Jesus: Physician of Body, Soul and Mind - Mark 1:29-39

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

“My doctor says I am clinically depressed. I need some help.” I got ten words out before I broke down, weeping. That happened five years ago, this past week, the day I walked into my pastor’s office and spoke those two sentences to Pastor Sawhill. It had been a terrible, terrible weekend after a terrible, terrible week at the end of a terrible, terrible month. To say it was a “dark time” is an understatement. For months, I had been fighting ugly thoughts. Truth be told, looking back, I had been fighting depressive tendencies since I was a kid, but things had finally come to a head. Layer after layer of shame was weighing down on me. I saw myself as a failure-writ-large. Woulda, coulda, shoulda…those words echoed in judgement in my head. You remember the book, The Scarlet Letter, and how Hester Prynne wore that infamous A on her blouse with an admixture of pride and guilt. If she wore an A for adultery, I mentally emblazoned a giant F on my chest. F for failure.

All I could see in myself were the mistakes I had made as a parent, doubting that I had done enough to prepare them for life and remembering seemingly each and every mistake I made in rearing them. I perceived failure as a husband. My sins of omission and commission, both real and imagined, were magnified in my head. At church, attendance was down. Must be my fault, somehow, I thought. The budget was getting tight. There were some grumblings and I felt, truly or not, that they were about me, and I felt a growing pressure to change in both style and substance. There was tension between members after some tumultuous choices were made. Meetings were uncomfortable. I hated going to work, having to sit in the parking lot almost every morning, just to work up the chutzpa to go inside.

My inner voice became more and more corrupt. You know the voice I speak about. You have one. It’s the voice in your head that praises you for a job well done, that warns you about dangerous situations, that encourages you to be wise, that laughs at your dad jokes that make everyone else groan, that offers commentary on things around you, and calls out bad choices. That’s how your voice, your conscience is supposed to work – identifying how we, as children of God, are to live in the freedom God gives to love Him and our neighbors. But my voice was corrupted. It became an absolutely cruel, demanding and damning monster. I could never please, appease, or satisfy it. And, then, it doubled down. A good father, a good husband, a good pastor would know what to do, how to fix this, what direction to take, but you....you are so stupid, incompetent, a failure. I hated shaving and combing my hair. I could not look myself in the eye in the mirror.

This probably makes no sense to you – how I let myself get in that deep of a hole, what was going on in my head, why I felt this way – but I assure you, it was very, very ugly. Imagine the worst, most sadistic bully you had ever seen, like R. Lee Ermy as Sgt. Hartman in Full Metal Jacket, and you have an idea of what was going on. As bad as bullies are, and they are cruel, they are outside of you. The worst part was my bully was in my head using my voice, calling me the most unconscionable names you could possibly imagine. I was my own internal enemy.

I grew to hate Sunday mornings. I would preach of Christ’s atoning sacrifice for sinners, but my inner voice would say, “Except for you.” I would raise my hand and say, “I forgive you all your sins,” and see only the backside of a hand raised against me in judgement. I would speak of grace through faith and my voice would mock, “What faith? Good Christians, faithful Christians, Baptized Christians should not think this way. Such a disappointment.” And during the week, I would sit in the last pew – I couldn’t make myself get closer to the altar – and weep, huge tears running down my face, part of me praying no one would come in; part of me hoping someone would find me. I remember thinking of Jesus’ miraculous power and might and how the townspeople brought all their sick and their lame and their demon possessed for Him to heal. And He did! With a touch, the fever left Peter’s mother-in-law and she got up, not at all fatigued, but able to serve. The deaf could hear the voice of the one who made their ears come to life; the blind could see the one who brought light to their darkness; the lame could leap like the deer; lepers could return, whole and healed, into the community; and formerly demon-possessed souls could again give thanks to the Lord for He is good and His mercy endures, Amen! But, there I sat, alone in my misery. I would stare at the font and repeat over and over, out loud so to be heard over my inner voice, “I am baptized, I am baptized. I am God’s child and He won’t leave me in this. But, why isn’t he helping me?” I hung there in the tension: baptized but suffering terribly.  

I tell you this story, not because I am vying for sympathy, but to do two things: one, to expose the lies that satan tries to tell us that something is wrong, that because you have sinned, or because you have been sinned against, or because you are being faith-tested, or because perhaps you are in the midst of your own Job-like moment that you have somehow hurled yourself outside God’s grace. Seventy times seven is for everyone else; you get one times one. Rubbish. He’s called accuser and father of lies for a reason. Christ has defeated satan and that is truth beyond all truths. And, two, when satan does attack you with his best – or his worst, as the case may be – the solution is not to go it alone in prideful arrogance like I tried to do, saying that it’ll all be OK, pretending to keep swimming, fake it ‘til you make it, blah blah blah. The solution is to seek help from outside you, from another Christian, another child of God, and preferably your pastor, so you can hear of Truth – with a Capitol T - that is outside yourself: the Truth of Jesus Christ crucified for you.

It's very easy to read this section from Mark 1, starting already with last week’s Gospel lesson, the ten verses previous, and think this is all the kind of Jesus you need – a miraculous, healing Jesus who drives out sickness and illness and demons and every other kind of force that works against us as human beings. Yes, He does these things, but remember: every one of those people whom Jesus healed would one day die. If that’s all Jesus is, just a miracle-working physician, something is missing – something eternal. I want you to notice something else: Jesus disappears, early in the morning, to pray. And, when the disciples find him, he doesn’t say, “Let’s go set up another Messianic clinic so I can miraculously heal.” He says, “Let us go on to the next towns, that I may preach there also, for that is why I came out.”  He comes to preach a Word that gives life, now and into eternity, to heal from the eternal sickness of our sins, to bring immortality to life amidst death.

“Preaching” is such a negative word in today’s vocabulary. A father is scolding his teenage daughter and she snaps at him, “Don’t preach at me!” When the boss is giving a presentation that everyone knows about already, we say he’s preaching to the choir. When we see Mom or Dad putting brother or sister in his or her place, really letting them have it, we smile at the parent and say, “Preach it!” It sounds so negative. But this is what Jesus comes to do: preach.

