Mysterious Certainty: The End of the Church Year - Mark 13: 24-37

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

This morning’s Gospel reading leaves you a bit unsettled, doesn’t it? “This is the Word of the Lord,” yes, ergo: “Thanks be to God!” But at the same time, listen again: “But in those days, after that tribulation, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. And they will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. And then he will send out the angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth, to the ends of heaven.” We’re to respond with “thanks be to God”? I’ve spent the week with these words and, truth be told, I’m a bit uncomfortable. Do you feel like that, too?

It doesn’t help much to go back and pick up the context, the verses between last week’s Gospel and this morning’s reading. “But when you see the abomination of desolation standing where he ought not be (let the reader understand), then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains. Let the one who is on the housetop not go down, nor enter his house, to take anything out, and let the one who is in the field not turn back to take his cloak. And, alas for women who are pregnant and for those who are nursing infants in those days! Pray that it may not happen in the winter. For in those days there will be such tribulation as has not been seen since the beginning of creation that God created until now, and never will be. And if the Lord had not cut short the days, no human being would be saved. But for the sake of the elect, whom he chose, he shortened the days.”

Oh, my… These are hard words, difficult words that Jesus spoke to the disciples on the top of the Mount of Olives. Last week, Jesus warned of the destruction of the temple’s magnificent structure. Now, in this explanation, the temple seems to be small potatoes. The entire city, the entire nation of people will experience terrible devastation and loss – so much so that even people’s faith will be challenged.

And, if we are honest, it leaves us uncomfortable, left with uncertainty and with questions – questions like, what is Jesus talking about? Is He talking about an historical event, like the destruction of Jerusalem that will happen about 40 years later, or is he talking about something that hasn’t happened yet? Is he talking about the various temporal conflicts that have happened – like what’s happening now with Israel and Hamas or with the Ukraine and Russia now – or is he talking about something eternal, like His second coming? For that matter, why doesn’t Jesus seem to have better data, better intel? First, He said “this generation will not pass away until all these things take place,” but he kinda missed that one…didn’t he? How many generations has it been since His ascension, anyway? Was he talking about the age of the disciples or something else? And then He said, "no one knows...not even the Son." If even He doesn't know, how on earth - or under heaven, for that matter, what are we supposed to do? 

These words of Jesus are tough. They are hard words to understand. Much ink has been spilled in PhD dissertations, commentaries, sermons and Bible classes across the world. Pastors, theologians, and Bible scholars – both professional and laymen – have tried to discern and dissect and determine the meaning of these words. They are visionary and apocalyptic – a microcosm of Daniel and Revelation, if you will, which are notoriously difficult in and of themselves to understand. It’s so much, so intense, that I could easily imagine the disciples sitting at Jesus’ feet, mouths open and agape, stunned into silence and inaction.  Remember: what we read last week is continued this week, so this is a long culmination for them. The Temple destroyed? That’s bad, but if they were honest, it happened centuries earlier; it could happen again. Wars and rumors of wars, and all that. But this – the sun being darkened, the moon’s brilliance being dimmed, stars falling… What does this mean?  I see them sitting there, with hearts beating heavily in their chest, looking at each other in wonder, uncertainty – and fear – at what Jesus is all describing. 

If we are serious about our 21^st century Bible study and Bible reading, these words interrupt our world view with the cosmological changes and challenges that they describe. After reading these words of Jesus, it almost makes the reader want to murmur, “Yes, this is the Word of the Lord,” and then to gently close his or her Bible and be silent in awe.

If you feel a little bit like that, Jesus does not leave you in angst. Instead, He points you to a living parable. He speaks of a fig tree. Now, given the way He had been speaking, you might anticipate He would illustrate a fig tree losing its leaves and going dormant as if dead. Instead, Jesus speaks of a tree that is blossoming with life as the branches swell with the spring sap flow and leaves popping out in radiant green. It’s something that you see every year, every spring, as the weather warms, and your peach, pecan, and citrus trees come out of the dormancy of winter. In the new growth of the tree, new life, new beginning, another microcosm representing the fulness of the new creation to come.

It's a parable of the certainty of Jesus’ return. In the middle of what we might perceive to be the chaos of the end times – which, by the way, creation has been in since Jesus ascended into heaven – in the middle of all these things that are going on around us that leave us unsettled and uncertain, Jesus speaks a word of simple encouragement: new life will begin out of the ending of what we know.

That’s what Jesus wants you to know in this morning’s Gospel lesson. There is a certain tension, to be sure, between the first picture of darkness and chaos ending, and the second picture of springtime and order and light and life. It’s a bit of a mystery, really, how the first picture plays over and against the second, but at the same time, there’s a measure of certainty to it. While the first picture leaves us with unknowns, the second lays out certainty. You can call it a certain mystery or a mysterious certainty, but either way, you do not need to be afraid. Instead, watch and be prepared for when the fig trees start to bloom; be prepared for when Jesus does come.  

