The Equality Act is Anything But "Equal"

From the Desk of Pastor Meyer

March 1, 2021

Dear friends in Christ,

In my February Messenger article, I wrote and encouraged you to pray for our government officials, including those with whom we disagree socially, politically, and theologically. I urge you to continue doing this most important and noble of tasks in your dual vocations as Christian and as citizen. I also encourage you to be mindful and attentive to what is happening in government so you can be well informed as a Christian citizen. Be prepared to offer both a Christian worldview and critique to fellow citizens and to the men and women who serve us in Washington. Support them when you are able; disagree when you need to; oppose when necessary – always in Christian love.

On Thursday, February 25, the United States House of Representatives passed a bill that has been called “The Equality Act.” The bill passed by a vote of 224 to 206, largely along party lines. This bill now heads to the Senate for debate and vote to become law. Because of this bill, it may be time for us to speak against that which is taking place in Washington.

The name of the bill is laudable: every citizen does deserve to be treated equally under the laws of the land. Unfortunately, in many ways, this Act does exactly the opposite. The Heritage Foundation is a social and political conservative research group. A recent article on their website summarizes this bill in this way (https://www.heritage.org/gender/report/11-myths-about-hr-5-the-equality-act-2021):

The proposed Equality Act of 2021 (H.R. 5) would make mainstream beliefs about marriage, biological facts about sex differences, and many sincerely held beliefs punishable under the law. The Equality Act makes discrimination the law of the land by forcing Americans to conform to government-mandated beliefs under the threat of life-ruining financial and criminal penalties. Presented as a bill with commonsense and decent protections against discrimination, H.R. 5 is anything but. The Equality Act politicizes medicine and education and demolishes existing civil rights and constitutional freedoms. (Emphasis mine.)

The article offers careful criticism of eleven popular claims made by the bill’s proponents. I would commend the article, and other resources at www.heritage.org, for your information.

There is no doubt that with its current language, the Equality Act will negatively impact the Christian Church and our confession of faith in the public sector. The Act stands opposite of our beliefs regarding what the Word of God says about sin, repentance, and grace. It will attack the Biblical role of genders, forcing girls to compete against boys in unevenly matched athletic contests and making women share private spaces (like restrooms, dressing rooms, and locker rooms) with men who claim to be women. It opens the door for taxpayer-funded abortions, gender mutilation, and will force health professionals and educators to follow this line of thinking under threat of losing their jobs. It would even strip parents of their right, responsibility, and beliefs regarding gender and sexuality issues for their child.

It is easy and tempting to think all is hopeless. With it having passed the House, President Biden has indicated his support for the bill to become law should it pass the Senate.

What can you do? Instead of playing the hopeless victim of an increasingly secular society, I offer you both a spiritual and a temporal response.

Spiritually speaking, know this: we are battling against things that are not of this world and an enemy that is not flesh and blood, satan himself. He is hard at work to neuter the Church and Her confession – anything to get in the way of God’s Word proclaimed in truth and purity. Jesus’ question, “Who do you say I am?” must be able to be answered without retribution. The devil wants to silence these words and he is gleeful, I am sure, at what is being done behind the premise of legislation couched in “equality.” In times like this, the words of St. Peter are most apropos: “But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander” (1 Peter 3:15-16). 

The greatest weapon you have as a Christian citizen is prayer. If you do nothing else, carry this to the Lord in your prayers, for wisdom and courage as you speak against this bill; that He guides Congress to humble themselves before Him; that He leads our citizenry to repentance; and that He gives the Church leaders who are willing and able to stand firm for the Gospel. The Psalms offer many prayers for God’s people when facing enemies that attack, such as this.

Temporally speaking, get involved as a Christian citizen. We are blessed with two state Senators who oppose the bill. Take nothing for granted: write them, anyway, indicating your strong support of their opposition to this bill. You can find the contact information for Senators Cornyn and Cruz at https://www.senate.gov/states/TX/intro.htm and write, call, or email. Be succinct, courteous, and kind but be firm in expressing why you oppose the bill. It may be helpful to briefly summarize the points from the Heritage Foundation article, or those I expressed above, in your communication. We need to speak out about this together, as members of our congregation, as Lutherans, as Christians, as part of the body of Christ who are also citizens of this nation.

The same is true in your relationships with other people. Speak winsomely but firmly to persuade others of the Biblical worldview against this bill. If you know people who live in other states, encourage them to become involved, too, in contact their senators, speaking with others, and joining in prayer.

