A Servant Who Serves In Humility - Mark 10:35-45

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text for this morning is the Old Testament lesson form Jeremiah 31.

In just a few weeks, I’ll mark the 24th anniversary of Seminary Call Night, the evening when soon-to-be graduates find out where they will be serving as pastor. I thought about this the other day when, digging through some pictures, I found one of my best friend and I, standing on the chapel steps that evening. We had visions of grandeur. We would graduate with highest of praise, be placed in a large city with a big church that worships hundreds. That church, which already would have a great reputation, would experience a tremendous growth under our pastoral leadership and attendance would swell, programs would blossom, people would flock to the church and baptisms, confirmations, and weddings would be a regular occurrence. As the church would grow, our reputations would grow as well and we would become circuit visitors, then one of us an area vice president, with the other becoming District president – all the while doing the job better than anyone who had come before us.

James and John had the same mindset, wanting to be in on management level in Jesus’ kingdom. “Grant us to sit, one at your left and one at your right, Jesus,” was the brothers’ request. Of course, one wonders how they would have figured out who would have had which seat. After all, if they are willing to try to out maneuver the other ten disciples, including Peter, what’s a little sibling rivalry?

You’ve heard me say this before: they think Jesus is going to be establishing a monarchy in the line of David. They think He’s going to be making political appointments – secretary of state kind of stuff, the kind of position where you want to be considered. Fun and games, power and authority, palace ballrooms and schwanky dinners…all theirs, just for the asking.

But reality is sometimes a far cry from what is wanted.

Jesus turns James and John upside down. First, those positions of power and authority aren’t His to give. Even if they were, the brothers don’t have a grasp on what they are asking. This is the kind of stuff that Gentiles look for. That’s not the life of discipleship, that’s not life under the cross.

To their arrogant request, Jesus asks if they can drink the cup He is about to drink, or be baptized in the way He is about to be baptized – speaking of His death. Again, foolishly, they think they can do this…or whatever it takes to get those coveted positions of power. I can almost see Jesus shaking His head – can’t you? - “You will drink, and you will be baptized.” They will have a share in His suffering and death. They will drink from His cup at His table, when He gives it to them and says, “Take and drink. This is my blood of the covenant shed for you.” He drinks the cup of wrath so that they, and you, may drink His cup of forgiveness. He drinks the accursed cup so that you might drink the cup of blessing. With the cup and the bread of His Supper, Jesus gives you a share in His death and life, in His suffering and sacrifice. And in His glory.

It's a strange kind of glory, isn’t it? We think of glory with flags and bands and armies marching in a row. Seminary graduates are full of theology of glory, wanting success and wanting it right now. Luther called this “theology of glory,” where the cross is bypassed and the glory of this world is worshipped and adored. But the glory of Christ is far different. It looks so weak, so defeated, so meaningless to the world. Death isn’t glorious. General Patton famously said, “Your job isn’t to die for your country; it’s to make that old so & so die for his!” But this is where Jesus leads; this is where Jesus leads us.

This is hard to remember; it is hard to understand. With our eyes, we see the cross, at best, as a cute decorative wall hanging or a nice piece of jewelry. We don’t even see Jesus. But, through the lens of faith we see the cross as what we deserve. We deserved to die there for the sins that we do, think, say, and even those that we inherit. We see Jesus on that cross, taking our place, trading His perfect life for our failed, sin-stained disobedience. We hear Jesus cry out, “Father forgive them,” knowing that it wasn’t just for the soldiers driving home the nails, or the mocking crowds, or even the disciples who ran. He prayed that for us. And when we hear the cry, “It is finished,” we remember that Jesus once-for-all death is not merely sufficient, it is overly abundant in paying the world’s debt price in full.

He comes as a suffering Servant to serve. His followers, His disciples, His baptized believers who share His cup are here to serve, to lay down their lives. Greatness in His kingdom is not about power but about sacrifice. “Whoever would be great among you must be your servant; whoever would be first among you must be slave of all.” That’s how the kingdom of God looks in this world. Humble, self-giving servants of the Servant of all, who endured the baptism of His cross and drank the cup of God’s wrath in order to save you, me and the world.

