Mission Valley, TX: June 7, 2017-July 1, 2025

Moving on...literally

July 02, 2025

Last evening, with the "thunk" of the deadbolt, we left the house that we called home for the last eight years. On June 7, 2017, we arrived, fresh from the Houston metro area. I spent the night in the house with our three cats, sleeping on an air mattress and sitting in a folding camp chair. Laura and the kids spent the night in a hotel in Cuero. That night, I wrote one of my first blog posts saying that we were in a new house which had not yet become a home. 

It did, very quickly, become that very thing: a home. Not just a parsonage - an old term for the chirch-provided dwelling for the pastor and family - but a home. It was comfortable, quiet, and country. We loved, laughed, cried, cussed. We yelled in anger and whooped with joy. Since we have been married, every home we lived in - apartment or house - we added to the family. It happened there, too: Reese, the Wonder Dog, the Goofball, Super Puppers, she became part of our family. Slightly less significant than a new baby - slightly - she added a new element to the home. 

Last night, after almost 3000 nights, we said farewell to 12127 FM 236. The truck had left an hour or two earlier, loaded down with our stuff. Lord willing, it will be delivered as promised, one-time, to our new house-to-become-home in Enid, Oklahoma.

The house was, for all intents and purposes, emoty. The refrigerator was gone, unable to provide a lat night snack. Had Old Mother Hubbard shown up, she would have been right at home with bare cupboards. With neither a chair to sit in nor a bed to recline in, there wasn't a reason to delay. I turned the porch light off for the last time, not needing to show the kids that the door was open for a late night return. 

I climbed into the car, loaded down so that Jed Clampett gave his seal of approval. It was so full we had to take turns breathing. I stopped at the end of the driveway, turned on my blinker, and drove away. I chose not to look back. 

After all, Tom Bodett wasn't there to say he was leaving the lights on for us. 

Those Beautiful Feet - Isaiah 52: 7 (Farewell sermon)

“Those Beautiful Feet”

Isaiah 52:7

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Amen. The text is Isaiah 52: 7: How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.”

Laura has been updating all our insurance information. Addresses, policy changes, increase and decrease coverage, price adjustments…it’s a lot. DO you know that you can insure almost anything? Jewelry, firearms, electronics – the list is seemingly endless. The only question is if you are willing to pay for it, and how much to pay. I was half curious if they were going to offer a policy to insure the buttons on my shirt. Do you know some actors insure their body, beyond basic health insurance? Julie Andrews was in the news recently when she sued a doctor, accusing him for ruining her voice. Then I got to thinking… I wonder, if you and I could afford such a luxury, what part of the body would you or I insure?  A surgeon or a painter might insure the hands; a farmer or a mechanic might insure the knees; a physicist or a chemist might insure the brain; a wine or food connoisseur might insure the tongue.  But how many of us would insure our…feet.  Yes, the feet.  You know:  Those foul-smelling, hammer-toed, callous-cracked, bunioned, corned, and flat-arched appendages carry us from place to place with little or no credit.  They look funny, smell worse, and generally go unnoticed until they hurt or something gets dropped upon them.  

I wonder how tired Isaiah’s feet were as he walked among his fellow Israelites, preaching to them, proclaiming God’s message to them as they were exiled among the Babylonians.  Isaiah’s message was, at times, difficult to hear.  He told Israel that their sins against God resulted in their capture, in the slaughter of their fellow Israelites, and the destruction of Jerusalem.  How Isaiah’s feet must have ached, along with his heart, as he called Israel to repentance for their sins. 

In the text that I have chosen for this morning, Isaiah reminds Israel of God’s rich mercy and His promise that people of Israel will not be destroyed.  They will return to Jerusalem, to the Promised Land, and again make it their home.  Isaiah writes, “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns’.” (Is. 52:7).   

In the days before cell phones and two-way radios, armies would employ men to serve as runners to carry important messages quickly from one unit to another. Even though the runner’s feet are sore, sweaty, dirty, and possibly even cut and bleeding, his feet are beautiful because of the important message the runner was carrying. Isaiah shares the image of such feet running ahead of the returning Israelites to prepare those who were left in Jerusalem for their arrival.  The message of the runners is that of peace, good things, and salvation.  The conclusion of the message announces the reason for the good news.  The messenger declares to those who receive him, “Your God reigns!” God was not abandoning them after all!  The God of Israel would re-establish His reign, delivering His people from their enemies, returning them to their homeland.  The news was so great and so exciting that Isaiah personified the very ruins of Jerusalem as rising up to join in the joyful songs and celebrations as the Children of Israel returned home.  Those beautiful feet carry the Good News that God would deliver Israel from Babylon, destroying her as Babylon had once destroyed Israel.

How beautiful are the feet of him who brings glad tidings of good news.  In the immediate context, the prophet Isaiah was speaking about those feet that would carry this wonderful good news to the Israelites in Babylon, but as a prophet of God, Isaiah was also foreshadowing another set of feet that would walk the face of the earth and proclaim good news, peace, good tidings and salvation: the feet of Jesus Christ.  In His human nature, His feet were just like yours, and those two peripatetic feet carried Jesus many, many miles during the 30 or so years of His life and ministry.  I imagine he stubbed a toe, but without cussing. I imagine he cut his heel on a sharp rock, but without condemning the rock to the pits of hell. Unlike our human feet, which sometimes will literally turn us down the path of unrighteousness, Christ’s feet never once fell into sin.  Unlike those children of Israel who heard Isaiah’s message, or unlike you and I who are here today, Christ was never corrupted by sin: not even his little toes.  Christ, the sinless Son of God, walked the perfect path of righteousness that the Law of God demanded.

Although His feet may have fatigued, Jesus never tired of walking in the path of the will of God for us.  He never stumbled on the way to the cross.  There, spiked to the wooden beam, Christ’s feet bled for you and for me.  As Christ breathed His last, and as the weight of the lifeless body settled onto the pierced feet, the soldier who stood at the foot of the cross declared, “Truly, this Man was the Son of God.”

Thanks be to God, those holy and pierced feet of Jesus did not remain in the grave for long.  Three days later, the feet of Peter and John raced away from the empty grave with the wonderful news that Jesus wasn’t there!  He was alive!  Later, when Mary saw Jesus in the garden, although she couldn’t touch Him, she fell at His resurrected feet, rejoicing.  Even later that night, Jesus stood in front of the disciples and offered as proof of His resurrection His nail-marked hands and feet.  Oh, what beautiful feet of Jesus!  Because He was standing there – alive, victorious from the grace – He was sharing with them the good news that peace was made between God and man.  Christ earned salvation for us and He now reigns at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.

How beautiful are the feet of him who brings glad tidings of good news.  For the last eight years and two weeks, I’ve had the privilege of standing – and sometimes sitting – in this pulpit as your pastor. Some things can be measured objectively. By God’s grace, in that time, 25 people were baptized – including 6 in the last month alone. Most were babies and infants, but a few older children and even a couple of adults were made children of God by water and Word. Twenty children and 18 adults were confirmed in their Baptismal faith, while thirty other adults affirmed their Christian faith to become members of Zion. Twelve couples were united in holy marriage as husband and wife. And, twenty-four saints of God were laid to rest – interestingly, the first funeral I had here was Gilbert Krueger and the last was his wife, Doris. Ballpark, together, we made it through almost 500 sermons, weekly and bi-weekly Bible classes. I have no idea how many steps I did through area hospitals and nursing homes and in your own homes while caring for hurting bodies, souls and troubled consciences. I will never forget my brief and un-illustrious career as a televangelist for 11 weeks while you sat at home, “social distancing.”

Other things are more subjective, harder to measure. I’ve heard many kind things from you about my service here. Thank you, but truly, I believe all of it was God at work in the words spoken, in the messages preached, in the conversations that were had, and in the time spent together. When I arrived, Pastor Judge told me you were if not the most then one of the most loving and caring congregations he had ever seen. I agree. You graciously accepted me and my family. You put up with my quirks, laughed at my jokes, supported me when I was broken and hurting, and through it all demonstrated grace. My first Sunday here, I congratulated you on electing a sinner to be your pastor. I know I sinned against you in things I did and in things I did not do, in some thoughts, in some words, and in some actions. I am sorry for those things. If I have caused offense, please speak with me that I can ask for your mercy and acknowledge what I have done, so that we might part as friends, not as conflicted people.

