Christ Gives You Certainty Through Your Suffering - Romans 8: 28-39

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

Romans 8 is probably my favorite chapter of the Bible. There are individual verses I like from all over the Bible, but this is my favorite chapter, I think. The chapter starts out with the great declaration, ‘There is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus.” I’ve told you before how and why that verse is so important; it’s one of my favorite verses in the entire Bible. Paul builds on that, declaring we are heirs with Christ through His death and resurrection. 

But, Paul says, that gift of being heirs is couched in suffering this side of heaven, in this life. I know suffering is not a popular topic. We do almost anything and everything we can to alleviate suffering, both for ourselves and for our loved ones. Last week, we talked about how suffering is part of the created world and part of the human condition. Mankind along with the world in which we live, we all groan in anticipation of the glory which is to come in the last days. We suffer illness, job loss, shattered homes, broken relationships, heat, drought, flood, and hurricanes. Being a Christian does not exempt us from these things. But being a Christian does come with its own set of suffering. Classmates laugh at you for praying before you eat at school. A co-worker complains about you to HR because you have a cross on your cubicle wall and play Christian music on your computer speakers. Family meals become tense when you speak a Christian worldview into current events. Our groans join those of creation as we look forward in hope to the return of Christ Jesus in the culmination of that which was won at the cross. “I believe in the resurrection of the body and the life of the world to come.” This is most certainly true. 

But there may be some who misunderstand this suffering. You hear this in the world, don’t you. Why isn’t God doing something about…fill in the blank. Why isn’t God doing something about the unnecessary suffering in the Ukraine, or among cancer patients, or people with Alzheimer’s and dementia. Why are children traded into sex work or abused at home? Why do people go hungry? If God is good and all-powerful, why doesn’t He do something? You can double that for Christians. Why does God allow ISIS to torture Christians in such horrific ways? Why must the church stay hidden, underground in China? Why are Christians mocked, abused, and assaulted for standing up for the truth of God’s Word in our own country? Does God care? Or, some even wonder, is God Himself against us?

No, Paul says. He rejects the idea that these sufferings are God exercising His wrath and anger against us. That was complete at the cross when God’s entire wrath was poured out on Jesus. While we cannot say how and why God allows such things to happen – they are hidden from us in His perfect will – we do know that He uses them for good. Having been justified by God, the suffering isn’t to make us holy. We are already declared holy through the death and resurrection of Jesus.

So, why then? Theologians and lay people have wrestled with this for millennia. It’s one thing to wrestle with it in Bible class, or with a cup of coffee, or even in a sermon. It’s a whole ‘nother thing when it’s you or your loved one who suffers. In those moments, it’s very easy to turn clenched fists to the heavens and demand of God an explanation, or at least a deferment of the pain.

There isn’t a simple answer because suffering isn’t a simple question. Sometimes, God uses suffering to strip away all the gods (lower-case g) from our lives so that there is nothing left but Jesus. Sometimes He uses it to humble us; other times, to test and strengthen faith. Sometimes, He allows Satan to use it to tempt us. Often, those two go together. Sometimes it’s for the benefit of the Church, the community of saints. Sometimes it’s to cleanse the Church from falsehood and false teachers.

Understand this: the verse does not say that all these things like tribulation, distress, famine, persecution, or danger are good. Likewise, it doesn’t say that all of the suffering of the world comes directly from the hands of God, as if He is to be blamed for it all, like we are following in the footsteps of Adam and Eve: it’s you; no, you; no, YOU, God! What these verses do teach is that God remains in control over His entire creation, even over the forces of evil, chaos, loss, and destruction which all seem contrary to God’s good will. These things that cause such suffering - natural disasters, disease, human’s sinfulness against others – they are not “good” in and of themselves.  In the face of such suffering, and pain, and loss, and chaos, and destruction, however dire and terrifying they may be, Scripture affirms this: God’s control over evil is so complete that he could even claim it for His own [holy] purpose. In other words, God is even Lord over evil. Remember the children’s song, “He’s got the whole world in his hands”? 

Perhaps this may be of help: Verse 28 reads, “We know that for those who love God, all things work together for good.” Our concept of “for good” is through our lens, our view, our perception, our concept  of good. It is often is very short-sighted, temporal, and worldly. Our idea of good is also quite subjective, as if Paul said, “all things work together for my good and my convenience.” There are many gifts that God gives that are good – daily bread, First-Article gifts abound all around us. Think of these as good with a lower-case G: they are good for our daily lives. Now, think of God’s gifts that lead to eternity, Second and Third Article gifts, like Word, Water, Bread, Wine, the Church as the body of Christ, the forgiveness of sins, the gift of salvation itself, eternity with Jesus at the foot of the Father. Now, think of these as Capitol G Good, as in Resurrection-to-Eternal Life Good. Even these, we sometimes question – how is a handful of water good? What good does it do? But God promises that this gift, seemingly so insignificant, does Good – capitol G – good things for those who are baptized. Wyatt received Good gifts today. Simple water plus God’s Word gives forgiveness, life and salvation. We get a taste of them now, but we are looking forward to Christ’s return where we will have them in all of their holy, rich fullness. So, when we read “all things work together for good,” think of it as God uses all of these things -  these sufferings and struggles this side of heaven, like tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, and sword - God uses these toward Good - with a capitol G - in the resurrection of all flesh. If you still need another way to think of this, another way to remember it, “good” is an old English derivation from God. So, bidding someone “good day” was a blessing: it is God’s day. Even “good bye” was a blessing: God be with you. So, when Paul says these are for good, or better, toward good, substitute God for good and you discover suffering points you toward God.  

