Forgiveness is For Giving

The Baptized Life of Being Forgiven and Forgiving

Matthew 18:21-40

(Please forgive typos and editorial errors. This was the product of a unsatisfactory manuscript when I went to bed, a restless night's editing in my sleep, and a re-write this morning. Since the subject is forgiveness, I ask that of the reader as well. -JFM)

I wonder why Peter asked the question of Jesus. What happened that he had to ask Jesus, “How often will my brother sin against me and I forgive him?” Did John take the last piece of grilled fish again? Did James leave the fishing nets tangled up in a wet ball on the boat floor instead of hanging them up to dry overnight? Perhaps Peter’s mother in law complained one too many times about the hours he was with Jesus and away from the family. Put yourself in Peter’s sandals for a second: your spouse, your parent, your child, your co-worker keeps doing the same thing to you and will continue to do it over and over and over again. How many times must you forgive him or her? What’s your answer?  

“How often will my brother sin against me and I forgive him?” Forgive… You’ve all heard the old adage, “Forgive and forget,” right? As if to say that to forgive, you should have amnesia of the event that took place against you. Forgiveness does not mean that at all. Your memory is a very powerful tool and a gift from God – even if it recalls things you wish you could forgive and forget. Some sins are, simply, so painful that they might never be forgotten. To forgive, as is used in today’s Gospel lesson, means to leave an issue alone and not concern one’s self with it any longer. Another way to say this is to refuse to take up the offense again in order to hurt the one who sinned against me. There’s a sense of letting the sin go, leaving the offense behind, and canceling the demand for equal payment. That’s what it means to forgive.

To be very fair, Peter’s answer of seven times is quite generous: the rabbis at the time taught that forgiving three times was sufficient. But while it may be generous in human terms, Jesus speaks of the generosity of grace that only He can give: “I say to you, not seven times, but seventy times seven.” Jesus doesn’t mean we should keep a score card and once we hit #490 we can take the gloves off for the next one. The point is made to the extreme: do you think you could keep track this long, Peter? Do you think you could count each and every infraction, Peter? Is it that important that you need to keep score? Of course not, Peter. Let forgiveness overflow. (Just a quick note…some translations say “seventy seven times.” The better translation from the Greek text is “seventy times seven.” Either way, the same point is made.)

To help explain, Jesus tells this simple parable. A king is owed ten thousand talents. If you’re curious, using modern comparison values, it would take a working man about 16 ½ years, with no time off, to earn one talent. Remember, he owed ten thousand talents. Again, Jesus is using the extreme to illustrate the point: how could one man accrue 160,000 years’ worth of debt? Only because the king has been that generous to begin with. That’s the remarkable point: the servant cannot pay, yet the king continues to deliver grace upon grace in extending both the time of the note and the balance due. Finally, the servant was summoned and accounts were demanded, and he begged for more time with the foolishly impossible pledge to repay the entire amount (remember, 160,000 years of work). And the king, generosity compounded upon generosity, takes the man’s unsurpassable debt and the king himself surpasses it by forgiving the debt: it will no longer be held against you.

This is the image of what God has done for us in Christ Jesus. He takes all of your sins away from you. All of them. We categorize them, don’t we – the Catechism uses words like actual sins and original sins; omission (when I don’t do what I should), or commission (doing what I shouldn’t); we speak of sins of weakness and sins of desire or deliberate, willful sins; we talk about public sins and private sins; we say we have sinned against God and we have sinned against man; we even admit there are sins we have done and we don’t even realize them as sins. Yet, all of them – however you might characterize or categorize them – all of them are a damnable debt. The Scriptures tell us that the wages – or, in this case, the debt – of sin is death; not merely the heart stop beating, but eternal deadly separation from God.

In the parable, the king takes the debt and, the text says, “released him.” That sounds so clean, doesn’t it? Like you see in the movies: a store owner takes a receipt and tears it in two, or a loan agency hits the DELETE button on the computer. No…that’s too clinical, to neat, too simple. If that’s your idea of forgiveness, then your understanding of forgiveness is way too neat and tidy as well. Forgiveness isn’t neat…well, maybe to the recipient, but not to the one who must pay the debt. Think about it…the store owner who tears up the receipt for his customer, he is covering the expense from his profits. The loan officer is paying the note from his own salary. But forgiveness? Who pays that debt? The debt is sin, remember? It can’t be just whitewashed away. It must be paid, in full, by someone.

 There is an unspoken behind-the-scenes story to the parable. This is the part that happens off-script: the part of the debt being settled, out of sight of our friend, the servant. There was another Servant – this one, with the Capitol S – who also enters into the King’s presence. In fact, he wasn’t even a servant, He was royalty Himself, but He made himself out to be nothing more than a common servant. This Servant was debt free, with no sins to be held against Him. No sins, no debt; no debt, no death was demanded. Yet, the Servant negotiates with the King: I’ll take my brother’s debt and in exchange he can have my freedom. I know the debt demands life; I’ll trade my life for his; I’ll buy his debt with my blood. That is what Jesus did at the cross. His death, in your place, paid the debt of sins – every sin you have ever committed in thought, word and deed, what you have done and what you have left undone, from not loving God with your whole heart to not loving your neighbor as yourself – in full. And there was nothing clean about this payment: there was spitting and swearing and nail-piercing and sword stabbing and total abandonment by God so that you – you – would not have to pay that terrible price yourself. The result? God remembers your sins no more. You are forgiven in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

I imagine that the king expected this servant to become a deliverer of forgiveness, an ambassador of grace, if you will, likewise releasing all of the loans and notes that he had given out over the years. Having been freed from the inescapable burden of his debts, surely he will want to share this freedom with others!

