Give thanks for...snakes? Numbers 21: 4-9

If Dr. Seuss were to write a book about me, it would go like this:

I do not like snakes; no I do not.

Not on a walk; not at a trot,
Not in a box or on the train,
Not in the desert or in the rain.
I do not like them, green or brown,
Not in the country, not in the town.
If you think snakes, as pets, are fun
I think your brain melted in the sun.
They give me the willies, they give me the shivers;
I do not like snakes: not now, not ever.

When I was a young boy, I had a couple of close calls with snakes. One of my favorite TV characters was bitten by a snake and almost died on the show. If a child’s hero can be bitten and die, what chance do I, a mere mortal have? How bad is my fear? I refuse to go into a herpetarium – a snake house – at the zoo. Walking through leaves or tall grass, I randomly have mini-panic attacks that there is a snake hunting me like a Whatasized mouse. Just writing these two paragraphs has created a slight whisp of sweat on my forehead. Literally, if I watch a documentary on snakes, I have about 15, maybe 20 minutes tops before I enter the danger zone and threaten to pass out. So, unless you have a front end loader or a tow truck handy to scrape me off the ground, I strongly suggest that Snakes on a Plane is never used as a congregational movie.

I tell you this so you can understand why this morning’s Old Testament strikes me every time I read it. They were growing impatient in their journey and were more concerned about their own needs than faithfulness to God and trusting His promises. They complained to Moses; they complained to God: “There is no food or water,” they said, complaining even about the mana that God had provided for them earlier. To be fair, it had been decades since they left Egypt; it had been a generation that had eaten manna three times a day, seven days a week, for ten…twenty…thirty plus years. Imagine, going to HEB Plus – 60 rows of nothing but oatmeal. And the next day, the same; and the week after that, the same. We can understand Israel’s grumbling…but that doesn’t justify it, that doesn’t make it right to grumble against God.

When God hears the grumbling, His reaction is swift, strong and decisive. He sends fiery serpents among the people who begin to bite the Israelites. Many die from the painful bite. Don’t misunderstand God’s actions, here: He is not vindictive, but He does this to cause Israel’s repentance. It doesn’t take long. “And the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned against the Lord and against you. Pray to the Lord that he takes away the serpents from us.”

This is a logical prayer request, isn’t it? It both identifies the symptom – the snakes – and confesses the disease at the same time – their sinfulness towards God and His servant Moses. Their prayer makes the request that God removes the snakes from them so that people stop dying. The people pray; Moses prays. It’s a good prayer; it’s a sound prayer – at least a B+ rating. And God hears their prayer. God is good; God is holy, so of course God will remove the snakes – right?

Except He doesn’t. He doesn’t remove the snakes – at least, not yet - not as far as our text tells us, anyway. What He does do, however, is tell Moses to make a bronze serpent and hang it on a pole. “Everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live.”

Why the bronze serpent? Why look at a bronze caricature of the very animal that is causing so much pain, suffering and death? Why must one look to the bronze serpent to live? Isn’t that God commanding idolatry – going against His own 2^nd Commandment? For that matter, why allow the children of Israel to continue being bitten?

First, the power is not in the serpent, as if it were a god. That was Egyptian thinking, that animals were diety. Likewise, it is not in the sculpture, an idol. That was Caananite thinking. The power comes from the promise of God: look at this and live. Don’t overthink this, that God is promoting decision theology – you must decide to be saved. When you are dying, how can you choose to live? God is providing the life-saving and life-giving promise. Receive it in faith and you shall live; reject it and you shall die.

The bronze serpent also reminds the people that it is their sinful complaining that has caused these snakes to appear in the first place. Do not blame anyone but themselves for this terror. The power of the promise of God stands over and against the sins of the people.

But why allow the Israelites to continue to be bitten? Why not simply drive the slithering reptiles away so that they would all be safe? If the snakes were to disappear, the temptation would then be for Israel to turn back into their arrogant self-reliance and away from trust in God and His promises. With the snakes remaining, Israel must rely only on God’s mercy in the face of their sinfulness; His grace in the face of their destruction.

It all started with the grumbling. What’s the big deal, we think, after all we grumble all the time. This morning, we’re grumbling about the time change. We grumble about a lazy co-worker who does just enough, but never a lick more than necessary. We grumble about a teacher who assigned homework over the break. Or, the high cost of gasoline, or the length of our daily commute to work or school. Maybe it’s about family at home, or family far away who never calls home. Grumble when it’s too hot or when it’s too cold; when it’s raining or when it hasn’t rained in weeks. Maybe the pastor tells too many stories; maybe he doesn’t tell enough. Pastors grumble when there are comments about the sermon and we grumble when there aren’t any comments about the sermon. We grumble because people next to us are grumbling. Do you get the idea that we, as children of God, grumble a lot? And, yes – sometimes we grumble against God Himself: God, why did you; God, this isn’t fair; God, I thought you were… 

God doesn’t send snakes among us today, at least not that I’ve heard about, but that doesn’t mean the firey bites don’t still happen. There is a venom that courses through our hearts and minds. It shows up when you feel pessimistic about your life. It appears when you don’t see people in a positive light and instead, you assume the worst about people. When there’s a lack of peace, a discontent with what the Lord has given you. When you become unthankful, or even bitter. This is the kind of venom that courses in our veins.

What’s even worse is what that venom does with our relationship with the Lord. Remember – venom is poisonous. That grumbling, complaining, negativity and bitterness – it causes you to lose focus on God’s gifts and blessings and seeing His hand in your life. Then praise and thanksgiving starts to more and more shallow and less and less frequent. It can become so toxic that you actually start to wonder what God is doing, why He even bothers with you, if it is worth your trying to be His child.