I’ve said this multiple times, but perhaps not publicly. I want you to know, the very fact that you elected to call me to be your pastor was God’s mercy in action. Without hyperbole, this congregation saved my ministry. It re-energized me. You rejuvenated me. You refilled my heart with joy, my spirit with excitement, and my work with vigor. I have no doubt God led me here in the summer of 2017. And, by the same token, I have no doubt that God is leading me, again, guiding my feet in all of their questionable beauty to Enid, Oklahoma, and St. Paul Lutheran Church and School.

DO me a favor… Move your feet around a bit. Stomp them once or twice. Wiggle your toes. Shuffle them in your pew. Those feet, whether adorned by Prada pumps or Louchesse boots or Reebok tennis shoes, those feet are beautiful. You see, what makes the feet of a child of God beautiful isn’t their intrinsic looks. My dad had feet that would gag a podiatrist and make their office manager clap their hands in glee. His feet were beautiful because of the Good News he carried. My feet, with their absent toes and high arches and thick callouses and aching soles are beautiful because of the Gospel of Jesus. That’s the point: Jesus makes us beautiful. Jesus makes us holy – even our feet. Jesus redeems even those two troublesome appendages that let us boogie and make us stumble. Jesus makes your feet and my feet glorious.

So, what are you going to do with your feet? In a little bit, your feet will take you from this holy hill back to your homes. From there, you – Zion congregation will disperse across the Crossroads. But those feet are not idle. God uses your feet to put you in the path of other feet that also need to hear of Jesus. Let your feet tell the story. Or, at least, let your feet carry you to places where you tell the story of Jesus. Be bold. Speak of Jesus. Tell the Good News that Jesus’ feet carried Him to the cross, that His feet paid the price for the wandering feet of the world, that His nail-marked feet rose on the third day, and you now carry the message of those feet. You carry that message. Don’t wait for your next pastor. Get busy. There’s a neighborhood across the street that needs to hear it. There are people missing from here today who need to hear it. There are people you work with who need to know of Jesus. Remember when the Yellow Pages used the slogan, “Let your fingers do the walking?” Let your beautiful feet do the talking. Let them tell of Jesus and how He makes your feet beautiful.

 

How beautiful are the feet of those who bring glad tidings of good news. Don’t give up meeting together. Be here next Sunday and the Sunday after that. I’ll tell you, the next pastor, your vacancy pastor won’t be me. His mannerisms will be different, his way of speaking different, his way of caring for you in his preaching and his visiting will be different. His servant leadership will be different, with different skills, talents and abilities. I guarantee his feet will be different. Those are all good things. Please don’t compare him to me. Instead, rejoice for the feet God gave him and the message he brings to Zion. Like me, he will stand in the stead of Christ and speak glad tidings to you. Bless his feet with prayers, with thanksgiving, with eager ears, with open hearts, thanking God for the message those feet proclaim. Walk together – do you know that’s what “Synod” means? Walk alongside each other, carrying each others burdens. When one is weak, the strong lifts them up. Don’t worry, you’ll have your own turn to be weak, and then someone can help you.

In the summer of 1991, our pastor at Zion, Walburg, Lowell Rossow, left, taking a call to Joplin, MO. I remember the next Sunday, sitting on my bed. Dad fussed at me that I was moving slow and I would be late for church. I told Dad I wasn’t going to go. “Why not,” he sharply asked. Young romantic that I was, even then, I answered, “Because my pastor is gone.” Dad sat next to me on my bed. He said two things. First, he asked if I thought Pastor Rossow would like me skipping church because he wasn’t there. I shook my head. Second, Dad said, “Besides, who is there today?” I don’t remember my answer to that question, but I remember Dad’s answer: “Jesus is there, and He wants you to be there, regardless the man who stands in the pulpit.”

Don’t stop coming to Zion. Let your feet continue to return you to this holy hill. Continue gathering together. This is the body of Christ, hammer toes, bunions, high arches, flat feet, arthritic ankles and ingrown toenails and all. The body of Christ gathers where the head is – where Christ Himself is present. He is here in Word and Sacrament. He is here among the body and He will continue to do so.

Last thing… Goodbyes are hard. I had someone tell me the other day, “I don’t do goodbyes.”  Do you know the etymology of “Goodbye?” It comes out of the Old English phrase, “God be with you.” It’s a blessing, of sorts, praying the presence of God goes with each of you as you part company. That’s the beauty of a goodbye – it invokes the name and promise of God that even if you don’t meet again this side of heaven, you will meet again in the resurrection of all flesh.

So, there will be lots of Goodbyes today. That’s OK. And if you don’t want to say it, that’s ok too because the prayer is the same: God be with you until we meet again.

Christ is Ascended! He is Ascended, Indeed! Alleluia! - Luke 24: 44-53

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

Christ is ascended!
He is ascended, indeed! Alleluia!

This past Thursday, the Church celebrated the ascension of Jesus. If you missed it or forgot, don’t feel bad. It’s easy to miss. It lands on a Thursday. We didn’t gather here for worship. Ascension doesn’t have the romance of Christmas or the punch of Easter. Yet and still, as an historical event, it happened. The Holy Spirit saw fit that St. Luke recorded it twice, in Luke 24 and Acts 1. The early church agreed, making sure that it was confessed in not only the Apostle’s Creed, but the Nicene and Athanasian Creeds as well. So, hear again the Ascension Gospel from Luke 24:

“Then Jesus said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.” 45 Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, 46 and said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, 47 and that repentance for[a] the forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. 48 You are witnesses of these things. 49 And behold, I am sending the promise of my Father upon you. But stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.” 50 And he led them out as far as Bethany, and lifting up his hands he blessed them. 51 While he blessed them, he parted from them and was carried up into heaven. 52 And they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, 53 and were continually in the temple blessing God.” (Luke 24: 44-53)

You’ve probably seen the various artwork of Jesus’ ascension, whether it is one of the classic works by Dali, Rembrandt, or Tissot, or a simpler picture you might remember from your Sunday school lesson. Universally, the pictures shows Him with His hands raised in blessing. That’s all we need on this commemoration of the ascension is to look at the hands of Jesus, raised in blessing, and we can read in them the meaning and blessing of Jesus.

These are the hands, born in infant frailty, that held close to His mother, Mary, while He nursed. These hands learned to hold a pencil and write the words of Scripture that He knew by heart when He challenged the teachers of the Law as a 12 year old. These hands held a hammer or saw or chisel while he worked with Joseph. These are hands that touched the eyes of the blind, the ears of the deaf, and the tongue of the mute. These warm hands took hold of the pale, cold, dead hands of a little girl and restored life to the girl and then delivered the girl to her parents waiting outside.

Read through the Gospels and pay attention to what Jesus hands did – stretching out, touching, grasping – always with personal love, personal contact, and personal attention to the person standing, sitting, lying in front of him. Those hands weren’t afraid to get dirty, to be contaminated, or to touch the unclean. The Savior of the World came to be with sinners, to rescue sinners, and to destroy sin. One by one, Jesus reached into the world of death and destruction, chaos and darkness; one by one, Jesus touched sinners; one by one, Jesus healed – never en masse, in bulk, or by volume.

These are hands that gathered the little children unto Himself, holding, hugging and kissing them. These are hands that reached out, just in time, to snag a doubting and sinking Simon Peter. Those are the hands that reached out to prostitutes, tax collectors, and sinners with compassion that was absent in other hands. With these hands, he broke bread and raised the cup and said, “take and eat; take and drink.” These hands were held out for Thomas to see, to touch, and to believe.

Greatest of all, these hands were pinned to the cross by nails. The hands that had done so much for others did nothing to save Himself. Instead, those nails assured Jesus did everything to save others. Those scars, presented to Thomas the week after Easter, those hands, raised in blessing, those hands tell us what we need to know of the blessing of Jesus on Ascension day.

