more than a few times. I’ve often wanted to add sort of a verbal asterisk and then read the fine print: well, perhaps not every moment…

The difficulty of “enjoy every moment” is that not every moment is enjoyable. I will never forget the helpless feeling of holding a child while the anesthesiologist put her to sleep and feeling her go deathly limp. “Daddy, I’m scared…will it hurt when they take my tonsils out?” What do you say to that? There was the week the whole family had the flu, at the same time, and the sewer line decided it was the time to break and back up. I’ve stayed up late and gotten up early. I’ve cried tears of joy and tears of pain and tears of heartache with my kids and for my kids. I’ve watched them grow up and I’ve seen them leave home for the first time. Hearing their voice from a thousand miles away say, “I made a mistake doing this,” and knowing I can’t do a thing about it broke my heart in two. “Enjoy every moment?”  No…I don’t think so.

This morning’s Gospel lesson gives us St. Luke’s matched bookend to the Christmas narrative. The Angel Gabriel set this in motion by appearing to Mary with the Divine news she would become the Mother of God, giving birth to a child by the power of the Holy Spirit. The Christmas story now ends when Mary, Joseph and the eight-day old Baby Jesus going to Jerusalem to offer sacrifices of purification. There, in the Temple, was another strange messenger of God. This, not a heavenly angel, but an old man who had been patiently and prayerfully waiting for God’s promises to be fulfilled. His name was Simeon.

We don’t know much about him, other than Simeon had waited in patient faith for Messiah. He is probably most well known for the song that he sings. We call it the Nunc Dimittis, after the Latin translation of the first few words he sang, “Lord, let me depart in peace.” We sang these words in our midweek services: “Lord, bid your servant go in peace, Your Word is now fulfilled. These eyes have seen salvation’s dawn, this Child so long foretold” (LSB #937.1)  Those words thank God for allowing Simeon to see the fulfillment of God’s promises, in allowing him the baby Jesus.

If you will allow a little bit of creative license, I imagine very quickly after the initial encounter - “Who’s this??? What’s going on???” - Mary and Joseph were beaming with pride as this man of God sings about their son. After all, the last 9 months had been filled with wonder upon wonder as angels spoke, shepherds arrived, and the news that her son was God’s Son. Simeon’s song was yet another beautiful moment for them to enjoy and to want to remember forever.

Or is it?

Before the echoes of his melody fade away, Simeon adds this: “Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce your own soul, also) so that the thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.” If Mary and Joseph were listening closely, and I suspect they were, I can imagine those beaming, radiant smiles slowly disappearing as eyebrows wrinkled, Mary looking at Joseph in concern, and Joseph starting to get a stern look on his face about what this man was saying about Mary’s Son.

Simeon isn’t trying to ruin the Temple experience for these new parents. Rather, Simeon prophetically identifies that Jesus’ life and ministry will be neither easy nor peaceful. Because of His preaching, people will react strongly towards Jesus – some favorably in faith, some in curiosity, and some in angry denial. He will be opposed by the religious and civil leaders who will go so far as to have Jesus arrested and falsely convicted for heresy. Before He has taken his first steps, the cross is already being spoken about, being teased from the shadows into the periphery of Mary’s view of her Son. In fact, the Cross will not only be for Jesus; it looms in the future for Mary as well. A day will come when she will stand at the foot of the cross and hears her Son say, “It is finished.” It will feel as if the sword that pierces her Son’s heart stabbed her as well.

I do not think this moment in the Temple with an 8-day old Son would be a moment that Mary would want to recall. No parent would want to think of such things and remember them…not while holding their newborn in their arms. Yet, this is God’s plan of salvation, enfleshed for the entire world.

It’s tempting for us to try to hold on to the romance of Christmas. Last Sunday evening, we were filled with the beautiful, majestic message of the angels, Christmas Eve was filled with beauty, wonder, and joy. We left here to go to our homes where gifts waited under the tree, families gathered to celebrate, and the smells of queso and fresh cookies that made hungry stomachs growl. But we can’t hold onto the romance of Christmas any more than any parent, including Mary, can keep their child forever at the simple age of 8 days.

We realize this, in a small way. The presents are already assimilated into our homes and toy boxes. The wrapping paper has been recycled. I suspect many of us have already taken down the Christmas tree or plan to do so later today. The ornaments are boxed up; the lights are dark; the stockings – once full –are in a pile in the corner. It’s funny…Christians lament how early stores put up their Christmas displays in November, but we’re right with them when it comes time to move on.

I don’t say that to make anyone feel guilty. We’ll be taking the tree down and stowing the yard Nativity soon, too. I do have one ornament, however, that I never box up. It stays in my office so I can always see it: a baby Jesus in the manger. But hanging under the manger is a small sign. In the center of the sign is a cross with the word “Sacrifice” across it. This ornament is titled “Sacrifice/Life.” It could just as easily be titled “The Song of Simeon.” Simeon will not leave us at the manger. Simon pulls us from the “peace on earth and good will among men” of Christmas Eve to the reality that that peace will only be restored between God and man by the death of this boy in his arms. Simeon takes us from manger to cross where Jesus’ name will be on display. Remember: Jesus means “Savior.”

Did Mary and Joseph understand all of this on that day in the temple? Did they know what Simeon was talking about? The crosses that they passed by as they left Jerusalem…did they have any idea that one of those crosses would one day be their Son’s throne as King of the Jews? Could they even begin to understand how difficult it would be to “enjoy every moment” of Jesus life and ministry? I don’t know. I don’t think so. What I do know is that the Scriptures tell us that Mary and Joseph remained faithful, trusting the promises of God for them and for all of God’s people.

You do not need to understand everything in the Scriptures to be God’s people. There will be days that life doesn't make sense over and against the life of faith. You may cry about it and vent about it. That doesn’t make you a bad Christian, or that you love Jesus less. There are things contained in the Bible, things about the Christian faith that I do not understand, to be honest. God does not call us to understand; He calls us to faith as His people.

As we stand on the threshold of a new year, perhaps that is the greatest thing for us to remember today. We – like Mary and Joseph – have no idea of what this earthly life has in store for us or our families. There will be times that we want to “enjoy every moment” of what is taking place; and there will be moments that we want to fast-forward; others we will want to rewind again and again, and still others, moments that we will wish we could forget forever. Wherever that moment falls, whatever that moment may be, believe and take comfort in this: the Bethlehem Babe is also the Christ of the Cross. He is Jesus – Savior – and because you are baptized into Him, you are able to look into eternity where truly you will enjoy every moment.

 Amen.

"She Wrapped Him in Swaddling Clothes..." Luke 2:7

“And [Mary] gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” Luke 2: 7

In the name of Jesus, our newborn King. Amen.

Tonight, the King of the Universe, the Savior of us all, the long-awaited Messiah has finally arrived. He’s laid in a manger, doted on by mom and Joseph, spied upon by curious animals and, Luke tells us, this newborn Savior King, is “wrapped in swaddling cloths” (Luke 2:7).

I remember when our baby was born and the nurse showed me how to wrap her up, snug but not too tight, to help comfort and console the baby. It was a soft, cotton blanket. Baby in the center of the blanket, tips pointing up, down, left and right, like the points of a compass, with her head pointing north. The north point was folded down, behind her back, the east point pulled across the chest, the south point brought up and the west point wrapped around, tucking it in behind her head. Someone called it “papoose style,” but you can’t call it that, anymore. So, we’ll call it what it has been called for millenium: swaddling. We wrapped her in a swaddling blanket and placed her in a bassinette.

