Remember: "I Am the Resurrection and the Life!" - John 11: 1-43

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

There are very few places as frightening as a cemetery. I don’t mean the faux set-up for Halloween, with Styrofoam tombstones and mounds of dirt and plastic skeletons. I mean the real cemetery, the place where our loved ones are laid to rest after they fall asleep in Christ and die. A cemetery may be creepy late at night with owls hooting and coyotes howling, but it becomes a truly frightening place when we stand in a cemetery and gather around a casket or grave of a loved one who has died.

Have you noticed how our culture tries to avoid that word, die? It shows up in lots of ways – relationships die, communities die, dreams die.  These all have elements of grief, a sense of loss, but nothing like when a loved one dies. We have a whole list of synonyms that are used, both in culture and in the funeral industry, words like expire, depart, perish, decline, decease, disappear, wither, languish, wane, sink, fade, decay, cease. It’s as if we think that by not saying “death,” we don’t have to face death or the grave. I suspect it’s to try to soften what has happened, sometimes to the point of being ridiculous. I once heard a funeral director, while he looked at the body in the casket and admired his work of preparation, boast to the widow, “Doesn’t he look lovely in repose?” “In repose?”, she snapped, and then without flinching, stated, “No…he looks dead, your makeup and hair gel will not change that.”

But, when you are standing in a cemetery at the casket or facing the name of a loved one carved into cold, hard stone, death is very, very plain and simple to understand.

I have lost track of the number of times I have stood at the graveside, either as a pastor, friend, or member of the family. If I were to guess, at least 70 times and maybe or more, officiating at most of those. I can attest that there are very few places on earth that are as frightening as standing at the foot of the grave of a loved one. I have that feeling, to a greater or lesser degree, at every funeral. It’s a humbling moment and a mixture of emotions – fear, pain, loss, grief, worry, sorrow – washes over the living while the loved one is buried in the ground or vault. It also reminds us of our own mortality.

For you who have stood there, and for all of us who, one day, will stand there unless Jesus returns first, this morning’s Gospel lesson offers three important things for you to remember as you walk through this life in a journey through the valley of the shadow of death.  

The first is that when you stand at the grave, almost overwhelmed by what has happened and is happening, your Lord knows exactly what you are experiencing. First-hand, He knew and experienced grief. He was not a stoic, immovable, lacking any emption at all. Jesus was a man, a human, and He had the feelings you and I have. He was hungry, He was thirsty, He was happy, He had compassion – so much that, at times, His guts churned - and at Lazarus’ grave, He was sad. He heard the sisters crying, and He was deeply moved and troubled. The Greek text implies that He was angry, possibly at death itself.  That makes sense – after all, death is God’s enemy that robs God’s people of the life they were created to live. But when Jesus was shown Lazarus’ grave, He cried – real, hot, human tears.

That’s important because sometimes well-intentioned Christians say things like, “You don’t need to cry. Your loved one is with Jesus.” True, the saint who dies in Christ is already with Him and experiencing the joy of the beginning of eternity. But to dismiss your tears as somehow inappropriate for a Christian isn’t fair. He wept. God-in-flesh wept. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Jesus’ tears sanctify your own tears; His sadness makes your sadness holy; His pain at the loss of His friend validates your own loss.

The second thing to know is even if your prayers were not answered as you had hoped, Jesus heard your prayers for your loved one.  When Lazarus was sick and his sisters sent for Jesus, remember, He delayed two days before He even set out on the journey to Bethany. By the time He arrived, Lazarus had already been dead four days. His seeming inaction, His seeming to not care for His friends begs the unasked question, why? Jesus offers two answers: the first, so the Son of God may be glorified; and second, so that they might believe. That’s relatively easy to understand here, today, looking through the lens of the Bible into the story of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. But, what does that mean when it’s us standing at the grave?