Preaching is proclamation. It is saying, “Thus saith the Lord” and “This is most certainly true!” When Jesus proclaims, it is to proclaim the Kingdom of God has arrived and is standing among the people. In Christ, God reigns. The Kingdom has come. And the only response to the Kingdom’s arrival is repentance. Lord, have mercy on me a sinner! He does! His purpose is to have mercy, to offer Himself as the vicarious atonement, the substitutionary sacrifice, for sinners. His preaching declares that: His coming is not only for repentance, but salvation. Even from the cross, the proclamation sounds forth in a great victory sermon: It is finished! Not His life, not His suffering, but Satan’s lying hold over God’s people.

Finally, the weekend of my 42^nd birthday, my façade broke. I knew I had no choice. Something was very, very wrong. I saw my physician. I made an appointment with Dr. Allain. And then I saw my pastor. My pastor stood in the stead of Jesus Christ and he preached, not to a church full of people, not to a congregation, but to me: a dying, hurting soul. Pastor Sawhill proclaimed to me that satan was a lying and defeated fool and that he was twisting my conscience. He spoke to me what I had spoken countless times for others. He assured me that, even in the midst of what I was going through, that my Baptismal covenant was secure. He proclaimed that it’s not the strength of my faith but the strength of the One in whom our Christian faith rests. He proclaimed Christ’s power is made perfect in our weakness, and His weakness is greater than our strength could ever be. He proclaimed that nothing – not even the prince of darkness – can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. And, he proclaimed there is now no condemnation for you in Christ Jesus our Lord. He placed his hands on my head and announced the absolution to me. And he prayed for the Lord to heal my soul, drive satan’s lies from me, and enable me to live free in Christ.

That day, a few days after my 42^nd birthday, this preacher was the preached-to with my pastor proclaiming the Good News of Jesus to me. That day, perhaps for the first time in a long time, I heard Jesus proclaimed in the clearest of words. I wish I could say there was miraculous healing of my illness, that those words of proclamation were all it took to rid me of my clinical depression. It wasn’t. It took medication, some very painful visits with a therapist, and some more visits with my pastor. It’s been an interesting time since then. God used a physician, a therapist, and a pastor as instruments of healing for me. I would never do it again, but I thank God for those dark days because that darkness let me hear, receive, and experience the power of the proclamation of the Good News of Jesus as never before. Remember, I said I used to see myself with a giant letter F for Failure? I was wrong. It’s not an F. It’s a cross, placed on my in my baptism by another pastor, as a servant of Christ, a cross in token that I have been redeemed by Christ the Crucified. And so have you. Receive the sign of the cross: In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Jesus Has Authority - Mark 1: 21-28

Jesus enters Capernaum and immediately, on the Sabbath, enters the town synagogue. Jesus, synagogues and Sabbath all fit together nicely, a worshipful trifecta, as it were. The Sabbath was made for man’s day of rest from a week’s labors so man could rejoice in receiving the gifts of God. Synagogues were made for God’s people to gather in their communities to receive the gifts of God in the reading and teaching of the Torah, the Writings and the Prophets and, in return, to offer their prayers to God. It makes sense, then, that Jesus – who is the Word incarnate – would go to the place where the Word is preached and taught, the Word that foretold of Him and His salvific work, and in His preaching, the Kingdom would be present.

We don’t know the specifics of what Jesus was teaching, but He was doing it with great authority – so much so that it was amazing the scribes who would normally hold forth on the Law. In Jewish tradition, scribes and teachers of the Law would cite the great rabbis, as if reading the footnotes of a dissertation: Rabbi A received this from his teacher, who heard it from his teacher, who was taught by his teacher,” and so on, if possible tracing it back to Moses. It was an ancient form of two children playing and arguing until one or the other cries out, “Oh, yeah? Well, Mom says…” Jesus doesn’t need to cite rabbis; he doesn’t need a chain of argument that concludes at the foot of Mount Sinai. He doesn’t need to qualify with, “Here’s what I think.” Where others teach about God’s Word, Jesus is the very Word of God enfleshed, so with His full Divine authority, Jesus is able to say, “You have heard it said…but I say to you.”

Martin Luther once said something like this: Wherever the Lord builds a church, satan builds a chapel next door. He wants nothing more than to stop God’s people from receiving God’s gifts that deliver forgiveness, life and salvation. Anything satan can do to keep people’s eyes from Jesus, their ears from the preaching of the cross, their hearts from trusting Christ, their minds from following only God’s Word, their conscience from their identity as a baptized child of God, he’ll throw it at Christians, trying to drive a wedge – no matter how great or small – between them and God.

In Capernaum, satan isn’t content with a next-door chapel; he tries to invade Jesus’ Kingdom that has appeared in the synagogue. The devil hates that the poor in spirit are being enriched. He hates that those who mourn Israel’s unfaithfulness were being filled with joy in the words of Jesus. He despises that people who are hungering and thirsting for righteousness are satisfied and that empty cups are filled to the top. He loathes that the beggar’s sacks of sinners are overflowing with the eternal blessings of God that neither rust nor fade. Something needs to happen…something needs to interrupt Jesus’ authoritative teaching and preaching.

St. Mark says, “And immediately there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit. And he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are – the holy one of God!”

Today, satan isn’t content with a next-door chapel; he tries to invade Jesus Kingdom that is the Church, here and across the globe. 

Some of it seems relatively harmless. In fact, we’ve grown so accustomed to it that it now seems ordinary and mundane: the coach calls for practice on Sunday morning and the implication is if you go to church and skip practice, you aren’t dedicated to the team’s success. Oh, well…pragmatism wins. Binge-watching a new TV show late into the night leads to a late morning start which takes up our personal devotion and prayer time. Oh, well…Jesus knows what I need anyway. We are surrounded by images on screen and in print that glorify the sexuality of the human body in the name of “art” while degrading the gift of husband and wife to each other. Oh, well…it’s just the way it goes.