The summer after I finished high school, a friend of my dad’s, who was a small businessman in Walburg, hired me to work in his car garage and gas station. It wasn’t your typical job, though. He wanted me to quickly learn how to operate and manage the business so he, his wife, and their son – who also worked in the shop as mechanic – could all go to a family reunion out-of-state. Over the course of about six weeks, I soaked up as much as I could until the day came that they left. For the first few days, when I got off work, I kind of left things where they lay. About mid-week, I had a sudden realization: what if they came home early and found things a mess? Every evening before I closed, I cleaned and tidied things up. If there was slow time during the day, I stocked the shelves and organized the cooler. I swept and dusted, organized and cleaned. I think I even did the windows. I was prepared just in case they came home early to demonstrate that I did my best to care for their business and that I was worthy of their trust. They came home when promised, not a day earlier, not a day later. But, had they come home sooner, I was prepared for their arrival. Had they been delayed, I was prepared to keep doing what I had been doing.

That’s the point of the second brief parable. You do not know exactly when. Neither does the Son, according to His human nature. Yes, that’s a mystery as well – how can Jesus both know and not know at the same time. The answer is “yes.” In the mystery of Divine attributes, His human nature was ignorant of when He would return again. At that time, the return was not as important to Him as what was ahead. There would soon be a time when the sun would be darkened at noon, when the powers of heaven and earth would shake, and when the Son of Man hung in glory, absent all power, at the cross. Absent both angels and His Father’s presence, Jesus would die alone – another mystery, how God can die. Yet, the certainty is that Jesus died for the sins of the world, the perfect payment price to redeem the imperfect. Even creation paused in awe as the voice of the Creator breathed his last.

Jesus had to be man so He could live under the Law, be tempted as we are, suffer and die. Jesus had to be God so He could be the perfect sacrifice, perfectly obeying the Law, perfectly resisting temptation, and rising to new life. He died in human weakness and shame, but that was His glory: to be the Savior of the world. In His resurrection, He rose in power and glory, and then ascended where He remains, sitting at the right hand of the Father, waiting for the day of His return.    

We’re preparing to enter the season of Advent. As this church year closes and we stand on the threshold of the new, we live with advent expectation: standing firm in the faith today with one eye looking back to the promises of God fulfilled in Christ’s first Advent in Bethlehem and one eye looking forward to the day He returns. In the meantime, we wait.  Jesus will return. This is the certainty. The when and the how (albeit to a lesser degree) is the mystery. The mystery leads us to be grounded in the certainty of the promise. The certainty of the promise lets us live with the mystery still unanswered. 

 

 

Endure to the End - Mark 13: 1-13

“Teacher, what wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings.” That was an understatement. We simply call it “the Temple,” but historians distinguish this as “Herod’s Temple.” It took over four decades to build and Herod spared no expense. It was his way of trying to buy off the Jews, demonstrating he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. And, the people were proud of what they called “theirs.” The stones were the size of busses and train cars, tightly fitted together, layered with gold. It was said that at certain times of the day, the sun’s reflection off the walls was blinding. I imagine the disciples caught it at one such moment and the awe and sheer beauty of it caught them: "Look, Jesus. Isn’t she a beauty?"

Jesus wasn’t even slightly impressed. “It will all be torn down,” He said, “Not one stone will be left on top of each other.” It took forty-six years to build, but just three decades later, the Romans would invade the rebellious people and practically level the beautiful building, burning it up so that the gold ran out of the cracks of the bricks and stones. All that would remain is what stands today – a small section known as the “wailing wall.”

When Jesus said this, it shook the disciples to the core. Imagine how you would feel if a passer-by said the same about this sanctuary. Now multiply that feeling to a national level. The temple was the center, the focus of all of Israel. Theologically, it was God’s dwelling place. Geographically, it was the high point of the city. Socially, it was the center of Jewish life. Destroy it? How would God allow something like this to happen to His house? You can imagine the murmuring among the 12 as they crossed the Kidron Valley and went up to the Mount of Olives. Inquiring minds and all: when will this happen, how will we know, what will be the sign to warn us of the pending destruction?

Have you noticed in the Gospels that Jesus often doesn’t answer questions the way the disciples want questions answered? Or, for that matter, how He doesn’t answer our questions the way we want them to be addressed? They want how, why, when. Can’t say we’re much different. As we move to these latter days of the church year, and our eyes are drawn to the end of things, we are morbidly curious as well. It would be nice if we could block the day of Jesus return into our Google calendars so we can make plans and don’t miss it. Woulnd’t that be great? Or, would it… Jesus knows better than to tell us the specifics, but He doesn’t leave us without a warning or a promise.

The warning applies as much today as it did in the first century: don’t be fooled by satan’s lies. He’ll do it a half-dozen different ways. He’ll even try to use religion, a little “Jesus talk,” and a little bait and switch. False Christs, false teachers, with false gospels will arise – remember, Gospel means “good news.” A false gospel isn’t good news at all! It’s a lie in pretty words! We have them today - if not more than ever, at least as many as ever – pseudo-Christs and fake Christs and alternative Christs, none of which shed a single drop of blood for you, none of which point you to His cross, or to your own cross for that matter. They won’t speak of body and blood, water and word, the gathering of the saints and the forgiveness of sins. They’ll be inside the church and outside the church, all clamoring for your faith, your hope and your trust, all deceptive, all crying for your attention, trying to take your eyes off Jesus, all trying to get you to turn from the cross.