You notice what Israel did…they confessed their sin of grumbling, and they looked up and lived. You know what it is that we do…we confess our sins of grumbling, and look up and live. You don’t look up to a snake on a pole; you look to Christ on the cross. When Jesus is lifted up on the cross, the pattern is true for us as well: recognize our sins, confess them to our Lord, and look up in trust and live.

The cross is not a magic talisman, that if you look at this object, this wood or bronze or stone or glass or foam or paper cross gives life – no. The cross is the place, the locatedness, where God hung His Son so that whoever looks at Christ in faith, the Savior of the World who died on the cross; when you look to the cross as the place where your salvation was won, you shall live. The cross is the place where your grumbling and complaining and negativity and venomous outbursts all died in Christ and with Christ. And the cross is the place where, in Christ and through Christ, you receive life.

You look up at Jesus lifted up and you are raised up and you give thanks. Thanks replaces the grumbling.

Complain about family? No…give thanks you have a home and people there who love you. Grumble about a co-worker? No, give thanks that you have employment that provides for you and your family. Grumble about the weather? Give thanks for the rain and sun, the warm and the cool that makes the flowers and plants grow and produce beauty and food. Grumble? No…give thanks.

When Jesus Hides in Plain Sight - John 2:12-17

Audio file

Jenny is my friend’s daughter. She is an art scholar and a teacher at a school in Houston. While she was a grad student, she also served as a docent at the Houston Museum of Fine Art in Houston’s museum district. She knows things about the world of classic, Renaissance and Middle Ages art that I have no idea even exists. For example, there is something that can happen in old paintings that is called pentimento.[1]  It’s when, due to the aging of paint, the dyes in the paint begin to become translucent, so much so that you are actually able to see through a layer of paint to what lies beneath. This is a real thing, and it actually has created a niche area of study in the world of art, where scholars are able to look through layers of paint to see what lies beneath. So, it is possible that an artist, having completed one painting, didn’t really care for it. Instead of throwing away an expensive canvass, he simply chose to paint over the top of what was originally on the canvass. To his original viewers, the underlying painting is invisible, but as pentimentation takes place across the centuries, you can see something that has been hidden for centuries. You can see what the artist intended.

So, imagine for a moment that you are at the Houston Museum of Fine Art and my friend is the docent there. As both a scholar and a Lutheran, she has a great deal of interest in religious art, so she takes you to some of the classic religious paintings that are on display there. Now, imagine that you are standing in front of a picture where the artist has painted the scene from this morning’s Gospel lesson: Jesus driving the money changers from the Temple. You are standing, behind the velvet ropes, looking at the painting from several feet away. You note the details of the painting. Jesus stands in the center of the Temple courtyard, his white robe contrasting sharply with the dark red over-garment around his shoulders. In his left hand, raised up toward the sky, is a coil of rope that he is wielding like a whip, while his right hand points at the money changers who are hunkered down, cowering, in a position of fear. Next to them lies an overturned basket with coins scattered all around; a couple of goats are free, a rope around their necks hanging loose; a cage lies open, empty of the pigeons and doves that had been in the cage moments earlier. At the edge of the painting, people – presumably worshippers who had come to the temple – are milling around, curious about all of the excitement.

You don’t see too many pictures of Jesus where he seems angry, so you get a little closer to the painting to take in the details of Jesus. You see the look on his face; the artist has done a magnificent job of showing what “Zeal for my Father’s house will consume me,” must have looked like. The lines in His face, the creases around the eyes, the slightly opened mouth – you wonder what it is He is saying to those people standing nearby.

An angry Jesus…why is he angry? You remember from the Scriptures that Jesus said that these money changers and animal sellers had turned the Temple from a place of worship into a sanctified flea market. What began as a well-intended service – making available sacrificial animals for worshippers who lived too far out of town to bring their own animals into the Temple – had taken on a life of it’s own. It became a booming business and grew and grew until it was becoming a bothersome nuisance in the Courtyard of the Gentiles. In fact, it was such a problem that worship of God was literally displaced by the opportunity to make money.  The gifts of God had been replaced by the special of the day; the prayers of the people had been replaced by the hawker’s cry; the needs of the penitent sinner displaced by the need to make bank.

And Jesus, taking the whip in hand in one hand, pointing with the other, cleanses the temple from this human exchange of goods and services.

This is called the alien work of God, when His anger at sin and at sinners burns clearly. When you feel His hand raised against you for what you have said or not said, done or not done.

The Temple merchants thought they were safe, even though they persisted in going their own way apart from the Lord - and worse, distracted people from their own devotion to the Lord.  They never expected God to show His zeal and wrath through Jesus. 

Zeal and wrath Lord Jesus makes us a bit uncomfortable - at least it does when we are honest with ourselves about our sinfulness.  Just like the merchants, we expect that we will be safe, even though we persist in going our own sinful ways.  God has every right to aim His zeal and wrath in our direction too.  Look through the layers of the paintings of our own lives. Our hearts have divided loyalties.  Heaven knows that we would rather have conflict over unimportant things than over eternal things.  Heaven knows we get into disagreements about the weather, about politics, about sports, about what brand of tractor is best rather than to speak God's Holy Scriptures to our neighbor.

Seeing Jesus not hide from conflict with the wicked, but be consumed with zeal for God's house makes our devotion to the Lord look all the worse - because we have been devoted to ourselves, our money, our friendships in this world that is passing away.  We would prefer to go back a few verses in John 2 and hear about gentle and kind Jesus who makes 180 gallons of water into really great wine for a wedding reception.  Or move ahead into John 3, where Jesus talks about birth into the Kingdom of God through Water and the Spirit.  There we hear Him say that He has not come into the world to condemn it but to save it.  Yet today we see Jesus violently rebuking. 