Other times it rears its sinister and ugly head and we see it for the evil that it is: Political differences lead to vile, angry name calling among friends and family, all under the guise of “free speech” (of course) while tossing the 8^th Commandment out the window. Violence and mayhem are portrayed as a perfectly good strategy to deal with anger and disappointment...unless you disagree with their position.  Our culture teaches that if you want something, get it by any means necessary – even if you have to beg, borrow, steal or murder. We see people scream at each other; love for others is left behind; selfishness is fueled, grudges are held and honed to a razor’s edge.

And we – the people of God – stand in the middle of it, in the world but not of the world – and see the chaos around us. But, if we’re honest, it’s not just around us. We get caught up in it, too, wrapped up in it, distracted by it so that we lose sight of the one who can rescue us from this world: Jesus. And satan giggles with joy that he’s pulled our eyes, ears, hearts, and minds away from Jesus and the cross, and instead focus on ourselves and how we can win and how we can retaliate and how we can overcome.

Jesus entered into this very chaos to put satan back into his place. He comes to establish the Kingdom of God and put down the kingdom of darkness. He comes to destroy the destroyer. He speaks truth to the father of lies. He comes to rescue and save.

Here is why Jesus entered Capernaum’s synagogue and why He continues to enter into the Church still today: to face satan’s lies and distractions, to silence the devil’s minions and return order to creation. With a Word, Jesus silences the man with the unclean spirit. Jesus is able to speak for Himself; He is able to show His own power and authority – He doesn’t need the devil to do it for him, or to mislead those gathered. Jesus speaks again and the evil spirit is driven out. This demonstrates Christ’s power, not only in Word but also in action. In that moment, Jesus is showing that the Kingdom of God is truly present and that He has come to establish His throne.

It’s not much of a throne, really. It’s made of rough wood. The throne isn’t housed in a palace. It’s driven into the ground outside of the city walls. And instead of a kingly crown of gold, He will wear a crown of thorns. But from that throne, Jesus defeats and silences the devil eternally and restores perfect order into the world.

We’re not there, yet. While these things have all happened in Christ’s cross, we are still waiting for the fulfillment of them in His return. We live in the “now,” as we wait for the “not yet.” For a little while, the devil roars about like a hungry lion seeking whom he may devour, and he does everything he can to distract us. Hear the Word of the Lord: repent, for the Kingdom of God is here. When your eyes are tempted, look to Jesus. When the siren songs try to pull you away, listen to Jesus. When the chaos of this world incites fear, trust in Jesus. And, when you do sin, do not despair. Turn to Jesus: confess your sins and trust in His perfect forgiveness that He won for you at that very cross. No tricks…no distractions. Simply Jesus and His promises for you.

When those people left the Capernaum synagogue, they went back out into the world, but they did so telling what they had heard and seen that day. In a few moments, you will leave this house of God and re-enter the world with all of the devil’s distractions. Do so, likewise remembering all that you had seen and heard this morning. Go back to you homes and places of work, to your restaurants and grocery stores in the sure and certain confidence that is yours in the cross of Christ. Remember your baptism and trust the promises that God made for you there. You are His; He is yours.  Nothing can separate you from Him. In His name. Amen.

Come and See...and Welcome Home: John 1:43-51

(NB: Today, after a year's "exile" because of sanctuary remodeling and renovations, we returned to the Lord's House.)

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

Several years ago, a popular home renovation show became famous for how they did their big reveal. While the family was off on a vacation, the crew was hard at work demo-ing, fixing, and rebuilding. Finally, it was time for the family to see their old house made new. They gathered behind a large tour bus that separated them from their home. Their excitement and anticipation was so palpable you could feel it in your stomach. Finally, the host – along with the audience gathered at the work sight – commanded the driver to move the bus. After a tearful exploratory journey, the host gathered the family together and gently said, “Welcome home, family…welcome home.”

This morning, after a year’s separation from this sanctuary, we have returned to this home, to this House of God. If you are thinking it’s been a long time, you are right: the last time we worshipped here was December 29, 2019. In those almost thirteen months, there was a lot of work done by committee members, our architect, two contractor firms, their sub-contractors, and by many of you who volunteered in many ways. There were some surprises along the way: some old construction treasures, Covid’s unwelcomed arrival and impact on the industry, and material shortages, just to name a few. So, after three hundred and eighty-five days of exile from the sanctuary, welcome home, family of God…welcome home. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for your diligent work. Thank you for supporting those who worked these projects through. Thank you for remembering these projects and workers in your prayers. Thank you for your faithfulness.

Make no mistake: this was all done for a very specific reason. For years, there was talk about needing more space, updating and bringing a 1968-year-model building into the 21^st century, and making the whole space more inviting and welcoming so people would want to be here. It would be tempting to think these are the reasons why the remodel and renovation was done. Yes, but no. Those are all secondary or even tertiary reasons for the work done here. The reason, the ultimate reason for all of this work is for the glory of God and for the beautification of the House of the Lord.

In the Old Testament, David lamented that he dwelled in a house made of the finest of woods and precious metals but the shekinah shul Yahweh – the glory of the Lord – dwelled in a tent. Beginning with King David and then culminating with his son, Solomon, the people brought their gifts for the construction of the Temple. Only the best – the best  of their gifts, the best building materials, the best workers, the best workmanship – for the Lord’s house. Finally, on the day of dedication, Solomon prayed that the Lord, who does not need an earthly dwelling yet promised to dwell among His people, would enter the Temple and abide with His people. The shekinah shul Yahweh – the glory of the Lord – entered, and what was a building, a beautifully exquisite building the likes of which the world has scarcely ever seen again, became the House of the Lord.

The House of the Lord: it’s His House. He dwelt in the Temple and He dwells here, in this sacred building. Here, in His own spiritually present and sacramental way, God deigns to dwell among His people. And, He invites us into His presence. He comes among us who gather in His name, in Water and Word, in Bread and Wine. Again, make no mistake about it: this is His house, and it is for His purpose. He doesn’t entertain; He absolves. He doesn’t merely encourage; He blesses. He doesn’t give you what you want; He gives what we often don’t even realize. He doesn’t answer in our time; He answers in His time, in His way.