What does that mean for us this day? Those scars tell us that Jesus took your sins, your punishment upon Himself and went to the cross for you. Those scars proclaim Jesus was forsaken – alone and abandoned by His disciples, His friends, and His Father in heaven – so you would not be forsaken by God but be forgiven. Those scars declare that because Jesus died for you and rose for you, and because you are baptized into His death and resurrection, you will be made alive as children of God.

Because Jesus hands were once stretched out on the cross, in His ascension, they are stretched out in blessing upon His disciples. The one who ascends and blesses carries the marks of the cross on his hands. No cross, no blessing. Cross, blessing. That is why when I speak the blessing to you, it is done so with the sign of the cross, whether it’s on your forehead or in the air. That is what Jesus means to you at the Ascension this day: life and blessing won and given.

Now… do not ever think that Jesus ascension means He has gone away. Do not think of the cloud that hid Jesus’ departure as an escalator that took Jesus “into heaven,” as if it is a location far, far away. Before Jesus ascended, He promised that He is with us wherever we might be. Could you imagine the chaos had He not ascended; had He remained physically located only in one place at one time? You can hear it, can’t you: “I’ve got Jesus, yes I do. I’ve got Jesus. Why not you?” No…because Jesus has ascended, He is able to be all places at all times. He is with us, here, right now…and with the saints of God in Walburg…and in Indiana…and Boston…and Taiwan…and Pakistan…and St. Petersburg…and anywhere else on earth (or outer space, for that matter) His children gather. He promised it. How He does it, we cannot fully fathom. And we don’t need to. He promised it, and that is enough.

With His hands held high, Jesus ascends into the cloud. This was a special cloud, I think – one which had appeared before in Scripture. We saw the cloud at the Transfiguration. We saw it in the Old Testament when the cloud was above the two angels on the ark of the covenant and when the people of God journeyed by day through the wilderness to the promised land. The cloud was the guarantee of the presence of God. So, at the Ascension, the cloud marks Jesus physically leaving behind the world of man and returning to the realm of God. Jesus is no longer with us in our ordinary way of thinking. Jesus is now present and does things in God’s way, also no longer constrained to earthly ways of doing things. He is still a man, but a resurrected, glorified and ascended man who is also fully God.  

Jesus has not gone away. He is with us now, more powerfully than ever before. He is with us more powerfully than when the disciples saw him. He is among us. And we live, then, in the presence of our ascended and ever-present Lord. He is with us. We cannot be destroyed. Easter lives in us. Christ is risen! We are risen! He paves the way to victory for us. He leads us, giving us strength and courage for each day – whatever it might bring us – and leaving us anticipating, yearning for, looking forward to the consummation of the promise of His bodily return, soon, as well.

We are here today as the disciples were – with great joy. We’re not wringing our hands in fear – Christ is with us. We’re not tapping our fingers in worry or hurry – Christ is here. We are here with hands that make the sign of the cross, reminding us that we are baptized into Christ. We are here with that are open, ready to receive the gifts of God in His Supper. Our hands are so full of the blessings of God, if we stopped to ponder them all – if we used our hands to write them all down – we would be stunned at the good and gracious gifts God gives to us. Our hands pick up the food God gives to nourish us. Our hands open the door to our homes that give us shelter. Our hands button shirts, zip up pants, and tie shoes to clothe us. Our hands put on glasses so we can see, insert hearing aids so we can hear, open medication bottles to keep our bodies healthy and strong. Our hands are sore from working outside yesterday in the yard, our hands still sting from applauding a grandson who hit his first little-league home run. Our hands…gifts from God.

And, our Ascended Lord uses your hands, filled with His blessings, to leave this Holy House and share those blessings with others. You serve others as the hands of Christ. That means that when you reach out to shake a hurting hand, you show them Christs hands of compassion. When you change a stinky diaper, you do it with the servant-hands of Christ. When you call your parents or your kids, you dial with the hands of Christ who spoke to his mother with love.  When you buy a bottle of water from the little league team, you pay for it with the hands of Christ that summoned children to come to him. When you buy a sandwich for a man on the street-corner, your hands echo Jesus’ hands as He once fed 5000. When you fold your hands and pray with your neighbor who struggles from depression, your hands imitate Jesus’ hands who prayed for the women of Jerusalem. When you reach out and touch the sick or the dying, you share the touch of Jesus who once raised the dead. When you hold the hand of a child who has been bullied, you share the gentle touch of the Shepherd. When you touch your spouse’s cheek, you touch with the hands of the One who is Love.  In those moments, the love of Christ is present in you and through you. He has ascended, but He is still very much here.

And soon, He will return. Watch. Wait. Anticipate.

Amen.

 

 

Jesus: Messiah, Good Shepherd, and King - John 10: 22-30

“If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” Talk about a loaded request. And it happens at a most unique time: at the Feast of Dedication.

Roughly 200 years earlier, around 166BC, Israel was a vassal in the Greek Empire. The Greeks wanted to Hellenize the world and, as a result, no other religion or religious practices were tolerated. So, Israel was forced to worship the Greek gods and goddesses – Zeus, Apollo, Hermes, just to name a few – and even Israel’s temple was scandalized by being used for worship of Zeus, the altar desecrated by sacrifices to him, and all of the sacred vessels for worship of God were likewise misused. 

There was a faithful, God-fearing family of Israelites called the Maccabees who finally had enough. Their name means “hammer,” and they began to hammer against the Greeks, leading a rebellion to overthrow and eliminate the Greeks from Israel. Finally successful, they set about making Israel God-fearing worshippers again. The temple was ritually cleansed. The desecrated altar was removed, destroyed, and then replaced along with new worship furnishings. Finally, it was time to rededicate the temple. Oil candles were placed in the Holy Menorah, the 8-fingered candelabra, but only enough sacred oil was found for one day’s use. Not wanting to wait the necessary eight days for new oil to be consecrated, the candles were filled, the flames were lit, and miracle of miracles, the candles did not burn out for eight days. Thus, the great tradition of the Feast of Dedication – or as we know it today, Hannukah – began.

That was the festival that Jesus, the Disciples, and all Jews were celebrating: the re-dedication of the Temple by the Maccabees. It is no small thing that St. John places Jesus in the Temple – specifically in Solomon’s colonnade – during this festival, because that helps set up and introduce the tension that’s present. It’s brought to a head with the question, “Are you the Messiah?” In other words, are you the Son of David that we have been expecting? The Jews see the parallels:  Two hundred years earlier, Israel was under Greek rule; in Jesus day, under Roman rule. The Greeks were heathens; the Romans were heathens. The Greeks had Israel under their thumbs; the Romans ruled Israel with disdain. Just like 200 years earlier, Israel was again looking for Messiah - a warrior Messiah, a Maccabee-like Messiah who was going to re-establish Israel and get rid of the Romans.

This is why their question is so important: Is this you, Jesus? Are you the Messiah? Are you the Christ? Are you going to do what we expect? 

Jesus’ answer isn’t what they expect. It’s not a simple yes or no. Instead He says, “Pay attention to what I am doing!” He’s been performing miracles, like Moses, feeding 5000. He’s been healing the sick, like Elijah. His works demonstrate who He is! He is from God. But His words show Him not just to be from the Father but to be, in fact, the promised one: the Messiah, the Christ; yes – the Son of David.

But they don’t get it. They can’t get it. They’re not of the sheep. They self-excluded themselves from the fold, refusing to submit to this one who was born of Mary, descended not just from David, but from of God. He is Messiah, but not the Messiah they expect. He is coming to be the Shepherd. Not just a shepherd, but The Shepherd. And because He’s not the kind of Messiah they expect, not the kind of Shepherd they want, they cannot accept, they cannot believe, they will not listen, they will not see, and they cannot follow.

Too often we misunderstand this shepherd picture. We have a simple, soft, romantic picture of Jesus as a divine Little Boy Blue. He’s traipsing through lush green grass, a staff in one hand, and the other holds a baby lamb in his arm. Don’t get me wrong: there are times this picture of Jesus is exactly what we need – when we face the valley of the shadow of death, for example. 

But there are other times when we misunderstand this image of Jesus that we get ourselves in trouble with simplistic thinking. What I mean is this picture of Jesus is one we can handle. We’re comfortable with this picture of him. And we make this idea of the Good Shepherd out to be the kind of Messiah we want. In a sense, we neuter Him and take away His power and authority so that He’s neither threatening nor judging. He becomes nothing more than understanding. 