The servant is heading home to tell his family the good news – “Hey, honey…we just avoided debtor’s prison…you can keep the good silver!” – and he runs across a fellow servant who owes him 100 denarii. A denarius was a day’s wage, so this is about 3 ½ months of work. Having been forgiven 160,000 years’ work, surely he’ll release this debt. He will forgive as he has been forgiven.  No… Not only does our friend not see the debt owed to him within the framework of the grace he has just received, he also sees himself as someone who is to meter out a sense of justice. He demand the cash immediately and, when it can’t be paid, he throws this servant and his family into debtor’s prison.

Who would do such a thing as this – having been forgiven so much, yet refusing to forgive so little. We would never do such a thing! Surely, not I! Yet we do exactly that thing, don’t we. We stand here, in front of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords and confess our sins and we hear the beautiful, sweet words that, baptized into Christ, our sinner’s debt is paid in full, removed as far as the east from the west. Yet, as we leave here, we see those who have sinned against us. We see the sister who insulted our potluck offering. We see the brother who did not let us sit on a committee. We see the Sunday school teacher who hurt our feelings. We see the people who didn’t accept our ideas, we see the people who voted opposite us, we see the people who left us out of the group. During the week, there’s the boss who called us in to HR for something we didn’t do; the team member whose mistake cost the contract; the former church members and former pastor who left Zion behind and began a new church just down the road. And when we see them, the anger flares, old feelings arise, and we want justice. We want what is owed us. We five times five (making fists), not seven times seven.

Here is the Christian life of discipleship: having been forgiven much, all of our sins, all of our debts, completely forgiven by God’s grace through faith in Christ Jesus, we are called to forgive those around us who have hurt or harmed us. Forgive…easy to say, hard to do. That’s because, in large part, forgiveness is no longer something that is natural to mankind. It’s ironic, if you stop to think about it --- before the fall, forgiveness wasn’t needed; now, after the fall, we are unable to do it by ourselves. In Christ, we are called to be ambassadors of the King of King’s grace and mercy, forgiving as we have likewise been forgiven. Yet, out human nature, in what is a very logical, rational, and understandable frame of mind, demands what is owed to us. With our eyes centered only on what is owed us, we lose sight of what has been forgiven us. If my forgiveness is grounded in my own heart, my own mind; if your forgiveness is grounded in your own heart, your own mind, you will find this part of discipleship a terrible burden – another debt that is impossible to keep. So, Christ rushes in. By the power of the Holy Spirit He exposes our unforgiving heart.  He performs radical heart surgery, using the Word of God, sharper than any two-edged sword. He doesn’t just tweak what is within us, tuning it up a bit. He creates a new heart within us and renews us with His Spirit. He delivers baptismal grace into our lives so that, filled with Christ’s love, we life fully, freely, forgiven.

This is the life of repentance: confessing our sins and being absolved; and then living in joy-filled, sanctified life day in and day out, returning to be forgiven again and again to a King of Kings who never tires of forgiving our sins against Him and against others. And that sanctified, forgiven life transforms not only our hearts, but also our eyes so that we are able to see others through the cross-centered eyes of Jesus. Through the eyes of Jesus, we no longer see a servant who owes us. Instead we see a fellow sinner who also stood before the King, who was also called to give account for his debts, and who also received the amazing news that his debts have been released. He, too, she, too is forgiven. And here we stand, a new heart beating within us filled with the love, mercy and grace of Christ – what else can we do except be an ambassador of that same love, mercy and grace to those who are around us?

There is a big difference between, “There’s just no way I’m about to forgive that so-and-so for what he did to me” – in other words, “I won’t forgive,” and “I wish I could forgive, but the pain is just so deep, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to really forgive” – in other words, “I just can’t forgive.” “I won’t forgive,” is what the unforgiving servant said and those are very dangerous words. “Then his master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. ³³ And should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?’ ³⁴ And in anger his master delivered him to the jailers,^[e] until he should pay all his debt. ³⁵ So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart.”

But to the Christian who says, “I can’t forgive,” and does so with sorrow, humility, and the desire to be able to forgive – in other words, this is the real anfechung where faith and world are grinding together; a new heart that says “I forgive,” but an old heart that beats right next to it unable to forgive – dear Christian, confess that as well. Just as the disciples prayed, “Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!” we join with a similar petition, “Lord, I forgive! Forgive me my unforgiveness.” And sometimes you will do that day after day, hour by hour. You may do that for the rest of your life. Pray for that brother or sister who hurt you – not about them, “God – you need to make them sorry…” – but about them – “Heavenly Father, look with mercy upon…” What you discover is that your own heart will begin to soften as you look with cross-centered eyes. And, to strengthen you as you wrestle with this life of forgiven and forgiving discipleship, the Lord Jesus gives you His own blood to strengthen you in the sanctified life of forgiving. But He doesn’t leave it there. He also reminds you, dear brother and sister, to depart in peace for your sins have been forgiven.

Depart in peace. And, in peace, be an ambassador of forgiveness.

The Least of Us is the Greatest of All - Matthew 18:1-20

Zion Lutheran Church
Mission Valley, TX

The Least of Us is the Greatest of All
Matthew 18:1-20

This morning’s Gospel lesson is probably going to make you uncomfortable. And that is good. Sometimes we need the Scriptures to make us uncomfortable because we have gotten too comfortable in our modern, North American lifestyle and culture which does not always line up with where we should be as children of God. We need to be shaken up a bit, stirred up a bit, so we can be re-focused and cross-thinking. But doing that – necessary though it might be – can sometimes be uncomfortable.

You have been warned.

It begins simply enough with the question, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom?” It’s asked by disciples wanting to know who’s the best disciple, who has bragging rights, who gets to wear the #1 on their Team Jesus jersey.

I can relate to that. After all, “Who’s the greatest?” is all around us. When I go up to the school, I can’t park in that spot – it’s for the Teacher of the Month. Look above the water cooler at the store – there’s a photo of the Associate of the Month. The University of Alabama each week announces at a post-game press conference who the offensive and defensive players of the week are, and those are coveted announcements, I assure you. I walk into a pastor’s conference and look around and wonder, “Who’s the best preacher here?” It’s all around us. So we argue about who’s the greatest Dallas Cowboy quarterback of all time, or the greatest pitcher in baseball; we wonder who is the greatest cook or the greatest CEO; we ask ourselves who’s the greatest mom at the PTA meeting; we wonder who the best student or child is.