It is a very humbling thing to sit with a loved one – a spouse, a child, a parent, a grandchild – who is sick and suffering and knowing you can do nothing to help besides be present. When the medication doesn’t help, or seems to make things worse, and the doctors are at the end of their physical capabilities, and no other answer seems possible, it seems that death is winning the battle against life. Jesus’ words remind us that even sickness and illness, even in terminal cases, are still under His authority. And, for the child of God, it is not for eternal death.

That’s important to remember. The Bible speaks of death three ways – temporal physical death, spiritual death, and eternal death. Physical death is when the body ceases working. Spiritual death is when faith dies. One can be physically alive but spiritually dead. But if one is spiritually dead and then dies, physically, that then becomes eternal death, a euphemism for the eternal torture of hell. For the child of God, even if illness would lead to physical death, we are preserved from eternal death by the mercy and grace of God in Christ Jesus. When Jesus speaks of the glory of God in Christ, and to continue to believe in Him, it is to trust this very thing: that death and the grave is not the end. Make no mistake – death is our enemy, no matter how the funeral industry tries to neuter that truth. God even places death under His control and He uses this terrible thing of death as a vehicle to deliver us from this life on earth – yes, even with its joys and pleasures as well as its heartaches and pains – He uses it to deliver us from this life to life in eternity with Him.

That is easy to say now, but it’s tough to cling to when dying is suddenly a very real possibility, like when it is your loved one who receives a difficult diagnosis, or who isn’t responding to the treatments, or who is taking a final breath, or who lies in the casket.

As a student pastor, I was making a funeral home visit with an older, experienced pastor. The widower, Steve, was there to see his wife for the first time in the casket. I was quiet, observing and listening to what this veteran pastor would say. What do you say in a time like that? My mind said to tell the man “There, there, it’s going to be OK,” but I knew that was as hollow as a toilet paper tube, an empty platitude more for me than him. Something is better than nothing, they say, but sometimes they are wrong.  The senior pastor stood next to the man for a minute and then offered one of the most powerful words of hope (!) and comfort. “Just remember, Steve, Jesus said, ‘I am the resurrection and the life.’”

Instead of platitudes, the pastor turned the grieving Christian back to the promises of Jesus. That’s the third thing I want you to remember: the promise of Jesus. When Martha met Jesus with the news that Lazarus had died and challenged Him, in faith, that had He been there, Lazarus wouldn’t have died, Jesus promised that her brother would rise again. Again, in faith, Martha agreed, confessing that she believed there would be a resurrection on the last day. Then, Jesus spoke those words of promise that we know well: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live. And everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die.” Jesus is the savior from sin and also the antidote to death and the destroyer of the grave. Even though His own death and resurrection are still on the horizon, He is already declaring His victory over death, our enemy. His declaration is a prelude to His own resurrection victory.

Earlier, I said it is OK to cry. It’s also OK to grieve. We grieve our loss and, in our tears, Jesus stands with us. But, we do not grieve as those who have no hope (!). In Christ, there is the hope and promise of a resurrection reunion – first of all, with our Lord and Savior, who loved us enough to die for us and rise for us and promise us space in His father’s mansion; and second, with those whom we love who also died in the faith in Christ Jesus. Our hope (!) is in Christ Jesus, and in Him, we have the confident promise that nothing, neither death nor live, angels nor demons, powers, nor anything else, can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

So, when you – like Steve, or Mary, or Martha – are standing at the foot of the grave of your loved one, let Jesus’ words ring in your ears. Remember: Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live. And everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die.” Immediately, He turned to Martha and asked, “Do you believe this?” The echo of that question echoes through the centuries and it reverberates across cemeteries, and into hospital rooms, and into funeral homes, and into the homes where our loved ones once lived. “Do you believe this, that I am the resurrection and the life?” By God’s grace, filled with the Holy Spirit, knowing that the One who asked is the One who has conquered death with His own glorious resurrection, you are able to answer. It may be a squeak, or a whisper, or a mumble, or a full-throated declaration, but you are able to answer along with Martha, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.”