He calls us into His house and into His presence so He can deliver His gifts to us in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit. Jesus, who called Philip with the simple invitation, “Follow me,” still calls us. “Follow me” – through Baptismal water into death and resurrection. “Follow me” – through the Word that is read and preached. “Follow me” – to the Table where He Himself is both Host and Feast. “Follow me” – from this Holy House out into the world where you encounter people, not that unlike Nathaniel, who was found while sitting under a fig tree.

I find it fascinating that St. John includes that little detail about a fig tree. Not just a tree, or even a shade tree but a fig tree.

There is a story, found outside the Biblical text, that in the ancient world, the fig trees would grow with roots that would come up out of the ground. Old trees had such a gnarled, standing root system – think of something like cypress trees – that these became popular places for rabbis to teach their students who used the roots for both benches and tables. There, Rabbis taught the Scriptures and students learned the Biblical text. So, when Nathaniel was sitting under a fig tree, he wasn’t kicked back waiting for a fig Newton.[1] He was searching the Scriptures, seeking the One prophesied of old, perhaps even comparing what the Biblical texts said with the One baptized by John in the Jordan. Nathaniel’s comment about nothing good coming from Nazareth was less a derogatory comment – “the 4^th Ward? Nothing good ever happens in the 4^th Ward” – and simply overstating the case, doubting if the Messiah would come from Nazareth. “So what if he’s from Nazareth…Moses, the Law, and the prophets didn’t say anything about that.” Philip’s invitation to Nathaniel was as simple as Jesus’ invitation to him: Come and see.

Indeed, they would see. For Jacob, seeing heaven open and angels ascending and descending was only a dream. For Philip and Nathaniel and all the other disciples whom Jesus would call, in the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, they would see heaven being opened and God dwelling among them to rescue and redeem the world. They would see miracles as the Creator controls creation. They would see the Lord of Life heal the sick and raise the dead to life. They would hear the Word made flesh speak light into the darkness. They would believe, and they would confess, Jesus as Christ the Son of the Living God. They would see evil men rise up against Jesus, plotting to kill Him because He was stealing the spotlight from them. But, they would not be present when Jesus hung from the cross, or when He was crying for His Father’s presence, only for the Father to neither respond nor send angels to minister to Him in His dying breath. Then, they would see Him, on the third day as He promised, risen from the grave and, forty days later, ascend into the heavens. In all of this, He fulfilled not only His promises but all that had been written of Him by Moses and the Law and the prophets.

We live in a time and place where we are surrounded by people who also are searching for Someone or Something, often not knowing who or what that might be. They are given ideas from television and magazines, from Hollywood personalities and professional athletes, from social media and social “influencers” who tell us to worship fame, popularity, and fashion, and – of course – the almighty dollar. Often, the unholy trinity of me, myself and I is espoused as the biggest god – lower case g – to worship, because no one else is looking out for ol’ number one. People want to think they can contribute to their salvation – either by the good things they do, or by the lifestyle they live, or by the choices they make they become good enough or worthy enough. Against a seemingly endless supply of gods of health, wealth and happiness, the church stands with her message of Christ Jesus and He alone, crucified, resurrected and ascended, saves. It’s not a popular message. But it’s the only message, the only Word, that can save.

For two thousand years, the Christian church has continued the invitation to come and see. For one hundred and seven years, Zion has carried the same invitation to our neighbors and family and friends. And now, entering our 108^th year, we still preach the same message and still offer the same invitation. Come. Come and see.

So, invite them. Invite them – friends, family, coworkers, neighbors, your doctor, your accountant, your feed salesman, your beauty consultant, the kid flipping burgers, the senior citizen 42-player - invite them to come and see. Invite them here, to the Lord’s House, to come, see the One who knows those who are still afar. Welcome them to come, see the One who knows your sins, yet invites you to His presence. Come, see the One who calls you to be baptized in His name. Come, see the One who son of Joseph, son of Man, son of God. Come, see the One who tabernacles among us – in this building, yes, but more than that, in His means of Grace that bestow forgiveness, life and salvation without limit or limitation.

And perhaps, one day, by God’s grace, you’ll be able to say to that once-lost soul, “Welcome home, my friend…welcome home.”

Amen.

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[1] If you are reading this sermon and got that trifecta play on figs, Sir Isaac Newton, and the delicious cookie, that’s a gold star for you. 😊

 

Doing His Father's Business - Luke 2:40-52

I could imagine Mary asking Joseph, “Where is Jesus? Have you seen Him?” Just a question of curiosity, no big deal, equally matched by Joseph’s relaxed reply, “No…have you?” Mary and Joseph were journeying back home from Jerusalem. They probably hadn’t seen Jesus all morning – at least, not since they left the Holy City at sunup – and traveling with the group, they assumed that he, like most twelve-year-old boys, were running ahead, exploring off the road, enjoying the company of other boys his own age. Maybe when they stopped for lunch, they asked a few friends, “Have you seen our son?” they started to wonder, but still didn’t get too worried – he was probably eating with a family that had something better to offer. Maybe curiosity started to grow when he didn’t zip by and ask for a snack mid-day. But as the group started to settle in for the evening, as fires were built and as camps were set up and the traveler’s meals were being prepared and still no Boy, you can very easily imagine their concern growing into worry. “Mary, you go this way; I’ll go that way. Ask everyone if they’ve seen Jesus…” Remember – it was a few days before Passover. There was a lot of traffic on the road, people coming into and going out of Jerusalem. Plus, there are always men of questionable character on the road, looking for easy prey to mug. Mary’s maternal instincts were firing on all 8 cylinders; Joseph was growing worried. No one among the travelers – not fellow moms or dads or Jesus’ running buddies – no one had seen their Son. Concern, wonder, worry – they were all replaced by full-on fear. Their son was missing.

Maybe they spent the night in camp, trying to remember the last place they had seen him and work up a plan for the morning. Maybe they interviewed friends and family members, trying to discern if any of them had seen Jesus. Maybe they got a few hours of fitful sleep while waiting for the sunrise to illumine their way back to Jerusalem. Maybe they even turned around that very night and stagger-stumbled their way back into Jerusalem. I can imagine their search: Day one, checking the place where they had stayed, hunting in shops, looking among extended family who lived there in the city, anxiety growing each passing hour. Day two, now frantically stopping passers-by, desperately asking merchants, catching travelers who are entering the swelling city for Passover, asking if they saw a lost boy on their way into the city. Day three, a terrible sense of trepidation settles into their hearts. When was the last time they ate or slept? They can’t remember. Perhaps they went so far as to find a kind-looking soldier, daring to ask him if they heard of a boy who may have gotten arrested or hurt or...something worse. It’s been three days. Where’s left to look?