Lest you think this is all an academic exercise, that this could never happen in the United States, Canada is already under a similar law. Clergy and churches have been forced to neuter their message against sin, sinful behavior, and so-called “lifestyle choices.” To those who have refused to comply, clergy have been jailed and churches severely punished with fines, forcing some to close their doors. This is a real and present danger to our Christian confession as American citizens. 

Finally, remember this: the Lord is still the Lord even if all around us seems to be crumbling. Jesus warned us that there would be temporal enemies against the Church. This is not unexpected. We continue to live in the world as Christian citizens by being Biblically aware, socially informed, and involved. Remain strong in faith, trusting that in the Lord, our labors are not in vain. Be of good courage and speak boldly knowing that the Holy Spirit will guide your words of confession. Be as wise as serpents and as gentle as doves. I’ll continue to share information on this as I know more.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, that you may overflow in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13. 

Pastor Meyer

Grumbling About Snakes and Looking Up to Jesus - Numbers 21:4-9

Last Saturday, we went to the Houston Zoo. Before we hit the park, we went out to breakfast with my mom, sister, Christopher’s friend, Alyssa, and the rest of us. While we were eating, we were laying out our plan for visiting the animals – where we would go first, what critters we were most wanting to see, the exhibits that had changed since the last time we were there. And, then it happened. “Of course, Dad won’t go with us in to the snake house.” Everyone laughed. Someone pointed at me. “No…he’s scared.” I can’t argue that. It’s a fact, a matter of record. If there was a line on my 1040, “Are you afraid of snakes,” I would gladly check that box and donate a dollar to study a cure for Ophidiophobia – the fear of snakes. Laura told a story of an experience I had 23 years ago, where I huddled up on the couch while my dad tried to sweep a grass snake out the back door. More laughter.

Mom looked at me. Ah…Mom would rescue me from this sneaky, snake talk. She leaned up, crossed her arms, and innocently said, “Well, yes – where did this terrible, crippling, debilitating fear come from?” The sarcasm was palpable.

I told her about the time when I was five and I finally got to help the neighbor big boys collect firewood for our campfire, but the stick I grabbed wasn’t a stick. I told her about a TV character that I idolized who was bitten by a snake and almost died on the show. I argued that my hero can be bitten and die, what chance do I, a mere mortal have? Mom nodded in mock sympathy. “Oh, you poor baby…how have you managed to survive all these years?” They claim dogs smell fear; do snakes smell sheer terror?  Obviously, I was not winning any sympathy points. I gave up the debate and finished breakfast, grumbling something about how I was not going into the snake house and no one was gonna make me.

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 2nd 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. Some grumble about having to wear masks; others grumble that people refuse to wear masks. We grumble about a teacher who assigned homework over the break. Or, the increasing cost of gasoline, or the length of our daily commute to work or school. Maybe we grumble 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. Parishioners grumble because of the length of the pastor’s sermon, pastors grumble because of the comments made about his sermon and we grumble when no one says anything about it. We even 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 toxic. 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.

Just A Phone Number

My mom disconnected her landline on Monday. It sounds strange, but it caused a rather visceral, emotional reaction in my brain. That number, 863-9794, had been our family's phone number since we moved to Walburg in the summer of 1981, forty years ago. I was quickly taught to memorize that number and, if I was ever in trouble, I knew I could call that number or give it to an adult to call Mom and Dad for me. I wrote that number countless times for friends, teachers, and oodles of paperwork over the years. 

I called it even more. When baseball practice ended early, I fished the quarter ("Always carry a quarter in case you have to call home!" Mom taught me) out of my shoe. I knew the number to call. When I forgot my homework, or my pants ripped at recess, or we made it to the State marching contest finals so we'll be late getting back home, or the car didn't want to start, I dialed on auto-pilot. When I went to college and got my own landline phone, those seven numbered buttons got shiny from use. I called home to cry, to brag, to hear a friendly voice, to ask for a little extra money in my account. When our kids were born, I called that number long-distance to say "Grandma and Grandpa" for the first time. The morning my Dad died, I didn't have to see through my tear-swollen eyes to call Mom back - my fingers knew what to do.