Don’t be deceived.  There is only one Jesus who died on a cross for you, and He’s all the Jesus you need.

Not quite two weeks ago, roughly 60 percent of the country voted for one person against the other. Make no mistake. President-Elect Trump is not the savior of the nation, a political party, or the people any more than Vice President Harris is the antichrist. The headlines you’ve been reading, don’t over read them. The political world serves a sign, yes, with wars, rumors of war, nation against nation, kingdom against kingdom. There are still dictators, murderers, and religions who want to kill everyone who disagrees.  Just as peace is established in one part of the world, war breaks out in another.

The natural world serves as a sign. A mid-November hurricane is a rarity; we pray it remains harmless and doesn’t do anything to the coast anywhere along the Gulf of Mexico. Meanwhile, creation moans  - earthquakes in various places, famines, natural disasters.  As Paul says in Romans, the entire creation groans under the burden of our sin, waiting expectantly for our resurrection, the redemption of our bodies.  We witness some of that groaning as the dry grass and pastures rustle, eager for rain.  We will experience more of the same.  You can expect it.

Jesus isn’t trying to shake up His disciples,  and he is not trying to fill us with doubt or despair.  He’s giving His people a way to look at things and to interpret what’s happening in the world from His perspective.  All the wars, rumors of war, earthquakes, famines - all the deaths of this world, Jesus calls all these things “the birth pangs,” the labor contractions of the new creation.  Just as giving birth is painful and often difficult, so is the coming of the new creation.  It involves dying and rising - the death and resurrection of Jesus Himself, and also your own death and resurrection.

In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus was preparing His disciples for the trouble that lay ahead.  He knew that as His ministry brought opposition against Him, so would His victory over sin and death.  His disciples would be considered heretics by the religious world that prefers to deal with God on its own terms.  They would be tried in the religious courts and banished from the synagogues they grew up in.  The government would be used against them.  They would be hauled before kings and princes to testify.  Yet Jesus assures them they would be equipped for the challenge.  “Don’t worry what you’re going to say.  Just speak what you are given by the Spirit.”

Jesus warned His disciples they would be betrayed, even by those closest to them.  Brother would betray believing brother; children would betray confessing parents, even to their death.  It happened in the first century.  It happens today in our century wherever Christians are persecuted for the name of Jesus. It will happen in the future, perhaps even here in Mission Valley, some day.  Jesus is not telling His disciples these things to terrify them or to discourage them.  He’s preparing them, and us, to be alert to the times in which we live.  Live with eyes and ears open to the signs of His coming.  And He assures them. 

Jesus says, “He who endures to the end will be saved.”  That’s a promise from Him whose word is sure and true.  He won’t ever fail you or abandon you or go back on His word to you.   You have the sure and certain signs from God Himself.  You are baptized, the testimony from God that your name is written in the Lamb’s book of life.  You have Christ’s body and blood in the Lord’s Supper, which you take with you to the end of your days.  You have His Word and promise of forgiveness, that in the death of Jesus your sins are covered, and God is at peace with you.

The last days are not days for panic, anxiety, or uncertainty.  They are days for alertness, readiness, watchfulness, expectation, longing, hopefulness, patient endurance.  There will be hardship, pain, difficulty but these are only the birth pangs of a new creation that has already come in Christ.

“He who endures to the end, will be saved.”  You have Jesus’ promise.  Trust Him to the end, for He is faithful.

In the Name of Jesus,  Amen.

More than Two Cents' Worth - Mark 12: 38-44

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

A few years ago, the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, England, hosted a display called Bags: Inside Out featuring handbags going back into the 16th century. The display moved from massive, traveling trunks, evolving to carriers for wartime gas masks, to the first-ever Hermès Birkin. Looking at the displays online, you see the story of how carrying devices evolved from practical, utilitarian containers. Coming out of the Middle Ages, bags began to morph into a form of self-expression, portable canvases that featured the bagmaker’s craftsmanship and artistry. It became more common for people to carry ornately embroidered drawstring pouches; grooms gave their brides bags that depicted love stories as wedding gifts. “What makes them so powerful as symbols is that they are so visible on the body,” said Lucia Savi, who curated the exhibit. “We carry them at the crook of our elbow or in our hands or at the waist. They immediately tell us who we are, and who we aspire to be.” She added, “We don’t need a bag when we’re inside our homes; we need them when we’re moving from one place to another, so the history of bags reveals what men and women could and could not do.”[1]

As a boy, I watched my mom and my sisters and their purses, and then my wife with her purses from slim and demure to massive purses-as-diaper bags, culminating with my daughters with their purses. I have observed other purses as well. As such, I am eminently qualified to make this assessment: I have never seen a woman’s empty purse stay empty for long. Once taken into possession, almost immediately, a purse is filled. Little girls want to copy their moms, so they fill their play-purse with some change, a packet of Kleenex, a tube of chap-stick, and their play phone. Meanwhile, moms grab their wallet, sunglasses, keys, cell phone and battery backup, lipstick, blush, Smith & Wesson…the list goes on. Like mother, like daughter; like daughter, like mother. Except when it’s new, or when being cleared out to give it away, I don’t think I have ever seen an empty purse if it belongs to a woman.

