A Very Present Help in Troubled Times - Psalm 46

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

The text for today, Reformation Sunday, is Psalm 46.

“A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” It’s the Lutheran epitome of the Star Spangled Banner, the Battle Hymn of the Republic, and the 1812 Overture (with cannon-fire) comingled with Dixie. It makes our blood pump a little stronger and we stand just a bit taller as we sing it. Martin Luther wrote it around 1528, a Christ-centered rendering of Psalm 46. Open your hymnal to #657 and look at it with me.

In verse one, God is our fortress standing firm against the devil’s attacks, even though by the end of verse 1 it appears satan is winning the battle (“on earth is not his equal”). Verse two doesn’t render much hope – no matter how hard we try, we cannot  hope to defeat him. God, in His mercy, provides a champion: Christ Jesus, His Son. Stanza three gives us powerful imagery of the eternal combat that has raged since almost the beginning of time: one can imagine demons, snapping, hungry to devour Christians while their chief roars in anger, but they unable to touch us. One little word stops them, cold. What is that word? In sermons, Luther sometimes implies the word is “Jesus;” other places, it’s calling the devil what he is, “Liar;” in other readings, it’s implied Jesus’ final word from the cross, “Finished.” The final verse plays on the name of Jesus as the Word made flesh: the Word – both/and Jesus and the His words – and His Kingdom, of which we are part, endures forever. [1]

Luther wrote the hymn based on a Christ-centered reading of Psalm 46. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling…” This text, too, fills us with a sense of hope, endurance, and courage in the face of life’s difficulties. So, with war in Israel, we pray “God is our refuge and strength.” With chaos in Maine, we pray, “A very present help in times of trouble.” As society becomes less and less caring, we pray, “Therefore we will not fear, though the earth gives way.” As a massive storm rips the western Mexican coast and then floods North Texas, we pray, “though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea.”

It’s relatively easy for us to sit here in our South Texas church or homes, in climate-controlled comfort with plenty of food in the pantry and in relatively good health, clean clothes on our back and a place to call home, and sing the battle hymn of the Reformation, or read the Psalm. We can even defiantly shout – as long as it’s merely theoretical – “Let the waters roar, let the mountains tremble…” It’s easy to say it and affirm it when all is well and good.

But when life hits hard, when the proverbial waters start rising around our ankles, knees and hips, when emotional mountains shake, rattle and roll, when our world is collapsing around us, it is much more difficult to pray “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble.” What happens when we are grieving? What about when we are broken? What about when depression makes it so difficult to go to work, and interface and interact with people that just getting out of bed is a small miracle? What about when our kids struggle, or our parents struggle, and we just can’t fix it? We turn to the Lord, but some times, it is as if our prayers fall on deaf – or at least, non-listening – ears. Where is the God who pledged to be in our midst? Where is the God who lifts out of the muck and mire? Where…how do we as God’s people find comfort in times like that?

I’m not asking in a vacuum. The last few months have not been kind to my mind and my spirit. Most of this was personal, as you can imagine, but – like you – there are things about my work, my vocation, that really got to me. But as I slipped and gradually accelerated into depression, I found myself wrestling with these very questions. Where is God in the shadows? How can I see Him when I can barely see anything outside my own struggle? I know Psalm 46, mostly by heart, and I prayed it often. But, again being honest, those words sounded hollow. I felt less like Psalm 46, “God is our refuge and strength,” and more like Psalm 22, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

Luther wrote this in a time of world-wide chaos. The Black Plague had hit his part of Germany. The Turks were invading the Roman Empire, threatening Germany to the east. Catholic armies fought against “rebel” Lutheran forces. Within the church, Roman Catholics, other Protestants, and Lutheran theologians often engaged in hot theological debates that sometimes turned violent. Personally, Luther had a child die in the plague. He was less than ten years removed from what many historians deem a psychological break-down. Having been public enemy, wanted dead or alive by both secular authorities and the Pope himself, friends kidnapped him and squirrelled him away in the high castle of Wartburg. Reportedly, he saw the face of the devil in his room, throwing a bottle of ink at it and ordering him to depart in the name of Jesus Christ. Other times, he was so depressed that over and over, line after line, he wrote, “Baptizato sum - I am baptized,” filling precious pages of paper with those words while clinging to God’s promises to him in Water and word.