You can only understand this through the lens of the Cross. There is nothing good (remember – using that distinction about lower-case g in this world) about surrendering your only-begotten Son. There is nothing good about the cross. There is nothing good about a truly innocent man being sentenced to die, a perfect death for imperfect people. There is nothing good about jealous, wicked men determining to eliminate Jesus as their competition. But God takes that which is wicked and sin-stained and uses it for Good, Resurrection-to-Life capitol-G Good, for the redemption and justification of God’s elect. The cross becomes the means of altar of salvation; the Son’s death becomes the way to eternal life; the holy and innocent death becomes the atonement price; the Father’s surrender of His Son welcomes all of all of us into sonship and daughtership through divine adoption. In the cross, you see how God worked all things toward good, so much so that we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. 

I had to think about that “more than conquerors” part. How can we be more than conquerors? Let’s say you’re in the Roman army. You’ve conquered a neighboring country. But now what? You either have to go on the attack against another enemy, or you have to prepare to defend against a counter attack. You can never enjoy the victory lest you become the conquered. Paul says we are more than conquerors because the victory in Christ is full, complete, and finished. Yes, satan is having his moment, and yes, as we heard last week, there is still suffering this side of heaven, but – remember - all things work toward Good with a capitol G and the resurrection awaits us.

How certain is this truth? So certain that Paul gives a whole litany of neither/nors: neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. If you want a verse to memorize, I might suggest this one to you. It’s verse 38 & 39 of Romans 8. These words are the perfect bookend to this marvelous chapter. Verse one began, “There is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus,” and it concludes with nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Those last words are key for you as a child of God who struggles in this life under the cross on this side of the resurrection. When life is hard, in the midst of suffering and struggling, when you hear creation groaning, when your groans join in prayer-filled anticipation and hope of the resurrection to come, and when you find your prayers more-and-more echoing St. John in the Revelation, “Come quickly, Lord Jesus,” in those moments and the crises rise, then suddenly only one things matters. Nothing – absolutely nothing, Paul says - neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. “When life narrows down, and crisis comes, and suddenly only one thing matters. And suddenly, only one thing matters, and there in the narrow place stands Jesus” (Rev. Arnold Kuntz. Devotions for the Chronologically Gifted).

Amen.  

When Jesus Answered Creation's Groans - Romans 8: 18-27

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

This evening, somewhere around 8:00, I invite you to sit outside in the shade, have a glass of cool water to sip, and take your bulletin outside with you, open it to the Epistle reading from Romans 8. Read it once inside your head, then a second time out loud; then, be quiet and just listen. Listen, and you will hear creation groaning. You’ll hear the tree branches rubbing against each other, sighing in the hot, dry wind, praying for relief from the heat. You’ll hear the dry rustle of grass and weeds, moaning in agony as moisture is drawn from the stomata in their leaves, leaving them thirsting for water. You will hear the song of birds crying out, thirsty, seeking a cool drink to quench parched throats. You will hear the song of the cicadas, singing out, pleading for God’s mercy in this fallen, sin-stained world. You won’t be able to hear it, but even the dry, parched earth will join this sad song with dehydrated agony.

For the record, this is not a message of green, “woke” environmentalism. Nor am I overstating the case, romanticizing and personifying what you will see or hear in your yard or pasture. What I am doing is placing you alongside Paul as he considers the reality of the world in which we live. When you sit outside and you read the text from Romans and then listen closely, you will be reminded that all of creation is fallen. Yes, it is beautiful and wonderful and magnificent from massive grandeur to tiny microcosm, but it is all part of a fallen creation – even what we call “outer space.” Paul reminds us, sin is not just a you-and-me problem, something that impacts our horizontal relationships with each other and our vertical relationship with God. Eve’s forbidden bite from the forbidden tree plunged all of creation into the chaos of sin, death and unintended, unknown consequences.