And this, then, becomes our escape when we make our Shepherd out to be, well, our Shepherd, not God’s. We justify the choices we make and actions we do by saying Jesus understands. Sexual sins? Living together without being married, adultery, homosexuality? Jesus understands.  Slandering the boss, spreading rumors about a co-worker, skipping out while still on the clock? Jesus understands. Cheating on an exam, drawing ugly caricatures of your teacher, skipping class? Jesus understands. Telling your parents off, swearing at your kids, fighting with your brother or sister? Jesus understands. As long as we make Jesus out to be the Shepherd-Messiah we want Him to be, literally in our own image, we’re no better off than those first-century Jews who wanted Jesus to be their political savior. At best, we create a Messiah as sympathizer; at worst, an enabler. There is nothing good about that kind of good shepherd. 

Jesus understands, yes, but not that way. Sins cannot just be understood; they must be repented of and paid in full. He understands what the Messiah must do to rescue, redeem and save. It’s not going to be riding into battle like David to rule on a throne in Jerusalem. It will take a King who is willing to die.

In the Old Testament, the shepherd image is one that is used for kings, kings whose job it is to stand watch over Israel. So, for example, in Ezekiel 34 when God says He will get rid of the shepherds, he doesn’t mean the herdsmen of the hillside. He means the unfaithful kings and wicked rulers of the people. They will be removed and, even more, destroyed because of their unfaithfulness and He, God, will Himself shepherd the people. So, when you hear Good Shepherd, hear Good King. This is a King who will rule in a good, just way. He is the King who judges wisely. The things that He showed in His ministry, these are the things that the Good King, the Good Shepherd will do: He will care for His people; He will feed His people; He will clothe His people; He will protect His people. In His life and ministry, as He pointed out to the Jews, He is doing all of these things. But there is something yet to come.

This King, this Shepherd, this Messiah will die for His people. Jesus’ battle isn’t with the Hittites and Jebusites and Alamakites; it’s with sin, death and the devil. The battle will take place outside of Jerusalem, just outside the city walls. The Good Shepherd will have a staff in His hand, placed there in mockery. His soft robes will be stripped from His body and He will be nailed to His throne in nakedness and shame, not in glory. His rule will be in humility and weakness, not in strength and majesty. But in that weakness is strength, for His power is made perfect in weakness. He surrenders, not to satan, but to His Father’s will, and He is the perfect, once-for-all-sacrifice for the sins of His sheep, His people. 

The gift of the Good Shepherd, the Good King, is eternal life for all who are of His flock, who hear His voice and in repentant faith, trust His life, death and resurrection for their sins, for your sins, for my sins. And the Good King, the Good Shepherd, gives you His pledge: no one – neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither things present nor things to come, neither height nor depth nor anything else in all creation – will separate you from His Father’s hand. 

And moms: today as we give thanks to God for you and the gift of motherhood, I want to remind you that the Good Shepherd is particularly fond of women who share the same vocation as His own mother.  He forgives you for the times you swore with your husbands and you were angry at your children; the times you felt that you failed to live up to expectations; the times when you made mistakes; the times you weren’t the perfect mother. A mother’s sins are forgiven fully and completely. So are father’s sins, and children’s sins, by the way. Moms: God doesn’t call you to be perfect. He calls you to be faithful mothers, rearing and teaching your children – no matter what age you are or what age they are – the fear and knowledge of the Lord. Do this both in words and in actions. And, when you fail, then also teach them the need for repentance and the power of forgiveness, both for yourself and for your family as well.

To make sure you know, believe, trust and rely that this is all true, the Good Shepherd makes sure you are still able to hear His voice still today. 

I remember when I was in high school, driving through Georgetown and passing a church whose sign was written in Spanish: La Iglesia del un Buen Pastor. I thought, boy – is that guy arrogant. The church of the Good Pastor. I told my Spanish teacher about that and made a wise-crack about the pastor being rather highly opinionated about himself. That’s when she told me in Spanish, pastor means shepherd. It actually comes from Latin. I tell you this story because it is the perfect reminder of what the church is for: to be the place where the voice of the Good Shepherd is heard. Luther once called the church “The Mouth-House,” meaning it’s where the voice of the Good Shepherd sounds forth with all of it’s truth and power.  

And, when you come, you ask, “Is this the Messiah?” And through the Word that is read and preached, in Baptismal water and in bread and wine, Jesus will say that these all bear witness about Him. They will tell you that He is God’s Messiah who came to be our Good Shepherd, our Good King.

Confirmation Sunday - Psalm 18:2, Deuteronomy 31:8

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

On March 27, 1988 – 37 years ago – I was confirmed in my Baptismal faith at Zion Lutheran Church in Walburg, Texas. Right outside the sanctuary doors of that church was a mighty, massive live oak tree. Today, right outside the sanctuary doors of Zion Lutheran Church of Mission Valley stand four mighty, massive live oak trees. They were here before you were born, probably before your parents were born, possibly even before your grandparents were born. I don’t know how old they are, really, but I know this: those trees, both the one at my home church in Walburg, and those outside this church in Mission Valley, those trees are living and strong. They continue to grow and produce acorns each year. I hope you are able to take a lesson from a large, growing tree. No matter how “big” – that is, how grown-up you might be – growing continues. And that growth finds its roots in Holy Scripture.

Challenge coins are kind of a thing in the military and among first responders, and they’ve come into the civilian world as well. While the coins can have several meanings and uses, they are a way of both remembering challenges they have faced as well as providing encouragement for challenging times ahead. I have this one that was given to me fifteen years ago by a Navy Seabee who was in Iraq. He gave it to me when he got back as a gift for remembering him in our prayers and for encouraging his parents while he was deployed. My son-in-law is a fireman in Ohio – he gave me one from his fire department. My son gave me this one. All three are dear to me as I remember the challenges they have faced.

In the bottom of your gift bag is a challenge coin. Go ahead and take it out and look it for a moment.

The first and most obvious thing that you see is a large oak tree. A couple years ago, we had a logo designed for this church, for our newsletters and other things, and we selected an oak tree as the center of the logo. This coin is similar to our logo, but there is a difference: on our church logo, at the base of the roots is a cross, designed to symbolize that our congregation is grounded in Christ Jesus and His Word for us. While the coin lacks that specific element, the tree will – I hope – remind you both of this congregation and to yourself remain grounded in that Word of God, as you learned it in our classes.

I said challenge coins are, in part, to help you remember. On the front is stamped Psalm 18:2. The coin has the beginning words of the Psalm, “The Lord is my rock and my fortress,”  but the rest of the Psalm remind you that the Lord is also, “my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” Confirmation is not a new infusion of a blessing of God, a “booster shot” of the Holy Spirit, if you will. I want you to remember that everything you need was given you in your Baptism – the forgiveness of sins, life as a child of God, and the promise of eternal salvation in the resurrection of all flesh. Even as you are grounded in God’s Word and in Christ Jesus Himself, like that mighty oak tree, He is also your protector and defender against satan, the world, and even your old sinful flesh. I want you to remember you are a baptized child of God.

I also said challenge coins are, in part, there to provide a physical, tangible sense of encouragement when facing new challenges. On the back of the coin i31:8s Deuteronomy 31:8. ^“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” That is a good verse to keep in your mind or, literally, in your pocket, as you continue to go through life as a baptized child of God. He doesn’t send you out into the world on your own, armed with nothing but a blessing. He promises His presence to go with you for the sake of Christ Jesus, who literally charged into the gates of hell to declare His eternal victory over satan. Notice, Moses doesn’t say that your baptized life will be an easy one, that there will be neither challenge nor difficulty. God’s promise is that He will be with you, never leaving nor forsaking you, and that because of that, you do not need to fear what is ahead.  As you see that promise of God on this coin, I hope it encourages you to turn again and again to the Bible where the greatest encouragement of all resides: God’s Word for you, His beloved.