Maybe that’s why this woman in Mark’s Gospel is so surprising. Literally, we know nothing about her except she is a widow and she is poor. I think most suspect she is elderly, but it is quite possible she was younger. Wives, generally, were much younger than their husbands – think Joseph and Mary who, tradition says, had a great age difference between them. This woman’s husband could have died as a soldier in combat, from the flu, from a farming accident, from marauding bandits or even a snake bite. In the days before life insurance, welfare programs, and social security, a widowed woman was in serious financial trouble. Unable to own property or a business, with no regular means of income or, perhaps, a son or male kinsman-redeemer, all she had was the charity of others.

It has been said that clothes make the man. If that’s true, I submit that accessories set apart the woman. In this case, however, it only accentuated her poverty. What did her purse look like? Certainly not an Hermez, Vuitton, or Coach; it was probably as plain and ordinary as she, without oohs or aahs, going completely unnoticed. What do you think her purse looked like? In my mind, it was a very small cloth drawstring bag, made from scraps of some unidentified garment. I imagine it to be not much bigger than her fist, small enough that it could be clutched tightly so some scoundrel couldn’t easily snag it from her grasp while she counted out a precious penny for a bite of food for a meager meal.

How is it that something so small seems so deep when reaching in for the last penny? If you’ve ever had to reach into a wallet or purse and pull out the very last bill until payday, it yawns wide to show its pending emptiness. In her case, the depths of that shallow bag revealed two copper coins. Those of us that grew up with the King James Bible learned this as two “mites.” You are familiar with the name from the LWML Mite Boxes. What you probably did not know is this was not an official coin of the Roman Empire. It was strictly a Jewish coin, called a lepton in Hebrew, made especially for the poor. It was very small, both in size and in value, less than even the smallest coin that Rome made. The smallest Roman coin was a denarius, a day’s wage. The lepton, the mite, was valued at 1/64 of a denarius. (Doing the math of the modern American wage, this equaled about $20 in today’s economy.) The widow had two of these coins, 1/32 of a day’s wage. (By contrast, Judas was paid almost three months of wages to betray Jesus.) She reaches into her home-made bag, pulls out the 2 coins, and slides them into the temple treasury without any attention given to her.

It is doubtful that anyone even noticed. The text says that many people had been coming into the temple, tossing large amounts into the treasury. The way offerings were collected then was with something that looked like a funnel or trumpet bell sticking out of the wall. You would toss your coins into the funnel and they would pass, sliding and rattling, into a treasury. You can imagine the clatter of coins being tossed into these metal tubes. The bigger the coin, the more coins, the more noise was made as drachmas and shekels and denarii clattered and rattled their way into the treasury. Apparently, some made quite the show of tossing their offerings into the brass bells, as if the volume of noise was a measure of their standing before God. Look! Listen! See how God blessed me!

Contrast that with the widow. She reaches into her meager purse and pulls out the two coins and puts them into the treasury horn. They were so small, so insignificant that the faint sliding sound they make isn’t even noticed among the noisy crowd. Then, she disappears. We want to know what happened to her. Did someone help her? Were her physical, material needs cared for by strangers or a family member? Did the temple treasury help her with alms for the poor, ironically giving her those very coins back, along with a few more? We don’t know. I suspect she faded into the crowd, one of the nameless, countless poor of the city of Jerusalem, unknown, unrecognized, unnoticed by anyone.

Except by Jesus – He noticed. He pointed her out to the disciples: This poor widow has put more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” I cannot prove this with the text, but in my mind, her purse is about the size of a fist. I’ve read that your heart is about the size of your fist. I admit this is speculation, a homiletical connection if you will, but I’ll offer it here: her purse may have been empty, but her heart is full of faith in the promises of God in Christ Jesus. In fact, that’s what Jesus notices – not the size of her gift or the emptiness of her purse but that her faith is placed solely in Him.

I do not want you to hear this text as a prescription, “You must put your last two cents into the offering plate to be like this woman.” It’s not a stewardship text, nor is it to be used with the stick of the law where you are pushed into giving more because you’re not giving it all. Rather, this text tells us something about Jesus and that He was willing to surrender everything for you.

This morning’s reading began with Jesus commenting on the scribes. He says they are enamored with how people look and the positions of power and prestige they hold. Then he comments on how they “devour widows houses and for a pretense, make long prayers.” It’s a rather sad commentary of how they see their vocation of service to the church. Their calling to be the spiritual leaders of the house of Israel has lost its sacred nature as they take the houses of the widows. Their holiness has disappeared, and they have become depraved that they seek to take from the poorest, all while parading about with fine clothes and wordy, blabbering prayers. The church leadership is corrupt and, by extension, even the church has become corrupt in failing to demonstrate the mercy of God to the people of God.