Remember? You’re imagining that you are standing there in the Houston Museum of Fine Art. You are becoming uncomfortable with this painting. You would rather not see this angry Jesus - and yet, there he is – in living color. And, as you look at this painting of Jesus cleansing the temple, what you realize is that it is an image of Jesus cleansing you. Through that image, you realize all of the things that have gotten in the way of your own life of discipleship to Christ. As the grief and weight weigh down, you can almost hear as if Jesus is calling your name while He is standing in the temple courtyard.

Then, Jenny, my friend’s daughter, looks at you and sees the pain in your own face and she recognizes it for what it is: guilt as you stand in front of the angry Jesus. She takes you by the hand and says, “I want to show you something,” and leads you right up to the painting. She says “look closely at his hands.” So, you do. You peer in to look at the painting. Jenny says, “Now look into the painting…look through the painting…” and, as you do, you notice something remarkable: beneath the painted hand of Jesus holding the whip, you see what the artist wanted to really paint. Looking through the whip, you see Jesus hand – not clenched in anger and rage – but a hand raised in blessing. Curious, you look at the other hand and, beneath the finger that is pointing in determination is another hand held, palm out, as if to say “Peace – be still.” And you notice in the center of the palms is the mark of the nail, the mark of Christ crucified for you.

And, what you realize as you look through the painting, is you are seeing the true reason for Jesus’ anger: that people might repent and know Christ as the solution for mankind’s sin. But, more than that, you see the reason Christ’s hands are held out: to deliver forgiveness, blessing and peace. You have been cleansed – not with a whip of rope, but with the whips that stuck His back. He gave Himself as the perfect sacrifice to end all sacrifices. He absorbed all of God’s anger at your sins. He cleanses what is impure and unholy in the temple of your body, and He makes you a temple of His Spirit.   

This is Christ’s proper work – what it is He desires to do. It’s about seeing this Jesus, who once stood in anger, receiving the full anger of God for the entire sins of the world. It’s about Christ, who once cleansed the temple, becoming the dwelling place of God among us. It’s about Jesus, who cleared out the temple so people could worship in peace, who – in His death – removes all barriers that stood between us and God, tearing the temple curtain in two so we have full access to the Father through Christ. It’s about Jesus, whose Temple-body was destroyed for three days and raised to life again three days later.

On this 3^rd Sunday of Lent, that scene of the resurrection is hidden from us. I’m speaking of your own resurrection, on the day of Christ’s return. Jesus will raise you too, as He Himself rose. Look through the cross and you see that your life is already hidden in Christ, waiting for this day of the resurrection of all flesh. Not in three days, but on the Day of His appearing.

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[1] I am indebted to a sermon by Rev. David Schmitt, preached while I was a Seminary student (1996-2000), for this picture language of pentimento.  Note also that the painting that is described does not exist, thus the repeated use of the word, "imagine...".  

Who is Jesus? Depends on who you ask... Mark 8:27-38

Who do people say Jesus is? Like most things, it depends on who you ask.

Some would say He is a prophet or teacher. Still others would call Jesus a liar, a deceiver, a mischievous miscreant who continues to mislead people too afraid to think for themselves. Some might be a little more gentle, calling Jesus a misguided man who thought higher of himself than he ought, but who had good intentions. Others may not have any impression or opinion on Jesus. Others will have a hodgepodge admixture of Jesus as Santa and Easter Bunny, flavored with a dash of Tooth Fairy, a sprig of St. Patrick’s lucky Irish clover, a shot each of Davy Crockett, Jim Beam and George Washington, waves an American flag while watching Nascar and Cowboys football, and smells of Grandpa’s old pipe tobacco. 

Others would say He’s the Jesus of the Bible. They might talk about how Jesus is God’s Son, born of Mary. They would talk about His miracles, His power and His authority. They might say He’s the Great Physician who can heal the sick and restore sight to the blind. They may speak of His daring run-ins with the Pharisees and Sadducees; or His chasing out the moneychangers from the temple. They might remark on His power even over demons. They would talk about Easter and Alleluia and Christ is Risen, Indeed!

How about you? Who do you say Jesus is?

When he was given the opportunity, Peter confessed Jesus as the Christ. He’s spot-on. Christ is in Greek what Messiah is in Hebrew. They mean the same thing, from two different languages: The Anointed One. Not a reincarnated Old Testament prophet like Moses or Elijah, or a New Testament evangelist like John the Baptizer - Peter identifies Jesus as The Anointed One.

That raises a question: “Anointed for what?”

Like the first question, it depends on who you ask. As it was used over the centuries, Messiah and Christ took on less and less of a theological anointing and more and more of a political anointing. It came to mean revolutionary, someone who was wiling and able to make Israel great again™, to lead a holy war against the heathen Romans, reestablish the rule of David, and become the earthly king that Israel always seemed to think they needed.

It seems Peter is operating under this model. He wants Jesus to rise up and be a military king, a political pundit who is able to maneuver his way into independence and revolution and heroics with bands and drums and armies.

But Jesus isn’t that kind of Anointed One.  Oh, He is anointed as King, alright – but His kingdom is not of this world. He will sit on a throne – but it will be a cross. He will be raised up – when the soldiers lift his cross up to the sky. This is all necessary. It is part of God’s plan of salvation to redeem the world from her sinfulness, to save Israel from herself, to rescue the church into eternity. He is anointed to be the once-for-all sacrifice for the world. He is anointed to die.

And when Jesus speaks of this, it is so disturbing, so appalling to Peter that He positions himself between Jesus and the Cross and rebukes Jesus. I imagine the conversation could have been like this, “Are you kidding me? I didn’t leave my fishing business to watch you simply walk into town and die. This isn’t what my brother and I signed up for! It can’t be this way, Jesus! We need to fight – in fact, I’ll whack the ears off anyone who dares lay a hand on you, Jesus! I got your back!”