There’s a learning curve to swaddling a baby. Sure, some may come about it naturally, but ask any parent and they’ll tell you that for most, learning how to wrap that baby tight like a burrito takes some practice. Who’s to say if it took Mary one, two, or twelve tries to get it right? She didn’t have the advantage of watching a YouTube video to speed the process along or read about what she was to expect. She simply had to figure it out.

And she would need to figure it out. Swaddling a baby was, and is, not merely an act of tender care from parent to infant. It’s critical to providing a newborn with warmth and security, both essential to that brand new baby falling asleep. And yes, Mary likely wanted Jesus, meek and mild as he may have been, to take a nap that first Christmas morning.

In the Ancient World, newborns would be washed with water, rubbed with salt and olive oil, and then multiple strips of fabric–likely torn from various garments and household items–would be wrapped tightly around the child, securing their tiny arms to their side and their legs together and serving to shield them from the cold. But they were wrapped in more than mere strips of cloth. Each newborn was wrapped up in love as mom ensured that her little treasure–and in this case, our Lord and Savior–was safe, sound, and snug as a bug.

The swaddling cloths that wrap our Savior on this Christmas night are a small but important detail. It is Jesus’ first outfit after all. More than that, these swaddling clothes are a picture of what this child, once grown, will provide for us all.

We’ll start with the warmth.

Temperatures aside, this world is a cold place. We don’t like to dwell on it on Christmas Eve, but life is hard, filled with broken promises, tension-filled relationships, awkward interactions, gut-wrenching rejections, and terrible misunderstandings. These can leave you feeling like an outsider, alone and caught in the cold, if you will. Perhaps you’ve felt the cold this holiday season. At a time when relationships are front and center, this season is packed with opportunity for the dysfunction so common to human interaction to be felt in full force.

And yet born in Jesus this Christmas Eve is the promise that you will never be stuck out in the cold when it comes to your Creator. Yes, our sins and struggles earn us an outsider status, a rightful rejection when compared to the beauty of our God and the standard for life and love that he’s given to us and desires from us. But this baby has been born to bring just such outsiders back into the fold and family of God. This child will grow to live the life of love that we should live but fail to, and, by faith in him alone, his perfect fidelity to the will of God will be credited to us to enjoy as our own. Clothed, swaddled if you will, in his perfection we also enjoy his status. We are welcomed into God’s grace, God’s pleasure, and God’s family as a son, as a daughter.

You may be “on the outs” with any number of people in this cold world. You may have outsider status in all kinds of clubs and groups, even among family. But one relationship will never more be in doubt. One status is strong and secure. You reside in the light, in the warmth of God’s love. He cherishes you. He celebrates you. He dotes on and smiles at the very thought of you, much like, we can imagine, Mary does with the newborn Savior. And one day, at the return of Christ, the acceptance you have with God will shine brighter than any rejection you’ve experienced and any dysfunction that exists between you and others.

But there’s also the security and the safety.

If an infant’s arms and legs are left flailing about they can feel vulnerable; they shake and shiver as though they’re falling. There’s also the fact that they’re prone to cuts and scrapes from their tiny yet surprisingly sharp little fingernails. But wrapped tight, they feel – and indeed they are – safe.

We too are exposed. This world is not only cold, but dangerous. Death is all around us. And the Scriptures say that “Satan prowls like a roaring lion, seeking whom he will devour” (1 Peter 5:8). Cancer strikes a loved one. A moral failure takes out the career of a respected friend. Divorce pulls apart a home that you fought and sacrificed for–the list goes on and on. The attacks of this sin-sick world come at us from all sides.

But this brave little boy, born this night in Bethlehem, has come to confront every evil that threatens us and battle every foe that terrorizes us. He’s here to live, to fight, to die, and rise like a man on a mission. And in his brief life he will face every evil, he will confront every terror taking each one, including death, head on. And he will crush them all. Sure, he will win by losing, and it seems backward to us at first. But in dying, in being rejected by his own people, punished for crimes he did not commit, and giving his life on the cross as if he was the chief of sinners, this newborn will bring new life to the world. He will drain the world’s evil of its power, absorbing it all–along with God’s wrath–into himself and rendering this world impotent to lay any kind of permanent claim on us. He will die. He will go from being washed in salt and olive oil and wrapped in swaddling clothes, to being bathed in perfume in preparation for burial and wrapped in another set of swaddling clothes, the graveclothes. Instead of a manger for animals He will be placed in another man’s unused grave. And, from that place of the dead, He will rise victorious, the Resurrection and the Life, the Lord of Life, the Victor over sin, death and hell.

And through faith in this child, through a relationship of dependence upon who this baby is and all that he will do, his victory over this dangerous world becomes our victory. Yes, it may at times feel as though we are flailing and falling. We will receive cuts and bruises, scratches and scrapes, but there will be no fatal blows for those who belong to Jesus Christ. We, like he, will be wrapped, swaddled in security.

There is nothing more loving, more sweet, than the love of a mother toward her newborn child. Her eyes fixed on him. Her arms, hesitant to let him go. Tears running down her cheeks as she watches him wiggle and move, yawn and stretch. There is little more loving to behold as she slowly, deliberately takes a tiny blanket, wraps it around his little body and tucks it just right so that it will stay put. She holds him, rocks him, and then he–and she!–finally fall asleep.

Such love. Such a gift.

Ask any mom and they will tell you that there is no better present to hold in your hands.

Mary’s love for the Lord on this Christmas Eve is a glimpse of God’s love for us all, in Jesus Christ. Did you know that God the Father, because of Jesus Christ, looks upon you with an even greater love, that his eyes are fixed on you, and that you are held in his hands? It’s easy, and understandable, if your mind is distracted by other gifts being given and received on this Christmas Eve . But may there be a moment, at least one, where you realize that you too are swaddled in warmth and safety, and in the care of One who loves you more than you can possibly imagine. And why not let it be now? You are warm, secure, and safe in the love of Jesus Christ.

How might life be different, if you fully grasped that truth, truly understood the love of God that is yours, now and forever? Because it is, in fact, yours. 

Would you live with a bit more bravery, willing to take on the things that are of greatest consequence, knowing that God has got your back? Because he does!

Would you let go of some anxiety, knowing that you already possess that which matters most? Because you do, and moreover God possesses you in his loving arms.

Might you sleep more soundly at night, knowing that life’s biggest battles have already been fought for you and won for you? Because they have.

Might there be a bit more boldness in word and deed and more lightness in your heart, if you grasped just how tightly you’re wrapped in the good things of God, through Jesus Christ? Because, and please hear me clearly, God has got you and he is not letting go of you!

The swaddling clothes that wrap our Savior are a small but important detail.

They are a picture of what this child, once grown, will provide for us all.

What we receive this day–a beloved child wrapped in love–is what we all, through this child, get to become.

Now that is an incredible gift. Merry Christmas. Amen.

Getting Dressed for A Christmas Celebration - Isaiah 61: 10

The text is Isaiah 61:10. I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall exult in my God, for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

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

This morning is our last Sunday, the last day of Advent. I know, your calendar says it is Christmas Eve, and it is, but in the church we do things a little bit differently. This morning it’s still Advent, so we are still getting ready. Tonight we celebrate; now, we prepare, even as we look forward, more than ever, to the celebration of the Nativity tonight.