Life under the cross is not glamorous; it is not fun. The average LCMS Seminary graduate serves a church that worships under 80 people, and many of those will be under 50. My first church was 35. His salary will be less than a starting teacher. He’ll work early and late to study and write, visit and receive visitors. He’ll spend hours at the bedsides of elderly and dying people. Statistically, he will bury more than baptize and for every three teenagers he confirms, two will leave the congregation within four years. He will wrestle with thin budgets. He’ll try new programs and new ideas and either meet direct resistance or indifference. He scratches his head and wonders what he is doing wrong. For this purpose, assume he is being faithful. The answer is nothing. It’s life under the cross in the 21st century.

When I was that young pastor, a friend came to visit me because I was down in the dumps. My first parish was about as opposite those dreams as they could be: a very small congregation in a mostly Southern Baptist community in East Texas where Lutherans were a rarity. Average attendance was less than 40. I had baptized one child, confirmed two. Buried five. Not much of a success story, I lamented. He challenged my thinking, asking if I was doing this for my name or for the kingdom of Christ.

 In my office, I have a picture of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. It’s a dark picture – literally and figuratively – as the future of the cross looms in the distance. He pointed to that picture and said, “Here’s a test for you. Stand before that picture and pray, “Jesus, grant me the favored seats in your kingdom, either on your right or on your left.” Do you think that James and John would have said these things while standing at the foot of Jesus’ cross? Would you?

The positions at Jesus right and left were reserved for two special people; two special sinners. It probably wasn’t who you think it could be. It wasn’t James or John, or Peter, or St. Paul. Luke reports it this way: “And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified Him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on His left.” One criminal hung onto his theology of glory: “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” He wanted Jesus to demonstrate His power now – never mind that he apparently had no use for Jesus in death, not in life. The other understood life under the cross, that it wasn’t about the immediate, but the eternal; it wasn’t about his name, but the Name of the one who hung next to him: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Do you want to be great in the kingdom of God? Be a servant of all. Do you want to be first? Then be last. Do you want a seat near Jesus? Then go sit among the least and the lost and the lowly and the losers of this world and you will find the Savior of all. He has a cup for you, drink it. He has a Baptism for you, be baptized into it. He has forgiveness, life and salvation for you. Believe it.

In the name of Jesus,

Amen

Created in Christ Jesus to Do Good Works – Ephesians 2:10

 

“Created in Christ Jesus to Do Good Works” – Ephesians 2:10

We live in an age where Christian consciences are burdened and weighted with “shouldas,” “couldas,” and “wouldas.” Add an "if," as in "If I woulda..." or "If I coulda..." and it can become almost crippling at times. These are words of judgement, lament, sadness, guilt and shame. They invade our lives, and they touch the Christian life in so many ways, it can contaminate every aspect of life, sucking joy, peace, happiness and contentment completely dry. Worst, it leaves us feeling as though we don’t do anything right, that whatever we touch is wrong, and left unchecked, satan uses it to even doubt our very life as a child of God.

Let me be more specific. Probably 20 years ago, a young mother came to me, terrified, that she was a disaster as a mother. She ran down a long litany of things she perceived that she wasn’t doing well enough at – there were dirty dishes  in the sink, laundry wasn’t folded, she forgot to keep an appointment, her boss wanted her to take on a greater responsibility in the company – it was a great career move, one she wanted, but she was worried how that would impact her time with her new son and husband… I think you get the idea. Finally, she got to the end of the list and she said something like, “…and with all of this, I feel like a total failure, like nothing I do is good enough, and even God is disappointed in me.”

Hmmm….what do you say to a mother who feels that way? Or a father, or a student, or a 20-something who is trying to make it in the world where, as the saying goes, it’s a dog-eat-dog world and you feel like you’re holding the last Milkbone treat.  

In Ephesians 2, Paul begins the chapter by setting up the fact that although we were dead in our trespasses and sins, in His great mercy, God raised us to life through His Son, Jesus Christ because of His great love for us. Think of that for a moment: God’s love was so perfect and so complete that while we were still drenched, soaked, dipped in, and  saturated with sin – the ten dollar word is “concupiscence”; let me know if you work that into a sentence this weekend – while we were still poor miserable sinners, in His rich mercy and love, He surrendered His Son for us, rescuing and redeeming us.