Three days…three lonesome, terrifying, days without their son. Their son…lost. Finally, Mary and Joseph turn to the temple. The temple – the early Jewish church. Then, as now, the house of the Lord.  Funny, how people return to the house of the Lord in times of crisis. When the world crumbles, when lives turn upside down, when crisis crashes upon crisis and answers are not forthcoming, when you really, finally understand why the last straw broke the camel’s back, that’s when people – physically, emotionally, spiritually broken people - return to the Lord’s house. It makes sense. When you can’t rescue yourself, when you can’t save yourself, when you can’t fix it, when you can’t find the strength to go one more step, when you have no more answers or options or solutions or resolutions, when you have lost everything, people return to the Lord’s House.

And so, Joseph and Mary went to the Temple. Physically exhausted, emotionally spent, spiritually emptied, they returned to the Lord’s House. Were they seeking succor, rest, answers, support, prayers, a few coins from the community pauper’s chest to help them stay a few more days to search?

Imagine when there, in the Temple, they find Jesus and the flood of emptions that threatened to overwhelm them. Of course, there’s relief and joy – that which was lost is found! But there’s also frustration and anger that He was not with them in their journey; exasperation at the hurt He caused. And there’s astonishment, of course, at His teaching the elders. It all comes to a head that you can hear in Mary’s words, “Son, why have you treated us so? Behold your father and I have been searching for you in great distress” (v. 48).

“Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in My Father’s house?”

Did you catch that? There’s a subtle clue in that interchange. Mary said, “Behold, your father and I have been searching…” Jesus answered that He must be in “My Father’s house.” Although the answer seems harsh, don’t hear it with anything less than a respectful tone towards His mother. Don’t hear any sass or in the voice of a smart-alecked pre-teen boy. Hear it with the voice of a Boy who is being obedient to His mother but also His Father – His heavenly Father. It’s a gentle, but not so subtle reminder to Mary that while Jesus is her son, and therefore to be obedient to her as His mother, Jesus is also God’s Son, and He must be obedient to His Heavenly Father as well. While He would be obedient to both Mary and Joseph, He must first and foremost be obedient to God. Mary and Joseph needed a sharp reminder of who Jesus really was, why He was given to them, and what His mission is.

We need that reminder too, especially after Christmas and at the dawn’s breaking of a new year. It’s all too easy, all too common for us to make Jesus into whatever we want Him to be – a Stretch Armstrong form of Jesus that we can shape into whatever kind of image we want Him to be. And, isn’t it strange – when we do that, often He winds up looking just like us. Listen to how people talk: My Jesus wouldn’t judge people; My Jesus wouldn’t talk that way; the Jesus I worship would never vote for him or her; the Jesus I know wouldn’t say no to what I want. Our made-in-our-own-image Jesus espouses our causes, He cheers our points, He furthers our dreams. He doesn’t challenge; he coddles. He doesn’t call to repentance; instead, He eggs us on, reveling in whatever we enjoy. So, Jesus becomes a racial Jesus, a pro- and anti-Jesus, a Democrat Republican Independent Jesus, a consumer-driven Jesus. And us? What does that make us? It makes us out to be God – lower case g - or, at least, we make ourselves into the image of a god, one who can create a Jesus that fits our needs. This man-made, in-our-image Jesus that we create is not who Jesus is.

So, when we see Jesus in the Temple, in the Lord’s House, in His House, it serves as our wake-up call. It reminds us of who Jesus really is; why He was born; what He came to do: His Father’s business.

The Father’s business is always the opposite of our idea of business. There is no buying or selling or exchanging goods and services. There is only grace giving and grace receiving. The Father’s business is giving His Son for the sins of the world through the womb of Mary into a world gone wrong, into a vortex of suffering and bleeding and dying. This took place in a far different temple where the altar was the cross, the priests were Roman soldiers, and the sacrifice was the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.  

The Father’s business would result in another time when Jesus seemed lost to Mary. Jesus’ mother spent another three days agonizing without her Son. She didn’t have to frantically search for Him though; she knew where He was. Her Son, Her firstborn Son whom she once wrapped in swaddling clothes and placed in a manger, was instead wrapped in burial linen and placed into a cold, stone sepulcher. Three days, dead; three days, separated; three days without her Son.

 “Don’t you know I must be about My Father’s business?” That’s as true for Easter as it was in the temple that day. The Father’s business is life from death; resurrection from the grave. And in this Jesus, the Father’s business is made known in His resurrection, conquering sin, death and the grave for us. So we never forget, He makes it known to us in this House – this Lord’s House. He gives Jesus into the splashing of water that drenches you in grace on the day you are baptized and floods you every day afterward with the Father’s grace-drenched love. He gives Him into a temple of nouns and verbs and adjectives, into the temple of His Word read and preached, through which the Spirit works and speaks life into your worn and weary soul. The Father gives Jesus into your mouth, into that fifty-cent sized piece of bread that is stuffed with the golden grace of heaven and a sip of wine that has fermented in the veins of God.

The Father’s business is to always give the Son so that you might always be receiving the Son, and in Him and with Him, You receive everything the Father wants you to have here in His House.

It’s in this House, this church among the body of Christ where the Son does the Father’s business. In the Father’s house, you are delivered a clean slate, a personal history that is purged of every wrongdoing – no matter how great or small – and what you receive is Jesus. The Father’s business is to deliver to you a clean conscience: wholeness, no matter how broken you are; peace, no matter how conflicted your life may seem; hope, no matter how you overwhelmed you may feel. In His house, the Father delivers Jesus to you.

In His name. Amen.