I hope you’ve decided what you’re wearing tonight. I think I’ll wear all black. How about you? Brilliant blues, radiant reds, glamorous green, a mixture of them all, or none of the above – maybe something maroon, or lavender, or creamy-white, instead.  We don’t wear just anything to church, and that’s especially true on Christmas. We wear the outfit picked out a few weeks ago when we were out grabbing some gifts for the kids. Speaking of the kids, they’ll be wearing what mom lays out on the bed shortly before heading to church and the same can be said for many a husband here tonight. I want you to know, even now, even while we are still preparing, you look amazing, even if it’s your mom or your better half who deserves the credit.

And it’s important to look your best. Tonight, tomorrow, Monday, there’s probably a trip to grandma’s on the agenda, a nice dinner out, or a get-together with dear family friends. And through it all, pictures will be taken, a few gifts will be exchanged, and–Lord willing–some great memories will be made. Tonight is a big night. And on the big nights, the important nights, we make sure to wear our nicest attire.

And might I just say, you look amazing.

Tonight’s a big night not just because of the festivities you’ve got planned and the new pajamas that await you. Tonight is a big night–the most amazing of nights–because tonight we watch and wait for a great exchange to begin. This time of year, that word, “exchange” conjures standing in line at the store with an overly stressed customer service rep and trying to get store credit for the clothes that didn’t fit. But tonight’s exchange is so much greater. It’s an exchange not of gifts between you and your family but between God and man.

This morning’s Gospel, Gabriel proclaiming to Mary, leads us nine months later to tonight when God takes on our flesh.

Gabriel’s promise leads us to tonight when God becomes incarnate, wrapped in skin and blood, flesh and bone and takes on human form. But more than merely taking on our flesh–as if that wasn’t enough–in the birth of Jesus Christ God takes on our position, our station, our very posture in creation. And what is that position and posture? It’s one of weakness, of vulnerability, of exposure to the elements of a sin-soaked and violent world. Tonight God is robed in flesh; he is born naked and small and offered to the elements, given over to everything from a cold wind whipping through the Bethlehem air to the hurt and heartache that comes with living in close proximity to you and me, the utterly depraved.

But do not forget, this is an exchange. God isn’t the only one gaining new garments and a different address. The prophet Isaiah, who was Adventing before Advent was cool, spoke on God’s behalf some 700 years before the incarnation of Jesus, foretold of the “year of the Lord’s favor,” a time when God’s servant, the Messiah, would arrive and bring good news and everlasting joy to the world. In fact, in the Gospel of Luke chapter 4, Jesus, some 30 years old and launching his public ministry, quotes this very section of Isaiah. He opens the scroll in the synagogue, finds the 61st chapter and reads, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me...to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Isa. 61:2; Luke 4:18-19). He then sits down and says, in a way that feels every bit like a mic-drop moment, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:21). Jesus couldn’t have been any clearer. He is the one foretold by Isaiah, the one bringing God’s greatest blessings to mankind.

But back to this great exchange.

The prophet Isaiah goes into beautiful detail about what was coming, the “year of the Lord’s favor,” and what it means for those who receive the Messiah. In verse 10 he writes, “I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall exult in my God, for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness…” (Isa. 61:10).

Are you grasping it? I hope so, because this is what makes our Advent preparation for Christmas Eve so incredible.

Isaiah is telling us that when the Messiah arrives he brings with him the good news of God’s extravagant blessing and with it a whole new wardrobe. Those who receive him, who are connected to him in belief and baptism, will be wrapped in salvation and–this is the best part!–robed in righteousness.

Those who belong to the Messiah will be covered (head to toe, because that’s how robes work) in a rightness, a goodness that we have not earned. They will be so completely covered, in fact, that when God looks at those who receive this Messiah he will no longer see any of their evil deeds, any of their terrible choices, or any of the countless times when they’ve rejected him or failed him.

He will see none of it. He will only see goodness. Talk about looking your best!

And that exchange begins tonight.

Jesus takes on your humanity, your flesh and blood, along with your heartache, hardship, and even your death. And he will be faithful while you have been faithless. He will reject every expression of sin and live perfectly in your place. He will confront death and wring out every ounce of God’s wrath in his own flesh and blood on the cross. And he will rise out of his tomb declaring that your tomb has been totaled and that death, for all those who belong to him, has been defeated. He will take your place, plod your plight, and set you free. And when it’s all said and done he will wrap you in salvation and goodness that you did not earn. He will take what rightly belongs to him and graciously bestow it upon you. And the only thing that will be left to do is marvel at your new wardrobe and give God thanks, for it indeed will be the year of the Lord’s favor.

And it all begins tonight, with the baby born in Bethlehem.

But let’s take this further, shall we? Let’s back up, and start Adventing even before Isaiah, deep in the Old Testament, long before the incarnation of Jesus, Moses was given instructions for the tabernacle and the garments of the priests who would minister there. The tabernacle, at that time, was the place of God’s promised presence, the means through which he would dwell with his people. It was a  tent—yes, a tent—carried around by the Israelites as they wandered in the wilderness. Detailed instructions were given for each aspect of the tent and we are told that the garments of the priests were to be made from the same materials. The priests were, in some sense, the embodied presence of God.

In Exodus, Moses tells us that sewn into the priestly garments–onto the breastplate to be exact–were twelve different precious stones, one for each of the tribes of Israel, with the names of the tribes inscribed on them. The purpose for this was beautiful and personal: “Whenever Aaron enters the Holy Place, he will bear the names of the sons of Israel over his heart on the breastpiece of decision as a continuing memorial before the Lord” (Ex. 28:29).

Think about that: each time the priest entered the tabernacle and ministered in God’s presence the names of God’s people would be on the priest’s heart and before God’s eyes etched in beautiful stone.

We are told in the New Testament that the one being born tonight is the greatest of the great high priests, greater than Aaron and even greater than Moses (Heb. 4:14). And in his incarnation we have God, once again, dwelling with man. Jesus Christ is both the ultimate expression of the tabernacle and its priest. But this time the clothes of the “priest” are different. Rather than wearing fine linen and exquisite jewels, this high priest is wearing flesh and blood. The tent of God and the clothes of the priest are human flesh, blood, skin and bone.

And that’s because this tabernacle and great high priest has come not to adorn himself in jewels but to make us the jewels. He has come to take our place and earn for us the holy garments. While Aaron stood before the Father with the names of God’s people written beautifully over his heart, Jesus will show us God’s heart. And he will live, die, and rise so that we can stand before the Father–bearing the name “forgiven”–as diamonds and as rubies ourselves, as sapphires shining with a holiness we haven’t earned but desperately need.

Yes, even you. You are a jewel shining in the light of Christ’s holiness. Tonight’s a big night not just because of the festivities you’ve got planned and the new pajamas that await you. Tonight is a big night–the most amazing of nights–because tonight we watch and wait for an incredible exchange to begin.

Tonight, in the words of the famous advent hymn, “Christ, from heav’n to us descending, And in love our race befriending; In our need, His help extending, Saved us from the wiley foe.” Tonight, God himself takes our place and is robed in our flesh, to take on our plight and to be our tabernacle and our priest. And in exchange we receive–you receive–the greatest gift of all, incredible, invaluable, and beautiful garments of grace.

This morning, as we complete our Advent journey, no matter who you are, what you’ve done, what sins you’ve committed, doubts you carry, or issues you have, this Jesus has come for you. And the exchange he makes is for you. Wear what he offers with joy. And know that from now on, in the eyes of God the Father, you look amazing. Amen.