Originally, it was a party line. If you don't know what a party line is, you literally shared a telephone line with other people. If you were stealthy, and picked up your receiver very carefully, you might get all sorts of useful - or totally useless - information about the neighbor's teenage daughter's newest interest. Of course, she might also hear what you were saying, so you had to keep a sharp ear out for a slight "click" that meant a new listener was on the line. If the neighbor was on the line, you had to wait 'til they were done, or if the conversation drug on and on, you would start picking up your receiver and replacing it less and less gently. It was a passive-aggressive form of telephone road rage that only party-line users understood. 

Our phone was '70s goldenrod color, almost the size of a shoe box, mounted to the wall, and had a 6 foot spiral cord (which could stretch to about ten feet) that connected the receiver to the main unit. It was heavy plastic and when you held that thing to your ear for too long, your arm started to go numb and you would switch hands - and ears! - to let circulation flow. To make a call, you picked the receiver up from its cradle, listened for a "hum" called a dial tone, and dialed the number. Yes, dialed - as in "turn." Our phone was rotary - no buttons at all. You stuck your finger in a hole correlating to the needed digit and turned the disc clockwise. As it cycled back around, counterclockwise to it's resting place, it made a slight "whir" sound and a series of clicks. Somehow, these magically and mysteriously translated into someone - my friend, our other neighbor, the lady selling eggs, Mickan's shop, or school - knowing we were calling them and then answering. And, if you were angry - really angry - you had the satisfaction of pounding that receiver on the counter, slapping it against your open palm, or even slamming it back in the cradle so that the person on the other end of the call knew just *how* mad you were at them. Nothing punctuated a conversation's end like a slammed phone.

When I was in college, Dad upgraded to a private line and then to a push-button phone that made tones, not clicks, when dialing. It sounds corny, now, but that was about a fifty year tech leap in our house. The phone was sleek and low profile, with an LCD screen that told you both the number you were calling or the number calling you, and sat on a cabinet. And when he added an answering machine, we thought we were in high cotton. 

After Dad passed, Mom built a house in the same town and moved her number with her. Come to think of it, I think the same phone moved, too. It was a comfort knowing that, even though there was a new address to learn and some new directions to follow, if I got lost (not likely in our small town, but you get the idea) I knew who and what to dial.

That number is now in the hands of someone else, I guess. Unlike fruitcake, numbers don't get saved by phone companies for special family members who are only seen at Christmas. Numbers get repurposed, reused and recycled. Maybe some day I'll call and find out who has it, now. Maybe I'll tell them about the five people who called that number "ours." Maybe I'll tell them about the phone calls made from and to that number. Maybe I'll wish them best of luck in making and getting their own memory-making phone calls.

But not today. Today, I'm in mourning. It'll never have the fame of 867-5309, but 863-9794 will always be a special place in my memory, my finger tips and my heart. But, I guess I best get busy learning Mom's cell number. It starts with an 8. I think. Only six more digits to go. Gotta get that committed to memory in case I get locked up for reading an unlicensed copy of Dr. Seuss or something.

So, I'll sign off the way my Dad did from that number: "Take care, now. Um-hm. 'Bye."

The Most Important Q& A Session, Ever - Mark 8:27-38

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

“Who do people say that I am?” I submit that is the greatest question ever asked among mankind. The answer is literally one of life or death – temporal, spiritual, and eternal.

If we were to go door to door in our community, asking that question, what answers might you get? How might our friends, neighbors, classmates and coworkers respond?

Most, if not all, will admit there was a man named Jesus – this is called the “historical Jesus” – He did exist. But from there, beliefs start to break down. They deny His Divinity. Prove it, they’ll demand. All He did was walk a lot and talk a lot…and die. It doesn’t take any great person to die. Others, much less generous, say this kind of foolish talk shows that He was literally crazy, demon-possessed, a liar, or even a heretic – anyone who claims to be God deserved the rotten ending He got.

Others will idolize Jesus as the ultimate pacifist, the predecessor to and patriarch of the 60’s with peace and love. He preached kindness, lived among the people, wore sandals and long hair, demonstrated compassion, and even when He was being tortured and killed, He spoke nothing but forgiveness to His tormenters and compassion to his friends and mother.

Some claim Jesus is as fictional a legend as King Arthur, Robin Hood, and Paul Bunyon. Instead of knights of a round table, He had disciples willing to follow Him everywhere. Although Jesus never stole from the rich, He spoke harshly against the wealthy and favorably to the poor, showing extraordinary compassion to the least in society. Instead of roping tornadoes, there are stories of Jesus calming storms and walking on water – tall tales of legendary proportions, to be sure.