We gloss over half of God’s words in Genesis 3. We know the curse against satan, how he will bruise the Seed’s heel, but the Seed will crush his head. We know the curse and how it impacts mankind. There will be pain in childbearing; the perfect husband-wife relationship will be filled with conflict; work will be filled with pain; living will be a hard, sweaty process; and, in the end, you will die (the devil lied about that one, too) – from dust you are, and to dust you shall return. We often speak of this as the fall of man, but it wasn’t just Adam and Eve, though, that was cursed. Creation is also fallen. Creation was impacted because of that unfaithful bite: “Cursed is the ground because of you.” Where Adam’s vocation, pre-fall, was to be a steward of the land, now mankind and creation would fight and wrestle against each other. “Cursed is the ground because of you; in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you…”

And creation groans. The groans echo through the centuries, starting in the Garden, and still reverberating in your own garden, your yard or your pasture. When it’s reported in the news, the media doesn’t realize it, but they tell creation’s fallen story. From drought to wildfire, from earthquake to hurricane, from blight to Pine Bark Beetle, from floods to sweltering heat, from oak wilt to sod webworms, from ants that sting to ivy that itches, creation groans under the fallenness that rests upon it as well as mankind. Sometimes this is the cause of human suffering. Sometimes it is because of human suffering. Regardless, creation is in dire straits and it groans.

But these groans aren’t merely groans of misery, of loss and destruction, creation’s version of “Woe is me.” Hidden in these groans is a groan of hope. St. Paul says that creation waits with yearning for its freedom from this curse, longingly and eagerly waiting for the complete and final unveiling that is to take place in Christ Jesus.

In Christ Jesus. That is the key to answering all of creation’s groans. Christ enters into creation, supernaturally conceived yet born naturally of woman. He who was begotten, not made, nevertheless sets aside His full divine nature and takes on human flesh. He who created chose to live within creation, walking upon it, sailing upon it, eating and drinking from it, seeing it, breathing it, feeling it, smelling it, tasting it, using it – even with its fallenness - to give insight into the Kingdom of God. God becomes flesh and enters into creation so to redeem that very same creation, including mankind.

Holy Scripture tells us of another time when the groans escaped from a Tree. These completed the groans that began at the tree in the Garden.  One can only imagine the groans of agony which escaped Jesus’ lips on Calvary as He bore the burden of the creation’s guilt and pain and suffering on Himself.  The groans of creation are a reminder of the fallen nature of creation.  The groans of Christ were not because He was guilty of sin; He was perfect in every way and without sin.  The groans of Christ were really not His groans… they were our groans, creation’s groans, transferred to Him.  He groaned for fallen creation and all of its misery and pain.  And, when at the end He bowed His head and the last groan of “It is finished,” passed through His sin-chapped lips, it was a groan which literally shook creation as if the world were about to collapse.  The ground trembled, tombs were ripped open, and even the Temple curtain was rent asunder.

For three days, the haunting sound of that groan hung in the air until early Sunday morning when, instead of a groan, a weeping woman heard a still, gentle voice say, “Mary.”  That afternoon, two men living in Emmaus heard the voice clearly explain to them all that the Scriptures foretold about Christ, and heard those wonderful words, “Take and eat.  Take and drink.”  Later that night, ten terrified disciples heard the still, gentle voice declare, “Peace be with you,” and a week later, another man was told to see…touch…stop being a doubter and be a believer.

The One who had groaned His last is now breathing and alive!  No longer does He groan under the painful load of creation’s sin on the cross; now, He stands in victory at the right hand of the Father, waiting to come again to judge the living and the dead.  No longer does the weight and pain of sin and death and the devil threaten to crush; Christ, in His resurrection, has crushed satan and his power over sin and death.  In Christ’s victory, we have been given the gift of our adoption as sons and daughters of the Father. The adoption price has been paid in full by the blood of Christ, and the adoption has been sealed as we are baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus.   Therein is our hope: in the promise of our own resurrection, following after Christ, the first-fruits.

You’ve heard me speak of hope before. We hope for lots of things. We hope the check clears. We hope the Barn gets our order in before the crowd over there. We hope the cat doesn’t yak on the bedspread. It’s hope, but it’s a soft hope…there are lots of variables, which makes it all a rather hollow hope – isn’t it? The Bible describes as our hope in Christ as certainty, confidence, and absolute trust in what isn’t seen. Hope’s power rests in the power of the One who makes the promise – God Himself. Even though we don’t see what we hope for, the hope is grounded in what we know: Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed, alleluia! So, when we say we have Christian hope in the redemption of our bodies through Christ, I want you to hear that with the Amen and Amen of St. John’s Revelation!

While the promise is ours and the guarantee is certain, the adoption papers sealed in Christ Jesus, we are still waiting for our bodies to be delivered to the Father for eternity.  We continue to “groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”  Yet, our groans as we wait in hope are different than those groans which are without hope.  Do we still suffer the horrific effects of sin – yes.  Does creation still groan?  Yes.  Yet, those groans have a purpose. As we groan looking forward, in hope, for what is to come.  St. Paul said, “For in this hope we are saved. Now hope that is seen is hot hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”   We hope for what is to come – the final resurrection when Christ comes again – because Christ has risen.  On that great day, our bodies and souls will be reunited in perfection as Adam and Eve were first created. “If you are a Christian, the chances are extremely good that you will return to dust.  The chances are not, however, 100%; it all depends on what "soon" means.  The chances of you not REMAINING dust are, I'm happy to say . . . 100. Per. Cent.”  (Jeff Gibbs - If you are a Christian, the chances are extremely... | Facebook) We will again know God perfectly and be in His image.  Tears, sorrow, sufferings, and anger will all disappear.  There will again be true peace and joy and love for eternity at the foot of God.