What makes the greatest? In football, it’s yards or touchdowns or tackles. In baseball it’s strike-outs or home runs. Cooks compete for coveted Michelin stars. Mothers compare mother’s day flower bouquets. Dads, it’s tacky ties. Pastors, it’s the fewest snores on a Sunday.

Ah…to be labeled the GOAT – the Greatest Of All Time… It’s a human desire, a need, to be the best of the best. Just ask Mohammed Ali.

So, apply the logic to the disciples’ question. Who’s the greatest disciple? Peter…now there’s a contender, right? Big, bold Peter…the spokesperson of the disciples. “You are the Christ the Son of the living God,” Peter said; Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar Jonah…You are Petros, and on this rock I will build my church.” Peter - he’s a lock, right? Or at least a contender? Nope…it’s not him. He’s not the GOAT. He’s just a rock.

How about John, after all, he’s the disciple whom Jesus loved, right? Da Vinci paints him leaning against Jesus’ chest in his painting of the Last Supper. Or Luke, who writes the first history of the Church in the book of Acts? Or maybe James, who will become the first bishop of Jerusalem?

When Jesus is asked the question, “who’s the greatest?” you better be ready to get a big surprise because it’s not going to be who you think it will be.  He doesn’t name Peter, or James or John, or Mary or Martha. Instead, St. Mathew records, “² He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. ³ And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. ⁴ Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. ⁵ And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”

To understand this, I need you to set aside our modern, Romanticized Western idea regarding children. We view children as innocent; we see them as precious little ones who need to be protected, coddled and preserved. We picture them with cherubic, angelic innocence floating on clouds. I need you to take all of those romantic notions and toss them out. Instead, I need you to see children as they were in Jesus’ day: children were tolerated, and not much more, while parents waited for them to grow up to start working or get married and have babies. Children were not coddled; they were not seen as cute or innocent; they were not precious. They were at almost the same level as a slave.

With that understanding, Jesus choice of the greatest should be shocking. The greatest wasn’t the strongest; it was the weakest. The greatest wasn’t the most eloquent; it was the simplest of speech. The greatest wasn’t the most boastful; it was the most humble. The greatest wasn’t the bravest; it was the most afraid. The greatest wasn’t the toughest; it was the neediest. The greatest wasn’t the most giving; it was the most needy.

In other words, the greatest was actually the least. This little child - who is the lowest in society, who is tolerated and not much else, who is needy and weak and insignificant – the child is the greatest in the kingdom.

To be the greatest in the kingdom, you must become like a child – not in age, not in “innocence,” but in the complete inability to do anything to help, rescue, save, or redeem yourself. The least are the greatest, not because they can offer anything to the kingdom. In fact, that inability is what makes them great! They are great because they have complete and total reliance upon Jesus. In the rest of the Gospel lesson, Jesus explains they are great because they are in the greatest danger of wandering from the faith, or being seduced by the devil, or being lost into eternity not even realizing the danger they are in. They are great because they are in the deepest physical, emotional and especially spiritual need.

This is who Jesus came to save: the weak, the broken, the wounded, the ones despairing of their sins, the ones repenting and crying out “Help us, O Lord.”  Don’t misunderstand me – Jesus did indeed die for the world, John 3:16 is the simplest proof of that, “For God so loved the world…”, but Jesus identifies the weakest – or, the greatest as Jesus says – as those who realize their need for Jesus. “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick,” He said earlier (9:11). But those who look to themselves, to their own greatness, to their own strength, to their own worthiness, they deny the need for Jesus. They miss the point: the can’t save themselves anymore than Peter or James or John could. Instead, to humble onself under the cross of Jesus is to be as a child who trusts in Christ alone.

With this new understanding of who the greatest is in the kingdom, who do you know who fits the example of the child?

You saw one this morning: Baby Harper. A newborn child of God through water and word, the devil will do his best to lure her into temptation and deny Jesus, already at this early infant age. That is why the church has sponsors who will help the parents rear Harper in the faith, remember her in their prayers, and encourage the parents to teach Harper the good news of Jesus.

But who else do you know may be the greatest? Close your eyes for a second and think who it might be. Let me help you… It’s not the friend who just got the promotion, but the friend who just got laid off of work and doesn’t know how they’ll make it. It’s not the man who just found out that the cancer is in remission, but the woman who is afraid to go for her next doctor’s appointment to get the latest test results. It’s not the athlete who scored the winning point in the game, but the one who has worked hard all summer long just to sit on the bench without a second of the coach’s attention. It’s not the mother who’s child will make the honor roll for the 12^th consecutive time, but the mother who cries because her child is in prison for twenty-to-life. It’s not the child who is elected most friendly and most outgoing, but the child who tries to hide in the shadows of shame at what’s been done to her. It’s not the pastor who preaches in front of hundreds of people on a Sunday morning, but the pastor who stands in the rubble of what used to be his church in Rockport, TX, without anyone gathering for Word and Sacrament, and who weeps “Lord, have mercy.” It’s the child of God who thinks God has abandoned him just like everyone else and doesn’t see any benefit in trusting in this Jesus who seems so far away. Who else? Close your eyes for a moment and think…until this moment, who did you think are the least important people in your world? Now, open your eyes, so that the next time you see them, you see them as the greatest in the Kingdom. 

They are great because they may be in danger of losing faith – whether it is stumbling because of life’s struggles, wandering amidst temptation, or in danger of completely turning away from Christ’s baptismal gifts – these are the greatest. It is tempting for a church to look to the strong ones and consider them to be the greatest. It is easy and, perhaps natural, for our attention and focus to be drawn to people with powerful personalities, strong voices, great wisdom, and gravitas. Those are the people our world admires, and it carries over to the church as well. But Jesus would have our attention turn elsewhere: from whom the world considers great to whom He considers great -- to widows and widowers; to the poor and unemployed or underemployed; to the children and youth; to the aged and infirm; to the sick and depressed and broken-hearted.