People who consider themselves to be enlightened philosophers may give you that Jesus was a profound thinker, an inspiration to us all for forcing us to look inside ourselves to find truths that might not otherwise exist. They will label Him as a precursor to Ghandi or Marx, Norman Vincent Peale or Dale Carnegie, a great motivational leader of people who followed him for his wisdom and insights who also followed him and spread his teachings around the world.

And then there will be some that curse the very name of Jesus, calling Him the world’s greatest liar, the biggest hoax that the world has ever seen. The lie was so carefully crafted that even today, 2000 years later, people still risk everything, giving away money, property, even their very lives, deliberately calling themselves Christians in places where that title is a death sentence. Fools following a fool.

To be fair, out here, and maybe even in Victoria county and South Texas, the answers might skew toward the traditional, Christian answer – the answer of Peter, that Jesus is the Christ – but, then again, we might be sadly surprised by answers we get from neighbors, friends, classmates and coworkers. In an August 30, 2020 Newsweek article, author Benjamin Fearnow cites a Ligionier Ministries survey done earlier in the year.[1] The survey of 3,000 Americans, including 630 self-described evangelical Christians, discovered that over half of all surveyed, 52%, believe Jesus is not God. Let me restate that: 52% deny that Jesus is God. Surely, that number has to be better among the 630 evangelicals, right? No: a third of self-identifying evangelical Christians said the same thing, Jesus isn’t God, and two-thirds believe Jesus is the first and greatest piece of God’s creation. While 44% correctly believe Jesus was both God and Man, they incorrectly believe that because Jesus was a man He was, therefore, a sinful being just like you and me.

“Who do people say I am?” A wise man once told me, be careful when you ask a loaded question because you might not like the answers you hear.

With fewer and fewer around us able – or, perhaps willing – to confess Jesus as Christ, the question then become even more poignant and the answer becomes all the more vital when it is turned to you: “Who do you say that I am?”

To answer the question correctly, you must see Jesus where He is to be seen: at the cross. Peter did not want to do that. Peter wanted a cross-less Christ. He wanted a bloodless hero. He didn’t want to hear about Jesus’ suffering and rejection at the hands of the Jewish leaders. He didn’t want Jesus to talk about His death and dying. We can empathize: our culture does not like to talk about suffering and death and dying, either. We do anything and everything we can to prevent any or all of those things from happening. We helicopter parent our children so they don’t have to struggle. We expect our kids to be the star athlete, honors scholar, soloist, and featured artist and blame the coaches, teachers, directors, and other parents who say that they are, well, average. We expect above median salaries, bills to be magically paid, and dream vacations flourish. We slather our bodies with serums to prevent wrinkles, plump our lips to look more appealing, Botox our brows to avoid tired eyes, and spend hours in the gym trying to reshape ourselves into handsome dad and attractive mom bods while fighting hairlines that recede and greys that advance. We are always trying to mute a biological clock with wonder drugs that promise to work wonders against the last enemy to be defeated. No; we don’t want to talk about death and dying, either.

So, while we may understand Peter not wanting Jesus to talk about the cross, that is where Jesus must go. You must allow Jesus to go to Jerusalem; must see the Christ at the Cross. Cross and Christ go together. No cross, no death. No death, no atonement. No atonement, no forgiveness. No forgiveness, no salvation. No salvation, no Christ. Christ, you remember, means “anointed.” Anointing happened in the Scriptures for prophets, priests and kings, and Christ fulfills them all. Christ is the perfect prophet, proclaiming that the Kingdom is here. He is the perfect priest, making the perfect sacrifice of Himself, the perfect Lamb of God. He is the perfect king, ruling from the throne of rough-hewn wood driven into the ground. His glory is in His death. He is anointed to die.

Anything that gets in His way is the work of the devil, satan, who is trying to stop the cross-focused Lord. Peter tries to get in the way, the devil’s roadblock. “Get behind me, satan. You are not setting your mind on the things of God but on the things of man.” Nothing can be in His way, not even a disciple. Jesus must go. He must go to the cross. He must go to die.

Jesus promises death. He promises He must die for the sins of the world. It was His anointing.

And, He promises your death, as well. This is life under the cross. We know this. All those things we do to try to convince ourselves to the contrary, unless Jesus comes first, we will one day die in this flesh. The wages of sin will be paid. But, they have already been paid fully and eternally by Christ. You’ve already died in Christ. In Christ, you are anointed – not with oil, but with baptismal water. Baptized into Christ Jesus, you are also baptized into His death. And, baptized into Christ, you are also baptized into new life in Christ for He, who went the way of the cross, also goes the way of the empty tomb. Christ promises that from death comes life.