Peter wants a cross-less Jesus. He doesn’t want to talk about suffering, or sins, or punishment, or hell, or damnation. He wants the fun, the excitement, the glory…the world’s idea of anointing. But without the Cross, there is no Anointing. Without the Cross, there can be no Christ.

This is why Jesus speaks so severely to Peter: Get behind me Satan! Yes, Satan. No one wants a cross-less Christ more than the devil himself, and in short order, Peter – the great spokesperson for the confession of the Church – had also become the infamous spokesperson for satan himself. See how easy it is? In a moment of weakness and unbelief, Peter shows the incredible struggle of being sinner and saint at the same time. Like Paul says, “The evil I don’t want to do, I do; and the evil which I desire not to do, I do.” Here Peter proclaims Jesus as Messiah and with the same mouth tells Jesus He cannot go to the cross.

What’s the solution for Peter – for us! – when we get ourselves ahead of Jesus? “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” Denial of self. This doesn’t mean giving up Hershey candy bars for Lent. This means deny everything you have and are; deny your whole life as you hold it. Try to hang onto it and you will lose it. But, to lose your life for the sake of the Gospel, you will find. You find it at the cross.

Cross-following isn’t easy. It’s harder today than ever before, I submit, and it will be even harder in the future to come. Churches are told to not talk about sins, and when pastors preach that way, they are declared unloving or even worse. It’s tempting to make Jesus a cross-less Christ so we don’t have to talk about who we are under the lens of God’s holiness. Instead we can just be told to do our best and it’s all OK.

Jesus speaks a warning of being ashamed of Him. “Whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed, when He comes in the glory of His Father with the holy angels.” Jesus wasn’t simply speaking of His own generation when He called it “adulterous” and “sinful.” Ours is no better and probably worse. I’m not going to use the usual preacher’s device to list all the adulteries and sins of our generation. You know them well enough, and we all participate in them more than enough.

But the sadness and grief is that we’re not ashamed. Past generations had a sense of shame. What once shamed us to the point where we didn’t talk about it and hid it and blushed when it was mentioned, now we brag and boast and justify ourselves. And what are we ashamed of? What do we keep hidden and personal? Not our sins but our Savior. Not our sins but the cross of Jesus. Not our sins but the One who takes away our sins, who justifies us, who washes our Sin away with His blood.

So, how do we not be ashamed? How do we be better prepared s o that, when asked, we are able to speak of Christ with faithfulness instead of weakness?

In the business world, there is what is called the “elevator pitch,” the idea being that you have the time for an elevator ride to sell your idea to a fellow elevator traveler. Now, what if you had to do that with the Gospel? What if you had the opportunity to explain Jesus, or the Gospel, or the Christian faith in the amount of time of an elevator ride? Make it simple, make it concise, but make it as full and rich as possible. That was the challenge issued by David Heim, the executive editor of the magazine THE CHRISTIAN CENTURY. Heim decided to ask various theologians to try this exercise: what is the essence of Christianity in seven words or less? The contestants could offer follow-up explanation of why they wrote what they wrote, but they could only use seven words to convey the message. ^[1]

Here is your assignment for next week: In seven words or less, answer Jesus’ question: “Who do you say I am?” Prayerfully consider the question, read through the Scriptures this week, and then give an answer. Bring it with you next week.  I won’t embarrass anyone, I promise.

I know this isn’t fair – I’ve had two weeks to work on this – but here is my seven word answer: Who is Jesus? “Through the cross, Savior of the world.”

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[1] https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2012-08/gospel-seven-words

Mental Sawdust: Shootings

This evening, we had a family discussion about school shootings. Sadly interesting, terrifyingly interesting, I'm not quite sure what words describe having that conversation with the kids. When I was in 7th grade "the talk" was birds & bees. Now it's whether to charge an attacker or retreat, harden a classroom or run, hide or fight.

One of the boy's teachers commented that she never learned about this in her education classes. Ditto Seminary. Who would have thought we would need to have school and church active shooter trainings? I grew up in the dying gasps of the cold war and the "duck under your desk and kiss your rear end goodbye" drills at school. Now my kids do drills to lock doors, shut off lights, and chunk textbooks at shooters. Sadly, the end result is the same. Asanine.

What amazed me the most, though, was that some teachers are still teaching kids to sit still, be quiet and do what the bad guys says if he gets in the classroom. Seriously? We're neutering our kids so badly that we're teaching them to not fight for their lives! Books, scissors, pencils, kleenex boxes: anything is a weapon. Grab it and attack. Standard army combat doctrine is, when attacked, to try to close with the enemy and destroy. Do it! Get it done! Fight!

This is true in church, too. We can lock doors, but - at least in my church - given that the average member is no longer in world-class Olympic conditioning and generally is in bed shortly after NBC evening coverage starts at 7pm, running just isn't an option. Fight. Attack. Swarm and use whatever is at hand - hymnals, keys, pens, throw, stab, jab, and grab.

I speak from the standpoint of the 6"4" 3(ahem) hundred pound man dressed in a white robe standing front and center at the front of the church. Target? Probably. Do I think about it? Yeah. But I'm not dwelling on it.

Much.

I empathize with teachers. Who would have thought we have to ask ourselves similar questions that street cops, EMTs and service personnel do: what if I don't come home from work today? In a vocation that is about declaring and living out God's mercy, this definitely puts "living under the cross" in a new light.

I realize I'm rambling a bit - sorry. Just thinking a bit on this whole thing and what it means for parents and kids.

I don't know that further gun regulation is the answer. I think blaming all of the violence on mental health care is a cop-out. For the record, I feel that arming teachers or clergy and asking them to be a cop is a non-starter. Here's why.