Water and word… That is where our Lord is. That is where the Psalmist takes us, too. “There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns,” (Ps. 46: 4-5). OK…so how does that help?

You remember how Jesus connected the temple with Himself: “destroy this temple [referring to Himself] and I will raise it again in three days,” (Jn. 2:19). In the introduction to His gospel, John make it even clearer: “The Word became flesh and made His dwelling (literally, His tenting) among us, and we have seen His glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth,” (John 1:14). Psalm 46 is helping us connect these dots: the tabernacle of God is no longer a place but a person – in Jesus, God is present among His people. In Christ, God is entering into time. In Christ, God is a present help in time of trouble. In Christ, God is restoring creation towards Eden by healing the sick, feeding the hungry, driving demons out, and raising the dead. In Christ, God provides living water so that whoever drinks of Him will never be thirsty but will instead have eternal life.

And, we’re back to water flowing to the city. Again, the city isn’t a place – it’s people, and the locatedness of the people isn’t geographical, but spiritual – that is, the Church. The mercy of God flows to the Church, distributed to the people through…water and word.

In your baptism, God is readily found, an omnipresent help in times of trouble.  Baptizato sum – I am baptized. Isn’t it a beautiful irony, that when waters of life roar and foam and rise and threaten to overwhelm, our Lord calls us back to the calm, comforting, washing gift of Holy Baptism, washing away our sins, pouring out on us the holiness of Jesus, giving us the gift of eternal life in that heavenly city of God? Baptizato sum – I am baptized. You have been baptized into Christ’s death and Christ’s resurrection, an ongoing present-tense reality with an eternal reward in the resurrection of body and the life of the world to come. Baptizato sum – I am baptized. St. John picks up this image of a heavenly river in His Revelation, “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband,” (Rev. 21: 1-2). And then John sees it: “the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb,” (22: 2). Baptizato sum – I am baptized. In Christ, I am God’s and nothing can separate me from His love. Mark yourself with the sign of the cross, the daring brand of Jesus, placed on your head and heart. Open His Word and His promises contained therein. Read the Psalms – the prayerbook of the church. Water and word; Word and water. Baptizato sum – I am baptized.

Remember this: the world was once rescued through a flood as God destroyed everything but Noah, Mrs. Noah, their sons and their families, and the animals on the ark. You have been rescued through the waters of Holy Baptism. You have been carried through that Flood in the ark of the church. “Church” is an odd noun. It’s singular, but in Greek, the language of the New Testament, it is a singular-plural, that is, it is a singular unity of many. Literally, church (singular) means “called out ones” (plural). In other words, within the church are many. You are not alone in the Church.

That is something we can do better – living out the togetherness of the church, putting into practice the oneness we share in Christ, seeing each other as part of the body, so closely connected that when one part rejoices, we rejoice together and when one hurts, we hurt together.  We may not do it perfectly, but the Church still stands and the Church is Christ’s.

So, when the waters roar and foam, when the mountains shake, when the shadows lengthen, when the valley of the shadow is frightening, God is present. God will carry you through the storm and through the flood. But, then again, that’s nothing new for Him. He’s already done it.

God is your refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. How present?
He is present in His Son, who entered time and creation to save you.
He is present in His Word, delivered through His Son, to proclaim His love for you.
He is present in water, poured over you, uniting you to Christ and forgiving your sins.
He is present in bread and wine, both the meal and the host, for those who are weak and struggling.
He is present in the Church, through which He calls, gathers, and encourages.
He is present here.
He is present for you.

 

 

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[1] From Lutheran Service Book: Companion to the Hymns, p. 837-838, © CPH, 2022.

Render Everything to God - Matthew 22: 15-22

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

The text is the Gospel reading, especially these words, “And they brought him a denarius.[b] 20 And Jesus said to them, “Whose likeness and inscription is this?” 21 They said, “Caesar's.” Then he said to them, “Therefore render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's.” 22 When they heard it, they marveled. And they left him and went away.”