Repent of the times you overlooked these brothers and sisters in Christ. Repent of the times you did not show the mercy of Jesus to these who needed to see and hear of Jesus’ love for them. Repent of the times you passed by with not as much as a glance or a prayer or a word of hope. Repent, and change your thinking; change whom you see as the greatest.  And show the love of Jesus to these who are least in the world but greatest in the kingdom. Don’t just say, “Gimme a call sometime,” – you pick up the phone and call; don’t just say “Swing by one afternoon,” – you stop by and visit them at home, or at the hospital, or at the nursing home; if you can’t do that, drop a note in the mail; remember them in your daily prayers; seek them out on a Sunday morning and offer a word of encouragement; resist the temptation to walk by and say nothing; offer a loving hug (if appropriate) or a gentle handshake; remind them in simple words, “Jesus loves you and so do I.”

Now, I know, sinful minds being what they are, someone is thinking to himself or herself right now, “But when is it my turn to be the greatest?” Just wait. Something will come along and it will humble you, it will shock you down to your socks and it will leave you reeling. And you will cry out, “Lord, have mercy.” And He will answer. And we will come along-side you in the name of Jesus.

This was written with deepest of appreciation to the teaching of Rev. Dr. Jeff Gibbs, both in his commentary on Matthew and the video Bible study he did at Concordia Seminary called, "Who is the Greatest: It's Not Who You Think." 

After the Storm - A Homily based on Psalm 13

Psalm 13
September 3, 2017
The Weekend After Hurricane Harvey

“Why did this happen? Why did God allow this storm, this river flooding, to happen? Why didn’t He spare us from this disaster?”

These are the questions we are only starting to hear. You will hear it again and again. You might even hear these words from your own mouth, or your child’s mouth, or your spouse’s mouth. You might even hear it from me, on occasion.

The first thing I want you to know is that phrases like that are not sinful when they are cried out to God in distress, in the time of loss, in the time of catastrophe. This is the human condition: we realize our frailty; we recognize the majesty of God. We know God is good; what we see is something that is terribly, terribly wrong. And, in our mind, God’s goodness stands in opposition to this…this…this  mess. And we try to make A equal B: If God is good, He wouldn’t let this happen. But, this did happen – I lived through it! I see the destruction all around me!- so is God good? It doesn’t make sense. And we try to square it and we simply do not understand. “Why, O Lord?”

Here is why I say this is not sinful: these words are echoed similarly in many of the Psalms. Called the Lament Psalms, they show the cries of the faithful people of God of old. Take Psalm 13 for example. In this Psalm, the writer cries out “How Long, O Lord, will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” (v. 1)

God desires, wants, openly asks us to come to him in all of our griefs and sorrows and so, we do. And to cry out to him in agony, in distress, in loss, in tragedy with the cry of hopelessness - this is not wrong.

But, we must be careful to not demand an answer: “God, you owe me an answer because I’ve been a faithful church goer; I’ve been helping the needy; I give a weekly offering; I’m really a pretty good person and don’t deserve this…” You will note in verse 2, the Psalmist does say, “Consider and answer me,” but he stops there with his request. To go any further and demand an answer from God attempts to place us as His equal, and we are not. To elevate ourselves to a position where we think we deserve answers and explanations is to break the 1^st and 2^nd Commandment. This we cannot do.

But, what we can do – what we will do – is humble ourselves before the power and majesty of God and repent.

Repent? What do we need to repent for? Are you saying that this storm is our fault? That Port Lavaca, or Rockport, or Victoria, or Goliad, or Wharton, or Kingwood, or Houston, or Crosby are as modern Sodom and Gomorrah? Is God punishing our state for our Texas sized egos, or chicken fried steaks that aren’t good for our cholesterol, or the “evil” big oil industry, or corporate and political greed, or the invention of Astroturf?  

No – I am not saying that at all, and anyone who dares to claim God caused this because of Texas’ sins is foolishly (and incorrectly) daring to speak for God where He has not revealed His word --- and that is dangerous ground. Just ask Job’s friends. But I will say this: God uses times like this to humble us, and to let us see ourselves for who we are, and God for who He is. And, with the crystal clear vision accorded us in the Bible, we are left one conclusion: Repent, for the Kingdom is near.

Repent is not a popular word. It is not an easy word. But it is a necessary word, for it reminds us of our place before God. He is God; we are people. He is creator; we are creation. He is holy; we are far from it. We are sinful beings.  And, seeing the terrible destruction of these past few days, we are reminded that even creation itself suffers under the burden of sin, see Romans 8:22, “All creation groans as if in childbirth...” God did not create the ocean to storm – but it roared to life. God did not create the winds to shear apart trees and buildings – but it huffed and puffed and blew the buildings down. God did not create waters to flood and destroy life (human, animal and plant) – but it swirled and rose and overwhelmed. Creation is fallen; we are fallen; and we repent as we acknowledge our sinfulness before the Almighty God. Lord…have mercy.

A couple days ago, after they got home from evacuation, a young girl was riding in the back seat of her momma’s car when she spotted a cross standing resolute in a field. Pointing it out, she correctly declared: Dat’s a kwoss, mommy. Dat kwoss is whehe Jesus died. And dat means God’s gonna take kawe of us.”

That little girl spoke with the voice of a prophet and did not even know it. She points us all to the cross of Jesus where all of the destructive chaos that has been caused by sinfulness has been accounted for in full. There, at the cross, the entirety of man’s failures and shortcomings has been paid in full by the blood of Jesus Christ. And at the Cross, Christ not only redeemed you and me, and our fellow Texans and Louisianans, but even creation itself. Jesus died to rescue even the Gulf, and the coast, and wind, and the trees, and all other things that cry out for His mercy.