Christians call the place where we bury our dead, “cemeteries.” We don’t call them “resting places,” or “memorial gardens,” or even “burial grounds.” We call them cemeteries. It’s the English word that is derived from the Greek word, “koimeterion” which means “sleeping place.” In Christ, cemeteries are nothing more than sleeping places for our beloved who have died in the Lord. We confessed it a few minutes ago, “I believe in…the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.” That name, cemetery, is physical statement of our Christian confession that Jesus isn’t yet done with the body of our loved one who is buried there. It is at rest even as the soul lives with Christ. I said cemeteries are frightening places. They are because they humble us, and remind us of our loss, and our own unknown future. But, in the cemetery, in the sleeping place, for the faithful Christians who mourn their faithful departed, the cemetery itself provides hope in the midst of sadness, grief and loss. There is more to come, something greater to come!  Remember, He is the resurrection and the life, and He will raise your beloved’s body, made whole and holy, from a temporary sleep to eternal joy when He returns.

Do you believe this?

Amen.

 

Hope With Christ, Hope In Christ, Hope Through Christ. Hope is Christ! Romans 5: 1-8

Grace to you and peace…

Peace. Doesn't that sound good this morning? Thinking back over the last few years – the pandemic officially began three years ago, this week – and everything that has stirred up the world. The virus, the war in Ukraine, the economy, what the bug did to families with the death and health issues, let alone other non-covid health problems. Politics has become verbally and physically violent, a white-collar contact sport. Society is on edge from wokeness and brokenness. Black lives matter, blue lives matter, unborn lives matter. Can I afford college? Can I afford to not go to college? Fifty years ago, Dr. Thomas Harris wrote a book, “I’m OK, You’re OK.” I wonder what he would title it today?  Google searches for “how to deal with anxiety” or “how to deal with worry” are at an all time. Anxiety fuels fear and fear fuels anxiety. I’m OK, you’re OK, really? Is anyone OK? Peace…something so simple, now so taken for granted.

I want you to know this morning, every morning, noon and night, you have peace inspite – despite! – what the world, your mind, and even Satan Himself tries to tell you. But to understand this, I need you to rethink peace. Peace, by definition, is not absence of war. It isn’t absence of conflict or lack of fear. Peace means unity, harmony, wholeness through restoration. In Christ, you do have peace, beyond worldly understanding. In Christ, God has been pacified and you have been restored in Christ's death and resurrection. You are justified – declared holy – by God’s merciful gift of Jesus and this is delivered to you by the Holy Spirit from faith.

Faith. That is always an important word, but it will be particularly important in these difficult days. The book of Hebrews defines faith as “the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen,” Heb 11:1. Your faith is from God. You do not trust your faith itself; that ebbs and flows. Your faith rests in Christ Jesus, your Lord and Savior.

Through Christ, you have access by faith into the grace of God. I want you to have a picture here of a room, a large room, that is warm and inviting. "Access" means entrance. By faith we have entrance into this grace in which we stand. By faith I walk into that room and the name of the room is grace. The ceiling, walls, floor—all grace. You live inside God’s grace, his love, his forgiveness, completely surrounded by it. That means you’re always forgiven. You must not think of forgiveness as something that takes place in your life every once in awhile, that you pile up sins for a time and then you get forgiven. You’re forgiven all the time.

People say, "I hope I don’t die while I’m sinning." People like that don’t know what sin is. Of course you’re going to die while you’re sinning. You sin because you’re a sinner; you aren’t a sinner because you sin. All of us are far short of what we ought to be all the time (Romans 3, 23). See, the law tells us how we are to be and not to be, and what we ought to do and not to do. Not being what we ought to be is also a sin. The Law demands perfection (Lev. 19,2). If you’re not perfect you’ve living in sin. But even if you’re sinning all the time, you’re forgiven all the time. You’re living inside the forgiveness of sin. If you die when you’re not thinking about Jesus, you still die as a believer.