In contrast, the poorest offers what little she has, willing to sacrifice everything for the wellbeing of the church of God. She sacrifices what she has, even her own livelihood, for the corrupt church and for its corrupt leadership. You want to stand up and scream, “Don’t do it! Save those precious pennies for a small meal! They are pretentious and pietistic. They have plenty and are stealing from you! Even the widow of Nain saved a little for herself and her son! Don’t do it!” But she won’t; she wouldn’t be denied her joy in giving her small gifts back to the Lord who provided those two small coins first to her. She sacrifices her gifts, she sacrifices herself for the sake of the church, corrupt though it might be.

This widow stands as a picture of what Christ does for His bride, an image of what Jesus will do for the Church. Or, rather, Christ fulfills her sacrifice; He takes her sacrifice for the sake of a corrupt church, and magnifies the gift. She was willing to surrender two coins; Jesus is willing to surrender His life to redeem a corrupt church and her corrupt people. In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is drawing nearer to the cross. This is, in fact, his last Temple visit prior to His arrest. He will soon enter Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. Those corrupt leaders – the scribes and pharisees, the Sanhedrin and teachers of the law, will have Jesus arrested, convicted, and sentenced to death on the cross.  In effect, the church – led by the very scribes like those whom Jesus addresses – devours Him. Look at what Jesus does! He takes this corrupt thing and He dies for it! He dies for those who build beautiful buildings and for those who will never set foot in one. He dies for the prideful and the humble, the powerful and the weak. He dies to offer His very last breath to the Father, and He rises to bring to His Father all who believe. He sheds His blood for it to redeem its corruption and make it the holiest of all holies in His death and resurrection.

If you have ever felt out of place in the church, like you are on the outside looking in, that the church doesn’t need you and that leaves you feeling that maybe you don’t belong, yet at the same time knowing you need the gifts God offers to the church? I remember a young couple, new members of the church at the time. She and her husband volunteered to help count offerings. After a few weeks, they dropped out of the role, and soon after that, they stopped coming to church. When I saw her one day at her place of work, I told her I missed seeing she and her husband. She looked sad. She said, “We helped count offerings for a month. We saw what people give, and we know what we can’t give. Pastor, I can tell you – you don’t need us.” She saw herself and her husband through the eyes of everyone else in the church. She failed to see herself and her husband through the eyes of Jesus.

Perhaps we would be better off, instead of thinking how rich we all are, by remembering what Luther taught us.  He often referred to Christians as beggars who stood before the Lord with our sacks that have been emptied by life’s struggles, temptations, hardships, and frustrations, by spouses who don’t understand, by children who demand, by bosses who command, by rising costs and declining health. We sin against others and we are sinned against by others. Bit by bit, piece by piece, our sacks are emptied. So, we return to the Lord’s House each week, refilled and refreshed with the Word, with Bread and Wine, Body and Blood, hearing our sins forgiven, renewed and refreshed, encouraged by each other in the name of Jesus. Even if our purses are light, our sacks have been refilled with the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

We live in a world branded with names like Chanel, Vuitton, Prada and St. Laurent, and in some circles, if you’re not carrying those names, you’re nothing. Thanks be to God, you are marked with the name of Jesus in Baptism, so regardless your purse says Dior from Paris, or Time and Tru from Walmart, you are marked with the sign of the cross, on your forehead and heart, and through water and word, are made God’s child, through faith in Christ. That is a treasure beyond measure.

When you reach into your purse or your pockets later, and fetch out your keys, your sunglasses, or Advil, remember this unknown, unnamed saint who gave her final two pennies to the Lord. Remember her, not out of guilt or shame that you still have change rattling around, but that she gave lovingly and faithfully to the Lord. Thank God for her faithful sacrifice. It’s not about quantity but quality, remember. Or, to be more precise, it’s about the faithfulness and love of Christ who surrendered all for you. We are beggars; it is true. Yet, we are filled with the rich grace, mercy, and hope that is in Christ Jesus.

 

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[1] https://www.vam.ac.uk/articles/about-the-bags-inside-out-exhibition

A Meditation for Election Day - Romans 13

St. Paul writes in Romans 13, “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore, whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgement. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Would you have no fear of the one who is in authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive his approval, for he is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer. Therefore, one must be in subjection not only to avoid God’s wrath but also for the sake of conscience. For because of this you also pay taxes, for the authorities are ministers of God attending to this very thing. Pay to all what is owed: taxes to whom taxes are owed, revenue to whom revenue is owed, respect to whom respect is owed, honor to whom honor is owed.”

Paul says governmental authority is a gift of God. Luther agreed and placed government under the category of the 4th commandment, an extension of the parental vocation by way of being God’s representative for the purpose of good order. Thus, from the top floor of the White House to the humblest civil servants, all are gifts. 

As you go to the polls today, and then wait and watch for the election results, know this: whether you like or dislike a particular candidate or official-elect, they are God’s servant and representative - even if the politician fails to recognizes it. God even uses the American voter for His purpose. Take heart; fear not. He is God; I assure you, He is in control – even when He allows things to happen that are contrary to His will.  He does care how government is run – it is His representative. He desires that it governs fairly, in justice, for good order, with eyes toward the weakest and most feeble. He desires that officials and citizens show love, mercy and compassion to each other in word and action. He uses government so that First Article blessings, such as protection and daily bread, can be administered.  What God does not care about is who resides at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, or the governor’s mansion, or the mayor’s seat. He doesn’t care who has the majority in the county commissioners court or if there is more Red, Blue or Green in Congress. He uses whom He will.