This is what the Psalmist means when he says: “But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.”

He has been good to me. You know, it is no small thing that the same water that caused so much destruction is also used to baptize and give life. It was through the water that God saved Noah; it is through the flooding of your baptism that God saved you. It is no small thing that the same wind that caused so much loss is also the same breath of God that gives faith. It was the sound of the wind that brought the Jerusalem Pentecost crowd to hear the Gospel preached in their own language. It wasn’t by Hurricane Harvey, but through Water and Word, by grace through faith, our Lord Jesus Christ has taken care of you into eternity.

And it is no small thing that our Lord Jesus Christ is working through you and me and through all of you who have lent a hand this past week…whether cutting trees, or picking up an extra bag of ice for a neighbor, stretching an extension cord from your generator to the widow next door, patching a roof, delivering a hot meal, or simply listening, Christ is at work in you and through you. It’s very simple: it’s called, “Love your neighbor.” And in doing that thing that seems oh, so insignificant to you, it is tremendously huge to whom you help. And whether they are a Christian or not, whether they know Jesus or not, in that moment what they see – even if they don’t fully realize it – is God’s love, once shown on the cross, is again being shown to them through you.

As I close, let me say this: if I can help you, please don’t hesitate to call, email, text, or just drop by. I am not a therapist, but I am a parish pastor. I cannot promise that I will show up as a Divine FEMA loaded with cash – I wish I could. But, by the grace of God, it is my privilege to listen, to pray, to encourage with the Word of God and to bless – all in the name of Jesus Christ. If I can do any of those with you or for you, please let me know how. I am happy to do so.

Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Blood is Thicker Than Water

This evening we had a post-Harvey dinner and get together at Zion. It was a good evening filled with food and laughter, stories of hurricane survival and clean-up, and prayers of thanksgiving and intercession for those who suffered so much.

A couple days ago, I had posted a picture on my Facebook page of my previous congregation, Our Shepherd in Crosby, sitting about 3 feet deep in a lake of water formerly known as Gum Gully.

Tonight, as we were eating, one woman came up to me and said she had seen the picture and wondered if I would consider it appropriate to take a door offering for Our Shepherd. "Others want to do this, too" she added.

So, with a lump in my throat that was part humility and part pride at serving these people, I watched the offering plate make its way through the crowd. I don't know what all made its way from people's hearts to that offering plate, but there were gifts given out of compassion from one congregation to another, joined by a pastor and a shared knowledge of what suffering entails.

I thank God for the saints in Crosby, even as they are suffering faithfully under the cross of a flood. I thank God for the saints in Mission Valley giving lovingly to fellow suffering brothers and sisters in Christ.

And I pray that the gifts of the one will bless the other, that they may continue to be a blessing to those around them.

Psalm 46 – A Meditation for the weekend of Hurricane Harvey landfall

Psalm 46 – A Meditation for the weekend of Hurricane Harvey landfall

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. Amen.

It’s been an interesting week of observing God’s creation around us over the past ten days.

For months we have heard about the eclipse that happened this past Monday. If you were outside, and if equipped with solar glasses, a welding helmet, or a pinhole camera, you saw the moon partially cover the sun for about 15 minutes. Even those of us who don’t pay much attention to the sun, moon, or stars had our eyes drawn to the heavens – if only for an hour or so of the afternoon. And, in those moments you saw the vastness of God’s creation. Humans generally look down: we look where we walk, where we drive, where we are heading. Rarely, I suspect, do we look up except in times of agony when we look to the heavens and cry out with the Psalmist, “How long, O Lord? How long?” (Ps. 13:1) On Monday, your eyes looked up and saw something that was, quite literally, out of this world. You saw the sun, just under 100 million miles away from you, blocked out – at least, partially - by our moon that is roughly 250,000 miles from you. Did you know it took almost 8 ½ minutes for the sun’s light to reach your eyes when it was released from the sun’s nuclear core? That’s right…the light that we see by, that warms the earth, that plants use to produce energy, it’s already old by the time we ever see or feel it.  It was a unique experience, an incredible view, a sight that led us to give thanks to God for the wonder of His creation.

And now, at the end of the week, we are dealing with Hurricane Harvey. While we knew about the eclipse years ahead of time, the hurricane just sort of popped into our radar – both figuratively and literally – this past week.  A sloppy African wave that traversed the Atlantic simply would not die. It sprang back into life after a nearly terminal collision with the Yucitan Peninsula and is now roaring outside your windows as you read this. Wherever citizens of Victoria might be – in your Victoria-area home, in North Texas, or somewhere between - we are all praying the waters do not rise, roofs do not fail, windows do not shatter, and the electricity is able to be restored sooner than later. We pray that lives and livestock are spared, property damage is minimal, and people’s ways of life is not harmed. But with sustained winds of over 120MPH and rain fall rates that will be measured in feet, not inches, we experience a very different side of creation than we saw on Monday. The eclipse was peaceful; the hurricane is, in Hebrew, tohu wabohu – the abomination of desolation. Wonder and amazement, to be sure, are part of what we are feeling, but there is true fear at what might happen as well. And then, there is the sheer humility of mankind standing in the bullseye of a storm of this magnitude: how can anything stand against this kind of force? Again, we are finding ourselves looking heaven-ward, but this time not out of curiosity but out of angst and concern, and with a cry for God’s mercy.

One force of creation is a spectacle that drew our curiosity with amazement and curiosity. One force of nature is a spectacle that draws our attention out of fear and concern for ourselves, our homes, and our well-being.

I wonder what the writer of Psalm 46 was facing as he wrote the lines of this Psalm. Was it a natural disaster? Was it a political coup? Was it a warring enemy? It could be any of those things – it could have been all of those things. The text doesn’t say what his issue, his struggle, his Sitz im Leben, his situation in life was when he wrote the Psalm. Whatever it was, it must have been significant as he turned to God in prayer.