People say, "I hope that I have a chance to repent before I die." That’s not right. The whole life of a believer ought to be one of repentance. See, believing doesn’t mean that you feel good all the time, and repenting doesn’t mean that you feel bad all the time. Repenting just means knowing that you’re a sinner who deserves to go to hell. Being scared to die without Jesus, that’s contrition. And faith is knowing that Jesus forgives you all the time, every minute of the day you are forgiven. When you die without having a chance to repent consciously, you still die as a person who knows that he’s a sinner and that Jesus died for him. How many times during the day do you think of the fact that 2 + 2 = 4? Did you know that last night when you were sound asleep? You sure did. Did you know that this morning? Certainly. And so I know that all the time that Jesus is my Savior, whatever happens to me.

Living in Christ’s forgiveness, "we rejoice in hope of the glory of God" (Rom. 5,2). Here "the glory of God" is the praise that God gives us. Someday when we stand before God, what’s He going to say? "Well done, thou good and faithful servant" (Matt. 5,21). You will say, "But when did I ever do anything good?? He will say, "That’s alright, Jesus did it all for you. Well done, you kept all my commandments." So we look forward to Judgment Day when God will say, "You’re not guilty." We "rejoice in hope" that that’s the way it’s going to be. We know it’s true now, by faith. Then we’ll hear it with our own ears from the mouth of God Himself. Now we hear it from human preachers, but then Jesus Himself will say it. "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world" (Matt. 25, 34).

This is the source of the hope we have in God: the grace given you by Jesus. I’ve said it before, it begs to be said again. When I use the word hope, I don’t mean the false one-in-a-billion hope of winning the lottery, or I hope the IRS doesn’t audit me, or something like that. Christian hope is one giant exclamation point. Some of you remember Victor Borge – he would do a schtick where he would read a section of a book and actually vocalize the punctuation. YouTube him and watch some of his routine – you have time, now. If Victor Borge were here, he would read every word “hope” in the Bible with the sound of an exclamation point. Christian hope is certain, not maybe; it is confident, not wishy-washy; it is definite, not a mere possibility. Hope is in Christ. Christ does not change, He does not schwaffle. Therefore you hope does not change, either.

Because of that, you are able to rejoice today, even in the midst of the chaos that is swirling around us. You don’t rejoice because of it, but in it. Our translation says “we rejoice in our sufferings.” A better, and little-less wooden translation is “we rejoice in the face of external pressure.” I think that today’s climate counts as external pressure, don’t you, and it opens this up a little more for us. Suffering has a deep and dark connotation. I don’t know any of us are really suffering. But all of us are facing some level of external pressure. Concerns about the economy, your job, your blood pressure, your weight, your loved ones, what to do with the kids during spring break, trying afford groceries – I could go on. These are present-tense struggles and pressures. Yet, in the midst of them, we as children of God have hope. Hope that enables us to speak and act in love in the midst of this; hope that looks forward in faith; hope that God desires to move us ahead in His grace.

Pressure is accompanied by patient endurance. Ever notice how when things get tough, someone – well intended, of course – will tell you to “hang on”? How do you hang on when the last thread is fraying fast? What happens when you’re losing your grip? Know this: This isn’t you “hanging on.” This is God standing us up in His grace. It’s His gift and He grants it in just the right amount that you need. In fact, it might be helpful to think of endurance less in terms of quantity than quality. That room of grace? He holds us in His perfect grace and keeps us standing firm. Where God sustains faith, He also uses pressure to produce endurance of faith.