“Do You Hear What I Hear?” Luke 2:1-20

“Do You Hear What I Hear?”
Luke 2:1-20

For many, this night is filled with a romantic picture of the Holy Family nestled in a barn. A couple of clean-shaven shepherds stand, staring in loving rapture at the Babe, wrapped in a blue blanket, tucked into his straw-filled manger. Nearby, a cow rests on her belly in repose and a sheep lays with her head, gently, on the ground, both in worshipful admiration. Slightly off-center, but obviously the focus of the picture, is Baby Jesus glowing in Divine radiance. Overhead, an angel hovers and stands guard while, in the distance, a star twinkles in the dark night’s sky.  You can practically hear the strains of Away in A Manger and O Little Town of Bethlehem emanating from the picture.

This dreamy, Norman Rockwell-esque picture presents us a solemn, yet joyous moment in the history of God’s plan of salvation, one that we traditionally, piously, and reverently treasure this night every December. We gather with family and friends to hear the old, old story and sing the old, old hymns. We light our candles and we sing Stille Nacht, Heilege Nacht knowing that all is calm and all is bright, for in that Bethlehem stable, joy has indeed come to the world in the birth of the Lord.

There is nothing wrong with having this picture in our head, even if it is more simple and sentimental than based in fact. But, if that is all our picture is, an American Greetings moment, we miss something, something important.

Shh…do you hear it? Off in the distance…do you hear what I hear? The cries of a woman in labor carry out a stable and echo down the streets of the town. There is pain in that sound, a hurt that is unlike any other pain a woman experiences; but, hidden beneath the hurt is also joy and hope, knowing that in from this pain comes birth, from birth comes life, the life of a newborn child. There’s also a more subtle sound, harder to hear. It’s lower in register. This is a father’s word of encouragement for his wife, strong but gentle and rich with humility, knowing that in that moment he is helpless to do anything other than support his wife and hold her as best he can.  A final scream from the mother, a word from the father and then, there…do you hear it? There it is: the baby’s cry. A baby’s cry is difficult to describe but, like a good song, we just know it when we hear it. From the darkness of night, in that cry is the sound of life. In that Life is the Light of man.

Do you hear it? That baby’s cry is the same as has been sung since the birth of Cain and Able; it’s the cry you and I gave when we were born. But, this baby’s cry-song is different. This is no normal baby: It’s the sound of God entering into His own created world, Jesus, son of Mary; Immanuel, God with us.

That’s the sound I want you to hear tonight – the sound of a baby. But, not just any baby. No, in this Baby, God comes to us. Conceived, supernaturally by the Holy Spirit; born, naturally, through Mary. In this Baby, the Divine takes on humanity; God dwells among us. Mary’s baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a Bethlehem manger without a home to call His own – He is King of Kings and Lord of Lords, as Isaiah foretold it, but He, of humble birth, is not adorned with gilded blankets and satin linens; He resides not in a castle among kings and princes but in a stable with His mother who considers herself least of all women and Joseph, whom God chose to be surrogate father, appointed caretaker and provider for God’s Son, His only-begotten Son.  

He is a baby, so He is like you in every way. Yet, also He is God, so He is completely opposite you, without sin. As Baby and God, He is Jesus, to be your Savior.

Do you hear this? He is your Savior. Don’t forget this behind the romance of the night with that perfect Christmas card picture. He more, much more than just the subject of art, the muse behind songs crooned by musicians for an increasingly secular holiday that openly mocks its own namesake. Christ is your Savior and Christ-mass is the celebration that recalls that Jesus enters to redeem a sin-contaminated world filled with sin-contaminated people, neither of which can save itself from the damnable condemnation of eternal separation with God.

It has been said that Jesus is the greatest gift of all. This is true. He Himself is a gift of love. Wonders of wonders, the Gift delivers a gift as well.

Do you hear it? Listen closely; listen again. There it is, in the angels’s song sung from the heavens, “Glory to God in the highest and on earth, peace among those with whom He is pleased.” Do you hear the gift? The gift is peace.

We think of peace as the absence of war, the cessation of fighting. The gift of peace that the angels deliver is even greater: it’s the restoration of wholeness between God and man. Peace declares that sin’s separating power is destroyed.

The cross is still years into the future for Jesus. The hill of Calvary cannot be seen from Bethlehem, both because of distance and time. The truth of Jesus as already being a living sacrifice has not registered in Mary or Joseph’s heads. Jesus fulfilling the Law for us, living perfectly for us, remaining sinless for us; His miracles, His teaching, His life of sacrificial love; His proclamation of repentance and forgiveness; His challenging the people’s idea of religion – all of these are to come, completely unknown to Jesus’ mother and step-father and the entire world. Yet, remarkably the promise of peace, the word of restoration, is already proclaimed by the heavenly messengers. Peace is already being fulfilled in the Baby. In Jesus, born in the Bethlehem, resting in a stable manger, perhaps surrounded by barnyard animals, with dirty, stinky shepherds who almost assuredly were anything but clean-shaven, with a tired yet joy-filled mother resting nearby under the watchful eyes of a curious but obedient father – this is for you.

Did you hear it? For you: for you whose life doesn’t shine with social network perfection, whose story isn’t glamorous, whose closet contents you pray never see the light of day, whose families are less than holy in appearance, who are tested to remain faithful, who see the intersection of faith and life as less of a struggle and more like a collision, who remembers the sins of this past year with shame and guilt – Jesus is for you. He comes for you. He was born for you. He lives for you. He dies for you. He rises for you. In this, His death and resurrection, He saves you from your sins and guilt, all those things that tarnish us and out thoughts, words and deeds, our relationships, and our families. His peace declares that you are forgiven of all these, and more, and none of these shall separate you from the love of God.

Perhaps this isn’t the typical Christmas sermon that you’ve grown used to hearing over the years. That’s OK. This isn’t the typical Christmas, either. In fact, most of the things we consider to be part of a “normal” Christmas has been stripped away this year. Instead of family get-togethers, we have family stay-aparts. Instead of full Frasier Firs we have scraggly Charley Browns, even in Rockefeller Center. Piles of gifts have been replaced by one or two carefully chosen gifts that were scrimped and saved from an already tight family budget. Kids’ wish lists, that normally have things like 4-wheelers and the newest gaming systems, now list a job for mom, full-time work for dad. Merle Haggard’s song, “If we make it through December” seems a lot more poignant than “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.” “Joy to the world,” indeed…for many, it’s difficult to feel joy in times like this.