Muffin: Farewell

In Memory of 
Muffin
June 10, 2011 - December 22, 2023

This afternoon, we will put our cat, Muffin, to sleep. She has developed inoperable cancer in her sinuses. The doctor said surgery wouldn't benefit anything, it would cost a fortune, and it would come back anyway. Decisions were made after tough conversations. We hoped she would be with us a while longer, but, sadly, the tumor is very aggressive. It's visibly larger today than Monday when we were at the vet. She sleeps almost constantly, eats little-to-nothing, and isn't herself. We could, I suppose, wait a few more days, but waiting for the inevitable only postpones the inevitable.

If you know Megan, you know her deep love, compassion, and empathy for animals of any kind. Nearest and dearest, though, are these cats, Muff, her sister, Sprint, and brother, Houdini. Megan was the lead to rescue these kittens in June of 2011. We left for a week's vacation and when we came back, we could hear the babies "mewing" in the garage, through the closed door. Megan and Laura found them in the back of the garage, behind some boxes. We got some kitten baby formula and bottles. Megan made sure they were fed, made them a safe place in the house (which Houdini kept escaping from, thus his name), wept when one of the six did not make it, and shed a tear or two when two of the kittens went to a new home. When no home was found for the other three, Megan made them part of our family.

Somewhere along the way, Sprint "adopted" Alyssa, Houdini "adopted" me, and Muff "adopted" Megs, but Megan loved all three. When friends disappointed her, Megan had her cats. When school was tough, the cats comforted her. When we moved, the cats were her companions. She has cared for them, fussed after them, gave them meds when needed, cussed them on occasion (nothing like a pile of cat puke on a freshly washed bed comforter to welcome you home from a frustrating day at work), but loved them all nevertheless.

Muff's name fit her to a T. Actually, about four T's, as in "fatttt." She weighed a solid 20 pounds before she got sick, and watching her walk was sort of like watching jello - she wiggled, jiggled, and was a lot of fun. Even at that, she could leap from the floor to the top of the bed, but she kind of oozed her way back down. She has this wierd tick - if you rub her spine about half-way down her back, she would start licking her chest like a chicken going after the last piece of corn on earth. As soon as you stopped, she would stop, look around, and leave you wondering if that meant "do it again" or "what the heck?" Her fur was always white, beautiful snow white, from her nose through her belly to her tail. She got so fat she had a hard time grooming her back, and got some nasty nots there until we got a brush to get it de-tangled, but where she could reach, she was always sleek and pretty. If she wore a set of pearls, you would have called her a lady, perhaps even the queen of the castle. When we would leave the back door open, she would sit in the doorway, like Nala beside Simba, looking over the land and her people. Occasionally she would sneak out, but always scurry back inside, back to her castle, back to her domain.

The spot on her face just came up suddenly, without warning. We hoped it was a bug bite, perhaps an infection from being poked by something. An initual trip to the vet was suspicious but inconclusive. Muff got a steroid shot and I got instructions to watch and monitor. Megan did more than monitor: she measured, every day, noting the progress, bigger, smaller, longer, thinner. There was a little bit of shrinkage, but then the thing just took off. We all suspected the unspoken, unfortunate expectation, but hearing the vet say the dreaded C-word hurt. Momma and I both cried a few tears, and then we shed a few more when we had to tell Megan after work that night: cancer, inoperable, incurable; maybe a few weeks, maybe not; watch for signs of loss of appetite, growth, not drinking. And we cried again.

As a pastor, kids sometimes ask me if cats and dogs and fish and squirrels will go to heaven when they die. The Bible doesn't really say. Martin Luther supposedly told his dog "Farewell, my faithful dog. You, too, shall have a golden tail in the resurrection." If that was good enough for Luther, that's good enough for me today.

Poor cat...poor Muff. It's gotten worse; waiting won't help a lick. She's not eating. The eye is grotesque. Last night, we decided, "It's time." Today has been tough - more for Megan than anyone else. After lunch, we're going to take Muff outside one more time and let her see her land, her people one more time with her good eye. Then, we'll take her to the doctor where she will fall asleep.

And, I hope, when we see Jesus someday, Muff will be there, a lion among lambs, waiting for us.

Excuse me....I have something in my eyes.

The Night Before Christmas - Texas Style

The Night Before Christmas - Texas Style

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, in Texas, you see.
From forest to mountains to flatland prairie.
Wrapped up in their quilts, my family asleep,
Their eyes were closed tight, and breathing so deep.

We had all our stockings, hung there, on the wall,
Empty, but hopeful, that Santa would call.
And me? I was up watching the Christmas tree lights
When all of the sudden, I stood up in a fright.

I saw through the window, as bright as the sun,
A loaded down pickup, comin’ on at a run,
It sparkled and glistened in the clear Texas night,
With three dogs, riding shotgun, that made such a sight.

He called ‘em by name: “Butch, Heidi and Wyatt,
There'll be plenty of riding; now hush and sit tight."
The driver wore Levi's and a shirt that was red,
And a light-grey felt Stetson was perched on his head.

As he stepped from the dually, he was really a sight,
His beard and his moustache were curly and white.
As he burst in the door, my family awoke,
And me? I was speechless. Not one of us spoke.

He looked at our tree, and our lights; gave a nod
And said, “But y’all know – tonight is really how God
In His love sent His Son to save you from sin
Eternal redemption for you He will win.”

Then softly, and lowly, he led "Silent Night,"
And “Joy to the World,” then he said: “Good night.”
As he stepped to his one-ton, my son moved his jaws
And asked in a whisper, "Are you Santa Claus?"

"Am I the real Santa? Well, what do you think?"
And he smiled as he gave a mysterious wink.
Then he leaned out his window and hollered back with a drawl,
"To all across Texas: Merry Christmas, Y’all!"

There is Joy in Advent, Even When It Is Hard to Find - 1 Thess 5: 16-18

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

“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thess 5: 16-18)

The third Sunday of Advent is traditionally called Gaudate Sunday. Gaudate, in Latin, means rejoice. In a season that traditionally was one of repentance and contemplation on the reason for Christ’s coming to be our Savior, the third Sunday was a moment of brightness. The darker hued purple or blue candle is replaced with the bright pink. This is true today, as well. The Christmas celebration draws closer and closer and, for many, the excitement is palpable – just ask any child. “Tis the season!” “Joy to the world!” “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!!!” Parents and grandparents, too, are almost as excited as the kids and grandkids, practically ready to burst in anticipation of Christmas Eve and Day. You’ve found the perfect gifts. You have been playing your favorite Christmas albums on the radio and whether it’s Linus and Lucy on full blast or Handel’s Messiah soaring in etherial wonder, joy abounds.

But for others, “rejoice” just doesn’t hit quite that way. In fact, it’s the opposite. Christmas has “bled back” all the way into October. Some are, simply, tired of tinsel and trees. Ask someone who works in retail who has had to deal with crabby and demanding customers for almost three months. Or, ask parents whose budgets are tighter than ever but don’t want to let down their kids who want the latest and greatest like everyone else in school. Ask someone whose job is in danger, and he or she is wondering what will happen after the New Year. Ask someone whose table will have an empty spot this year. There is a lot of pressure right now, to get the perfect gifts, make it to all the parties, invite the right people, and not omit a card to someone who does not take omissions lightly. There’s the anxiety of the extra expense for gifts and food and clothes. There are concerns for travel arrangements. People get very frustrated. Tempers flare. Relationships, already frazzled and frayed, get broken. The wrong word at the wrong time to the wrong person and the warmth of Christmas becomes a roaring fire of anger.  As a pastor, I empathize with people who struggle with the so-called “Christmas spirit.” I’ve said before, I love the Nativity of Jesus, but I struggle sometimes with Christmas.