Render is an interesting word. We don’t use it, much, anymore. It can mean melt or extract. In the old days, my grandmother would render down pig fat to make lard. It can mean to give an opinion. A judge rendered the decision that I was guilty of not having stray cats tagged and controlled – true story. It can mean to cause something to become something else. By burning the grilled cheese sandwich, I rendered it inedible.  It can also mean to return or to make restitution. This is what Jesus means, “Render to Cesar.” Return to him that which is his.

For centuries, Jesus’ statement, “Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s” has been used to define and explain both a civil and church doctrine of separation of church and state.  Even Luther used it in that sense, developing what we refer to as “the theology of the two kingdoms.” He called God working in time through civil government the “Left hand kingdom,” and God’s working into eternity through the church the “Right hand kingdom.” He also argued that the Roman Empire should keep its nose out of the Church while at the same time affirming God gives the gift of government for the purpose of establishing good order so the church can function in society.

But this is not the intent of Jesus’ words against the Pharisees and Herodians. This phrase is not really about the government, per se. It’s not about giving ten percent to the Lord and fifteen percent to Uncle Sam. It’s not about separation of church and state. It’s funny, if you stop and think about it. We focus on the “Render to Caesar,” part of this. In so doing, we forget the latter part. Jesus’ focus isn’t on Caesar; the focus is on God and paying to God that which is His.

Remember, we’re reading Jesus’ interactions with the Pharisees and Herodians. The Gospel lessons from the last few Sundays have taken place during Holy Week as the tension ratcheted up another notch as the Jewish leaders realized Jesus was speaking of their unfaithfulness, their loss of the blessing of God, their failure to be good and faithful servants. Now, in today’s reading, with their egos bruised and toes smashed, they falsely flattered Jesus, gave hollow complements, I believe, to lull Jesus into a false sense of congeniality and sociability. “Let’s butter him up, so that He might slip up in the proverbial question of the legality of taxes and we can get Him then!” If Jesus said, yes, pay the tax, the Pharisees would jump on Him for supporting a government opposed to Israel; if He said no, do not pay the tax, the Herodians could accuse Jesus of anarchy and insurrection. It seemed Jesus was painted into the proverbial corner by asking a this-or-that question.

Jesus’ answer, “Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s,” is really a non-answer regarding taxes. Jesus is not placing Caesar on one side of the spectrum and God on the other, then asking people to decide whether your dollar goes to one place or the other. It’s a false dichotomy: to put Caesar on the same plane as God is a ridiculous impossibility. Caesar does not own anything that does not first and foremost belong to and come from God. But Rome certainly tried. If you were to look at a denarius, the coin of the realm at the time of Jesus, it would have been struck with Caesar’s profile and a Latin inscription that, translated, reads “Caesar Augustus, Son of a god, Father of the Country.” That puts a different spin on “In God we trust,” doesn’t it? The coin demonstrates the idolatry of Caesar, claiming godly authority and power. No - all things belong to God – not Caesar - whether in this world or the life of the world to come.

So, if “Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s” isn’t about the separation of church and state, or taxation, then what is Jesus speaking about?

To pay to God what belongs to God is to behold Jesus, not Cesar, and to see Him as the Christ, the Son of God who has come into the world to redeem the world. To pay to God what is God’s is to follow Christ, who is God enfleshed. To pay to God what is God’s is to follow His Son in obedient, faithful discipleship. In a word, “pay to God” means repentance. The Jewish leaders and the Herodians missed it – they were too busy trying to trap Jesus to receive Him as Messiah. I submit that we often miss, or at least forget, who Jesus is because we are too busy seeing the government as our god.