I have a license to carry in Texas and exercise that right most days, Monday thru Saturday, at work and at home. I'm a damned good shot, on paper, with slow-fire five (or six or ten - depends on capacity) shot groups that are rather impressive. Rapid fire I can make steel plates ring like gongs. I can break Ritz crackers, shatter Necco wafers, and on a really good day hit pennies (yep, pennies) at 7-10 yards. Here's the irony: I probably won't be packing my heater on a Sunday. Why?  If I had to take and make a shot at a bad guy...and for some reason I missed and hit a church member - or, if I hit the bad guy but the bullet went through to hit someone else - I think you would have to put me in a rubber pulpit the rest of my life. I say this of myself. I can't imagine the average 3rd grade teacher or 7th grade coach or high school principal would be much different with their kids and teachers around. With apologies to Sean Connery in Red October, we clergy and teachers aren't trained for combat tactics, Mr. Ryan. There are some things - namely students and parishioners - who don't react well with bullets.

I dont think it's guns. I really don't. It's life. More specifically, our lack of respect for it. Our American culture has lost it's value of life. Infants in the womb have fewer rigbts that the Texas salamander. A homeowner who is in the way of a couple punks who want the big screen TV in the den? Wrong place, wrong time: bye-bye. Insult someone's shoes, skirt, car, team, or musician? Obviously, the best choice is for a beating, cheered on by all the bystanders, recorded by a dozen smarty-phones, uploaded to YouTube or Snapagram or Instachat, and meanwhile no one calls for help. I wanted to get my son some new XBox games for Christmas. Guess what kind of games are most available: 1st person shooter games. Hoyle doesn't cover those kind of rules.

Don't tell me the problem is guns. It's the loss of love, the loss of respect of my neighbor's life and protection of it, the loss of my own self-control, and loss of charity and compassion. It's letting man's evil inclinations to run freely unchecked with the rationale, "So & so did it."

It's a loss of innocence.

For all of us.

Do you trust Jesus' Baptismal Promise to You? Mark 1:9-13

Audio link

Wilburt was standing, staring; he didn’t know what to do. He was my elder that Sunday morning in December of 2004 and he stood next to me as I stood next to the Baptismal font. We were in the middle of the baptismal rite for our son, Christopher. I had just asked the question, “Do you renounce the devil and all his works and all his ways?” Together, as parents and sponsors, we answered for our son, “Yes, I renounce them.” I had already made the sign of the cross on my son’s forehead and heart as a sign that he had been redeemed by Christ the crucified. Everything was going boringly well.

But as I held him in my arms with his head suspended over the water and ready to pour water over his head, I choked up. The tears started running down my cheeks. I couldn’t speak. My shoulders shook. At the font, my wife and girls stared; Christopher’s sponsors stared; the family in the pews stared; the entire congregation stared; Wilbert stared; Christopher stared. They all stared at me as I sobbed for several minutes.

I want you to know that I fooled everyone that morning. It was an accident, but they were fooled nonetheless. The people who were gathered that morning thought it was a case of a proud father saying, “This is my beloved son,” and being overwhelmed with pride and joy in the emotions of the moment, baptizing his son.

They were wrong.

This wasn’t my first baptism – not by a long shot. Nor was it my first child that I baptized. But for some reason, that particular Sunday morning, it struck me like a dagger made of ice thrust into my heart: when I would pour water over my child’s head, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, I would at the same time place a cross-shaped target on him for satan to use. Yes, I knew that I was delivering God’s gift of forgiveness, life and salvation to my son, but for some reason I was also keenly aware that I was marking him as prey for satan’s attacks. I was absolutely crushed. I see what he does every day to God’s children and I was about to subject my boy to that. What was I about to do to my son? I was about to make my son the devil’s mortal enemy.  That is why, with my boy held in my arms, I sobbed.

It is no small thing for any parent to bring their child to the font, for you too, in delivering your child into the arms of the Father through baptism into Christ, are placing a water mark on him or her that the devil will zero in on.  A baptized child of God – regardless of age, I might add, eight days old or eight decades old - will be tempted by the devil. Satan will come at the child of God in every conceivable way to renounce Christ and all His work and all His ways. He will be tempted to fear, love and trust the unholy trinity of me, myself and I and worship in the temple of self-pleasure and self-satisfaction and self-aggrandizement. She will be tempted to believe that the love of God, showered upon her in her baptism, isn’t enough to cope with this world. He will be tempted to believe that God is incapable of stopping the devil, or that if he can stop it, He is sadistically watching people struggle and suffer instead of helping. She will be tempted to believe that the devil is too powerful and that it is useless to wrestle against temptation. And, worst of all, a child of God will be tempted to believe that all of these things stand as damning evidence and proof that God cannot have mercy or compassion upon someone who claimed to be a child of God. And satan will do it from the moment of baptism until the child of God draws the last breath on earth.

It is no small thing to be an enemy of the devil – this is true. But, remember, how great of a thing it is that you are baptized into Christ. He knows full well what it is to be cross-marked by baptism. Immediately after Jesus was baptized, the same Spirit of God who descended upon Him like a dove took Him and led Him out to the desert to be tempted, face to face, by the devil. Mark’s description is almost clinical: that Jesus was “being tempted by satan.” To expound just a bit, the heart of all of the temptations thrown at Jesus lies in this: “If You really are the beloved Son of God, do You trust the Father? Do You trust God’s baptismal declaration, or will You take matters into Your own hands because it doesn’t seem He cares right now?”

This temptation is important for us as Christians to remember today for a couple of reasons. First, Jesus was truly tempted according to His human nature. He wasn’t playing pretend. This means that Your Savior understands full well what it means to be tempted. Second, the book of Hebrews tells us that Jesus was “like us in every, but that He did not sin.” This shows the distinction between being tempted – not a sin – and giving in to the temptation – a sin. Third, it also teaches the power of confronting temptation with the very Word of God as Jesus did, without adding to or taking from it as Eve did in the Garden.