There is one other word of comfort for us in this morning’s text. For those days when creation’s fall weighs heavily on you and the world’s weight is squarely on your shoulders; when you read the paper or hear the news and you wonder “How much longer, O Lord?”; when you scan the sky praying for a drop of rain; when your heart beats faster because the doctor calls you personally…on those days when you can not even frame words into a prayer for God’s mercy, St. Paul says “the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groaning too deep for words.” Even when you don’t know what to pray for, or how to pray, or what words to say – or even if all you can do is groan literally and loudly – the Holy Spirit fleshes your prayers into perfect petitions for your Father in heaven to hear.

In the meantime, as we continue to wait and hope for Christ to come again, creation continues to groan.  But it is a different kind of groaning.  Do we still groan in sorrow?  Yes.  Do we still groan in pain.  You bet.  But our groans also have a sense of hope for that which is to come.  The hymn writer Martin Franzmann expresses the groans of hope well:

Give us lips to sing thy glory,

Tongues, thy mercy to proclaim,

Throats that shout the hope that fills us,

Mouths to speak thy Holy Name.

Alleluia, alleluia!

May the Light which thou dost send

Fill our songs with alleluias,

Alleluias without end!  Amen.

(Lutheran Service Book #578.5)

 

Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. (Romans 15:13, NIV)

 

Jesus Sows Word-Seeds - Isaiah 55: 10-13; Matthew 13: 1-9, 18-23

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

This morning, both our Old Testament and Gospel lessons speak to the power of God’s Word. Isaiah’s image of rain and snow watering the earth and bringing forth new, green life is one we understand. The rain showers we got two weeks ago perked up the grass, changing it from limp and dying to standing tall and coming to life again. The visual image preaches itself, a picture of the Word of God giving life to dying mankind when it is read, preached and taught. Sometimes, God’s Word cuts like a knife, cutting to the core of man’s sins, exposing it to the light, calling mankind to repentance for what was done. Sometimes, God’s Word cools and sooths, restoring and healing wounded hearts and bruised consciences with the Good News of Jesus. Whether it is the Law of the Good News, God’s Word “shall not return to me empty,” Isaiah proclaimed, “but it shall accomplish that which I purpose and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”

In short, the Word of God is a living Word and it does exactly what God wants it to do, sometimes calling people to repentance for their sins; sometimes delivering the very forgiveness that is the antidote to those sins. The Word works.

I take great comfort in that fact, as a Christian pastor. It’s not me that does the work; it’s the Word. That’s why St. Paul could say to the Corinthians, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God granted the growth,” (1 Cor 3:6).

I met a fella named Brad in 2007. He was Jewish by birth but, for him, Judaism was more about social policy and politics than faith. He could have cared less about kosher rules, Sabbath law, or worshipping with other Jews. He had been reading some fiction books where the heroes went back to medieval Germany and Lutherans were just entering the scene with the Reformation. Because the Lutherans were counter-cultural to the church of Rome, and this was historically accurate if somewhat loose, leading a rebellion against the Papacy and the Emperor, Brad had a certain socio-political curiosity about Lutheranism. Through a series of events that only God could orchestrate, we met and every chance I had, I witnessed about Jesus to him. I told Brad that he didn’t need Jesus because he was Jewish but because he was a sinner, unable to be perfect as the law demands. Moses, Elijah, David – all of the Old Testament heroes of faith looked for Messiah to come, to rescue from much more than just the Philistines or whatever other enemy was at the gates, but to rescue and save into eternity. The conversation became personal, he asked me to tell him more about Jesus, why I believed He was that promised One, why I thought God could forgive me because of what Jesus did. We talked more and more, Law and Gospel, sometimes conversing late into the evening. To use the imagery from the Gospel reading, I was sowing seeds left, right and center. I asked if I could send him a New Testament and a Small Catechism to help understand what the Bible was saying. He agreed, and when they arrived, he called me to thank me. Then he said this: “I appreciate the gift a great deal and I will put them in a place of honor on my bookshelf, right between the holy books for Buddhists and Taoists.”  

In that moment, I realized the seed wasn’t going to be sprouting after all. For Brad, Jesus was just another idea, the Bible was just another book, the cross was just another ornament that hung on some people’s walls or around their necks. I don’t think I was the problem – I used all the evangelism techniques I had learned over the years; I was winsome, direct, applicable, theoretical, Biblical, Christological, Catechetical – you name it and I think I checked all of the boxes in that a good witness for Jesus should be. It wasn’t me – we remained friends, or at least friendly. It was the seed. Brad didn’t want the seed to blossom and grow. When he died in the fall of 2020, I had the sad realization that I probably will not see my friend again in the resurrection of all flesh.