There is one other thing I want you to recall when you see this coin, whether it is in your pocket or backpack or on a shelf in your room. Most coins are legal tender. These challenge coins aren’t of course, but most coins – even pennies – can be used for buying, selling and trading. When you see this coin with its tree, I want you to remember that Judas was paid with thirty silver coins to betray Jesus. Thirty coins…that was about the price of a slave, in those days. That is fitting. The book of Isaiah prophetically describes Jesus as the Suffering Servant who takes our place on the cross.

There, on the cross, Jesus made the redemption price for you. Remember, “to redeem” is “to buy back.” Jesus bought you, not with gold and silver coins, but with His innocent suffering and death, that you might be His own, and live under Him in His kingdom. 

When you see this coin, remember Christ’s death for you and live in the encouraging promise that, as a baptized child of God, you are now and always redeemed by God’s grace through faith in Christ Jesus. If and when you grow weary, tempted by satan, the world, and even your own old Adam and Eve, return here, to the Lord’s Table, where Jesus give you His Body and Blood for the forgiveness of sins and the strengthening of your faith in Him as your Savior. Be among other Christians, the body of Christ, to care for each other and support each other in this journey of life and faith, under the cross, armed with the blessings of Jesus.

I said this last Sunday evening, in our last confirmation class, but I need to say it again: today is not the end, a “graduation” from confirmation class. Remember the non-diploma diploma? It’s not an end; it’s a beginning – the beginning for your participation as full communicant members of this congregation. In your Baptism, all of the blessings of Almighty God were made yours: your sins were forgiven; you were made a child of God; He gave you the promise of eternal life. But, because we also take seriously the Lord’s mandate in I Corinthians 11 that we should not eat and drink of the Lord’s Supper until we understand what it is that we are receiving, we took this time to study the Scriptures – condensed into the Small Catechism. While our confirmation class is complete, your Christian growth – that great word, “Sanctification,” remember? – is an ongoing process.

Now, a note for your parents, your moms and dads, and baptismal sponsors: when your child was baptized, you pledged that you would rear him or her in the faith, bring him or her to the Lord’s House where he or she would be taught the Word of God, and that you would support your son or daughter as they grow in faith and knowledge of their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Your job is not done today. You continue to model faithful living by being in the Lord’s House with your child. Your son, your daughter needs you to bring them to the Lord’s altar, and your son and your daughter needs you at his or her side at the Table. Please do not become sanctified ghosts, here today, gone next Sunday, only to be seen a few times a year. You be in the Lord’s house. Bring your children to the Lord’s house. Here’s a secret: if you’re tired, or if they tell you they are tired, or it’s boring and they don’t want to go to church one Sunday, get ‘em up, anyway and come to the Lord’s House. Jesus will be here. You don’t want to miss Him. 

Your Triune God – Father, Son, Holy Spirit – remains active in you. Not only has He created you, He provides for you in abundant ways. Not only has He died for you, He continues to forgive you and pray for you. Not only has He begun the work of faith in you, He continues to strengthen you.

 

Ted Lasso, Doubting Thomas, and Jesus - John 20: 19-31

In the hit TV show, Ted Lasso, Ted is a soccer coach, trying to manage life and all that is being thrown at him. After an assistant coach leaves and seems to burn every relationship, he later attempts to make amends for what he had done. Ted, realizing the man’s efforts, said, “I hope that either all of us or none of us are judged by the actions of our weakest moments, but rather by the strength we show when and if we're given a second chance.”

That is a good way to think of the man who is at the center of our Gospel reading this morning, the reading where Thomas the Disciple gets his nickname – the Doubter. It’s a shame, really. He starts being identified as, “Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin” – the NIV calls him Thomas Didymus - but no one ever calls him either.  We call him Doubting Thomas. I don’t think it’s fair to him. After all, we don’t call Peter the Denier because he said he didn’t know Jesus. We don’t call Paul the Persecutor because, before his conversion, he tracked down and killed Christians. But Thomas…he got saddled with the nickname Doubter and it has stuck. Forevermore, he will be known as Doubting Thomas. 

Can you fathom Thomas’ sadness in those days after Jesus’ resurrection? For Mary and Mary, Peter, James and John, the Emmaus disciples the power of the resurrection is starting to be understood, a glow of light shining in the darkness surrounding Jesus’ death. The truth of the Scriptures is beginning to unfold for them. Christ is risen, He is risen indeed – alleluia! But for Thomas, that resurrection evening, it is as if Christ is not risen, as if Christ is not living as He said. Jesus was, at best, mistaken about that third day talk; at worst, a liar who misled the disciples for three years.

Thomas had witnessed Jesus raising Lazarus. But, it’s one thing for a living Jesus to stand outside Lazarus’ grave and summon a dead man back to life; it’s entirely another matter when Jesus is, Himself, the one who is dead and buried.

Thomas is no fool. “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails and place my finger into the mark of the nails and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” Thomas had heard Jesus’ prophetic words about being crucified at the hands of the chief priests and elders and teachers of the law, and had also heard Jesus say, “and on the third day be raised.” It’s one thing to hear those words; it’s another to see Jesus’ side pierced with the spear and blood and water flow out. Jesus was dead. Thomas cannot believe Jesus’ promise; he won’t believe it; No: dead people don’t come back to life. It doesn’t work that way. He will not believe unless he sees it with his own eyes.

I get that. And, I suspect that many of you do as well.

We speak of a Christian’s faith in two ways. The first is faith that Jesus is my Savior and that He died, rose, ascended and now waits until I see Him in the resurrection. This is faith that believes that promise made to us in our Baptisms. I trust I am forgiven, I believe that I am God's child through Jesus' death and resurrection, and all of His gifts are mine. I know, believe, trust and rely that this is "most certainly true." This is "saving faith."

Then, there is how we live out that saving faith. We call this the sanctified life or the life of faithfulness. This is faithfulness that enables the Christian to pray "give us this day our daily bread," and to be content with enough. This is faithfulness that enables us to look in the mirror and say, “You are already holy and sanctified in the eyes of God.” This is faithfulness that, in the face of a critical medical diagnosis, says, “I believe God will heal me now, or into eternity.” Faithfulness is able to say, without irony, “Thy will be done,” followed by "amen, amen...may it be so." Faithfulness allows the Christian to stand at the grave of a loved one and declare, “I believe in the resurrection and the life of the world to come.”

But that sanctified life of faithfulness is tough, isn’t it? When faith and life intersect, there is often a collision. To say – and mean - “Thy will be done” in the face of financial struggles, or health scares, or strained family life, or unemployment – that’s not so easy.  It is in this aspect of faith, the daily living of faith, where I struggle – some days, struggling mightily.  I understand because I, too, am a Doubting Thomas. I say that with no pride...trust me.

What is it that drives your faithfulness into fear?  We pray “Give us this day our daily bread,” but in reality we want to pray "Give me this day my daily filet mignon and deliver me from any trouble that might disturb my otherwise peaceful day." We say, “God is so good,” when our prayers are answered the way we wish, but when the Lord answers in other ways, we doubt God’s love for us. We are thankful when our bank account sits fat and thick and our retirement accounts look strong, but when those numbers drop, we cry to the heavens.  When pain endures and it just doesn’t get any better, when depression and anxiety linger, when those memories just won’t go away, when our prayers seem to be met with silence, we are left wondering why, those moments of life crashing can make faith start to crack and crumble.  And with these tests coming at us every day, faithfulness gets crowded out sometimes.

And the danger here is that this aspect of faithfulness impacts our faith in God’s grace for us in Christ. The devil’s no fool – he knows that we are savvy enough that if he were to say to us, “God doesn’t love you,” we would tell him to hit the road. So, he nibbles at the edges – anything to get us to look at ourselves and away from Jesus. He tempts us doubt our worthiness in God’s eyes. He tempts us to think we are unworthy because we don’t have as strong of faith as someone else. He tempts us to think we are failures at Christianity. And when these temptations start to clang in our ears over and over and over, they start to sound as if they ring true. And, like Thomas, we start to alienate ourselves from the other disciples that gather together to form the church. The last temptation, then, is for the Christian, alone and left with his doubts and fears, to teeter on the edge of saying, “And if all of this is true, then the power of the resurrection isn’t enough…not for me at least.”