So, if asked, “Who do you say Jesus is,” you have nothing to lose. You have already been lost and found in Christ and are placed under the cross. When asked, confess Jesus as the Christ, the anointed one. Confess that He went the way of the cross, dying a sinner’s death, sacrificing Himself for the sins of the world. Speak confidently that those who believe in Him might rise to eternal life with Him in the resurrection of all flesh. Proclaim boldly that you believe this: He is the Christ, crucified and risen, for you.

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[1] newsweek.com/52-percent-americans-say-jesus-isnt-not-god-was-great-teacher-survey-says-1528617

Faith Sees, Believes, God Will Provide the Lamb - Genesis 22:1-12

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

The Lamb, the Lamb, O Father, where’s the sacrifice?
Faith sees, believes, God will provide the Lamb of price! (LSB 547 v1)

I do not understand this morning’s Old Testament lesson. I don’t. I suspect you don’t either.

As a father, I cannot grasp my mind around the fact that Abraham is being called by God to sacrifice his son, his only son, the one for whom he had so long waited, the one whom God had long ago promised, the one that was missing when God said that Abraham’s descendants would number like the sand of the seashore and the stars of the sky. You have to start with one to have that many and Abraham had no boy of his own, just a boy of his servant, Elieazar, who wasn’t even his own blood. Abraham tried the whole surrogate mother thing with Hagar and Ishmael and that was a disaster – Sarai tried to kill the woman whose body could do what hers could not, forcing Abraham to send away his son, even if it wasn’t a son from his wife. There had been so much between the promise and the birth and now God wanted him to sacrifice his son? The flesh of his flesh, the one who brought great laughter to Sarah’s heart – first, in sheer incredulity that such a thing could happen; then, in child birth, that the Lord did, indeed, provide as He promised. That one? That son?

And, from a father’s perspective, having to take the son on a three-day journey to the place God identified, Moriah, and offer him as a sacrifice? I cannot imagine how quiet that trip was. What was he supposed to say? If he said too much, it might give away the true purpose of the journey. If he didn’t say enough, the son might figure out something is wrong. If he said the wrong thing, he might not be able to do what he knew he must do. Moses only records one simple verbal transaction – Isaac identifies two parts of the necessary trifecta, that they have fire and wood but no sacrifice. Abraham’s reply – maybe men were tougher then, maybe Abraham had a sterner disposition, maybe Abraham truly was so rich in faith that he could say it without breaking his voice – his reply is so strong in faith that I cannot begin to fathom it. “God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son,” he said.

If faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen, as Hebrews tells us, Abraham is a remarkable figure of faith.

He trusts God’s promise. “You will be blessed to be a blessing,” God said. It’s what he had been doing for the past ten chapters of Genesis. From the time God said pack up and leave your homeland and go to where I will tell you, to his journey to Egypt (which, by the way turned into a disaster of international proportions), to the whole Lot thing (another disaster; if you recall, when Mrs. Lot’s turning to look back crystallized her place in the history books for all time), to the promise of descendants…all Abraham had was God and His word of promise, spoken to him time and time and time again. It wasn’t perfect a perfect faith, to be sure, but it is faith that trusts the promise of God. The substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not yet seen.

It’s always about the Son. An heir. The Son of the promise. Every time, God, you bring Abraham back to the promise – it’s about the Son. The next generation, and the one after that. And the next. The stars, the sand - remember? So shall your offspring be. And Abraham believed. And that was counted righteousness. It’s about the Son.

God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son. My son…my only son.

Abraham had faith…but where’s the understanding?

Abraham believed God and that was counted as righteousness. He had faith – he trusted God. He demonstrated it many times, so why this test? For that matter, why this text? Don't you see? Don't you get it? He had the faith, but where is the understanding? He trusted God before he ever had a son. But now this “Take your son your only son whom you love and go to the mountain of Moriah and their offer him up as a sacrifice,” just doesn’t make much sense. Abraham had proved his faith with or without understanding. He trusted God before he had the son, now he has to trust God after he has the son. When is enough faith enough faith?  