I tell you this so we all understand Gaudate Sunday, the Sunday of Rejoicing, means different things to different people. For you who are already filled with joy so that it is overflowing, today will be the whipped cream and sprinkles on your mug of joy. For you who are struggling to find joy, any little drop of joy at all, I pray that you are reminded of the reason we as God’s people rejoice in the first place. I’ll give you a clue: while it involves Jesus’ birth, that is not where you will end today.

When Paul urges Christians to “rejoice always,” he does so, not because it’s Christmastime, or because all is good, right and salutary in the world; it’s because, Paul says, this is the will of God.

We know the will, the desire, of God for us because of the Scripture. The greatest desire God has for all mankind is to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth in Christ Jesus. Salvation is the entire purpose of Christ coming into the world, which we prepare for in Advent. His salvific work in redeeming the world with Himself as our substitute is the plan God had in place from the beginning of time. There is great joy in this gift of God in Christ, and it is His desire that all know, believe, trust and rely on His Son alone for the forgiveness of sins and eternal life.

Therein is joy: God’s son, for you, redeeming you and making you His own.

I think we sometimes think of joy in a future tense: I will have joy one day. Sometimes, we push that “one day” all the way out to the day Jesus returns, as though joy is unavailable and unattainable until the day of the resurrection of all flesh. True, that will be a day of greatest joy – if it helps, think of it with joy with a capitol J – but we have joy already because in Christ, God is already at work, doing all things for good. He loves you. He has made you His own. He sacrificed His Son for you, even while you were still a sinner, Christ dying for you.  You are now, present tense, a forgiven child of God. You are now, present tense, made whole in Christ. You are now, present tense, in Christ, a new creature. You are now, present tense, completely redeemed so that even your joy, however great or small it may be, is made complete in Jesus.

I suspect that a litmus test for our joy-fill-ness is the old glass half-full or half-empty question. You can answer this if you want… How many of you are glass half full people? How many of you are glass half empty people? Here’s the secret: it doesn’t matter. The secret is that the glass can always be refilled. The same is true of joy. Whether you are filled and overflowing with joy, or whether there are only a few precious drops in the bottom of the cup, the Lord fills you with His joy. Remember the scene in the novel, Oliver Twist when Oliver asks for more porridge and he is denied? Our Lord never denies the request. In fact, He already begins to fill our cups and bowls and sacks and hearts and minds and lives with joy before we even ask.

But, if you feel a little less than joy-filled right now, then pray – without ceasing. It’s not a chore; it is, in fact, a joy that you can carry your burdens to the Lord in prayer. When there is anxiety about what the kids want, pray. When there is worry about the family squabble bubbling up and over, pray. When there is stress about work, pray. When the perfect Norman Rockwell Christmas turns into more of a Al Bundy Christmas, pray. Cast your cares upon Him because He cares for you.

Remarkably, Paul also encourages us to give thanks in all circumstances. If rejoice always sounds daunting, give thanks in all circumstances sounds impossible. Notice, he doesn’t say give thanks for all circumstances. Neither Paul nor the Lord are sadistic, filled with pleasure in someone’s pain. You don’t give thanks for being laid off, or for a family member not speaking to you, or for the death of a loved one. But, even in the midst of these difficult moments in life, when the cups of joy are down the thinnest of drops, we can still give thanks because in the fulness of time, God entered into our creation in flesh. Jesus was born to be our Savior.

That’s important to remember: we do not merely rejoice because it’s almost Christmas. We rejoice because in Christ, we are God’s children. Likewise, we do not merely give thanks because it’s almost Christmas. We give thanks because in all things, God works for the good of those whom He loves, and whom does He love more than those for whom His Son to die?

Our joy, our prayers, our thanksgivings are not bound by the seasons, or our circumstances, or the world in which we live. They are all grounded in this: Jesus is Immanuel, God with us. Not just on this Gaudate Sunday, but every day. And, paradoxically, not just into eternity, but now, on this Sunday of joy.

May your joy be full, in Christ, your Lord and Savior.
Amen.

"From Heaven Above to Earth I Come" - Sunday School Children's Christmas Program

I need you to use your imagination. Imagine that it’s Christmas Eve. The service at church is over. The pastor’s family is gathered in the living room. Father has written a new Christmas song for his wife and children. He sings it softly.

1             “From heav’n above to earth I come
To bear good news to ev’ry home;
Glad tidings of great joy I bring,
Whereof I now will say and sing:

The children recognize the melody. It was part of a singing game that they knew. A young man would sing “Good news from far above I bring/Glad tidings for you all I sing./I bring so much you’d like to know/Much more than I shall tell you, though.” Then the young man would offer a riddle to one of the girls. If she could not solve the ruddle, she had to surrender the wreath that she had on her head.

But this night, the father had much more in mind than a silly singing game. He wished for his family to use the familiar tune to sing about the most precious event ever. He would write thirteen stanzas to proclaim the message: Eight to be sung on Christmas Eve and six on Christmas Day.

The second stanza of the hymn gets to the heart of the matter. Sing it with me:

2             “To you this night is born a child
Of Mary, chosen virgin mild;
This little child of lowly birth
Shall be the joy of all the earth.

The father knows the deep significance of this birth. He knows it for himself. He knows it for His family. He knows it for the church.

He knows that of himself, life would be quite joyless because of what, by nature, went through his mouth, because of things he thought, because of things he did. They were wrong. They were marred by sin. Some were hurtful. Some were truly evil. All were contaminated by sin’s damnable fault.

And, he knows that the same is true for his family as well. He has watched them. He has listened to them. He remembers the time that their joy was taken away, the times they stole someone else’s joy, the times where joy was tainted and spoiled. But tonight, the joy is restored. Sing the next verse with me.

3             “This is the Christ, our God Most High,
Who hears your sad and bitter cry;
He will Himself your Savior be
From all your sins to set you free.

The truth that the father wants to share with his family is that this entire plan is not a mere Divine after-thought, something God drummed on a whim. This is God’s plan. It’s been God’s promise for a very, very long time. Sing verse four with me.

4             “He will on you the gifts bestow
Prepared by God for all below,
That in His kingdom, bright and fair,
You may with us His glory share.

“Be comforted, my dear ones,” the father says. “No matter how joyless, no matter how distressing, no matter how empty the moments may seem, God has not forgotten you. He is faithful. He keeps His promises. Just listen to the words of the angels in the next verse we sing:

5             “These are the signs that you shall mark:
The swaddling clothes and manger dark.
There you will find the infant laid
By whom the heav’ns and earth were made.”

Then, the father, Pastor Martin Luther, encourages his family to respond with the shepherds of long ago. Perhaps the pastor, as a young boy, also spent time in the open fields, wondering what he might have done had he been present that Holy Night so long ago. He could understand the shepherd’s unworthiness, as well as their amazement and surprise. He could understand their desire to confirm, to see for themselves what had been told them concerning the Child. Sing verse six with me.

6             How glad we’ll be to find it so!
Then with the shepherds let us go
To see what God for us has done
In sending us His own dear Son.

What that family, along with the shepherds, and with the whole Church on earth and in heaven, what they all saw was none other than the Son of God, laid in a manger, wrapped in strips of cloth. The Son of God, born of Mary, laying in a animal’s feed box. The Son of Man born to free the world by dying in our place. The Son of God, born to love us infinitely and without qualification.

This morning, our prayer is that you again hear this narrative and that it fills you with joy and wonder. So, just as Martin Luther gathered his family to hear of the birth of Christ, we gather this morning to hear the same. Let’s sing the last verse as the children prepare to share the Good News of Jesus with us.