This is the paradoxical mystery of the Seed of the Word. On the one hand, Isaiah says, the Word works and does exactly that which the Lord would have it do – call people to repentance and call people to faith and give the very gift of life eternal in Jesus Christ. But, on the other hand, Matthew warns that the Word of God is also humanly resistible. The sinful, old Adam and the sinful, old Eve can play the part of the three monkeys, refusing to hear the Word, to see Jesus in the Word, or to speak and confess the Word made flesh. Or, to use the language of the parable, the seed is unable to penetrate the rocky heart, the heart infested by the weeds of the world and the flesh, the heart that is hard-packed by satan. We can do everything right, as disciples of Jesus, sowing the seed and watering it with prayer and sanctified encouragement but, using the math of the parable, three out of four will deny or lose faith in Jesus.

It is a mystery why, how, one choses to refuse the growth of the seed of God and, instead, chose to remain in death. If the Word works, why doesn’t it work 100%? The answer is that God coerces no one; He forces no one to faith. That is not love. He calls, gathers, and welcomes. That begs a parallel question – why doesn’t He only focus on the 25%, those whom will most likely believe? He scatters the seeds of the Word here and there, casting it in the excellent soil and in the less quality soil, even among the weeds and the thorns. So eager is God for His harvest that He even scatters the seed of the Word on the hard, beaten paths, seeds bouncing around like pebbles on the road, why? Because He wants a harvest.

This is a story about Jesus. It’s not about you or me or an evangelism or witness program. The reckless farmer is Jesus who spreads the Good News wherever He can, going to tax collectors and sinners, to prostitutes and Pharisees. What chance does He have with those people? He goes to fisherman and lepers. He goes to a rich young man who thinks he has it all in the bag, to a Roman soldier who is the village hero but whose servant is dying, and He goes to a young woman whose only son is being carried away for burial. He goes to Jews, the Chosen Ones, heirs of the Promises, and He goes to Gentiles, who have no idea who He is. He goes into a broken world that needs His Good News so badly that He is willing to risk wasting His work and His word for a harvest of faith.

Thanks be to God, this Good News comes to your ears. Again and again and again, He scatters the seed of the Word into the world and you hear it. Some days, more willingly; some days, almost reluctantly, but you hear it. You heard it while in the womb of your mother; God willing, you will hear it on your death-bed. You hear it in your living room when you have your morning devotions, you hear it in your bed at night when you read a final Psalm for the day. The seed is planted and nourished and fed. This Word is for you because the Sower has gone out into the world to spread it. He is the Sower who goes to spread it, and He is Himself the Message that is spread.

The Message is this: He stays faithful to His Word. He is the one who, in spite of suffering and death, willingly went to the cross for you. Jesus is the one who is not turned aside by the temptation of the devil. He did not fear persecution and suffering when the thorns came up and choked. He did not turn aside when hardship came his way, when all his followers abandoned. And even though he was king of all creation, he did not use that for his own benefit. He emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, obediently sowing the seed, even to death on a cross where He laid down his life for you.

This is why the farmer is so desperate for the harvest. His faithful work is the only way that this broken world and our broken lives can be restored to its creator. He has laid down his life and He has taken it up again so that you and I could be a part of his harvest. Thanks be to God that this word has come to us. Pray for those where the seed falls. Be bold as you sling the seeds of the Word. All for the sake of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.  

"Come; Rest." Matthew 11: 25-30

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

“Come to me all who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.”

I don’t know about you, but that promise sounds pretty good to me this morning. I haven’t slept well lately and some rest – deep, peaceful rest – sounds pretty good. Some of it is physical – my back or knees sometimes really hurts – but there are other things, things “out there” that weigh on me. Sick people, hurting people, a world that seems intent to destroy itself, concern for all three kids. You understand these burdens because you share many of them with me, and you have your own burdens as well. Vacation helps, but the problem is you have to come home, sooner or later, and – guess what? – the burdens are right there again.

So, we hear these words of Jesus and we think, perhaps, just perhaps Jesus will ease these burdens and give us some rest. So, yes, He does give us rest. In this house of God, I pray you find rest, peace, respite and sanctuary from the burdens of the world; not permanent, probably, but at least for an hour or so, you can rest at the footsteps of the throne of Jesus.

But this isn’t what He means in today’s Gospel lesson. If we are honest, we can find that kind of rest lots of places. No, Jesus is speaking of a different kind of rest – rest that only He can give.