Repent – pay to God – for overpaying to Caesar. I don’t mean taxes. Repent of making the government out to be equal – or, even at times, greater - than God and His Word. Honor and respect the government and our officials, yes; but repent for seeing the government as the answer or the blame to all of man’s problems. Repent of the abuses of government that we tolerate for the sake of expediency. Repent of tolerating political foolishness for our economic benefit. Repent of misusing power and authority, particularly over and against the poorest, the weakest, and the neediest members of our society. Lest you think I speak only of those who are in a political office, this applies to each of us. If you have spoken ill of candidates or their supporters, shared social media posts of one party in derogatory terms, gossiped and spun what “those” people represent, then you repent.  Repent of the politicizing and polarizing language where we brand and label, slander and defame simply to prove our point and win a war of words. Repent of seeing elections merely as how to gain the most benefit instead of how a vote can help preserve and protect the life and wellbeing of my neighbor, particularly the least in the Kingdom who, you remember, are actually the greatest. Repent of mistaking the power of man as the authority of God.

Remember: render can mean melt or distill, to give an opinion, to make something something else, and to return. Christ renders to God the fulness of everything for us. He renders Himself, setting aside His full divinity to take up a servant’s form, making Himself completely humble. He renders us worthy of saving, becoming sin for us. He renders His life, His blood, as the payment price for us. He renders His holiness for our sinfulness, His obedience for our disobedience, His perfection for our imperfection. He renders His faithfulness for the times our faith is weak and broken and bruised. He renders His cross and grave satisfy the Father’s debt-price. And, in His resurrection, He renders sin, death and hell destroyed, satan conquered, and heaven is ours. He renders us back to the Father who sees us as dearly beloved children, holy and blameless in His sight. You belong to God and He belongs to you.

Give to God what is God’s. The Pharisees and the Herodians didn’t see that God was breaking into human history and they refused to see Jesus as the Messiah. The Kingdom of God had come and was about to be revealed with Christ reigning from His throne of the cross.

Jesus had asked for a coin, remember, and asked whose likeness and name was on it. Now, turn the question. Where has God put His name? On His Son, “This is my Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Where has God placed His likeness? “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father,” Jesus said. You see God in the person of Jesus, Immanuel, God made flesh to dwell among us. You see God’s mercy at the cross, where the innocent Son of God dies in your stead. There, God used Pilate – a corrupt instrument of the Left-hand kingdom of God – to record His inscription: “Jesus of Nazareth: King of the Jews.” You see God’s grace at the open tomb, where Christ rises, conquering the grave.

God does these things, not only in Christ, but also in you. You witnessed it this morning in Greyson’s baptism. In baptism, you are clothed with Christ – your new Adam, your new Eve is in the image of Christ, so closely connected to Jesus that you are baptized in His name and given His name, Christian – little Christ. So you never forget the blessings and promises of God, chiefly the forgiveness of your sins by grace through faith in Christ Jesus, God continues to place His inscription to you in His Word, and gives you the church to share that Word of faith, hope and love with you and the world.

Mountaintop Feasts - Isaiah 25:6-9

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

I would like to tell you a story about a woman whom I’ll call Maxine. In Maxine’s nursing home room, at the foot of her bed, was a picture of a mountain. The perspective was that you were on a small hill looking upward.  Tall pine trees stood strong and green, contrasting with the bright fall colors of red, gold, and brown of the other trees that lined the avenue of sight, guiding your eyes to the sharp-pointed mountains capped with snow in the distance. Our conversation had lulled one afternoon, so I asked about the painting, which I assumed to be one of the Rockies.

In no uncertain words, Maxine told me that she was the artist who painted the picture but I was terribly wrong about the location. “Those are the Berkshires,” she told me, and proceeded to tell me about those beautiful mountains of western Massachusetts and Connecticut that she loved so much. She described the mountains – as only an artist could – with her memories of the brilliance of the fall colors, the smells of the leaves, the sound of the wind through the trees. This was a woman who knew beauty and did her part to recreate that beauty through her artwork for others to enjoy.

The sad irony of this story is that the painting hanging on her wall was, in fact, one that she had painted of the Rockies, her daughter told me. But Maxine didn’t know that because her eyes were so clouded by illness and old age that she couldn’t see the painting any longer. In fact, her eyes were so bad she could distinguish bright from dark and could see fuzzy outlines of big shapes, but that was about it. While her memories of the Berkshires were sharp, her eyes – sadly – had grown dull. The mountains and their beauty were nothing more than memories.