Here, the unknown writer speaks with confidence and certainty: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble,” (v. 1). Notice the verb and what is says about God: God is a present-tense reality, an immediate, timely, and positive source of assistance. He is not distant, far-off, and aloof; He hasn’t wound up the earth like a clock and sits back to wait for it to die; He doesn’t demonstrate schadenfreude – pleasure in someone else’s pain. He is a present help in time of trouble.

Good thing, too, as there is plenty of trouble. The Psalmist explains the trouble as he uses several violent pictures: first, forces of creation - an earthquake that both splits the land and tumbles mountains; rivers that turn into storm-driven white-frothed waves; mountains that threaten to stand; second, forces of man – warfare and governments overturning. You are seeing these pictures first-hand, whether it is from The Weather Channel or from your living room window. You are seeing the pictures of the sky being torqued into ribbons of black and grey, the surf salivating angrily as it slams into the beach, and trees bowing down in forced obeisance to the wind. You are hearing the moans of the wind as it demands you be afraid of what it is capable of doing. You are feeling something that can only be described as surreal, unnatural, and, well, beyond description to someone who hasn’t been through a hurricane before.

It would be easy to let these terrifying scenes enwrap and control us – after all, they are a present reality.

But to you, dear friend – to you, riding out the storm on the Coast and to you, awaiting the storm in relative safety away from your home further inland – to you, the Psalmist speaks. He speaks clearly and distinctly so there is no confusion in the midst of all that is going on around you – the things your eyes are seeing, your ears are hearing, your body is feeling. He speaks of the power of God over and against the powers you are seeing, hearing and feeling.

Even though all of these things are happening all around us, the Psalmist says, “we will not fear” (v. 2). Pull your eyes away from the scene in front of you; turn a deaf ear to the sounds around you; lay aside the feelings your body is experiencing. Turn your eyes, your ears and your heart to the Word of God and hear His Word.

Three times, the Psalmist declares “The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.” In the midst of earth-riving events, God Himself is with you even in the midst of this chaos outside. In the Scriptures, Jesus is given many names one of which is “Immanuel.” Immanuel means “God With Us.” In the person of Jesus Christ, God Himself is present with His people. He knows full well what it is to live in a fallen world. He even knows what it is to experience nature gone sideways as He calmed the storm that threatened to sink the disciples’ boat (Matthew 8:23-27).

Know that even in the midst of this storm, God is your refuge and strength. The roaring of the wind and the foaming of the waters do not change that, for God is the God of creation. He made it, speaking it into existence. He controls it so that it will not completely overwhelm us. He directs it so it is for our blessing and use. He protects it so that even in the midst of terrible flooding, it will not be the end of creation.

Remember this: the world was once rescued through a flood as God destroyed everything but Noah, Mrs. Noah, their sons and their families, and the animals on the ark. You have been rescued through the waters of Holy Baptism. You have been carried through that Flood in the ark of the church. In that church, you have been taught the faith that is able to say, “I believe.” This side of heaven, in the face of this storm, you may have to add, “…but help my unbelief.” And He will. He will as you open His Word and read His promises contained therein. Read the Psalms – the prayerbook of the church. Join with the Church on earth and in heaven who implores the mercy of God. Pray for protection of body and  soul, property and animals and all of creation. Pray for those in harm’s way and for those who will come in to rescue those who are hurt when the storm passes. And know that those of us who are well out of the path of imminent danger are remembering each of you in our prayers as well.

God will carry you through this storm and through this flood. But, then again, that’s nothing new for Him. He’s already done it.

God is your refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. 

College Dreams and Broken Hearts

Two years ago, I was a dead man walking. No…I hadn’t been diagnosed with a terminal disease, been Hope Solo-ed by a Zika-infested mosquito, or been chomped on a zombie. I felt like a dead man walking because our oldest daughter had graduated from high school and, after a busy summer, was a few days from heading off to the University of Alabama, ten long hours from home. Every click of the clock, every digitally back-lit change of the minutes and hours, each check mark on the count-down calendar, every breath was taking me closer to – with apologies to Raymond Chandler – the long goodbye of a parent and child in front of a college dormitory.

We do have two other children – please, know they, too, are deeply and dearly loved – but this would be our first and  therefore, presumably, hardest goodbye. How would I let go of the hand that used to eagerly grab mine and demand I hold it while we walked along? How would I let go of the girl who would grab my neck in joy when I got home from work? How would I be able to help her if she couldn’t snuggle next to me as she told me about a life crisis? How does a dad say goodbye? I felt like I was dying…and it was a little more each day.

Fast forward… The night we dropped her off at Riverside Dorm took approximately ten lifetimes from our 3pm assigned move-in time until we had everything unpacked and organized. I had tried to stall…parking further away from the doors, walking slower, taking fewer things each trip (granted – some of that was a trifecta of fatigue, being out of shape, and not being quite as young as I used to be), but finally, the boxes were unloaded. We had eaten dinner – well, to be more accurate, we all pushed food around our plates, like Minnesota snow-plows in the middle of a snow storm, not really making progress but putting on a good show for those who watched – while being very careful to not look into each other's eyes, lest the dams burst and a flash-flood of tears overwhelm us all. We had made a last Wally World run for those little things we wanted to get. And, knowing the stitches holding our breaking hearts would hurt like hell no matter how long we delayed, we decided we would say our goodbyes that night and leave in the morning for our long drive home.

We pulled up to a spot near the dorm and got out of the truck. Hugs were long and surprisingly quiet, no one trusting their voice. All around we heard laughter, music, and the bright sound of playfulness but it sounded in our ears like clunking cast iron. We were surrounded in grief: it was goodbye time. When it was my turn, I hugged her tight, then held her head between my hands. Squeeking out the Aaronic benediction, I blessed our daughter even as she cried, “No, daddy…” With a tear-moistened thumb, I traced the cross that was placed on her head in baptism. And, with a final kiss from both Momma and me, she turned and walked-ran away.