Let me explain by telling you a true story about a woman whom I’ll call Jan. That’s not her real name, of course, and she’s not from Mission Valley or even the Crossroads. I came to meet her when her co-worker brought her to church. That was no small feat. She had been shamed out of her two previous churches. The first, as a teenager, when it was discovered that her dad was convicted of a crime and no one wanted “that family” next to them in the pew; the second, as a 30-something, when her now-ex husband spread lies about her and that she was the reason for the marriage being destroyed, conveniently omitting his infidelity with his secretary. Remember the book, The Scarlet Letter? It was as if she was a modern version of that woman, except neither event was her fault. She didn’t actually wear an A on her chest, but it was as if she did. In a small town, everyone knew her name and with her name came the stories, none true, but each adding to the legend of infamy. It came to a head one Sunday when the preacher called her out by name, pointing his long arm at her while the ex-husband’s extended family smirked. The preacher demand, “Woman…how many husbands have you had?” The answer, for the record, was one but no one believed it.  And, when she got up to leave, red-faced, tears streaming down her face, her hopes shattered that these people would have an ounce of compassion for her in her grief, her loss, her own misery. She had hoped that perhaps Jesus had a word, just a word for someone in her place, instead she heard the whispered names, the terrible names spoken of her in the pews. Maybe it was true – even God gave up on her.

So you can understand why she was reluctant to accept the invitation to visit our church, or any church for that matter. If that’s how people of God, how the body of Christ, acted, why would she want to go back? Those people who had names for her, she had her own names for them: fraud, hypocrite, pharisee. She saw neither the church nor even God as loving, compassionate, and caring.

But, for some reason she came to church one Sunday morning. She sat next to her friend, quietly following along. It’s been a long time; I don’t remember, anymore, if she sang the hymns or participated in the liturgy that was strange to her. She came a second Sunday, and then a third. She started to participate. Then she came to Bible class, mostly listening but asking a few very pointed questions about grace and mercy and Jesus’ death for sinners and our full and free forgiveness in Him. Finally, she asked if we could visit privately.

In quiet conversation, she told me the story of what her husband did to her and their children; that, yes, she did file for divorce. She told me of things she said and did, and of what had been said and done to her – especially by that other church. She said that she had started to doubt that she would ever be welcome in a Christian church again, that Jesus could possibly love someone like her. She wanted to make herself worthy of Jesus’ love but everywhere she turned, everything she heard said she was never good enough and she was contaminated goods.

Have you ever seen someone truly pleading for something? I don’t mean a spoiled kid begging for an Oreo, or your spouse begging for a hint for their surprise gift. I mean the face of someone hoping against hope that something might be true. That was what I saw in her face when she said, “And, now, you’re telling me not only that God loves me, but that he forgives all of my past because Jesus died for me and because I can’t do a thing to save myself except believe this gift is mine?”

I nodded. And she began to cry. She asked me to tell her again that she was forgiven. I need to hear it again, she said. So I did: “As a called and ordained servant of Christ, I forgive you all your sins, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Be at peace. Your sins have been stripped from you in Christ Jesus and your Heavenly Father sees you as holy in Jesus.” She wept again, but this time, it was with tears of joy.

In twenty-three years of ministry, I have often spoken those words of absolution, but I can only remember three other times when I have seen such a look of sheer, utter joy on a person’s face when they heard that Jesus has forgiven them for the sin they had done. This is what it is to find rest in Jesus, dropping all of the burdens and labors of guilt and shame and memories of sins committed, dropping all of the attempts of trying to make ones own self worthy of the love of Jesus, as if somehow having to prove to God that we are worthy of His love before He will deliver it to us. There is nothing more weighty than thinking we have to clean ourselves up, to scrub away our own sinful stains and make ourselves like pure, white, driven snow. Stop trying to put Jesus out of work; stop trying to make yourself out to be your own savior. You can’t do it. It’s what He came to do: to give you rest under His cross.

Jan discovered that day what Jesus means when He says, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me that I am gentle and lowly in heart and you will find rest for your souls.” To be His disciple is not to become disciple-worthy. It’s to be faithful.

You sometimes hear someone described as a good Christian, but it’s usually used incorrectly. Do you know what a “good” Christian is? It’s not the Christian who can recite all 66 books of the Bible in order, know all 6 Chief Parts of the Catechism, sing harmony on “Amazing Grace” or “The Common Doxology.” It doesn’t mean you never miss a Sunday, or that your kids can sit through church without making noise, or that you can perfectly time the amen with me at the end of a prayer. A good Christian is one who knows he or she is a sinner and deserves nothing but God’s punishment. However, he or she knows, believes, trusts and relies that Jesus stood in that place of punishment and the burden of those very sins were placed upon Him. He carried that yoke to Golgatha where He was suspended between heaven and earth, mocked by those who stood below Him, abandoned by His Father above Him, and He died alone, suffering hell on earth. The “good” Christian knows that Christ’s death is his death; the “good” Christian knows Jesus took up all of her sins. The “good” Christian knows it’s not about him or her at all. It’s all about Jesus, and the good Christian – no, let’s change that to “faithful;” “good” implies internal quality but faithful points to the one in whom the faith rests – the faithful child of God clings to Jesus, even in moments of sin-filled weakness. It’s knowing that her sins or his sins, or your sins and my sins, are all fully paid by Jesus and that the empty tomb is our promise, both now and into eternity.

Taking the yoke of Jesus lightens the burdens of life and eternity. Because of who Jesus is, the burden of discipleship is light indeed.