In the first reading for today, you have another artist, named Isaiah, who paints a picture with words about another mountain God promised to reveal. This is not a mountainside fading into Israel’s memories, like Sinai or Moriah or Caramel, a whispy story of generations past, but a mountainside clearly grounded in the promises of God. He paints us the picture of what is to come in the arrival of Messiah.

Isaiah is a true artist; he paints us a picture of what the day of salvation will look like. He begins with food. Food and fellowship go hand-in-hand; food and God’s blessings, His very presence also go hand-and-mouth. That’s important because in Isaiah 24, the chapter preceeding this one, it seems that God’s presence has been removed because of Israel’s sins. That the Lord speaks through Isaiah and reintroduces food, fellowship, and the presence of God is part of the grace and mercy of God for His people.

There will be a “feast of rich foods” on that mountain. God doesn’t worry about cholesterol. The best parts of the meat were the fatty parts and the marrow, where all the flavor is. “The steaks are this thick and marbled,” he might say today, “and the wine…” With his eyes rolling for effect, he would add “it’s the best wine that there is. It’s the oldest and clearest, rich with subtle flavor.”  Every drop was to be savored, every morsel to be explored. Feasts like this, the kind of party that Isaiah is describing, is the kind that was reserved for only the most special occasions.

The occasion is a victory feast. It’s as if Isaiah is saying, On this mountain he is going to destroy the thing that we all live in fear of and the burial shroud that covers us, death itself, is going to be destroyed. The Lord will remove it tear it to pieces and it will not bother us any longer! Then on this mountain, we are all going to have a feast!

In the context, Isaiah is looking forward to Israel returning to Jerusalem, being set free from the exile of their enemies and able to return home. He is looking forward to the Temple being rebuilt and the glory of the Lord returning to the Temple where feasting and sacrifice can be made. He is looking forward to prayers and incense being lifted heavenward. Life would be restored to the city. The Lord would not abandon them, after all.

But Isaiah is also looking forward to another mountain. Well, it’s more of a hillside, really. The Romans called it Calvary; the people of Jerusalem called it Golgatha. Both mean, “the place of the skull.” There, Jesus took that shroud from our sin-burdened shoulders and placed it upon His own sinless body. He wore it for us, wrapped up in it as he bled and died on the cross. It clung to him for three days, tying to hold him. But, Jesus Christ is the master of that shroud, He is more powerful than death, and in His death and His resurrection, He broke free from its power, removing it from us forever.

The last enemy is death and in Christ, grief is also gone. Sorrow and sighing, they, too, flee the presence of the resurrected Christ and tears are all dried, wiped from our faces by the One who redeems. 

That is the victory celebrated that Isaiah was celebrating, even though it was still far in the future. It’s interesting – look at the verbs: all are future. He will make a feast, He will swallow up death, He will wipe away tears, He will take away their reproach. All future-tense, it will happen. And, all of those verbs are grounded in the past-tense event that continues to move forward: “for the Lord has spoken.” Even though these things were still centuries in the future, their certainty rests in this: the Lord has spoken.

You, my dear brothers and sisters, you have that sure promise as well: The Lord has spoken to you on this holy hillside. The Lord has spoken: He calls you to Himself in Holy Baptism. The Lord has spoken: He forgives all of your sins in Christ Jesus. The Lord has spoken: take and eat; take and drink. The Lord has spoken: depart in peace.

And, unless the Lord comes first – which is a growing possibility, more likely each day – the Lord will speak to you again and call you in resurrected glory from the grave. When he does, death won’t even be able to stalk us any longer. It has now already lost its power. It is now already nothing to fear. On that great day, it will be no more. There will be no death to bring separation from our loved ones. There will be no death to cause pain and loneliness. There will be no more death, period… its cold dark shadow will be obliterated by the Light of the Living Son of God.