I am writing this for all parents who are preparing to part from their first child who is heading to a college or university, whether its across the county or across the continent. I am especially writing for dads. Too often, dads are expected to be the stoic block of emotional granite, neither shaken nor stirred by the drama of a child leaving home. It’s the moms who are expected to be wrecks, emotionally speaking, while their first-born leaves the nest for the first time. Around me, the men whose children had gone off to college were these Spartan-like macho characters, albeit with more gut and less guns than portrayed in movies. When I would try to express to them what I was feeling, I got strange looks and more than a couple of snide comments about my feminine side, a slap on the back, and with an unstated “suck it up,” I was told its gonna be OK.

They were right, of course, but in the summer of 2015 it was far from OK, and neither was I. I needed someone to listen and desperately wanted another dad, whose heart had broken and then mended, to share their survival story with me. Had just one man, one dad, talked to me and listened to my pain, I might not have crashed and burned, emotionally, the way I did a few months later. (I allude to this in “The Devil is in the Dumbassery” on this blog.)

My brother-in-law, Josh – who, by the way, is one of the smartest and deeply God-fearing men I know – offered me some words of counsel from his own experience of a daughter leaving home the previous year. He said this is what we have been readying our daughters to do: be smart, thinking, deliberate women of faith who are ready to step out into the world. We have done our part, now we trust in God's Fatherly hand to do what we are unable to do. And then, he listened to my story and my grief, and with his “been there, done that” counsel, we commiserated together as dads and as family.

I tell this story so that you, dear reader – and especially those who are looking at a day when you have to tell your own son or daughter “goodbye” – are not alone and so you kniw that some of us are willing to admit how hard it was. I hope your story never becomes as dark as mine did. I pray that you do experience a grief of sorts – that is a demonstration of love and affection at your child who waved his or her own goodbye. I hope you miss your DS or DD (Dear Son or Dear Daughter. Unless, of course, they call at 2am because they ran out of money at Taco Bell and want you to transfer $7.89 to their account to cover their late night need to munch on tacos. In this case, the D might stand for something less adoring…but I digress…) And if you need someone to listen, call your pastor, your brother-in-law, or someone who loves you. If need be, drop me a line – I’ll listen.

If you reach out to me, what I'll tell you is what my pastor shared with me as he went through this feeling two different times: as Christian parents, we already gave our son or daughter away – well, more accurately, we returned them to our Father in heaven through the waters of Holy Baptism. Through that holy washing away of sins and adopting as sons and daughters, God pledged His eternal faithfulness to that child sealed in the blood of Jesus. God will not abandon His children. More than that, He will not break His promise. So, even as I struggled with my feelings and thoughts (many of which were lying to me), I clung to God's promise for my daughter given in her baptism. And, without even realizing it that night in front of the dorm, I did the best thing for us: I blessed her with God's own Word and reminded us all of His baptismal promise to all of us.

She will be leaving, again, in a week and a couple days to begin her junior year. Time is flying by. And as days come and years go, there will be more tears and choked-out goodbyes. But they’re grounded, now, and in faith I trust that no matter what there will always be at least one more “Welcome home,” into the eternal homecoming of the resurrection. 

Love you, Kiddo. Have a great year. And, you can come home whenever you want. Except Tuesday. Then, call first. -Poppy

You're Not the Treasure Hunter - You're the Treasure! -Matthew 13:44-46

You're not the Treasure Hunter - You're the Treasure!
Matthew 13:44-46

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

Jesus liked teaching in parables.  It’s easy to understand why. We all like good stories, and when a great story is told by a powerful story teller the hearer cannot help but be captivated and pulled into the narrative. When Jesus tells a parable, he’s creating a story that reaches into the lives that the people live. The characters are just like them or their neighbors and the situation is one they could see themselves involved in. Jesus tells these parables, these stories, to help people understand a truth about Jesus, or His Father in heaven, of the Kingdom of God. Some parables were difficult. The last two week’s Gospel lessons were the parable of the sower and the parable of the weeds. Both were sufficiently challenging that the disciples had to ask Jesus, in private, what the parables were about. Other times, the parables are so easy to understand that anyone can grasp the truth Jesus is trying to convey. But, sometimes, the easy parables are a bit deceptive: at first glance, they seem easy to “get,” but on further reflection, a deeper truth is realized.

This morning’s Gospel lesson is one of those parables that is easy to grasp, but if you’re not careful, it can trick you and leave you empty instead of fulfilled.

Well…Let’s go on a treasure hunt this morning. If we’re going on a treasure hunt, we need to know how a successful treasure hunter does his or her job. So, with Pirate Jack Sparrow’s cunning wit, and Lara Croft’s good looks, and Ben Gate’s knowledge of historical minutia, and Indiana Jones’ soundtrack - combined with a dash of plain old good luck and a double-portion of Hollywood happy endings - we have a winning treasure hunting combination.

Of course, we need to have a treasure to find. Jesus gives us the map in this morning’s Gospel lesson: 44“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. 45“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, 46who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it.” There it is: our treasure is the kingdom of God, as precious as the most beautiful pearl in the world.

So, if this is true, it appears that we are treasure hunters who are on the hunt for the kingdom of God, right? That’s what discipleship is all about, right – SEEK YE FIRST THE KINGDOM OF GOD AND ITS RIGHTEOUSNESS…? Searching for the truths of what God gives us. So here we go, disciple treasure hunters. The kingdom of heaven is like a buried treasure or a hidden pearl and it is our task to seek and find. It sounds like a great, grand glorious treasure hunt.