So, when this Gospel text comes to the forefront every year in the Sunday after Easter, it gives me a moment to stop, pause, and rejoice because Jesus doesn’t leave Doubting Thomas or Doubting Jon, or Doubting [insert your name here] alone with doubt. Jesus rescues and redeems Thomas from a life of doubt to a life of faithfulness.

It’s a week after Easter. The scene from Easter night is repeated: upper room, doors locked, disciples gathered with Thomas present, this time. Again, Jesus appears; again, He declares, “Peace be with you.”

 

Do you understand the power of those four words? We talk about peace; we wish for peace; sometimes we even try to make peace. Peace, at least earthly peace, is fleeting and nebulous. Ask parents with teenagers, or a married couple leaving the counselor’s office, or any patient who walks out of the doctor’s office with the words, “Let’s see what the tests say, first…” still ringing in the ears. Industry and agriculture waits with baited breath as a bloodless war of trade carries on.  Rockets and gunfire continue from the Red Sea to places most of us couldn’t find on a map, unless our sons and daughters are there. Peace: it seems more like a punchline than a reality.

So, when Jesus speaks of peace, it should make us take notice. “Peace be with you.” Jesus’ peace is different. His peace, promised on Maundy Thursday, is completed at the cross. Now, His peace is restorative, reuniting the relationship between God and man which was chewed apart in the Garden of Eden. His peace brings harmony and unity. His peace causes the eternal warfare to end. His peace sooths the troubled heart, calms the worried head, silences fears that run wild. His peace rejuvenates faith where it has grown weary.

So there is no doubt for Thomas, Jesus invites Thomas to touch his hands and place his hand into Jesus side – those were Thomas’ requirements, remember, that unless that could happen he wouldn’t believe. And with words that are both command and invitation, Jesus says, “Stop being unbelieving and be believing.”

Jesus’ peace overcomes Thomas’ doubts.  Seeing Jesus is enough. He doesn’t need to touch Jesus’ body or feel the marks and wounds. Jesus’ peace, the same peace that restored the relationship between God and man, now restores Thomas’ faith. Everything Jesus said about His death and resurrection is true. “My Lord and my God,” Thomas declares as both faithfulness and faith are restored.

Remember Ted’s comment, “I hope that either all of us or none of us are judged by the actions of our weakest moments, but rather by the strength we show when and if we're given a second chance”? That’s called grace. Overflowing with the grace of God in Christ, Thomas was restored to discipleship and by the Holy Spirit empowered for apostleship.

What you probably don’t know is that tradition says that from this point forward, Thomas became the first missionary to what is today Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and eventually winding up in northern India.  There, Thomas is celebrated much the same way we celebrate Martin Luther. This is remarkable that a man, who once said he would not believe unless he could see and touch, carried the Gospel to people who could only see with eyes of faith.

The final words of Jesus serve as a dramatic postlude to the Easter narrative, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” You are part of these whom Jesus calls “Blessed,” for you have not yet seen Jesus with your eyes. With Spirit-given faith, you believe the promises of God are fulfilled in this man, named Jesus, who died for you and rose for your eternal salvation. With Spirit-enlivened faithfulness, you live out that life of faith every day in your actions and interactions with others. And, on those days when your faithfulness is shaken, and your faith is weak, Jesus comes to you and says, “Peace.” A remarkable gift, His peace, for it doesn’t change or grow weary. His peace is delivered to you without hesitation or reservation. Stop being unbelieving and be believing. Earned for you at His cross, delivered to you in your baptism, His peace knows no boundaries or limits.

 

 

"The Stone Cries Out: He is not here! He is risen as He said!" - Luke 24: 1-12

Christ is risen!
He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

We are risen!
We are risen, indeed! Alleluia!

“On the first day of the week, at early day, they went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb…”

I have stood in cemeteries from Houston, Texas to Howells, Nebraska, from Missouri to Massachusetts. Some, like the Texas State cemetery in Austin are filled with military heroes and dignitaries, men like Stephen F. Austin and women like Ann Richards who have stood tall in our states’ history. Outside of Boston, Mass, I saw tombstones that read like a who’s-who of early American literature, carved with names like Hawthorne, Emerson and Whitman. I’ve seen cemeteries with monolithic markers that are dozens of feet tall, proclaiming in death one’s seeming importance in life, a sharp contrast to the county pauper’s cemetery fifteen miles away where people, sadly unclaimed and unknown like lost baggage, are buried and forgotten in death as they were while living. Then there are small cemeteries, just a plot of land carved out of a wheatfield on the top of a hillside, only known to those who have family there. If my grandparents, my mom’s folks, weren’t buried at the old St. John Lutheran Cemetery near Howells, Nebraska, I wouldn’t know it even existed.

“Cemetery” comes into English from Greek, koimeterion, meaning “resting place.” Although it is used also for public graveyards, the word, itself, is a powerful confession of what we as Christians confess in the Creed, “I believe in the resurrection of the body and the life of the world to come.” The grave, and the cemetery that contains the graves, is only a resting place because when Jesus returns in glory, the resurrection promise that began this day some 2000 years ago will come to its consummation and fulfillment.

At the head, that is the top, of the gravesite, there usually stands a marker. They vary, of course. If you watch old westerns, the marker was often a simple cross made from scraps of wood or branches found nearby. Some markers are tall obelisks; others, flat, almost flush to the ground. While some are cement, brass, or even wrought iron, I suspect most often, we connect these markers with stone, like granite. The stone markers, also called the headstone, tell the name of the deceased, along with a date of birth and a date of death, the in-between dash a silent and all-too-brief abbreviation of the life lived. It is up to the reader to interpret, to read, what is inscribed on the stone to tell the story of the one in the grave.  That makes sense because the stone, itself, is silent, of course. Stones can’t speak.

But, in the history of the world, there was one stone that spoke volumes.

Good Friday evening, shortly after Jesus breathed his last, His body was removed from the cross, quickly wrapped, and buried in the new, unused tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. It was an ironic move: the Jews were afraid of disobeying Sabbath Law, allowing the bodies to remain on the cross (dying was work, and one couldn’t work on the Sabbath), but perfectly willing to overlook the 5^th Commandment they had broken in condemning an innocent man to death. A large stone was placed in front of Jesus’ tomb. While the stone was probably imposing enough to keep animals and riffraff from grave-robbing, this stone had an even more important role. It was no ordinary Man within the grave that it was guarding. This Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews, had proclaimed a resurrection three days hence. That was part of the accusation leveled against Him at trial. So, to do due diligence and to make sure that no one would steal Jesus body, as the Jewish leaders feared, Pilate ordered a guard to keep miscreants and pesky body-snatching disciples at bay. The stone, and the grave, needed to be secure, so Pilate also placed his seal on the stone. Don’t think seal, as in spackle and caulk you put around your windows and doorframes to keep moisture and bugs out. Think symbol – a pool of hot wax into which a signet ring or stamp was pressed, marking something as being under Roman protection, an ancient equivalent to the Official Seal of the State combined with yellow “Police Line – Do Not Cross” tape. Although the stone remained mute, that seal stood as a declaration of whose it was, Pilate’s, and the power and authority that his office conveyed.

Once it was in place, from Friday at twilight thru the wee hours of Sunday, the stone was silent, it – along with it’s grave – paying homage to the One therein.

Then, something changed. “On the first day of the week, at early dawn,” Luke says, the Lord of Life, God in Flesh, with the sign of Jonah fulfilled, Jesus awakened from His three-day rest. With His Sabbath complete, an angel – perhaps the very same that ministered to Jesus three years earlier after facing satan’s temptation - rolled the stone away from the tomb and Jesus, alive and resurrected, strode forth from His borrowed burial chamber.

And, in that moment, the stone spoke volumes.

Go back with me one week’s time to Palm Sunday. Jesus entered Jerusalem, the people welcoming Him as the King. They misunderstood what that Kingship would look like, but their welcome was boisterous, to say the least, crying out, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” The Pharisees, growing more and more jealous at every wave of a palm branch, snarled at Jesus that He should silence the people. Jesus’ answer was, “I tell you, even if these people were silent, the stones would cry out.”

A week later, Sunday morning, Resurrection morn, while people still slept and while the women went toward the tomb, the stone having been rolled away from the entrance, cried out a message of resurrection hope, joy, and life. It had plenty to say.