But do not see Jesus, in this text, as a model of how to be tempted without sinning. That’s slippery ground. I suspect that for human beings the line, sometimes, between tempting and giving in to the temptation is so fine that we can’t distinguish the moment from being tempted and when our brain starts to consider it as an acceptable, viable option. As baptized children of God, yes, we follow St. Paul’s instructions in Romans 6 and we resist temptations by God’s grace and strength. But other times…other times, our old selves follow the advice of movie star bombshell Mae West who once quipped, “I generally avoid temptation unless I can’t resist it. Besides, what good is it to resist? There’s always more…”  And if you have Jesus only as a model, your old adam is always in a quandary because there is that temptation you didn’t stop, and that other one you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t live up to the model, therefore you failed.

Instead of seeing Jesus as a model, instead see Jesus as your perfect substitute. You do not duplicate Jesus; you cannot duplicate Jesus. Instead, He duplicates you. He is baptized, He is tempted and even though He resists perfectly and remains without sin – unlike you and me, He is truly guiltless, remember? – God made Him who knew no sin to become sin for us (2 Cor. 5:21). He takes the full weight of the world’s sins into Himself: original sin, actual sin, omission and commission – He takes it all. From when Adam and gave in to the temptation to let Eve handle that sneaky snake, to the last temptation you face as death approaches and the devil throws at you, “If you really are a son of God, if you really are a daughter of God, do you trust Him right now?”;  from His conception to crucifixion, His grave to glory He stands as your substitute.

What a comfort to know that you are not left out in the wilderness, alone, mano a mano to try to wrestle the devil into submission. You might do it once, twice, even a half dozen times. But sooner or later, he will get you in your weak spot and you will submit.

Confess. Repent. Consider how to better resist the temptation – perhaps simply leave. Learn…and live, free in the Gospel. Trust your Savior Jesus who was tempted for you. Remember your baptism where all of your sins were washed away; recall His baptism where Jesus took all of your sins into Himself and left you sparkling clean in the eyes of the Father.

You know how your mind races and how you can have an entire conversation in your mind take place *this* fast? Here’s what sped through my mind on that Sunday as I held Christopher in my arms at the font:

Do you believe Jesus died for your son? Yes, but…  Then, baptize your son.

Do you believe that in his death and resurrection, Jesus defeated satan? Well, yes, but… Then, baptize your son.

Do you trust that Jesus will hold your son in the baptismal promise He will make with your son? Yes…  Then, baptize your son.

Do you believe that neither death nor life, angels nor demons, nor anything else can separate your son from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus his Lord? Yes! Then, baptize your son.

What I distinctly remember about that last “yes,” was that it was as clear in my mind as if a voice spoke from heaven. I took a ragged breath; then one more as I dipped my hand into the font and spoke slowly, “I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

That’s where I left my son on that Sunday in 2004: in the water-soaked hands of Jesus. That is also where you reside: in the hands of Jesus dripping with baptismal water.

And God? He is pleased.

You don’t have to take my word for it. Listen to the Father: You are my beloved child. With you I am well pleased. Amen.

Transfigured! Mark 9

Audio file

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

Mary’s dad was dying. He had fought the good fight for quite a long time. The doctors had done all they could but even the special specialists agreed: there was nothing left to do. What started as a plan to cure, became a plan to care, and finally, it was simply to comfort as he waited to fall asleep in the arms of Jesus. The family had always gathered at his house for big family meals; this night, they were gathering to bid their husband, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather goodbye until the resurrection of all flesh. With his cross held in his hand, and a tired smile across his face, he looked at the family and said, “I just want to touch Jesus’ robe…” But Mary couldn’t handle it. She ran out of the room, down the hall, into the living room. Sitting on the couch, she balled her hands into fists and said, “Dad can’t die. God can’t have him yet. I’m not ready for him to go…”

Don’t be too hard on Mary. Dying…no one wants to talk about death and dying. Especially not when we’re talking about someone we love. We’ll talk about blood pressure meds, maybe; cholesterol meds if we have to; compare bedside manners of orthopedic surgeons and back-cracking techniques of chiropractors, sure – but you don’t hear people having a family funeral director.   

But the irony is we live in a culture that is obsessed with death. Or, rather, not dying. We don’t talk about it; we dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge to avoid it, only talking about it when it is an absolute must. As a culture, we do whatever we can to keep even the appearance of death away. We spend thousands of dollars a year on “age-defying” skin care products; we get a nip here and a tuck there to keep cheeks firm and body parts perky. And men – don’t think I’m just talking to women. Have you seen the TV commercials with old, long-retired ball players who, thanks to whatever product they’re hawking, are now back to their playing weight, and – with a suggestive wink and nod – are noticed by the ladies again?

Peter didn’t have plastic surgery available, nor did he have packaged supplements to take. But what he did have was a little bit of know-how to make shelters – tabernacles, or tents - and the determination to keep Jesus on top of the mountain, away from His enemies below who wanted to kill him.

Just moments before, Peter – along with James and John - had seen Jesus transfigured, where His appearance became whiter than white - Olympic snow white. Where Jesus’ divinity had been hidden since His Bethlehem birth, on the mountain, His glory shone with all of its radiant brightness. If that’s not enough to stun Peter, James and John, Jesus is joined on the mountaintop with two of the Old Testament’s great heroes of faith: Moses, the great lawgiver, and Elijah, the great prophet. Jesus fulfills the law given through Moses, and is the one foretold by Elijah.

Mark simply states that Moses and Elijah were talking with Jesus. Matthew notes the same. Luke, however, gives us the fuller report. Elijah and Moses “spoke of Jesus’ departure, which He was about to accomplish in Jerusalem.” In other words, they were speaking about His Passion, that He must suffer at the hands of the chief priests and scribes, be crucified, and with his death pay the full wages of sin with his own death.