7             Come here, my friends, lift up your eyes,
And see what in the manger lies.
Who is this child, so young and fair?
It is the Christ Child lying there.

 (The hymn, "From Heaven Above to Earth I Come" as found in Lutheran Service Book, #358. Originally written by Martin Luther in either 1534 or 1535, both text and tune are now in the public domain.)

Advent: Come, Lord Jesus - Isaiah 64: 1-9

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

Welcome to the beginning of a new church year. You should have a clue something has changed. The paraments and stole are blue. The Christmas tree is up, of course, along with the lights and wreaths. The Nativity scene is carefully placed. Welcome to the season of Advent.

Advent comes from the Latin word for “coming.” In this holy season, we celebrate the coming of Christ in history, in humility, in His conception and birth; in our time, present in Word and Sacrament; and His promised coming in the future, when He returns in glory to judge the living and the dead. It’s a season of preparation, a season of anticipation, a season of expectation as we again hear the ancient promises of God to His people of old, their fulfillment in Bethlehem, and continue whetting our anticipation for Him again.

The hymnody helps set that tone: “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” “Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus,” and “Come Thou Precious Ransom Come” (which we will sing shortly) are just a few. The last words in the Bible are the same advent prayer, “Come quickly, Lord Jesus.” We pray it at our dinner table, “Come Lord Jesus,” and we even pray it in the Lord’s Prayer. “Let thy Kingdom come.” It comes across better, clearer in Latin, “adveniat regnum tuum.”

For many, we have unfortunately lost the sense of anticipation of anything besides the Christmas-centric anticipation. We believe Jesus will return, but we have lost the urgency, the sense of “soon.” “He’s waited this long, what’s the rush?”

Isaiah helps us return that sense of urgency to our preparation with His own prayer for the Lord to advent, to come, soon, quickly, and with a vengeance. “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains might quake at your presence – as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil.” The imagery in the first 4 verses is powerful. It’s as if Isaiah is praying for Israel, Tear the heavens open, O Lord, it’s as if you are so far from us, separated by time and space.  Rip them open; make Your presence known, so there is no more wondering if You care, if you really are our God. Make the nations, the goy, our enemies, Your enemies, know exactly who You are so that their knees knock when Your name is revealed to them.  We remember how Sinai quaked when Your presence was revealed; do it again, O Lord, because no one has seen or heard any other God like You who acts for Your people.  Come, O God, and act against them!

It's easy to pray for the Lord’s return with vengeance when looking outside your own walls. Isaiah and Israel did it thousands of years ago. We do it today, too, I suspect. We look around and see the world in which we live. While there is much to rejoice in, there is also much to grieve and lament.  I was at the barbershop Thursday morning and asked the barber, “How’s the world treating you?” Without missing a beat, the devout Christian said something like “It’s getting harder and harder,” giving some examples of things he had seen and heard locally, in the news, and on the internet. I suspect he would have given a hearty, “Amen!” to Isaiah’s prayer, “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down…”

You know the old adage, “be careful what you wish for?” Is that really what we want? Do we really want the Lord to rend, tear, rip apart the heavens with a vengeance? Isaiah realized it might not be as pleasant a picture as he first envisioned. Lest we forget, it is not only the enemies of God who have sinned. Isaiah writes, “Behold, you were angry, and we sinned; in our sins, we have been a long time, and shall we be saved?” Isaiah compares even our best with dirty, filthy garments.

Traditionally, Advent was a season of repentance. Readings like this help us see that. Behold: we, God’s people, are not immune from the consequences of our sins. Behold: we dare not simply and simplisticly assume God’s wrath is only going to be dumped on “those people.” Behold: we are guilty, too. We’re sinful; we’re broken; we’re part of the problem, too. We’re not as righteous as we think we might be.

We can’t say, “But we’re not as bad as they are.” That is irrelevant. There is no room for negotiation. We do that in our lives – well, at least I wasn’t going as fast as that guy; well, at least I didn’t steal ten million dollars; well, it’s not like others haven’t cheated on their spelling test before. Our excuses only cement the truth: we are guilty. There isn’t a valid comparison, more than or less than. We have sinned against God and against man. We need God’s mercy, grace and compassion, not self-righteousness, as much as the next one.

Isaiah does not leave us in Advent despair. Calling out to God, as a patiently molding potter, we are the work of the Father’s hand. “Be not so terribly angry, O Lord, and remember not your iniquity forever.”

How does the Lord answer this Advent prayer? How does the Lord hear and respond to our cries?

In this: He rends the heavens and comes down. The Father sends His Only Begotten Son, Jesus, the Messiah, and splits apart the heavens and comes down to earth to be born of the Virgin Mary. He sets aside His full glorious power and majesty to dwell among us, in flesh, yet full of grace and truth. At His birth, the heavens are opened and the angels sing. At His baptism, the heavens are opened and the Spirit descends and the Father speaks, “This is my beloved Son.” He came, as the Baptizer said, to separate the wheat and burn up the chaff. He comes to rescue His people from His own enemies. He comes to fulfill the Law that was thundered down on Sinai and when the fire fell on Caramel.

That takes place at another mountain. Within the city of Jerusalem, at the Temple mountain, for centuries sacrifices were made daily by the hundreds and thousands. Outside of the city of Jerusalem is a hill, known less as a place of holiness and more as a place of horror, where the guilty were crucified in gruesome agony. There darkness covered the world, the earth shook, and the heavens were closed, sealed so that the Innocent Son of God cries of agony for His Father to hear His prayer were met in terrible silence. All around us, the world just wants the Christmas tree. We know a different tree, the tree of the Cross. On that Tree, Jesus died for us. So, Advent does have that tone of repentance, for it is because of our sins that Jesus was born; He was born to die. And, Christ died to live. Just as neither cross nor grave was the end for Jesus, neither death nor the grave is the end for us.

He comes to redeem His people. Our filthy rags are stripped from us and, in our Baptism, the heavens are opened for us and we are wrapped in the righteousness of Christ. In Jesus, the Father looks on us with favor, mercy and compassion showing on His delighted face. 

Isaiah helps reminds us that Jesus is returning.  He is patiently waiting, not coming, yet, with fire and thunder and earthquakes. He is slow, His patience is an act of grace, giving people the opportunity to hear and believe of Christ who came to seek and save the lost, that they may repent and trust His promises and also look forward to the day of His return.

On that great, glorious day, when the heavens are torn apart and He descends where every eye can see Him and every ear hear His voice, He will raise the dead and the faithful will be restored into perfection for eternity with Him. For those who know, believe, trust and rely on Jesus as their Savior, having been declared by their Righteous King to also be righteous, they shall be raised into eternity. And you all will see each other, you and your loved ones whom you miss now so much, you will be resurrectedly whole. But even greater than that, you will see Jesus, Immanuel, God in flesh, who came once, in time, and who returns again to deliver the salvation promised through Isaiah.

Sing with me:

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel Shall come to thee, O Israel. (LSB 357 v1)

When Does Judgement Begin? Sooner than you think... Matthew 25: 31-46

Pay special attention to today's text from Matthew's Gospel; perhaps you might want to just this once, take sermon notes. There will be a test at the end.

Like many, or perhaps even most Lutherans, I suppose, we don't think very often or very specifically about the glorious return of Christ for the final judgment. We believe in all these things. They're in the Bible. They're in the Creeds. They're in our hymns. So, they are present in our Sunday lives, but somewhere between Sunday, 11am, and Monday 6am, they stop shaping our daily lives.