Carrying the Cross of Family - Matthew 10: 34-42

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

In this morning’s Gospel lesson, Jesus is continuing His instruction and warnings concerning the life of discipleship. To help understand what the life of discipleship is like, he uses the visual image of the cross. : “Whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.”

Crosses…we have them all around us as Christians. In my office, I have a cross wall. They are made out of various materials, of different sizes, of different styles. Some were mass produced and commercially available and a few were made by hand – including by me. They were mostly picked up by friends, family, and church members who thought I would like them. But Jesus does not mean by “take up your cross from the shelf at Hobby Lobby.”

We sometimes use the expression, “it’s my cross to bear,” when referring to a particularly difficult moment, challenge, disability, illness, or unpleasant task. So, you will hear of cancer, or alcoholism, or an unpleasant boss, or a dangerous job, or grief over the death of a loved one all referred to as “a cross.” While those certainly are difficult and unpleasant things to deal with in this life, Biblically speaking, those are not crosses, either. These, too, are not what Jesus means by “take up your cross.”

Biblically speaking, crosses are difficulties and challenges placed upon us by God Himself, directly or indirectly, as part of the life of discipleship – that is to say, because you are a Christian. A Christian doesn’t have a higher risk of cancer or alcoholism, or suffering the death of a loved than a non-Christian. But a Christian, placed into a context by the very hand of God and who suffers in that place and time because of the Christian faith, that Christian carries a cross.

To the disciples and those gathered around, crosses were the ultimate illustration of suffering. This is where we get our term, “excruciating.” It literally means “from the cross.” Crosses were used to put people to death in a terribly agonizing, humiliating way at the slowest possible rate of death. There was nothing quick about death by crucifixion; there was no easy way out. Someone who was crucified would suffer terribly for hours, sometimes days, until their heart and lungs gave out. So when Jesus speaks of crosses, it got people’s attention. These are powerful and profound words. Jesus is speaking this way – father against son, wife against husband – to get people’s attention. He cuts through all of our sinful and foolish selfishness and demythologizes the family and those who would practice non-charitable authority within the family.

In today’s Gospel lesson, when Jesus speaks of “take up your cross,” he is talking about the cross of the Christian family. Before a “mother-in-law” joke goes racing across your brain, let me assure you: this is no joke. There is no punchline here. Jesus is as serious as can be when he places the family in the context of the cross.

Martin Luther once said that family is one of the hands of God and it is through the family that God bestows His first blessings to a human being. As Christians we know and recognize this gift to be from Him – thus the 4^th commandment grounds all authority in the vocation of parenthood. Because the family is a gift of God, the devil will do anything he can do to destroy it. He attacks a family constantly, and no matter what age, no matter the family connection, no matter how many people are at home or if you live along he works overtime to see this gift of God destroyed.

Whether you are single or married, older or younger, you are part of a family. And when God joins a man and woman in marriage, uniting one sinner to another sinner, there’s going to be trouble. I have had a few couples tell me over the years that they don’t fight. I’m not going to argue with them – I’ll take it as true, but I’ll also submit that those couples are the exception, not the rule. But it doesn’t stop there with man and wife. When husband and wife have a child, guess what? They have produced another sinner. And just as the family multiples, so troubles and conflict multiply, sometimes exponentially. To Christians who might naively think that every Christian home will be peaceful and loving and kind and as Christian as any utopian possibility, Jesus says, “I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person’s own enemies will be of his own household.”

Do you know what is at the heart of most the fights you have in your own home? You might think it’s about toothpaste, or toilet seats, dishes in the sink, or dirty clothes on the floor, but those are symptoms of a greater issue. The core is pride: when one family member, in effect, declares him- or her-self god of the castle. God has established family in a relationship where individual freedom is surrendered for loving servitude. Instead of faithfully fulfilling the vocation of father or husband, mother or wife, child or sibling, and submitting to one another in love, the individual tries to become a god – lowercase g – and the demanding, dominating voice of the situation. In other words, at heart, these kinds of fights are sins against the 1^st Commandment when we try to make ourselves out to be the god. This is true of children, parents, grandparents, husbands, wives, in-laws and out-laws: when you arrogantly make yourself the center of the family, you are guilty.

Repent. Repent of the arrogance and self-centered-ness and foolish pride; repent of making yourself out to be god in place of the Triune God. Repent of failing to see your family as a gift of God – imperfect though it may be, yes – it is still His gift for you. Repent of complaining about your mother in law to your own mother, your wife to your father, your mother to your father, your child to your neighbor, for this family is the dearest and closest relationships you will have this side of heaven. Repent…and believe the Gospel.