But Peter? Peter was not ready for Jesus to go down to the valley of the shadow. If he could delay Jesus, if He could impede His descent from the holy mountain down to where Jesus’ enemies would be waiting, then all would be well. He offers to build three tabernacles, three tents, one each for Jesus, Moses and Elijah, and says so that they can all stay up on the mountain and live happily ever after. No death…no dying…none of that stuff we don’t want to talk about.

The group is suddenly swallowed by a cloud. Throughout the Scriptures, clouds are symbols of and even manifestations of the glory of God. Where moments earlier, Jesus face shown with the radiance of His glory, they are now overwhelmed by an even greater glory. If there is any doubt of what is taking place, the voice of the Father in heaven shatters the moment. “This is my beloved son. Listen to Him.”

Those words echo Jesus’ baptism where the Father spoke to Jesus, “You are my beloved Son.” The Father’s words re-focus the entire purpose of Jesus life and ministry. Jesus did not come to dwell in a tent built on top of a mountaintop. His purpose in ministry wasn’t to hide up in the clouds with two heroes of old and three disciples in training and live in blissful abandon. Jesus must go down the Mount of Transfiguration and then up the mountain of Zion, where Jerusalem sits, where the cross is waiting for Him; He will be arrested; He will be convicted; He will die abandoned and forsaken by everyone.

We are entering the season of Lent. It is a somber season, intended to be one of penitential reflection as we consider our own mortality and our own sinfulness. We will hear Jesus speak of His coming passion. We will see tensions rise between Him and His enemies and they will plot to kill him. We will ponder this incredible story of love once again, the perfectly sinless Son of God who becomes our substitute. The hymns become heavier, both in tone and in the theology they carry, and we will set aside the use of the word alleluia. Alleluia is a word of praise and celebration; Lent is not a time for that word, so we will “bury” it until Easter morning when we will mark it’s own resurrection with the Easter cry “Christ is risen, He is risen indeed, Alleluia!”

But we are not there, yet. We are heading down into the valley of the shadow. With Jesus we will descend the Mount of Transfiguration. We will journey with Jesus to the cross. But more than that, know that Jesus journeys with you as you carry your own cross this Lententide.

Your cross is where you struggle in life because of faith. Your cross might be an abusive coworker or neighbor who mocks you endlessly for openly sharing your faith. It might be a classmate who laughs at you because you treat your body as a gift of God and not a science laboratory. It might be not understanding why God doesn’t seem to answer your prayers for help and aid. It might be memories of your own troubled past that you know are forgiven by Jesus, but they just won’t go away. It might be a body that is failing or a mind that is hurting or a conscience that is burdened.

Or, it might be the death of a loved one like it was for Mary. It is a humbling thing and a powerful moment to stand at the bedside of the Christian who is in his or her last moments of life. There are so many emotions and feelings that come flooding in, both for the one who is dying and for those who have gathered around. There is fear – yes, even Christians fear death; after all, it is completely unknown – and sadness; perhaps guilt at sins of the past; there may be a sense of relief, especially if one has suffered and struggled, but even in that, there is grief because this is someone who is loved. It was a humbling thing to stand there, next to Mary’s father on that Saturday evening, and it is daunting. What do you say to Mary’s father – or to any other Christian, for that matter?

I echoed the words of the Father on the Mount of Transfiguration. You are my beloved son. I returned him to his baptism where the Triune name of God was spoken over him, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” with the sign of the cross over his forehead and heart as a reminder that he had been redeemed by Christ the crucified. We confessed the Apostle’s Creed so that he could be reminded of the Christian faith he had been baptized into and that he had lived in for eight decades. I reminded him that this Jesus, of whom we speak, did not stay on top of a mountaintop, safe and secure, but went down into the valley of the shadow of death for this beloved brother. Then, speaking the words of absolution to them, I declaring his sins forgiven in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Then, I reminded him that he had already died in Christ in his baptism, and that just as Christ was raised from the dead, he too shall be raised to new life when Christ returns.

And, in that resurrection day, we, too, will be transfigured. Raised in glory, our bodies – whole and complete, holy and glorified – will also shine like Christ’s, never to die again. With Moses and Elijah and all the faithful, we will enjoy the blessed joy of eternity in the presence of the Father who declares you His beloved and that with you He is pleased.

When It Seems the Great Physician Won't Heal - Mark 1:29-34

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

I have spent a great deal of time, over the years, with the sick, the dying, and their families. We’ve been together in their homes, in care facilities, in hospice centers and in funeral homes. After hundreds of these visits, I have come to expect this question: “Why isn’t God healing me or my loved one?” If we’re in a funeral home, the question is slightly different: “Why didn’t God heal my loved one?” Sometimes, there are other questions – sometime spoken, sometimes left hidden in the shadows of the mind: Is God unable to heal me? Does He not care how much Dad hurts? Did my son do something so terribly wrong in this life that he had to suffer so much?

I want you to know that I do not believe these are questions that come from a lack of faith, or from someone who is doubting the love, or mercy, or grace of God that is given to us in Christ. This is not a Christian denying the baptismal covenant given to them in water and word. It’s not a Christian telling the Holy Spirit to get out. No…these questions are asked from faith while staring full-on into the harsh reality of life in a fallen world. It’s recognizing that we, as Christians, live under the cross of Christ.  These kinds of questions say, in effect, “I know and believe these things are true: that God loves me and does not desire my death and suffering; that Christ suffered once and for all and made satisfied God’s anger against sin; that, by faith, Christ’s Easter victory is given to all who trust the promises of God.” Faith speaks the “amen” and the “this is most certainly true.”  