·       The stone declared that the Lord of Heaven and Earth, the God of Creation, was alive.

·       The stone proclaimed that the grave, long considered the “final resting place of the dead,” no longer had the final say.

·       The stone announced that death would no longer be the end, that the long-awaited and hoped-for resurrection that even Job yearned for, would take place.

·       The stone revealed that all the promises of God had come to its completion in the life, death, and now the resurrection of Jesus, the Christ.

·       The stone spoke clearly that Jesus’ declaration, “It is finished” on Good Friday was not merely a final, sad ending to a man’s life; rather, stone’s revelation of the empty grave openly demonstrated the Father accepted Jesus as the perfect sacrifice, that the will of the Father was complete, that Jesus’ death was sufficient for the sins of the entire world, and that the redemption price was completely paid.

·       The stone showed that the peace – wholeness and restoration with the Father – was restored. 

·       The stone, stamped with Pilate’s seal, displayed whose held authority it beheld: not the words or seals of man, but the word and power of God.

·       The stone cries out with joy that the resurrection is real, Jesus is alive, and that in Him, there is life the endures even beyond the lifetime of the stone.

·       The stone speaks for the One who is our Rock, our fortress, our refuge and strength.

It is most fitting that the stone tells the Easter narrative because Jesus had previously compared Himself to the stone that the builders had rejected. The resurrected Christ is the keystone, the capstone, the cornerstone upon which the church rests, proclaiming the resurrection message of forgiveness by God’s grace through faith in the One who died and rose, and is now living and reigning at the right hand of God.

Today, you proclaim the message of the stone as you come to the Lord’s table. In the Old Testament, Israel, wandering through the wilderness, “were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, and all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual Rock that followed them, and the Rock was Christ,” (1 Cor. 10:2-5). Today, this very Rock, Christ Himself, is present in the bread you eat and the wine you drink, a meal that both forgives and strengthened you in your own journey in life and faith until your own resurrection.

Make no mistake: the Cross is, in fact, the power of God for those who are being saved – not the stone. But the stone does bear witness to the power of the cross and the power of salvation. That stone, rolled away from the grave on that Resurrection morning, would cause many to stumble, denying its message, seeking to bury the stone and its message back into the earth, never to be heard again. Even this morning, there are those who doubt, despise, and disbelieve the truth that Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life. The day will come when that stone will fall on those who deny Jesus. In the resurrection of all flesh, the stone will bear silent witness of their denial of the resurrection. Instead of being a marker of faith, that stone will become a marker of death that endures.

But for those who rejoice at the death and resurrection of Jesus, and who believe and trust the message of the stone, He is not here as He said, for us every tombstone becomes a descendant of that resurrection stone, sharing the same message that the grave is only a koimeterion, a resting place, of the faithful as they await their own resurrection moment into eternity with Jesus. That is why I don’t just say, “Christ is risen.” We have His promise, already, now, present-day: We are risen as well, the resurrection a present-day gift and promise through the death and resurrection of Christ, our Lord.

The stone proclaims it.
And, so do you.  

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!
We are risen! We are risen, indeed. Alleluia!

"Therefore!" Passion (Palm) Sunday - Phil 2: 8-11; Luke 23: 1-56

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. From Philippians 2: 8-11 -

⁸ And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. ⁹ Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, ¹⁰ so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, ¹¹ and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

The contrast is sharp today. We began with celebration as the people welcomed Jesus with a victor’s celebration, “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!”  Palm branches wave, coats are placed on the ground to soften the donkey’s footfalls, and the energy is palpable in the crowds. It’s a royal welcome for the perceived King of Israel, one worthy of standing in the footsteps of King David centuries earlier.

But, behind the scenes, the fix is in. The Jewish leaders are conspiring to kill both Jesus and Lazarus, who is physical evidence to Jesus’ Divine power and Godly authority. Biding their time, the Pharisees decided to wait until later in the week, putting their evil plan on hold to avoid a riot. By the end of the Gospel reading, Luke has lead us away from the celebratory entrance to see their murderous plans come to fruition. Jesus is convicted by Pilate who is swayed by the shouts and cries of the people – likely the same ones who just days earlier welcomed Him. “Hosannas” are replaced with “Crucify!”  He’s taken out to be put to death.  Finally, over and against the Father’s silence, Jesus commends His Spirit to His Father.

In all that, perhaps the most stark and defining sentence is this: “So Pilate decided that their demand should be granted. He released the man who had been thrown into prison for insurrection and murder, for whom they asked, but he delivered Jesus over to their will.”

Jesus, the wholly innocent Son of God, is traded for the completely guilty insurrectionist and murder. The innocent is sentences as if He were guilty; the guilty is set free as if he were innocent.

There is a word for this: redeemed. To redeem is to buy back. The guilty man’s life is redeemed by Jesus’ innocent life.

At the risk of overly humanizing this event, I wonder what the formerly-guilty-but-now-freed man thought as he walked away? Was he throwing the first-century equivalent of high fives to his fellow cronies and rebels? Or, did he leave Pilate’s palace a changed man? Did he look back in wonder at the One who took his place? Did He see Jesus for who He was, the Innocently condemned man? Did he leave Pilate’s home asking questions about who this Jesus was? Did he come to faith in Jesus, seeing that Jesus didn’t only take his place on the cross for a physical death, but for an eternal death as well? For that matter, what of Jesus? Did Jesus look at the now-redeemed man with longing in His own face, knowing what He was about to face? Wash His face filled with love, compassion and mercy for this man? Was Jesus reserved with willing submission to the corrupt authorities to redeem this one who, thought guilty, is still loved by God?

Obviously, I don’t have answers to those questions, and if we were to go too far down that rabbit hole, we would miss the point: both at Pilate’s home and then at the cross, Jesus takes the place of a convicted man who sinned both against God and his neighbor.

But Jesus doesn’t just take the place of that murderous insurrectionist. In that unnamed man with whom Jesus trades places, see yourself. Jesus took your place under the Father’s wrath – not just the temporal wrath of the government, but the eternal wrath of the Father against sin. Jesus takes the place of every man, woman and child, suffering what our sins deserve. That is what Paul means when he writes “He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” He takes your place to redeem you. Your guilty verdict, your punishment, your death, your separation from God caused by your sins, your cross – they all become His. He takes them from you; He takes the place of you under God’s perfect, holy wrath. Jesus is the perfect substitute for you.

“Therefore” – that’s an important word. It indicates that because one thing happened, another can take place: because of this, then that can happen. God’s plan of salvation had been in place for millennia, since Adam and Eve’s forbidden bites. It was foreshadowed in Abram’s willingness to sacrifice his son. It was foretold in the Passover as blood was painted over the doorposts of the Israelites and the angel of death passed over those homes. It was anticipated in the countless animal sacrifices, repeated over and over for the sins of the people of God. It was prophetically spoken through the mouths of holy men of God and in the holy offices of prophets, priests and kings. When Jesus entered Jerusalem that holy Sunday, people were expecting might and strength and glory, revolution and referendum. What God provided was one, final and perfect sacrifice in His Son. Jesus entered Jerusalem as the obedient Son of God. He would be crowned – with thorns. He would be called king – mocked as such by Romans and Jews, who both denied His heavenly Kingship. His throne would be a cross.

Therefore - remember, therefore: because of this, because He went the way of the Father’s will for the salvation of the world – therefore, God has exalted Him and given Him the name above every name: Jesus Christ, Lord, Son of God, Savior of the World.

You confess this, along with Paul, perhaps with that unknown murder with whom Jesus traded places, and certainly with the thief on the cross who pleaded Jesus remember him in paradise. You join the centuries of Christians who rejoice in God the Father’s gift of sending His Son to redeem the world. As Christ submitted Himself to the Father’s will through His death on the cross, we submit to Christ’s Lordship. Called by the Spirit through the Gospel, united in the body of Christ in the Christian Church, we kneel at the Table today, joining with saints in heaven and on earth, confessing the body and blood of Christ is truly present in this meal, for you, for the repentant, for the one who recognizes the gravity of their sins, for the one who knows the fullness of Christ’s love and death, trusting this forgiveness is for you.