Patient endurance is accomplished by tested character. Here is a good picture of how this works. Do you know how gold and silver is made pure? By melting it down. It’s put into high heat and melted into a pool of metal. But, what is remarkable is that because these metals are so dense, the garbage – the dirt and undesired other metals – float to the surface where it is skimmed off. That’s called the dross; it’s garbage. This happens many times, as heat continues to be applied and the gunk skimmed away. When the gold and silver is finally taken off the heat, it is left pure – just gold, just silver, nothing else. In the midst of patient endurance in the crucible, God is defining and refining our character. He is stripping away from us in these days anything that we have made as a god, something other than Him that we fear love and trust. What we are left with is Jesus. Life is hard right now, and our Lord strips away layer after layer away that would want to compete with faith in Him. Life narrows down and crisis comes. Suddenly, there is only one thing that matters. And, there in the narrow place, stands Jesus.

And in Jesus is our hope. You have hope because while we were yet sinners – talk about a hopeless situation!!! – Christ died for you. If God was willing to surrender His holy and only-begotten Son for the likes of you and me, to rescue us from the eternal separation that our sins deserve but that God’s love would not allow; if God kept His promises, all of them, to send a Savior, a Redeemer, a Messiah, a Christ, to be the once-for-all-sacrifice; if Christ died and rose from the dead, completing those promises; then there is truly hope. It is the faith-filled, endurance-driven, character-building hope in the promises of God which are always yes and amen in Christ Jesus.

This is a process that Paul describes. It’s a process of maturing, growing in faith. But the faith in the love of God poured into our hearts – that faith does not change. This is God’s intention: to accomplish patient endurance, which leads to approved character, which returns to hope that trusts in the mercy of God in Christ from faith.

As you leave here today, you get to live in that faith-filled hope. Live – that’s the key word. We’re in a world of hand-wringers and chin rubbers. I know – I am one of them. So live and speak in hope. Luther was once asked what he would do if he knew the end of the world was tomorrow. He simply answered, "Plant a tree." In other words, live today in the sure and certain hope of tomorrow as a child of God. Instead of hand-wringing, fold them in faithful prayer. Instead of frowning in worry, laugh at your dog’s goofiness. Instead of throwing up your hands in surrender, cling to the promises of God. Smile. Give thanks for God's goodness.

 And others around you will see it. They will ask you about it – how can you rejoice in times like this? How can you be so hopeful? Be prepared to give an answer. Tell them about the hope (!) that is yours in Christ. Amen.  

 

Baptized, Born Again, Believing - John 3: 1-17

He just doesn't get it. But that doesn't stop Nicodemus from baring his soul before Jesus. “How can this be?”

Six years ago, my uncle, Richard Dinda, passed away. Uncle Rich was one of the smartest men I have ever known. He was an ordained pastor in the LCMS, Seminary class of 1950, he had five earned master’s degrees, an honorary doctorate from Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, was fluent in Latin and Greek, had a working ability in Spanish, and truly a mind that understood the science of baseball. If he were alive today, I’m not sure how he would feel about the pitch clock, but he would have totally agreed that the shift needed to go away. After he retired as a college professor, he spent 6-hours a day translating old theological works from Latin into English so people like me could read and understand these books. He died just short of his 90^th birthday, a humble man of God and a servant of the church. Yet, even though he was a scholar of the Scriptures, he would open his Bible every day and, Aunt Laura said, there was hardly a day that went by that he didn’t read something and utter “Hmmph…” because there was something that caught his eye anew. I tell you this, because as true as that is for a man who spent seven decades studying the Scriptures from a scholar’s perspective, I think for all of us there are times when we have to come humbly before the Lord and admit we don't have it all figured out. We bare our souls like a child, humbly asking how and why and when, Lord?

Nicodemus was a pharisee. Much like a professor of theology in that day. Respected for his age and wisdom. A pillar of the community. Seen as a wise man – certainly no young upstart. But here he was coming at night to find out what made this Jesus tick. He had questions, but the answers, too, would confound him.