The Gospel says that Jesus took up His own cross for you. He, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross and scorned its shame, He took picked up His cross for the times you failed to carry your cross. He picked up the time when you told your daddy that you wished your husband would be half the man he was; He picked up the time when you angrily told your mom that you were done with her and you wanted nothing else to do with her, ever; He picked up the angry words whispered behind the locked bedroom door so the kids couldn’t hear. He picked up all of your sins and took them to the cross, paying for each and every time you made yourself out to be god in His place, trusting in your own power and authority instead of submitting in love to Him and to those whom He united you to in your family. He picked up your sins and died for them, paying the debt of condemnation with His own blood. It was no easy burden to bear. Physically, the load was so terrible that Simon of Cyrene had to come along side Jesus and carry the beam but that was only part of it. Nailed to the cross, Jesus died alone – isn’t that ironic? When we sin against our family, we do it together as a family but Jesus…Jesus died alone, abandoned even by God the Father.

Through the power of the Gospel and the spirit of God, you have been baptized into Christ Jesus. In that baptism, you are eternally connected to the cross of Jesus where forgiveness was earned for you. With the sign of the cross on your forhead and your heart in rememberance that you have been redeemed by Christ the crucified, all of your sins are washed away – even the ones you have yet to commit against your family – in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit. You are united to God through Christ…and so is your spouse, your child, your parents, your siblings…all likewise united to Christ.

And, that means not only are you united to Christ, but through Christ, you are united to each other. That means you aren’t just a family by blood, but also family through Christ.

Jesus reduces us to humility: the family is a gift of God, yes; but the family is always subject to God and His authority. “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me,” Jesus said. The family is called to show mercy and grace and compassion and love and charity within the family unit, but those all stem from what God has first demonstrated to us in Christ Jesus. In other words, family members can only show the grace and mercy and compassion and love and charity that is first received from Christ. And doing that – receiving from Christ and sharing with the family – reduces the pretense. Instead of making myself out to be God, I am instead a child of God who distributes what He first delivered to me.

 So, if you want to learn cross-bearing, you don’t need to go to an oncology ward or an AA meeting. Look in the home – look in your own home. You sit at the same table with knees tucked under the same table cloth. There are times you look at each other with so much love and fulness and joy and a sense of blessing that it brings tears to the eyes. And then there are times you look at each other with so much anger and loathing and frustration and near hatred that it brings tears to the eyes, too. You can’t be that close to each other, in each other’s space, without trouble arising. And so we get crucified in our families by people we love. “It’s her fault…” “If only he would…” “My brother is such an…” And our Old Adam and Old Eve creates self-serving liberty where freedom is to be surrendered in love through Christ.

Take up your cross. You won’t have to search too hard – I promise. Take up your cross. You don’t need to manufacture one or go find one somewhere. Wherever two sinners are, there are crosses. We make them for each other, sometimes by the gross, in an attempt for our Old Adam and Old Eve to make ourselves out to be superior, to be the god of the castle. These are the crosses you live with right now, in your daily life at home. You might not call it a cross or have considered it a cross before, but you recognize it and you hate it for the burden that it places across your shoulders.

To be clear: I am not speaking of abusive relationships, where your life is literally at stake. In that situation, in order to be able to take up a cross, you might need to flee for your own sake or that of your children. And if that’s you, know you are not alone. Your brothers and sisters in Christ are here, I am here, willing and able to help you walk with you and carry that cross to safety.

But after the cross comes resurrection with its joy and celebration and promise of new life. Resurrection means the cross is in the rear-view mirror and the suffering is gone. Resurrection means there is a new beginning with sins forgiven fully and completely and restoration complete. Sinners, yes, but sinners washed clean in the blood of Jesus. Resurrection day, the day when Christ returns, the last day, the resurrection of all flesh. All of the promises made to you on that first resurrection, 2000 years ago, will be completed and you will experience the joy of the burden of all of your crosses removed from you. What a day that will be!

But we’re not there, yet. Now, we still live under the cross. The newly weds arrive at the honeymoon hotel only to discover the groom, in his haste, booked the suite for the following week. The new wife looks at her new husband and wonders how he could mess up this of all dates and what that holds for their marriage. There’s a cross to bear. Parents, holding their brand-new hour-old baby girl, start to move from the giddiness of their little baby to the real fears: how are we going to do this? There’s a cross to bear. A husband of 3 decades sits at the bedside of his beloved who, doctors say, has but a short time left in this life. There’s a cross to bear. The widower sits alone in a nursing home, no visits, no phone calls, no birthday cards, and he wonders why God hasn’t yet answered his prayer to be with his wife, fallen asleep in Jesus and waiting the resurrection of all flesh. There’s a cross to bear. Worries swirl around, fears threaten to overwhelm, and the cross looms large.

The Old Adam and Old Eve want Easter without Good Friday; the sinner wants resurrection without the cross. Newly-weds want romance without work; new parents want a soft baby without a loaded diaper. Jesus says that’s not the way of discipleship; that’s not the way of Christian life. Take up the cross.

Take up the cross and turn to your wife, who is your deepest joy and hardest struggle… Take up the cross and turn to your husband, who is all hands and no respect… Take up the cross and turn to your child who loves you when the car is gassed up and who hates you when they are grounded from going out with friends. Turn to them, take up the cross, and love them with the love of Christ Jesus. You are able to take up your cross because Jesus has taken up His cross for you and He promises that it won’t last forever…but His mercy does.