This leaves us with a big question for today about the final judgment: when? When? By when I don't mean the year or the day or the hour or the moment of Christ’s return. All of that will certainly be important enough when it happens, but there's not a lot to say about that in the meantime, except that we don't know, we won't know, and we can't know.

The big question in the gospel appointed for this day is another kind of “when” question, when that some of you have wisely asked the last few weeks. That question is, when will all this get decided? When does the judgement stuff happen? When does the Lord make up His mind about who goes where and what happens to us? When is it decided whether the nations of the world belong in the ranks of the sheep or the goats?  The answer to this particular “when” question is not a secret, but it is really surprising. The answer to when is the final judgment is, “Right now.” Today. And that answer may surprise you.

Many people, including perhaps some of us, may sometimes suppose that it's all kind of up for grabs and to-be-determined until the end. But Jesus says that when he returns, He will judge based on things that will have already happened. That is stuff that people do right now, in fact. It's all rather surprising.

When we were kids, one of my siblings had a jack-in-the-box. You know, the kind that has this little clown doll on a spring and you push the clown down inside the box and close the lid. Then you turn the little crank and it plays this little song, “All around the cobbler’s bench…” And when you get to one place in the song, the same place every time, “Pop! Goes the weasel!” and the lid flies up and the clown popped out and it scared the bejeebers out of the kid. Even though every kid knows exactly when the stupid clown would pop up at the same place in the same stupid song over and over again, it still surprised the kid every time. The point is that just knowing when doesn't mean you won't be surprised.

That’s what Matthew means. Just knowing when doesn't mean it's not a surprise. These folks are standing there, sheep and goats, and are divided before the glorious throne of the Son of Man, and they hear Him speak blessing or judgment at the end of time. In both cases, for the sheep on the right and for the goats on his left, the basis for the judgment is the same. They have all, He says, done - or not done - some crucial acts of kindness and mercy to the Lord himself.  And both groups, those receiving His blessings and those being sent away, are surprised.

This is where they ask the big question for today, “When, Lord? When did we see you hungry or thirsty, or strange or needing clothes or sick or in prison? We don't remember any of that stuff about you. We're sure we would have remembered something important like that.” It's almost as if all of them, both the sheep and the goats, think there must be some mistake - maybe a wonderful mistake; maybe a terrible mistake - but there must be some mistake.

“Are you sure, Lord?,” protest the sheep. “I think I would have remembered if I'd ever had the chance to serve you personally. That surely would have been a big deal. Something to mark on the calendar and write in my diary. But all I can think of when I look back is all the ordinary stuff with all those ordinary people… just the same old, same old. Nothing important enough for You to bring up at an important time like this.”

On the other side of the aisle, there is also confusion and surprise. “Now… now wait, Lord, there must be some mistake. Of course, if there'd ever been anything I could do for You, you know, I wouldn't have hesitated a moment. But we never saw You. We never neglected any of the really important things that we did for You. We never let all the trivial stuff, or those minor interruptions distract us from focusing on you, Lord. When did we do this? When did we not do this?”

Then comes the kicker. It's a surprise, even though you know it's coming. Jesus and Matthew have set us up. It's as if we're in on it, and they - the nations - are not. You and I have heard it 100 times or more, and you're going to hear it some more, before you hear it from the Lord Himself. And still, it catches us off guard and makes us catch our breath every time.  The King will answer them truly, I say to you, “As you did it, or did not do it, to one of the least of these, my brethren, you did it, or not, to me.”

These words of Jesus are like a spotlight that shines with bright, blazing brilliance back through time, through our times, from the end of time. It shows us our day-to-day and mundane lives for what they truly are: service to Christ, or the refusal of such service. The beams of that light reveal the colors and the contours of what otherwise seems like the most normal drudgery and common labor. Well, it may be normal, but it's anything but common.

My first sentence, I said there was a test. These are the questions. Of course, I'm not sure I want all the little encounters and choices and decisions that make up my life to get loaded with that kind of significance. I'm not so sure that the everyday conduct of my life can bear the weight of that ultimate and decisive meaning. The truth is that I, and perhaps you too, live most often in the comfortable shadow-lands, where we test pretty well when we have time to prepare, but we’re not so good at keeping up with the daily homework of life with missing or incomplete assignments. Come to think of it, I probably count on much of what I do not actually mattering all that much in the end, one way or the other.

But it does matter in the end, one way or the other. What I do and don't do to the scruffy looking smelly guy that asked for money on the street matters. How you treat that annoying neighbor who plays her Taylor Swift CD's late at night and won't return your tools that he borrowed, it matters. The phone call we decided to put off to that guy we haven’t seen in months and years, it matters. Jesus, you see, injects Himself into the daily choices you and I make about humdrum moments and ordinary people even, or perhaps especially, the least of these. He shines an extraordinary light into our ordinary lives and interactions because it's not only the life and death necessities; it’s the seemingly little and regular stuff, too.

Can we hear the Lord saying, “I had an owie and you made it better.” “I lost my dog and you comforted me.” “I was exhausted after all day with the kids and you did the dishes and folded the laundry.” “I didn’t understand the assignment and you sat with me and encouraged me.” He adds eternal weight to the mundane duties of our daily vocation – the using of the gifts we talked about last week. The surprise is the answer to the “when” question. When do you serve Christ? When you are a faithful – not perfect, but faithful - husband, father, sister, mother, son, neighbor, teacher, student, friend. Because then, Jesus says, you do it to him.

What would it be like to live every single day as if eternity were riding on it? What would it mean if we encountered every other human being as if he or she were Jesus Christ himself in disguise? C.S. Lewis, whom you probably know from The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, quoting John Dunn, posed the question. “What if this present moment was the world's last? Wouldn't it be a surprising life?”

The final judgment, my friends, is really going to happen. And a lot of people, maybe most people, are going to be really, really surprised. Many, of course, are going to be surprised that it happens at all, but according to the words of Jesus, they're going to be surprised also by the “when” of it all, not the date or the time of day, which will be a surprise of its own, but the “when” of all those moments that counts and are counted in the final analysis. When Lord? The sheep, the righteous, the blessed of the Father will be surprised. When the day feed the hungry Christ in disguise? When did they visit a sick Christ without knowing it? When did they take care of a needy Christ and not recognize him? The goats, those who have brought a curse down on their own heads, will also be surprised. How were they supposed to know that it all mattered?

And just one more little surprise: Jesus does tell His disciples – us - about this final judgment to make us consider carefully what we do now in the coming light of His return. He wants the certainty of His second coming and the assured secrecy of it to be connected with a mighty therefore to the way we conduct ourselves in the meantime. He wants us to be surprised, but surprised the way the sheep are surprised and not the way the goats are. But the whole picture, the big picture, of glorious judge, and sheep, and goats, and angels is also meant to comfort us in an altogether different way because there's somebody else in the picture there - somebody you can almost overlook, somebody you don't notice at first glance. They're up there. Beside the throne, kind of huddled around Jesus. “They're the ones,” He says, “these are My brothers and sisters.”

That congregation includes you and me, because we're Jesus disciples. His own blood removes all threat of punishment from us. His spirit sends us out as His messengers, and it matters to Him a lot how His messengers are treated. It matters to Him how His message is received. “He who receives you receives Me,” Jesus tells the disciples, “And he who receives Me receives the One who sent Me. And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones, because he is My disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward. I’ll remember.”