Jesus, this country preacher from Galillee, probably 20 or 30 years his junior... with no authority of culture and institution behind him, and no official connection with the temple. But Jesus was doing things that no one could explain. His miracles, signs and wonders... these were the calling cards that got Nicodemus' attention. “We know that you are from God, for no one can do such things without God” Well he knew that much, but there was much more he didn't know.

Today some might call Nicodemus a “seeker”. But he wasn't part of Christ’s kingdom, at least not yet. Jesus took the opportunity to instruct the wise teacher, and all of us, in some of the basic truths of the faith. And while we are part of that kingdom, we too have much to learn from this night-time discourse.

Perhaps the most basic truth here is the one that we know the best. The “Gospel-in-a-nutshell” passage, John 3:16. Yes, “God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” This is why Jesus has come – for the love of God – for a world that is perishing – for Nicodemus, and for us. This truth, so simple, yet so profound, has made even the wisest men wonder. But there is so much more to the kingdom.

Let's back up. Nicodemus approaches Jesus and begins with flattery, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him." Skillful politics here, buttering Jesus up? Or is this an honest admission that he really is impressed with Jesus' works?

Either way, Jesus shrugs off this flattery and gets to the point. He is not really interested in being praised. He is, always, the servant. Nicodemus needs to see the kingdom, and Jesus nudges him toward it. You need to be born again, Nicodemus.

What is Jesus talking about here, “born again”? That's what Nicodemus wants to know. That's what we need to know. For we certainly want to see the kingdom. We want to be a part of God's people.

He tells us more: “Unless a man is born of water and the Spirit”. And this can only mean one thing – Holy Baptism.  Not conversion experiences or Pauline moments of blindness turned to sight. Just simple water and a few Christ-given words. Holy Baptism, this precious gift, forgives sins, works faith, and yes, brings you into the kingdom. Oh, and by it, we are born again. Not of the flesh, but of the Spirit.

And yet, I think many of us Lutherans think of and treat Baptism wrongly. Like most of God's gifts which we take for granted, Baptism is often far from our mind. Why is it, that we turn the gift into a requirement, a hoop to jump through, in order to have all our Christian ducks in a row. Why do we think of baptism as something long ago that happened to me, a nice historical event but nothing relevant to my life today? Why is it, then, that only on their death-beds, do many finally look toward the comfort of baptism?

Speaking of death-beds, just a few weeks ago, February 18^th, was the day Martin Luther fell asleep in Christ. So in honor of the great reformer, maybe we should hear what he says about baptism:

…What a great, excellent thing Baptism is, which delivers us from the jaws of the devil and makes us God's own, suppresses and takes away sin, and then daily strengthens the new man, and is and remains ever efficacious until we pass from this estate of misery to eternal glory.

For this reason let every one esteem his Baptism as a daily dress in which he is to walk constantly, that he may ever be found in the faith and its fruits, that he suppress the old man and grow up in the new.

For if we would be Christians, we must practice the work whereby we are Christians. But if any one fall away from it, let him again come into it. For just as Christ, the Mercy-seat does not recede from us or forbid us to come to Him again, even though we sin, so all His treasure and gifts also remain. If, therefore we have once in Baptism obtained forgiveness of sin, it will remain every day, as long as we live, that is, as long as we carry the old man about our neck. (from Luther's Large Catechism)

Uncle Rich had a saying that I heard him say countless times. “It’s all about the gifts,” meaning the gifts of God. In this crazy, mixed-up and sin-drenched world, we need the daily gifts of baptism just as much as Nicodemus did. We need the rebirth from sin just as much as that old pharisee with all his questions and conflicts. We need not only the answers from the great teacher Jesus, but we need also the gifts of his kingdom, that he came to bring.

It’s all about the gifts. Sin would have us outside of the kingdom, but God's grace in Christ brings us in. The devil, that wiley serpent, would confuse and confound us with his lies, but Jesus comes full of grace and truth. For Jesus was lifted up, like the serpent in the desert, that we might look to his cross, and to him, and believe.

Amen.