Let’s paint a picture in our mind of what that mountain-top feast will look like. Close your eyes for a moment. You are in a clearing on a beautiful top – the sky is blue, the air is sweet with the smells of flowers and trees and grass. It’s pretty, but what you notice is the people – there are people everywhere, but it is comfortable, not crowded. There are long tables as far as the eye can see and people are eating at the tables, stacked with food. There are huge dark crusty loafs of hot bread, steam rising off each one, fresh from the oven. The smell is intoxicating. Brisket, ham, chicken, fish – all Gordon Ramsey approved. The tables are so crowed with serving dishes, the plates hang off the edge. There are decanters, full of dark red wine; the tablecloth has pink spots from the great red drops that have fallen. The beer is frothy and ice cold. You are sitting there, elbow to elbow, with your family and friends; with your loved ones who have died in the Lord. That pain in your hip and the tremor of your hand doesn’t bother you any more; you don’t even remember what it felt like. It is noisy (good kind of noisy) and happy. And the center of it all is Jesus. Standing, arms open wide. You’ve already been with him, leaned upon his breast and cried tears of joy. You saw the marks in his hands and feet and side. He is the reason you are there. His love lights the whole feast. It will never end… the joy, the singing, and the feasting… with the resurrected Savior.

There is singing… you join in, because you know each and every word, flowing out of you as natural as breath. You sing the wonderful words of Isaiah, at the great mountaintop feast, “This is our God; we trusted in him, and he saved us. This is the LORD, we trusted in him; let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation." Amen.

The King is Coming (LWML Sunday) - Psalm 24: 7-10

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the theme verse for today, from Psalm 24.

I suspect that when most people read Genesis one, two and three, they focus only on creation and the fall, the sharp contrast between God’s statement, “It is good,” and then the terrible declaration, “Cursed are you.” We read it, we hear it, and, I suspect, feel a tinge of sadness at what could have been.

But when you read those first three chapters, do not skip over Genesis 3:15, that over and against the now-fallen world, God promised to Adam and Eve an heir that would redeem Adam, Eve, and eventually all humanity, from the curse of the sin of disobedience and lawlessness. This Promised Seed would un-do the Fall, brought upon humanity in the Garden, that plunged all humanity into sin. The Catechism uses clinical, doctrinal distinction between kinds of sin, using words like commission and omission, original and actual. Those are good and useful, but sometimes, simple is best, and the simple truth is that the consequence of Adam and Eve still remains with us because “Sin is every thought, desire, word, and deed which is contrary to God’s Law” as we have learned in the Word of God and Luther’s Small Catechism.

The King is coming. Throughout human history, God pictured the coming redemptive King through various images of His promise, providence, provision, and protection for His people. The Psalms are useful because they give us poetic pictures of just what the Messiah-King would do and what He would be like. Inspired by the Holy Spirit, David saw God’s redemptive glory in the return of the Ark of the Covenant from Obed-Edom to Jerusalem to the place of worship. God’s sanctuary was now in Zion, the Temple. For David, with the glory of the Lord coming to His people, redemption was near.

King David proclaimed:  7 Lift up your heads, O gates! And be lifted up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. 8 Who is this King of glory? The LORD, strong and mighty, the LORD, mighty in battle! 9 Lift up your heads, O gates! And lift them up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. 10 Who is this King of glory? The LORD of hosts, he is the King of glory!

While this is true of all of Scripture, I think it is more true of how we read Old Testament, namely that we forget there was a context in which the Scripture was written. In other words, David was writing to his fellow Israelites about their hope in the promises of God to be fulfilled in Messiah. But the Scriptures remain living and active, so just as the words were for ancient Israel, they are still for us, today, as well, and so Christ comes to us in the Word of the Lord. But these Words aren’t just for today. They seek to lead and guide us, in faith, to remain steadfast in hope until Christ comes again on the Last Day.

It is obvious the world needs to be rescued from itself. The onslaught of brokenness, destruction, disease, and death are all around us and we make it worse with our selfish ambitions, hatred of others, and self-centered greed. People argue, is the world getting worse the longer the Lord waits to return. Maybe, but there is nothing new under the sun. Genesis chapter 6, verse 6 tells us, And the LORD regretted that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. It’s a theme repeated through the Scripture, the fallenness of man. Even the Apostle Paul spoke of the days of lawlessness [2 Timothy 4].