If you read my Christmas letter, I said there is a left-handed blessing in our “normal” Christmas being stripped away. Don’t get me wrong – there is nothing good in not being able to be with family, in people being sick and dying, in loneliness and heartache, in the losses we continue to endure. But, as I’ve said before, when life narrows down and it comes at you hard, there in the middle stands Jesus. With everything else stripped away from Christmas this year, we are more clearly able to see Jesus. Not the mere caricature on Christmas cards, the romantic scene that comes to mind, but Jesus, the Son of God made flesh who comes to dwell among us. With much of the noise and hulabaloo of the secular Christmas silenced, we can hear the sounds of the Nativity. Nativity comes out of Latin; it means birth. Not just any, but Jesus’ birth. “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which shall be for all people. For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior which is Christ the Lord” (v. 10-11). 

So, tonight, here in the Lord’s house; this evening at your home with a few family members; tomorrow, by yourself, let’s not celebrate Christmas. Instead open your Bible to Luke 2 and remember and celebrate the Nativity – the birth – of Jesus, your Savior, who brings the gift of peace between you and God, and God and you.

Shhh…do you hear it? It’s no mere picture on a card emanating imaginary sounds. This is the Nativity, the birth of Jesus, “this thing that has come to pass, which the Lord has made known to us,” (Luke 2:15)

Blessed Nativity to you all.
In Jesus’ name.
Amen.

 

A Truly Miraculous Announcement of a Truly Miraculous Birth of a Truly Miraculous Baby - Luke 1:26 - 38

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

We often use the world “miracle” to describe the arrival of a newborn child. The birth of a child – the nine-month-long development from microscopic but living cells into the dramatic arrival of a flesh-and-blood, seven pound, two ounce, nineteen and one-half-inch long baby (that’s the statistical average in the United States, by the way, per Google) who is vocally making his or her arrival known to everyone present – well, yes; yes, we can understand how that would be described as a miracle. The arrival of life is a wonderful and humbling moment to witness. Don’t tell anyone, but it’s possible I may have said the same at the arrival of our three children.

Now, I don’t mean to pour cold water on any romantic ideas we have, but, in the strict sense of the term, is childbirth really a miracle? After all, by definition, a miracle is when the laws of nature are changed – not just bent, but completely turned upside down. With a miracle, the naturally impossible becomes not only possible but a present actuality. So, instant water-to-wine without the process of fermentation; the raising of a decaying, four-day-dead man back to life; a sea parted by the winds so that thousands can cross over dry land; leftovers after feeding 5000 with a boy’s lunch; the sun hiding in shame at the death of the Light of the World. These are miracles in the truest sense of the world.

But, by and large, pregnancy and childbirth are a normal process of human reproduction that can be simply – albeit wonderfully – explained through normal, biological and medical ways and experienced daily at any hospital. As a rule, while spectacular and wonderful and enthralling, childbirth isn’t truly a miracle.

I fully agree that there are births that seem to defy explanation. For example, a dear college friend of ours was told by doctors since she was a teenager that there was absolutely zero possibility of her being able to have a child, but she and her husband are proud parents of two beautiful girls. 

But then, there are pregnancies and childbirths that are so extraordinarily contrary to all natural possibility that they can only be described as miraculous. I can think of three quick examples in the Bible.

Remember, in the Biblical world, being unable to have a child, and especially a son, was considered to be a curse from God Himself. For a woman, who desperately wants to be a mother but is biologically unable to have a child, it was as if God had turned His very back on her, shunning her, condemning her to a lesser class of womanhood.

In Genesis, Sarai wanted a son desperately, pleading and praying for God to be merciful to her. Since He didn’t seem to be listening, she took matters into her own hands, having her maid-servant be a surrogate mother. But, she grew so jealous of the servant, who was able to have a boy with Sarai’s own husband, further demonstrating her seeming cursedness, that she drove the mother and baby out into the wilderness to die. Finally, the Lord sent three angels to deliver the news that she and Abram would have a son. Her laughter at the impossible news turned to joy when she gave birth to a son, naming him Isaac. Isaac means laughter. In a terrible twist, the Lord would demand Isaac be sacrificed by his father’s own hand, later rescued by the vicarious substitution of a ram caught in the brush.

Or, how about Hannah? In my mind, she’s an older woman but the book of first Samuel doesn’t actually tell us her age, only that she was barren. Nevertheless, she was deeply loved and cared for by her husband, Elkannah. Hannah sat in the temple courtyard, murmuring her prayers, that the Lord would grant her a son. Finally noticed by Eli, who thought she as drunk, God promised through Eli that she would have a son. When the boy was born, she set him apart, dedicating her firstborn son to service in the Lord’s temple. A mother who wanted a son so desperately surrendered her son to the Lord.

And then there’s Mary’s cousin, Elizabeth. Like Sarai, Elizabeth and her husband, Zechariah, were both “advanced in years,” Luke notes in his first chapter, and she, like Hannah, was childless. This time the Lord delivered the news to her husband, that he would be a father. Not believing it, he was struck mute, unable to celebrate the gift of God’s promised blessing with anyone around him. But Elizabeth does believe, thanking God for taking away the reproach against her. You and I know this child as John the Baptizer who goes before Jesus as the one who prepares His way, calling people to repentance and baptizing in the wilderness.

Sarai, Hannah, Elizabeth. All three were women who begged and pleaded in prayer for the gift of a son and the joy of motherhood. All three were women unable to have children; at least two of the women – possibly all three – were advanced in years and beyond the normal age of childbirth. All three were given the gift of sons. All three had births that were truly miraculous.

But of all the miraculous births in the Bible, there is none more miraculous than story of Mary. In almost every way, she was opposite these three other women. She was young – possibly as young as 14 or 15. (While that makes us shudder today, it was not an uncommon thing in that day and age, so please understand it in the context.) She was betrothed – we would say engaged in modern parlance – but unlike modern engagements, their relationship had not yet been consummated; she remained a virgin. Being practically a child herself, having her own child, her own son, was most likely far, far from her mind as she had many years ahead of her to rejoice in the gift of a baby.