You might be shaking your head. “That can’t be true; God surely doesn’t want so & so in office,” you think. Remember: Paul wrote Romans late in the first century when the Roman Empire was ruled by Nero who was considered a god. He was not just a heathen; he was wicked. He eagerly sought  and persecuted Christians by the hundreds for sport. Yet, it’s as if Paul is saying, “Even this evil man who does wicked things to his countrymen and slaughters Christians for sport is an instrument of God.”

This does raise the question of how and why God would use someone so evil and unfaithful to be His instrument to represent Him. Why would God allow a man like Nero, or Hitler, or Pol Pot, or the leader of ISIS to be in control? It’s a question whose answer is largely hidden from us and we dare not answer where the Scriptures are silent. We know this is true: “Those who abuse their God-given authority…will come under the judgement of God,” if not in this lifetime, in the life that is to come. (ROMANS II, Middendorf, p. 1300 n53, © CPH 2016). It is also true that God is at work even when hidden behind someone who is, or who appears to be, wicked and opposed to God. Under Nero’s persecution, the church scattered, taking and spreading the Good News of Jesus with them. In the Old Testament, Esther’s husband, King Cyrus, who was Persian, rescued Esther’s fellow Judean countrymen from destruction. Daniel told King Nebuchadnezzar, who vacillated back and forth in faithfulness, “The Most High rules the kingdom of men and gives it to whom He will,” (Dan. 4:25). When He was on trial, Jesus told Pilate “You would have no authority against me at all unless it had been given you from above,” (Jn 19:11). We must leave the question with this: “it’s not the wickedness of individual rulers that comes from God, but the establishment of the ruling power itself,” (Ibid, p. 1299 n50).

Christians are called to be subject to the authorities. When it’s our party, our candidate, that’s easy (or at least easier) to do; when we disagree, it’s much more difficult. Conventional wisdom says line up with signs up! Protest! Burn, loot and plunder to show our displeasure! Spread ugly stories on social media, call them names, make politics personal. Defy those in authority, urge unrest, and dare them to arrest you until you get what you want. This is the way the world operates, not how you are called to live as people of God in the world.

There is much to repent of regarding out attitude towards the government. With our words, our actions, our social media posts, with the very thoughts in our hearts and minds, we sin against these men and women whom God places in authority for His purpose. We hold anger and hatred in our hearts. We seek to ruin reputations. It is easy and it is tempting to sling mud – especially in the relative anonymity of social media. We cast aspersions on those whom we don’t like. We lust for power for “our side.” We despise the other side when they are in control. We carry those thoughts about an official or a party and transfer it to their supporters. We identify people with whom we disagree as enemies; we “hate” them. We justify ourselves: it’s just words; not a big deal. Besides, the other side is doing it worse than me. We see people as enemies. How many relationships have been destroyed, how many families have been separated because of political disagreements? Jesus warns that it is as much a sin to do that as it is to assault the man or woman when He says if you call a man “fool,” you are guilty of murder.

More than that, we sin against God Himself. Ours is a sin of idolatry, gross idolatry in line with ancient Israel. A god is anything in which we place our fear, love and trust, and for all too many, government is god and our candidate, our politician, our party is its anointed savior. When we do speak of God, it is more of a nationalistic deism that we confess rather than the Triune God of the Christian faith. We misuse God’s name in pretending to speak for what He approves or disapproves.

Your submission to their authority doesn’t depend on opinion, agreement, party affiliation, or anything else. There are no qualifications given or exceptions made: submitting to God, you submit to the law man. If you choose to disobey the law, assuming it’s not contrary to God’s Word (see below), you disobey God. You follow the law of the land because those laws are established through the authority of God. If you don’t like the laws, the policies, the decisions of the government, then follow the law of the land in how to change those rules. Yet do it with the grace and compassion of a man like Paul who well understood what it is to suffer under the laws of the land for the sake of Jesus.

Don’t forget, God used an imperfect, earthly government to be the instrument by which His Son was sacrificed. Jewish and Roman law were both guilty of murder of an innocent Man who humbled Himself to be born under the Law of God and man. Jesus did not argue; He did not call down an angelic swat team to rescue Him; He did not summon the wrath of God to stop a corrupt political process. Instead, He prayed for the forgiveness of those who killed him. He prayed for the forgiveness of those whose sins He carried. He died for those who loved Him and stood at the foot of the cross weeping, and He died for the people who denied Him and mocked Him even to His dying breath.

Paul is deliberate and careful in his word choice. Subjection and submission is not the same thing as blind conformity and total obedience in every instance.  The early church knew that there will be times that we must obey God rather than man (Acts 5:29). There will be times that the Church, the body of Christ, may choose to be noncompliant and directly disobey human authorities when they go against God and His Word. For the last 50 years, Christians chose to protest laws and the services who provided life-ending abortion services. Christians did so, knowing that various civil charges could be brought against them. Laity and pastors received a criminal record. Yet, their conscience told them that they must stand up for life and the Word of God regarding the sanctity of human life and against the rules and laws who said otherwise. But, even in their protests, they were usually gentle, compassionate, and eager to share the love of Jesus with those who needed to hear of His grace.