This week is the culmination of salvation history. Thursday night, we remember both His maundatum, His commandment, to love one another as He loved us, and His New Covenant in His Flesh and Blood. We call Friday “Good Friday.” It hardly seems “good” to us. Good is derived from the Old English for “God.” It is God’s Friday. God’s means of rescuing and redeeming creation coming to its crescendo of fulfillment with His surrendering His only-begotten Son to be our Savior. Saturday, Sabbath Day, was traditionally a day of rest that Jesus sanctifies with His rest in the grave. And then Sunday, Resurrection Day, the Sign of Jonah is fulfilled and the Temple of Jesus’ body is restored.

That’s to come. Today, we are still on this side of the cross – the place where Jesus died for you.

Amen.

This Wasn't For You...But Now It Is. Luke 20: 9-20

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

This morning’s Gospel lesson, the parable of the wicked tenants, is strange because it has no direct teaching for us on this 5^th Sunday of Lent, 2025.

Jesus was speaking to the Jewish leaders of Israel, using the parable as a subversive, allegorical way of talking to them, wanting to warn them of the danger that they were in unless they repent and turn to Him in faith as their Savior.

Jesus is using an old image from Isaiah 5:7, “The vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are His pleasant planting.” Knowing that, then the interpretation of the parable is easy and straightforward, direct and immediate for His audience.

               The landowner is God the Father.

The vineyard is the people of Israel.

The three servants represent the prophets called by God to proclaim, “Thus saith the Lord.”

The tenants are the leaders of Israel – Pharisees, Sadducees, priests.

The son, of course, is Jesus, the Son of God.

The story is likewise easy to interpret. The leaders of Israel were entrusted with stewarding, that is caring for, the people of Israel while God patiently waited for Israel’s repentant return to Him. Instead of leading Israel in faithful watching and waiting for God’s deliverance through the Messiah-to-come, for centuries, they determined to take the power, authority, and glory for themselves. When confronted by prophets who proclaimed God’s Word, they were dismissed, abused, and even killed.

The parable, though, is more than just a historical spin on Israel’s history. It is a prophetic description of what is already happening behind closed doors. The rising conflict in the story that begins when the landowner sends His son to collect the harvest, is a subversive way for Jesus to tell the Pharisees, Sadducees, and others that He knows full well what they are planning to do to Him in the days ahead which will culminate in His own death.

We’re still a week from our celebration of Palm Sunday, but this reading takes place probably Tuesday or Wednesday of Holy Week. In Luke’s narrative, Jesus had already entered Jerusalem to the crowd’s shouts, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” The jealousy was already verbally expressed by the pharisees, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” Jesus rebuked them instead: “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.” By the time the parable is told, the conspiracy is in; Judas’ betrayal is secured. They are only waiting for the last piece, the kiss of betrayal.

They are so invested in the plot to kill Jesus that they don’t even realize that they miss that the parable is about them and that they are, in fact, the villains in the parable. Their reaction, “Surely not!” to the vineyard owner’s violent response is all the more sad and ironic.

You know how the parable’s story arc is replaced by the events of Holy Week. You know Jesus will be conspired against, arrested, and brought before those very same people who listened and misunderstood the parable. They will wrongly condemn Him to death as a heretic when He was speaking the truth, that He is the Son of God in the flesh and that He would die and rise on the third day. They will crucify him, taking Jesus outside the vineyard walls of the city of Jerusalem. They will kill him so that they can have what they think they deserve and they can retain their power and positions of wealth and honor.

So, with this about the Jewish leaders, the people of Israel, and the plot to kill Jesus, like I said, the parable has no direct meaning for us. You did not act to kill the prophets. You did not conspire to murder Jesus. You are not the people of Israel who are waiting for Messiah to come. You are the 21^st century church for whom Jesus entered Jerusalem to rescue, redeem and save. You see the parable for what it is: a prophetic description of the prelude to Jesus’ passion.

It does not have direct meaning, but it does still have a word of application for us, and with it comes both a word of warning and a word of blessing. See the landowner as God the Father; the Son as Jesus; but, now, see the vineyard as the church – a pictograph of Jesus’ words, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” if you will; and see the villains as satan and his minions who want nothing more than to consume and destroy the vineyard.

In the parable, why did the landowner send his son? It wasn’t to save the servants who had been abused. The son was sent to redeem the master’s vineyard and the vineyard’s harvest. It’s the master’s vineyard, his harvest, his fruit, that needs to be rescued and redeemed, to be made the master’s again. Jesus comes to rescue and redeem the vineyard from the evil tenants; Jesus comes to redeem and rescue the church from satan, to make it the master’s again. Jesus comes to redeem and rescue God’s church.

We use the word church in a lot of different ways. You probably said this morning, “We’re going to church.” That can mean either going to worship and receive the gifts of God, or it can mean the church building, as in “the red-brick church next to the school.” We can speak of the congregation, Zion, or even the church body, the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod. We can even speak of all Christian churches that proclaims Christ and Him crucified make up the Christian church on earth, and the saints who have gone before us and are at peace with Jesus awaiting the resurrection of all flesh make up the church in heaven. There is the church in heaven (sometimes called the church triumphant) and on earth (the church militant), all of which is God’s. It is His Church.  Think Church with a Capitol C.

Years ago, the congregation that I served was squabbling about something and it was quickly dividing into two groups: “us” and “them.” I wrote a newsletter article about this sinful, divisive mindset, saying instead that it is “our” church. A very wise churchman, his name was Al, politely corrected me, and I’ve never forgotten this. He said, “Pastor – I understood what you were trying to say and do by calling it ‘ours,’ but don’t ever forget whose Church it really is: it’s God’s Church.”

It’s God’s Church. It is ours only in the sense that we are connected to it. We do not own it; we do not possess it. To be clear, I am not speaking in an earthly, legal sense – yes, I understand that there is Zion Lutheran Church, Inc., with a title to land and a business license for the State of Texas and a Federal Tax ID number, and there is LCMS, Inc. In that sense, but only in that sense, dare we speak of this as “ours.” Remember: Jesus doesn’t redeem Zion, Inc. He doesn’t redeem the property addressed at 12183 FM 236. He doesn’t redeem our articles of incorporation. He redeems His Church: the holy Christian Church, the communion of saints, as we say in the Creed.

In every other sense, in the only way that truly matters, it is God’s Church. That’s important to remember. If we dare think the Church belongs to us, that it is ours, that it is our possession that we can do with it as we please, we mistake our place in the story. We’re the vineyard, remember? A field, a vineyard, is incapable of caring for itself. You’ve seen enough land tracs around here that have been left to its own: it is soon overwhelmed, overgrown, and overcome by weeds and weesatch, thistles and thorns, useful for nothing. The land must be redeemed, reclaimed, restored by the owner.

So the landowner does just that. God does that to His vineyard. God does that for His Church. It’s quite remarkable, isn’t it? The field already belongs to the Master, the Church already belongs to God, yet He redeems it, He buys it back, to restore it to Himself. He does it by sending His Son.

He redeems the vineyard, the Church, for a purpose: to produce spiritual fruit. As a vineyard that has been redeemed through the crucified Christ, we live the crucified life as well, with our Spirit-infused, Baptized life crucifying our sinful desires. The fruit of Christ’s spirit dwells within us, and we show that fruit in loving our neighbors as Christ loved us, sacrificing ourselves for the wellbeing of others, and setting aside selfish wants and desires out of care and concern for those around us. Filled with Christ’s Spirit, we produce spiritual fruit: love, joy and peace filling our mind and heart to be Christ-like ; patience, kindness and goodness impacting our relationships with our neighbors; faithfulness, gentleness and self-control guiding our lives as God’s people. Filled with His Spirit, the Church, God’s vineyard, produces fruit for the world around us to receive, drawing them to the Vineyard as well.

I began this sermon saying the parable has no direct teaching for us as New Testament Christians, but it does have application for us.  It reminds us of who we are, the Church of God, and whose we are, God’s. He doesn’t redeem His Vineyard so it lays fallow. He fills us with His Spirit so that we produce spiritual fruit to share with those around us, demonstrations of God’s love for us and the rest of the world.

In Jesus’ name. Amen.