Yet, Gabriel appears to her with the angelic message and Divine announcement of a miraculous pregnancy and birth: Mary would conceive and bear a son and call his name Jesus. Mary identified the first impossibility of this – she was a virgin. Gabriel’s answer to that question identified the second miracle: not only would it be a virgin birth, but the Holy Spirit – God Himself – would be the father. The Baby would be her son; the Baby would be God’s Son. Virgin birth – impossible. God becoming flesh in the womb of a woman – impossible.

There is yet one more miracle that takes place in Gabriels’ announcement: “Mary said, ‘Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” The miracle is that Mary believes the angel’s news for her, that she would be a virgin mother; she would be the mother of the Son of God, and all this would come true as the Lord promised.

A trinity of miracles, as it were, all in Gabriel’s announcement to Mary and in Mary’s faithful acceptance of the message for her.

I have to wonder, although Mary believed the angel, what was going through her head. Amazement and wonder, I’m sure. When you go home this afternoon, you can get a sense of this by reading the rest of Luke 1. You’ll read the song Mary sings to her cousin, Elizabeth, a song speaking of the mercy of God, singing His praises for rescuing and redeeming Israel through her Baby, a song remembering His promises to His people of old, now coming to fruition in her womb.

But, I do wonder if she understood what the name “Jesus” would all mean. Did she consider her miraculous pregnancy in light of the other miraculous births, especially Sarai and Hannah? Did Mary wonder if her Son would also be sacrificed, but unlike Isaac, Jesus’ life would be demanded and the sacrifice complete, that His life would be the vicarious substitute for the world and no one – not even His heavenly Father – would intercede? Could Mary begin to imagine how her Son would be set apart, not merely for service in the temple, but that He would be the fulfillment of the Temple, itself, God enfleshed to dwell among us?

No. Not yet. That was all ahead, all on the horizon. Faith is not the same as understanding. She may not have understood it all – she certainly did not yet know all that would happen in the life of her son – but she believed that with God, all things, including this miraculous message of a Child, were possible.

But even on that day, with Gabriel’s words still hanging in the air of the Galilean afternoon, the cross is already ahead. It’s hiding, but it is present. It’s hiding in the very name of Jesus, that He will be the Savior. His throne will be greater than David’s – not encrusted with gold and jewels, but with slivers and His own blood as He reigns in glory from the cross. And He will reign and rule without end.

In the name of Jesus.

Amen.

A Christmas Epistle - 2020

10 December 2020

Dear friends in Christ,

This year has been one for the history books. I suspect that Christmas will follow suit and likewise be very different. Usually, Christmas cards have a catch-all letter of the family’s travels, accomplishments, and additions over the previous twelve months. This year’s letters will be pretty dull, I imagine, without words like vacation, adventure, party, graduation, and reunions. Instead, they’ll be loaded with words like Covid-19, quarantine, lock-down, toilet paper, remote learning, and isolation. Other words like scared, lonely, unemployed, broke, depressed, and uncertain round out the story. 

We’ve heard it for weeks now: the celebration of Christmas is in danger! Officials are discouraging family gatherings unless all are socially distant, in open air, with faces covered in masks and hands dripping in stinky alcohol-based sanitizer. Questions abound: Will there be a family Christmas dinner? Will grandparents be able to snuggle with their grandsons and granddaughters while opening gifts? Will adult children watch and listen to their aging parents tell the story (again!) about the winter of ’48 when the water froze? Will Christmas trees be empty underneath, or will they even be put up at all?

There is a very (very, very) left-hand blessing-in-disguise in all of this: the chicanery, the noise, the distractions, and the hullabaloo of the Christmas event is being stripped away. The secular festival of Christmas, with the focus on Rudolph and Frosty, mistletoe and eggnog, leaping lords and roasting chestnuts, and tiny tots with eyes all aglow, is being pushed aside. That leaves a vacuum. Nature abhors vacuums. Something needs to fill the space. 

Set aside Christmas. Instead, fill the space with the Nativity of Jesus. 

One of the phrases of the Luke 2 narrative always catches me: “Mary treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Imagine all that she witnessed in the past year: her aged cousin having a baby; an angel appearing in her own home, telling her she would also have a baby; having that conversation, “Uh, Joseph…we have to talk…there was this angel…”; this baby would be God’s Son; a trip to Bethlehem; lost reservations leading to housing in a stable; a manger as her son’s bassinette; and their first guests being a bunch of stinky shepherds who spoke of angels sending them to town to see a newborn babe. Oh, and make sure to name the Child “Jesus,” for He will save His people from their sins. 

This year, may I encourage you to follow in the footsteps of Mary. Make the sign of the cross over yourself (forehead, chest, right shoulder, left shoulder). Read Luke 2, by yourself or you’re your family. Sing the Christmas carols that speak of Jesus and His birth. Pray for “peace on earth; good will among men.” Then, be still and ponder the wonderful mystery of God becoming flesh in the baby Jesus. Pray the Lord’s Prayer. Sing Silent Night. Make the sign of the cross again.

The sign of the cross. It reminds us of Jesus’ purpose. His name gives it away: Savior. He was born to die, to rescue and redeem that which was lost. The greatest gift of all is a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger. Wonder of wonders, that swaddled baby wraps you in His grace and mercy, clothing you in His righteousness so that God sees you through Him. Baptized into Jesus, you follow that same cross path from font through today and into tomorrow and tomorrow’s tomorrow. 

Then log in and Zoom with the family. Have a glass of the ‘nog – add a shot of old Saint James’ finest while you’re at it. Sing Feliz Navidad off-key and Joy to the World in harmony. Open the gifts that were mailed to you. Watch The Miracle on 34th Street or Die Hard – great Christmas movies, both. Laugh. Smile. Rejoice.

And have yourself a very, merry celebration of the Nativity of Jesus Christ. 

“Unto you is born a Savior…Christ, the Lord.”