We could easily become downcast and heart-broken because of the evil of our world. “Man’s inhumanity to man” refers to human cruelty, barbarity, or lack of pity and compassion toward other humans — essentially, mankind’s ability to see and treat other people as less than human. On dark days, difficult days, it is tempting to give up because of the constant bad news; but David’s Psalm calls us forward with God’s hope, peace, joy, and love. We are not hopeless people; we are people of Hope. We have Good News in a bad news world. The King IS coming! In fact, the King has come and Christ is the King of glory! Paul reminds us, that is, in Christ, God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God (2 Cor. 5:19–21).

Today is LWML Sunday. The stereotype is that the Lutheran Women’s Missionary League is nothing more than a group of women who sit around, drink coffee, and chit-chat the time away. The LWML is much more than that. The heart of the LWML is a love for Jesus and a desire to spread His message of hope and life. If you would permit me a moment, last Monday, we laid Gerry Hornstein to rest. You probably know that she was very active and involved with our LWML organization and also the Zone (made up of congregations from here to Katy) and the District (the State of Texas), as well as the National organization. Back in April, our LWML hosted the spring mid-coast LWML zone rally. We had about 35 or so ladies present. Unfortunately, Gerry was not one of them. She was in the hospital, something that was becoming more and more frequent over the last couple years. She very much enjoyed being part of the LWML, both here at Zion and with the zone, and she looked forward to those times of fellowship and coffee with her sisters in Christ. I helped with the opening of the zone meeting and excused myself to go into town to see her. She was very disappointed because she had helped with the planning, selecting the theme, and the service project for the event. But, she wanted details – how many ladies were there, how was it going, was there enough food, so on. Then she asked me what my devotion was about. I smiled and said, “Jesus.” She took a sip of coffee, lamented that it wasn’t very good, and then said, “Well, that’s what it’s supposed to be about, isn’t it?”

Her comment embodies the entire mission and ministry of the LWML. We thank God for the faithfulness of the Lutheran Women’s Missionary League in sharing that word of Hope and encouragement, to “Lift up your heads.” When people wonder why, why to have such hope in a hope-less world, the LWML points to Jesus: The Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord, mighty in battle!

The Good News of Jesus is our only hope, the King of glory. He comes in, with and through the Word, Water, Bread and Wine. Through these means of grace, God provides temporal and eternal means for receiving the King of glory right now and throughout eternity. Because the Gospel is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written, “The righteous shall live by faith” (Romans 1:16,17). The Gospel is the life-changing message of God for the world. It changed lives from one seeking to appease the wrath of God by doing good works, to receiving the good grace of God in Christ who declared “It is finished.”

The world has been in the throes of sinful behavior since the ‘Fall.’ Oftentimes we make believe our times are the worst of times. Surely, we have seen some horrific and horrible atrocities in our time: wars, the senseless killings of babies, children and adults; poverty, homelessness, addictions, every kind of evil one can imagine. We would surely give up, but for the grace of God. As Noah found favor in the eyes of God, so we too find favor/grace in our King, Jesus, as we look beyond the brokenness of our humanity to the blessed hope of His coming in His resurrection.

While today is LWML Sunday, and we see the work this women’s organization does for the Church across the world, mission is not just – to use the term – “women’s work.” It’s not just for a committee, or a small group, or for missionaries, or for someone else. We, all of God’s people, are called to mission. But why is that important? What’s the big deal?

A little fearful child, sleeping alone in the darkness of her room, cried out to mom and dad as a storm rolled across her Midwest-town. “Mom, dad, come in here,” she cried in the dark of night, as the storm rolled and roared as if it was in the room with her. Mom and dad consoled her and reminded her that they were in the next room and God is in the room with her so she need not fear. They encouraged her to go back to sleep. Awakened again and again by the rolling and roaring storm, she said to her parents the last time they entered her room, “I know you said God is in here with me, but I need someone in here with skin on them. “

In a world of darkness, ours is the gift – yes, gift – to be able to be that one, the flesh-and-blood people of God who point people to the Light of Jesus, the King of Glory, and encourage people to lift up their heads. “Lift up your heads, O gates! And be lifted up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The LORD, strong and mighty, the LORD, mighty in battle!”