I don’t know about you but, other than having a beautiful woman at my side and my own rugged good looks, I don’t have too many of those other characteristics that would make me be the next Indy, Ben, or Jack. I imagine most of you are in the same pickle as me, lacking the cunning, skill, wit, strength, and – of course – a Hollywood writer to be a great treasure hunter. I guess I’m out of the treasure hunting business before I even get started. It’s just as well, I guess…speaking for myself, I am not much of a traveler, I don’t really like the idea of crawling around in tunnels and old buildings that have a tendency to collapse, I dislike spiders and hate snakes, and much prefer the air-conditioned comfort of my study to the humid jungles where treasure seems to be found. Besides…how would we know where to start our search? Then again, how would know if we found the kingdom of heaven on earth? And, if we did find it, how would we pay for it? I don’t have unlimited wealth at my disposal – do you? Do you really think that even if you sold everything you had – like the character in the parable – that would be enough to pay for heaven? But then again, what if – like the ancient knights of the round table – you spent your life searching for the Holy Grail of the Kingdom but never find it --- then what? Does that make you a failure at kingdom treasure hunting? Or what if your treasure hunt adventure doesn’t have a happy ending?

But is that what Jesus is telling us in this morning’s Gospel lesson – that we have to be treasure hunters? Is the purpose of the parable to inspire, fire up, encourage, exhort, and otherwise cause us to leave here in search of treasure, only to leave us as empty-handed as the almost-there-but-not-quite anti-heroes of the treasure-hunting movies?

What if you’re not the treasure hunter at all? What if this parable is not about you? What if this parable is about Jesus instead?

Before we get ourselves tied up in knots, let me read the text again for you. “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. 45“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, 46who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it.”

The last several weeks, we have heard Jesus telling his disciples of the difficulties of being His disciples. Discipleship is not an easy task. Although the disciples had had early successes – they had been sent out in a ministry of compassion, remember, healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, and even raising the dead – and came back to Jesus delivering their wonderful ministry reports, Jesus has since warned them of the difficulties to come. Through the parables of the last few weeks, He explained that the Gospel would be preached all over the world, like a sower scattering seed, but in many if not most locations, the Message would not grow to fruition. In other places, the Gospel would be preached and faith begin to grow, but Satan and his minions would be right there alongside the faithful, seeking to destroy that which is planted and growing.

To be blunt, there would be times in the disciples lives of ministry where it would appear that the Gospel is not powerful enough to overcome the Devil’s work, that it might seem they are wasting their time in serving Jesus, and that this Good News of Jesus being preached wasn’t enough to overcome the world’s own power. He spoke plainly of being rejected because of His name, and having to flee for their lives, being rejected by their own family members and even being arrested and brought before the civil authorities.

We understand these struggles of being a Christian in today’s world, don’t we. We continue to see these prophetic words of Jesus being fulfilled in our own country, in our own community, in our own lives and even in our own homes. Across the globe, Christians who dare to confess Christ are marched down main street, bound in chains, and beheaded in a public demonstration of militant Islam’s power. Christian bakers, who refuse to bake a cake because of their Christian principals, are fined into bankruptcy by civil court. An employee is called into the HR department because there is a cross and some Bible verses on her cubicle wall and is told those things need to be removed so no one is offended. A middle schooler is teased by his friends for going to Vacation Bible School instead of going over to watch a sexually explicit DVD. At a family gathering, when the father says something about what the Bible says concerning a hot button issue, the adult son laughs at his father saying, “You still believe in that religion stuff, Dad?” and walks away. When you go out to eat today and bow your head at a restaurant, someone snickers at you. While we know, and we believe, all of God’s promises fulfilled in Christ Jesus for the eternal well-being of His Church and that not even the gates of hell shall prevail against it…if we are honest, there are some days that frankly, our faith is shaking, our knees are weak, our resolve is questionable, and – like the disciples – we simply pray, “Lord, I believe…help my unbelief.”

To the disciples – and to the church today --- to you, the people of God in this holy place, Jesus speaks this parable about treasure hunting. He is not telling you to get busy treasure hunting and that “failure is not an option.” Rather, He is giving you a picture of what He is willing to do for you, His faithful.

In the parables, the Kingdom of Heaven is what God is doing in the world to establish and re-establish His reign in the fallen world through the life, work, and ministry of Jesus Christ. The treasure is the church, which includes all who hear and believe the Gospel of Jesus in all of time and into eternity. You are the treasure, not the treasure hunter. The field is the world in which the church lies, hidden. The man who finds the treasure and the pearl, and then who re-buries it, is Christ Himself. To redeem – to buy - the treasure and the pearl, the man sells everything. Jesus does not redeem us by selling everything he has --- how ironic that would be since all things are His anyway by virtue of His being God. Jesus redeems by giving Himself into death. He gives His all – His very life – to buy the Church. He does it because to Him, the Church is of greater value than any treasure or pearl.

He tells this to give us, His disciples then, His disciples now, His disciples of all ages, a Word of comfort. This world in which we live may be opposed to the church, it may speak against the Gospel, it might even become physically, violently an enemy of God seeking nothing more than to destroy all Christ has done, but Christ has redeemed the Church. He has purchased the Church with His own blood. He did not abandon His disciples than, He will not abandon us, His disciples now, and He will not abandon us in the future.

We often feel as if we’ve been buried under the burdens of this world with its challenges and dangers. We wrestle with our own sinful nature and desires. The devil, the father of all lies, continues to roar around trying to deceive us into thinking all is lost. But do not doubt that we belong to Jesus. You have been acquired. You were purchased at the price of Jesus giving up everything He had, including His own blood. In a remarkable picture of grace, you are worth more than any treasure or any pearl. This is his promise, given you in this parable.

There is one hidden promise I haven’t mentioned. Remember, the man finds the treasure and pearl, buries them, and sells everything to buy the field. But that’s where the story stops. Here’s the hidden promise: after he buys the field to redeem the treasure and the pearl, He returns. And when he returns He will dig up His treasure and bring it into the light. This is a picture of the resurrection; When Christ returns, He will raise you from the dust of the earth into His own light of resurrection. You will stand, in your flesh, in front of Jesus, the great treasure, the great pearl, that He died to redeem. On that day you will see the ending of this parable, and you will see yourself as the greatest of all treasures, the greatest of all pearls, that Jesus gave everything to save.