So, what are we to do? Pray for them. Not about them, lamenting and complaining to God, but for them, carrying their names and offices to the ears of the Almighty. St. Paul wrote to Timothy, “I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.”

Again, notice – Paul doesn’t say pray for those whom you like. Without qualification, as you vote today, pray for all in high positions. Pray for the candidates and the officials-elect, for their wisdom to make Godly decisions, their compassion for the weak, their strength of character. Pray for the candidates and the officials-elect, that they stand against temptation for arrogance and resist corruption. Pray for the candidates and the officials-elect, that they listen and hear. Pray for the candidates and the officials-elect, that they understand their authority comes from God and that they are His agents. Pray for the candidates and the officials-elect, that they defend the innocent and seek appropriate justice against those who harm others. Pray for the candidates and the officials-elect, they are led to repentance for what they do wrong, knowingly or unintentionally. 

Pray for the officials-elect, they govern with humility. Pray for your fellow citizens, that they see officials as God’s representatives. Pray that selfish idealism ceases. Pray that people stop seeing government, their party, their candidate as their god. 

And pray that in the civil chaos of this day and the weeks ahead, you may be a witness to Christ – His Word, His compassion, and His love in a world that is evermore without truth, without mercy, and without grace. Pray that others see Christ in what you say and do, that they may too may be saved and know what true freedom is: eternal salvation through Jesus Christ, the true Savior of the world. Amen.

For All The Saints - Revelation 7: 2-19

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the first reading from Revelation 7.

You are surrounded. I want you to know that. You are completely surrounded and there is no escape. And that is a good thing.

This is the major holiday in Texas, what the State calls the opening of deer season, or what I jokingly refer to as the Commemoration of St. Venison. There is a Far Side cartoon that is appropriate for the day: two bucks are standing in the woods. A sign reading “Deer Season Opens Today,” is nailed to a tree. Buck #1 is standing there with a birthmark shaped like a bullseye on his chest. Buck #2 says, “That’s a bummer of a birthmark, dude.”

While hunters are celebrating the beginning of deer season, today the Christian church marks All Saints Day. For a few minutes, I want you to have a picture of that bullseye target as we think about the word “church.” “Church” has a lot of different meanings, or different uses; I want to use that bullseye image to explain it. As a point of explanation, we usually think of the center, the bulls-eye, as being the most important place. For right now, don’t think of it as most important, but simply as the smallest. There are four rings in this bullseye.

The center and the smallest circle of “church” is as a building, as in, “we remodeled the church a few years ago,” or “who left the lights on in the church?” If you expand just slightly, we think of a congregation, a gathering of God’s people in that church building – Zion Lutheran Church, or Rocky Creek Baptist Church. Moving another ring out from the bullseye into yet a larger circle, we talk about a church body – the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod, or the Southern Baptist Church, or the Roman Catholic Church. Again, each ring, each circle, increases in size and scope, with the next ring being very large – the whole Christian church one earth. This is every person who confesses the name of Jesus as Lord and Savior. While we might disagree with our brothers and sisters in Christ in those various congregations and church bodies over matters of doctrine and practice, we are still united under the headship of Christ as part of His Bride, the Church. One, two, three, four – building, congregation, church body, Christian church on earth.

But there is one more layer, one more circle that encapsulates even the body of Christ on earth. You’re thinking, wait a minute: you said four rings, we counted to four, so how can there be five. That’s because this fifth ring you cannont see – it’s the church triumphant, the people of God who have died in the faith and now rest from their labors. You are surrounded by a heavenly host of saints, angels, and archangels whom you cannot see with these eyes on your face, but they are there and you see them with eyes of faith.

We are the church militant, because we continue to struggle this side of heaven. They are the church triumphant, for they are already receiving an even greater foretaste of what awaits us in the resurrection of all flesh. They are enjoying the peaceful presence of the resurrected Christ even as they await their own fleshly resurrection in perfection. You sang about this in the 4^th stanza of the hymn a moment ago:

4 Oh, blest communion, fellowship divine! We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine. Alleluia! Alleluia!

We call the hymn, “For All The Saints.” Great title; great hymn. Easily, one of my top ten favorite hymns and probably in the top five. If I could have my way, we would sing this with the organ music turned all the way up so that the walls shake and your ears ring for hours – not because I want to hurt you, but because it’s the song of the church – the whole church – the whole church in heaven and on earth and in church bodies and in congregations and in buildings and even those outside of buildings. The whole church joins in the song. The Latin name captures it a bit more – Sine Nomine – without number.

That’s what St. John saw in the Revelation – the heavenly saints of God, a great, innumerable congregation from every tribe, people, language, nationality, skin color, and geographic corner of God’s creation from all time, singing the song of praise, “Salvation belongs to our God and to the Lamb!” And with the angels and the elders and the four living creatures, the entire heavenly host fall to their faces before the throne to worship God.“  We join in the song as we celebrate the Feast. “Blessing, honor, glory and might be to God and the Lamb forever, Amen!”