This story is about Abraham and faith and testing and proving and improving faith. It is perhaps the most poignant, and profound, and pain-staking-ly told narrative in all of Scripture, this Villa de la Rosa, this way of sorrows, journeyed by father and son together, heading towards the sacrifice, a three-day journey where God Himself will provide a substitute lamb.

Generally speaking, our English translations are very good. They are very trustworthy. When we say, “This is the Word of the Lord,” you do not have to wonder, “But, is it?” The translations are very good, but sometimes they miss the nuance – sometimes, it’s because of readability, sometimes because the nuance would really be awkward, sometimes because the nuance is so elaborate that it would be impossible to include without altering the text. This is one of those instances. Bear with me for a minute.

God tells Abraham to go to Moriah. In Hebrew, there are three possible root words behind this: to teach, to fear, to see. The end of the story is clear: God says that He now knows that Abraham fears God in not withholding his son, and then Abraham and Isaac see the ram. Abraham calls the name of the place “The Lord will see.” Now, here’s the thing – our translation says, “God will provide,” but that’s not what the verb means. It means to see. Some translations try to get around it by saying, “God will see to it,” but that is not the same thing. It means see.

Don’t you see? Even when I don’t understand, when you don’t understand, when we don’t understand, don’t you see? Yes, this is about Abraham, but only secondarily. Don’t you see – this story is about God. It’s His narrative, His story, His promise, His son, His sacrifice, His seeing so much more than we can ever possibly see. Even with eyes of faith and trust, we can only see by faith what God gives us to see – which, is oftentimes, unseen to unseen eyes. You see, faith is not about our sight. It’s about God’s vision, His sight, His seeing. Trust is not about us, but about God and His promises that never fail or fade. It’s not about our testing or worthiness or trusting. It’s about God’s trust worthiness. He sees. He knows. He provides the Lamb. And us? We receive. In faith, we receive His gifts and His blessing.

We even get to be part of the story; secondarily, to be sure. But, our story becomes God’s story and God’s story becomes our story because the Word was made flesh and took our story into His story, and gives His story to us to become our story. He gives His Christ to us, and His body into us, and we are made into His body.

Yes, God says to Abraham, “Because you have not withheld your son, your descendants will be as the stars in the sky in the sand on the shore,” but that was hardly Abraham’s doing. It wasn’t caused by his faith or by his proving his faith. God had told him back at the beginning, remember, to leave his past and his family and go to the land that He would show to Abraham.

God would cause Abraham to see it. We see because God gives us the sight. God saw the Lamb long before Abraham did. God saw the ram and the Lamb long before Abraham did. God saw the Son, His only Son long before and long after Abraham did.

And so the story moves on. We know how it ends, but it’s still going on: His song prolong - it is finished; and then comes Easter - He sighs, he dies…He rose, He rose, my heart with thanks now overflows. The lamb that was slain has begun his reign! The lamb is raining on his throne. We have seen the end but, in the wonderful mystery of God’s workmanship, it is only the beginning. Every day we begin anew, every day, Baptized into Christ, every Lent and Easter the story is new. We see it. We get it. We are part of it. Today, we celebrate anew the Lamb given and shed for the forgiveness of sins.

The fire and the wood. Where is the sacrifice? Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

Amen

 

 

 

See Jesus Only! Mark 9:2-9

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

Peter didn’t know what he was saying. I can’t say I blame him, honestly. One minute, he was alone with  James and John and Jesus, the next minute, they were joined by the two great Old Testament heroes: Moses, who led the people from Egypt and the deliverer of the Law; Elijah, prophet who stood against Jezebel and proclaimed the Word of the Lord. One minute, Jesus looked ordinary and unremarkable, the next He glowed brighter than any laundromat could bleach clothes. With an extremely, extra-ordinary, out-of-this-world, transfigured Jesus standing before them, and the sudden arrival of two Old Testament heroes of the faith, Peter is flabbergasted and his mouth takes off as if it has a mind of its own.

“It is good, Lord, to be here,” Peter said to Jesus. Then again, anything is better than down there. Down there is suffering and crucifixion and death and dying, all at the hands of the chief priests and elders and scribes – the religious leaders who refuse to admit and confess Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. Those people want to do you harm, Jesus, so let’s stay up here, on the mountaintop where things are safe. In fact, let’s stay up here as long as we can; let’s stay with some comfort. The Zebedee boys and I can put together a couple tents, three tabernacles, for each of you, one for Elijah, one for Moses, and one for you, Jesus. We can stay here, happily ever after.