But we still are human beings who live in a world that is fallen. We see all around us where the promises of God collide with the devastation of the post-fall world. So faith says, “God is the great physician of body and soul,” but hospitals are full of people in pain. Faith says, “Christ suffered, once for all,” but you  or Christians whom you know wrestle with breaking marriages, depression and anxiety, and bodies wracked with pain. Baptized into Christ, faith says that Christ’s victory is mine and death has been conquered, but when a mom or dad, a husband or wife, a son or daughter is lying in the ICU and the doctors say, “I’m sorry…there is nothing more we can do,” in moments like these where faith and life seem to collide, and our very lives and the lives of our loved ones are at the breaking point, we simply pray, “Lord have mercy.”

And so when we hear this morning’s Gospel reading where Jesus heals Peter’s mother-in-law, we are quick to listen with both hope and with envy. And when we hear that all of the city were bringing their sick and demon-possessed friends and family members to Jesus and he healed them, we wonder if the same mercy might be extended to us today. Should we become critically, life-or-death ill, God will miraculously heal us so that lives can continue on, uninterrupted. If only God would do this miraculous act and heal my wife, my daughter, my daddy…if only.

If only… Have you noticed the number of free-standing emergency rooms and clinics around? Back in Houston, it seems every neighborhood now has some kind of health care place. A friend of mine is friends with a doctor who owns a partnership in a ER. He said they need about 8 patients a day to break even on costs. This doctor then told my friend that since the first week they opened, they average twice that each day. It’s not just there. I’ve been to hospitals to see sick members when the ER waiting room was standing room only. Think of the hundreds of people just in Victoria suffering with the flu right now. There are almost a dozen funeral homes in town, each one with services already pending for this week. Wouldn’t it be great if Jesus would just step in and stop all of this – put the ER, the hospital, the hospice, and the funeral home all out of business?

It is tempting to turn Jesus into this Messiah-as-healer. But, I want you to notice something in this morning’s Gospel lesson: Jesus doesn’t stay there in Capernaum. While he was by himself the next morning, praying, his disciples found him with the news that everyone is looking for him. There are more who are sick; more who need Jesus miraculous care; more who are dying without His intervention.

Jesus answers the disciples with this statement: “Let us go on to the next towns that I may preach there also, for that is why I came out.” He leaves behind those who were suffering with illness and ailments, with aches and pains, with deadly disease, and with some already at death’s doorstep. He leaves them all behind.

People ask me if I have Bible passages that I struggle with. This is one. It sounds so cold…so callous…so unloving and unlike Jesus. I mean, doesn’t Jesus have some kind of divine Hippocratic Oath that he has to do this? No –That’s not why he came. He didn’t come to heal everyone from their sicknesses and illnesses in this lifetime. He didn’t come to restore bodies to health. He came to allow His body to carry our sins with Him to His own death on the cross. The way Jesus heals, the way Jesus silences demons, the say Jesus shuts the grave is to die, Himself.

But first, Jesus has to preach. He must tell that this is His purpose, His mission: to be the Savior for whom the world had long waited. He must move on so others can hear, so others can believe. The miracles are important, but their importance is not the miracle in and of itself. The miracles demonstrate His God-ness, His divinity. Only God can do such a thing, and His doing the miraculous healing shows the people He is God in flesh, Immanuel, Messiah – the Christ – that Israel has long waited for. He comes to preach, to declare He is this One. That the Kingdom has arrived in His ministry. That He must suffer and die and be raised. That He will take all of our sicknesses, all our frailties, all our weaknesses that are a result of the fallenness of our bodies and the fallenness of this world and He will take each and every one to the cross. And He will die your death. And He will defeat it into eternity. The miracles are evidence of the new creation that will be restored. They are precursors, sneak peaks of His resurrection, when He – the Creator and Redeemer of the World – begins restoring Creation again.

You see, the irony is that every one of those people whom Jesus healed in Capernaum, every one of them eventually did die – whether it was from another illness, or an accident, or simply old age: every one of those people died.

But His preaching – His preaching gives life that cannot be taken away.  By the power of the spirit of God, who is active in the written, read, and preached word of Jesus Christ – whether it was on a hillside in Capernaum 2000 years ago, or in the Valley of Mission today, the preaching of Jesus gives life that cannot be taken away.

I started by sharing the question, “Why isn’t God healing” or “Why didn’t God heal?” If this is you – if you have ever asked that question, I want you to hear this: it isn’t God’s desire that you are sick. He doesn’t cause disease. Illness isn’t a punishment from God. Rather, God has all things under his control. I cannot tell you why He may be allowing these things to happen – the “why” is hidden from us all, and we are foolish to dare hazard a guess. Reconsider the question: Is God healing? Yes. Maybe, according to His divine will, you’ll be like Peter’s mother in law and, after a couple days, get back up and moving. Maybe it will take longer and it might include painful surgeries and treatments before it happens. Because we don’t know, we follow in the footsteps of those people of Capernaum, and we carry our sick and ill to the Lord in prayer, placing them at the feet of Jesus, asking for His divine intervention and grace. And, it is also possible, that it is the Lord’s will that you fall asleep in Jesus. But even here, the Lord is still at work. Pastor Guido Merkins, a retired Lutheran pastor in San Antonio, was fond of saying, God will heal you of every disease and illness except one: that is what He will use to take you into eternity with Himself.” And, on that day, He will reach down to you – as He did to Peter’s mother in law, and take you by the hand and raise you up from your grave. And, in that moment, all of the prayers for health and healing that you spoke or others uttered for you, all will be answered with a “yes” in your own resurrection.

So, carry them - your parents and your children; your sons and your daughters; your brothers and sisters; your friends and co-workers – all of those who have requested your prayers, faithfully carry them to Jesus and pray, “Thy will be done.” Know that even before you have uttered these prayers, in faith, they are already known by God, for Jesus has already carried your tears, and hurts, and petitions, and requests to His Father on your behalf. He has heard them and He has done something about them all: He died, and rose, and lives. And, buried and raised with Christ, this is true of all of God’s baptized children as well. You know this. Believe it.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.