There’s a lovely tradition in the old Scandinavian Lutheran churches that has come across into many if not most Christian churches today. In the old Scandinavian churches, the altar rail was a circle – well, a half-circle, really. Like our half-square rail, it began at one wall, circumnavigated around the chancel and ended at the other wall. The idea is this: the church on earth is on this side, communing together face to face, side by side at the rail. The rest of the circle – in our case, the other half of our square – is what continues into heaven with the saints who have gone before us. So, in the communion liturgy, when we speak of “joining with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven,” you can think of those innumerable saints of God, the sine nomine, who worship God and the Lamb from the other side, the heavenly side, the triumphant side. “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth, Lord God of hosts!”

You know that I am a hopeless romantic – I use the word in the classical sense. All Saints Day gets me right in the feels because it highlights that connection of the church militant, this side of heaven, with the church triumphant, the other side of heaven. We see this side of the cross with its nail marks and bloody stains; they see the other side of the cross that glows in radiant brilliance. And, when I think of the baptized people of God, family, friends, members of this congregation and the others where I have served, the people of God who have fallen asleep in Jesus, it gets me.

We remember the dead, all saints, all made holy in the blood of Jesus, not to grieve their death but to thank God for them. But, if we are honest, there is still mourning, even if it just a whisper of it, this side of heaven because those whom we remember, we loved. Memories are a left-handed gift of God. We thank God for the memories, but the memories sting just a bit. But, as Jesus said in the Gospel reading this morning, “Blessed are [you] who mourn, for [you] shall be comforted.” Your comfort is in this: Christ died, Christ is risen. All Saints Day brings out most fully the reality of Easter, that you – and our loved ones – all who are dead in their sins and spiritually dead by those sins, deserve a physical death that we cannot stop. Yet, in Christ, we live a resurrected spiritual life, now, already, in the sure and certain promise that in Christ, we will be raised to a new, spiritually whole and holy physical life. Death is not the end. The grave is defeated; death’s sting is no more. We have hope – capitol H Hope – because of God’s entering into space and time in the flesh of Jesus who died, and more than that, was raised. We have hope because of the resurrection of Christ, and in His resurrection, the first-fruit resurrection, there is the Hope of a greater resurrection with all who have died in the faith.

At the graveside, I always read this passage from 1 Thessalonians 4: “And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then, we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.”  Remember this: a cemetery is a resting place. That’s what the word literally means. It’s a resting place for the bodies of the faithful who await the return of Jesus. I will always remember Mr. Kimble. When his wife died, Mr. Kimble sat at her graveside every night until the sun went down. He rarely missed a night. As the years went by, someone asked him why he did that. I forget the exact words he used, but it was something like this: “Because, just maybe, Jesus will come back while I’m sitting there. I want to see her face when she sees Jesus for the first time. Then, I’ll turn around and see Him for myself.”

We’ll sing this hope as we leave this morning:

The golden evening brightens in the west; soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest;
Sweet is the calm of paradise the blest. Alleluia! Alleluia!

But, lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day: The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of Glory passes on His way. Alleluia! Alleluia!

Remember, I said you are surrounded? “We remember those who by their blood, sweat and tears have left their mark on the church, the body of Christ, to which we belong. And we cannot, I think, commemorate this day without a certain sense of awe and respect. Remember, that when you enter the church you are ushered into the presence of a great host. You inherit their legacy.” [1]

What you inherit is this: the title of saint. I suspect that we often think of saint simply as one who has died, or perhaps in the Roman Catholic sense, those who have died with extra-ordinary acts or confession of faith. It’s not that those ideas are bad, but it’s kind of like thinking that the church is only this small thing instead of the great thing that it is. A saint is one who is made holy by the declaration of God through Christ. You are not a saint because of what you have done. You are a saint because of what God has done for you. He has declared you innocent in His sight. You are proclaimed righteous. It’s not your own, you didn’t create it, you didn’t become it. It is, however, yours as His gift to you. You, with all your failings and foibles this side of heaven, are still a baptized child of God and you are as much as saint as any of the famous ones in the Bible or in the history books of the church. Their Jesus is your Jesus. Sainthood knows no levels in Christ.

When we conclude this morning’s service, the last verses of the hymn will sing of that day. As you sing it, envision what that day will be like. Sing it loud, sing it bold – I don’t care if you can’t carry a tune in a bucket, today, belt it out. It’s our confession, it’s our hope, it’s Christ’s promise put to music. And, if like me, the tears get in the way and your throat gets tight and you can’t sing, it’s OK. Every year, it gets harder for me to finish the hymn as I remember those whom I have buried and transferred from the church militant to the church triumphant. And I remember those whom I love who have fallen asleep in Jesus. But, even as I wipe the tears from my eyes, I see what is to come. 

But, lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day: The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of Glory passes on His way, Alleluia, Alleluia. [2]

And, on that day, we will fully receive Jesus’ blessing as our mourning becomes dancing. Amen.

 

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[1] (Gerhard Forde, as quoted on 1517 Facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=961037322721534&set=pcb.961037442721522

[2] For All the Saints – #677 Lutheran Service Book, © 2007, CPH: St. Louis, MO