I said, I can’t say I blame Peter. If I were a 4^th disciple, and if I were able to at least gather my wits, I would probably be spouting nonsense as well. You would, too, I imagine. The glory of the Lord will do that to you.

But Peter wasn’t just awestruck. It was awe coupled with his own desires. He wasn’t ready for Jesus to descend, to go down into the valley of the shadow. Six days earlier, Jesus asked the disciples who do they think Jesus was. Peter, answering for the Twelve, said, “You are the Christ.” Other Gospel writers add, “the Son of the Living God.” His confession was true and correct and faithful to the word and promises of God. In fact, in his Gospel, St. Matthew records Jesus praising Peter, “You are Peter, and on this rock [this confession] I will build my church” (Matt 16:18). Unfortunately, immediately afterward when Jesus began speaking plainly and teaching that He would have to suffer many things and be rejected by the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, Peter quickly pulled Jesus to the side, and rebuked Jesus by telling Him just what He could and could not do, and this suffering and dying talk was simply not going to fly. No, sir. It’s as if Peter knows better than Jesus what the Christ must do, what He will undergo, what glory looks like. No one becomes King by dying; He becomes king by conquering everyone else. So, Jesus, stop this cross-talk, this death-talk immediately. We have other things to do.

I have often wondered what Jesus’ voice sounded like when He, in turn, rebuked Peter. Was it sharp and harsh? Was it soft and sad? Was it flat with disappointment? “Get behind me, satan. You do not have in mind the things of God but of man.”

Were Peter’s feelings still stinging, six days later? Was he still trying to figure out a way to derail Jesus’ cross-focused plan? Was he simply overwhelmed with Jesus standing next to Moses and Elijah? Perhaps Peter was thinking, maybe these guys can talk some sense into the Master.

They weren’t there to talk “sense” into Jesus. We don’t know the words that were spoken by the two. Perhaps the visit was deeply theological: that Jesus was there to fulfill the Law on behalf of sinful man, that He was the completion of all that had been prophesied since the days of Abraham, that He would be the ultimate, once-for-all conclusion of the countless sacrifices made for the people of Israel, that all of this was His purpose as the Son of God. Perhaps it was more visceral, what it is to have your own reject you and continue doing what they want to do, regardless the message. Perhaps it was quite somber, having to face death at the hands of sinful people who want nothing more than the destruction of God’s chosen one. Perhaps it was a physical encouragement from men who, too, had themselves seen some of the glory of God on their own mountaintop moment. Perhaps it was an admixture of all the above, plus even more that we cannot begin to assume. Whatever else may have been said, they were there to encourage Him as He prepared for His downward journey toward His death.

At the base of the Mount of Transfiguration stood another mountain. More a hill, really; a hill named Golgatha, or Calvary – the place of the skull. It was a place of death of the worst sort, crucifixion, reserved for murderers, insurrectionists, and the vilest of criminals. That was Jesus’ ministry destination. He was to be the perfect sacrifice for the sins of the world.

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.” Jesus’ transfiguring, Moses and Elijah appearing, the Father speaking: these re-focus the entire purpose of Jesus life and ministry. Jesus did not come to gloriously 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, the city that murders the prophets. There the cross is waiting for Him. The cross: that was where Jesus would demonstrate His glory for the entire world – not in radiant splendor, but in deepest of shame and humility, stripped and beaten and hung, naked, crucified by Rome as a warning for passers by of what happens when someone dare crosses the emperor; dying in substitute to satisfy the Father’s judgement for the sins of the world.

We are about to enter 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 a 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 laboratory for pharmaceuticals or for sex. It might be confessing Christ against those who openly use His name as nothing more than an expletive or a verbal space filler. 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. We’ll wrestle with Lenten cross-bearing during the Wednesday evening services using the book of Job. Job…now there’s someone who knows what it is to be at the base of the mountain and looking back up, longingly, at the highs that were left behind. It’s tempting to do just that – but, instead, we continue to move forward, with the cross Christ gives us, following always in His own footsteps.

After the voice spoke, the cloud left. When Peter, James and John looked, all they saw was Jesus only. To see Jesus only. In these grey and latter days, may we see Jesus only! Jesus, crucified; Jesus risen; Jesus, ascended and glorified; Jesus who promises to be with us as we journey under the cross in this world, and who will return to raise us to our own glorious transfiguration from these lowly bodies to a glorious, resurrected body.  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.

 

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.