But, more than being the flesh-and-blood messengers, we speak of our Savior who took up skin for us. A Savior who took on flesh and blood and the sin of humanity in His body, made His way down the road of agony, pain, and suffering, nailed to a tree, and died for the sins of the world. May this LWML Sunday remind us to be mission-minded and share the Gospel throughout the world so that all will know of Christ, God's coming King of glory who provides redemption to all who believe in Him, everlasting life, now and in eternity. Amen.

Happy Birthday, Dad

Today would have been my Dad's 80th birthday. He didn't make it quite that far, unfortunately. He died April 25, 2000 at the age of 56 years, six months and 24 days. Blessed are those who die in the Lord, from this time forth and forever more. For those who are liturgically-minded, interested in the church year, or just have a mind for odd dates, April 25 in the Christian church is the Commemoration of St. Mark. In my mind, it's also the commemoration of St. Walt of Walburg. 

While I called him "Dad," his friends called him "Walt." I remember my mom's mom calling him Walter, clearly enunciating the t. In Texas, middle consonants often get blurred, so when folks used his whole name it often sounded more like "Walder." Two of his younger brothers called him "Wally." Once, at my brother's baseball game, Dad was acting as bench coach. I tried calling out the ubiquitous "Dad" but it was lost in the crowd noise. When I yelled, "Wally!" I gained the desired attention, only to be told later, at home, to never do that again. Yes, sir. Dad was a teacher and school principal, so he was often referred to as Mr. Meyer by kids, parents, and teachers alike. Some of the old-timers at church called him "Teacher Meyer." But tonis at home, including Mom, he was simply Dad.

It's been 23 years and a little change since Dad died. Memories are starting to get fuzzy. I have a harder time remembering things about him. My mind has snapshots, but sometimes I wonder if those snapshots are more from literal snapshots that are in picture albums than memories in my head. Is it live or is Memorex? Some, I know the answer to: I clearly remember the photo of him holding Alyssa on his lap, his first time holding his first grandchild, and the big, Walter Matthau grin in his face. Others are less clear and I wonder about those. 

There is a scene in Saving Private Ryan where Captain Miller and Private Ryan talk about trying to remember family back home and how it was getting harder to recall things, places, faces and voices. One of them, I forget who, said to think of a particular context or event and place the person in that moment. In other words, and in my story, don't try to just think of Dad but think of Dad in the garden, or at his classroom desk, or shining his shoes on a Sunday night, or reading the paper while eating breakfast. Then, the picture comes into focus, even if only for a moment, another snapshot in time, a mental photo or recording about him, of him, with him. 

Sitting here this morning, I'm trying to remember his voice but I'm having trouble with the sound of it. Words, yes; the actual tone, pitch and timbre, not so much. My last memory of him was on Sunday, April 23, I called home. It was Easter. Our class had received our first calls to churches two weeks earlier and graduation was about four weeks away. I remember we talked about those major milestones, starting to plan for moving back to Texas. We also how he was doing, having only gone back to work a week or two prior after surgery to remove a section of his liver. As we brought what would be our final conversation to it's close, he said he loved me and I said I loved him. We hung up the phone. Two days later, he was gone. 

We didn't get to celebrate his 60th, or his retirement. He didn't get to pass his second granddaughter back to me after she loaded a diaper ("grandpa's privilege!" he declared after grand daughter #1 did a #2). He didn't get to meet the grandson who shares his name. He missed a lot of things, and we missed him being there. 

He's already celebrating the heavenly celebration that awaits us all, the faithful in Christ. While his body rest son that sacred Walburg hillside, his soul, along with his youngest brother, Fred, and sister, Lorraine, and oldest brother, Bill, and with his own Dad, Fred, and Mom, Melinda, and so many more thst no one can fathom, are at peace with the resurrected Christ. One day, sooner than later, I pray, there will be a great resurrection reunion with the saints in heaven joined with the saints in earth. We'll see each other in the wholeness we were originally created to be, under the glory of Christ, our Resurrected Lord. 

So, today I'll remember him a little more closely. Maybe I'll even share a story or two with anyone who cares to listen. 

Happy birthday, Dad.