Jesus sends His disciples out under His authority on His mission to make disciples of all nations. Gathered and divided before the throne the nations will be called to answer for how they treat the disciples. Not because we are big stuff in and of ourselves, but because of whose brothers and sisters we are. If something is done or not done to even the least of these brothers and sisters of His, it's done to Jesus Himself.

I think that guy may have been the one I bought dinner for at Jack in the Box. I think that might be the teacher who taught one of your children. I think that might be that very, very quiet woman or man at work. I think you might live with one of those least of these, my brethren. It might even have been you.

It is a matter of ultimate concern to Jesus: What becomes of you, His brothers and sisters; how it goes with you, whether you are fed, whether you are clothed, whether you were treated well, whether you were visited, whether you are cared for. He will ask about those things when he returns in glory. He will remember. Because He cares for you. Isn't that a surprise. Oh, and by the way: the test starts now.

Thanksgiving Is For Remembering - Deuteronomy 8: 1-10

Deuteronomy 8: 1-10: “The whole commandment that I command you today you shall be careful to do, that you may live and multiply, and go in and possess the land that the Lord swore to give to your fathers. 2 And you shall remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments or not. 3 And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. 4 Your clothing did not wear out on you and your foot did not swell these forty years. 5 Know then in your heart that, as a man disciplines his son, the Lord your God disciplines you. 6 So you shall keep the commandments of the Lord your God by walking in his ways and by fearing him. 7 For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing out in the valleys and hills, 8 a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, 9 a land in which you will eat bread without scarcity, in which you will lack nothing, a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills you can dig copper. 10 And you shall eat and be full, and you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land he has given you.

If New Year’s is about making resolutions for the future, then Thanksgiving is about remembering the past. Turkey, stuffing and stories get passed around from person to person. While the platters and gravy boats get emptied, the stories get filled out with new details and embellishments. Some of the stories are as old as grandparents and great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents. Others are as new as what happened in the kitchen this morning. You can relive the past year simply by looking down the row of chairs at the table. Where grandma once sat, a new daughter-in-law now sits, uneasily. One cousin moves up to the Big Table while a toddler leaves the high chair at the Big Table to take that spot at the kids’ table. For some, the dining room is squeezed to capacity. For others, it’s now a Styrofoam container from a restaurant, eaten next to an empty couch in front of a TV show. The gray hairs, the children’s laughter, great-grandma’s dinner set, and grandpa’s secret pie recipe, the quiet rooms – they all contribute to the story, each with their own thread in the narrative.

But for the person who has no memory, or who doesn’t know where he or she comes from – they have a difficult time giving thanks. The reason is that that person doesn’t know what to be thankful for or whom to thank.

So, Moses sets out in Deuteronomy chapter 8 to help remind us whose we are and where we come from. He wants to help us remember. It’s a short sermon – just a couple verses long – with its theme as remembering. Over and over, Moses will repeat it to the Israelites – Remember the Lord. Remember and do not forget!

Think of these words of Moses in Deuteronomy as a grandfather who is telling the old family stories, again. You hear him speaking again tonight, although long dead, he speaks through Scripture. You hear Moses saying, “Remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you.”

You belong to the Lord. This is what the Lord has done for you: He sent you a prophet greater than Moses – Jesus Christ, His Son – to deliver you by His death and resurrection. He brought you out of slavery to sin. He rescued you from the reign of death and the devil. He drowned your enemies in baptismal waters and called you to be his people. He has led you year after year thought the wilderness of this life, a land in which you are a pilgrim and a stranger. Remember.

But thanksgiving isn’t just about a recitation of facts. The mental exercise of recalling names and dates might be good enough to pass a high school test, but it certainly isn’t going to do for thanksgiving. I might know all about 1621, the Mayflower Pact, Squanto, Plymouth Plantation, and William Bradford but no one will say that just telling the story is remembering thanksgiving. Remembering Thanksgiving involves the whole person: making a pilgrim’s hat or bonnet out of construction paper, make a turkey from a hand-print, phone calls to family members distant, a forkful of pumpkin or pecan pie, loosening the belt a notch or two and hugs and kisses as family parts company until the next time. A proper remembrance of Thanksgiving involves the whole person, not just the mind.

So, when Moses says “remember,” he doesn’t just mean recall the story. He wants your entire life to be one of remembrance, for you to remember the Lord with your heads, your hands, and your hearts. Through Holy Baptism, you are a member of the heavenly Father’s family and you now remember the Lord your God by living as His Child. So, remember by living as His child. Now, that’s an interesting idea. To be a child means first that you receive what your parents give. You live in their house, you eat at their table, you call to them when you’re in need, and you enjoy the goods and belongings that are theirs. So also for you who are children of God in Christ Jesus. In this place you remember who and whose you are. This is your Father’s house; this is His table. You call him Father and you speak to him as dear children to their dear father.

This is not a one-time thing. This is your life as a child. You remember the Lord by receiving more from him – more forgiveness, more salvation, more blessings showered more abundantly than you can ask or imagine. You give thanks, for His delight is in you – to provide for you and to answer you. He does this not only here, in His house, but also at your house as well. Your roof, your bed, your refrigerator, your turkey and stuffing and potatoes – they are all from His hand.

He gives and you receive. And, as you receive, you remember who and whose you are: God’s beloved child in Christ Jesus.

At present, though, you are still living in a fallen world. That means that there is hunger and sickness and sadness. Some tables have less this year than last year; some tables hardly have anything. For some, instead of loosening the belt, their belt is tightened a notch. For some, instead of rejoicing in bounty of twenty-pound birds and twenty-dollar pecan pies, there is rejoicing for just enough, a buck twenty five frozen dinner, or even a peanut butter sandwich. For some, the empty spot at the table is almost overwhelming and the silence is loud.

If this is you, my friend, do not let the devil lie to you and tell you that this is a sign that God is displeased with you, or that he has abandoned you in your need. Your God, who loves you enough to save you into eternity, is with you in your suffering. He knows your pain and sorrow and hunger. And, because Jesus suffered once and for all for you, you can know with full confidence that God has not abandoned you to suffer forever. If this is you, then I encourage you to remember – not just with your mind, but with your entire being – remember that whatever you have, even the little, is from His Fatherly hand. Remember you are His child, even when life is hard. Remember to fear, love and trust in Him for He is good and gracious. Remember that you do not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from His mouth. You have enough – maybe just barely – but the Lord does provide.

The best remembrance that a child can give to his parent is to copy what the parent does. To be a child of God is to imitate him – to forgive as he forgives; to love as He loves. Remember the Lord by living as Christ to your neighbors, by loving and serving those who are around you. You remember the Lord by inviting a widow or widower to your Thanksgiving table; you remember the Lord by calling a shut-in whose family is unable to visit; you remember the Lord by giving to food pantries and toy drives; you remember the Lord by telling someone “Jesus does love you.” You remember the Lord when you copy the Father’s actions and show that you are His child.

We are always in danger of forgetting who we are. In spiritual matters, as in the rest of life, we are prone to be forgetful and have selective memory. But Thanksgiving makes us pause, stop and remember. And Moses helps jog our memories. He reminds us of who and whose we are: the Lord’s people, purchased by the blood of Jesus. Remember this by receiving His gifts. Make the sign of the cross. Listen to His Word preached. Open your Bible at home. Come to His Table to eat the feast of Thanksgiving that He has prepared. Remember who you are by living as one who is redeemed by Christ the Crucified. Remember it with your heads, hands, hearts, feet, ears and mouths. With  this remembrance and thanksgiving, go forth, pick up your platters, tell your stories, pass the gravy and enjoy all the blessings the Lord has given you.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.