So there is no doubt, Paul writes what would become the keystone of the Reformation: “by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not the result of works, so that no one may boast.” Paul strips any of our self-assertiveness, our self-righteousness, our self-aggrandizement, our self-inflation, and he places us humbly and gently at the foot of the cross. It’s as if Paul has us look up at the cross and say, “This – this is where your salvation rests. Not in what you have done or haven’t done, not in keeping the Ten Commandments, or your good works. It is all done by Jesus.”

Here is simple math, the Divine economy, if you will: Jesus plus nothing equals everything. Jesus plus anything equals nothing.

Faith clings to Jesus with Spirit-given power. Sometimes people say, “Pastor, my faith is so weak.” Good. It keeps you from being overly confident in yourself. Besides, it’s not about your strength, but His. In the words of the hymn, “Nothing in my hands I bring, simply to the cross I cling…” Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, Hebrews says – and it says nothing about what you bring to the equation. Spirit-given faith is its own source of strength.

I think every Lutheran knows those verses about being saved by grace, through faith. We know this. It’s almost part of our Lutheran DNA. Therefore, we know our sins are forgiven and we are redeemed by Christ.

But, somehow, we only think of this only in terms of our sins: “Jesus takes away our sins. This is most certainly true.” We know this. Here’s where people often go wrong when thinking about their daily life and whether they are doing good enough, wondering if they are a good enough mom or dad, husband or wife, son or daughter, student or employee, pastor or lay person. When it comes to our normal, daily routine, then we think that somehow, "good" is up to us. We have to balance the equation, ourselves. We take that equation and try to add our hard work, our sincerity, our struggle, our heartburn, to be good Christians, as if those things will make our lives, our efforts better. Christian piety, which places hope in Christ, gets replaced with pietism, hope in one’s self. Yes, there is an element of sanctified struggle in this world, but that won’t make us be the “good” person we want to be. If anything, the harder we struggle, the more it seems to slip through our fingers like warm jello.

The beautiful thing is that at the cross, Christ redeems every aspect, ever part of the Christian life. Every part. Not just your sins so when you die you go to heaven. He even redeems our relationships, our conversations, our work, our math exam, how we do the dishes and fold laundry - all of it! Your works, your efforts, your living of life this side of heaven under the cross, is all redeemed by none other than the blood of Jesus!

This means that you, as a baptized child of God, everything you do, imperfect though it may be, by God’s grace through faith, is also redeemed. And so your works, your sanctified work in love to your family and neighbor, is redeemed and made holy in Christ.

Do you remember that TV show, “Dirty Jobs?” The host, Mike Rowe, did some of the grossest jobs you can imagine – or not imagine, as the case might be. The goal of the show was to show that these dirty jobs were important. I cannot speak to his faith, or lack thereof, but I use this as an illustration for you. For the child of God, regardless the dirtyness of job, it is redeemed by Christ and it is a good work. From the mother who changes the baby’s loaded diaper, to the plumber who unclogs the adult’s commode, these are good works in the eyes of God. So, the frustrated mother whose sink overflows with dishes because she made her family dinner, and whose boss expects more because she is a good, faithful employee, and who goes out a Friday date night, even though she’s tired, but because she loves and cares for her husband, all of those things, even if they seem imperfect in her eyes, or her boss’s eyes, or even her husband’s eyes, God sees them as redeemed in Christ.

In God’s eyes, they aren’t just good enough – they are perfect in Christ Jesus. And if the work is good in God’s eyes, then how much more so is the worker of the works also made perfect in Christ.

Joy of joys, these opportunities for service in the Lord’s name, these good works, which are redeemed through the blood of Jesus, these good works have been prepared by God. He places people and opportunities in our lives where we get to interact with others. Some are fellow Christians, faithful men and women of God. Others have no concept of the love and mercy of God. Some are out-and-out deniers of the Triune God and want nothing to do with the cross of Christ. Regardless, God places these opportunities into our lives and journeys. We are given the opportunity to do good things, redeemed things, with, to, and for others. And you do them because it’s who you are in Christ.When you help the pregnant, Islamic mother-to-be load a bag of water softener salt into her shopping cart, you are doing a good work. When you tell the young Jewish waiter that you appreciate his attention at your table and tip him for it, you are doing a good work. When you bake cookies for the atheist widow down the street, and then sit and visit with her over a cup of coffee and that plate of cookies, you are doing a good work. When you complete your taxes, when you pump gas in your car to go to work, when you help your whining 3^rd grader with her math homework, you are doing a good work. When you tell your husband you love him, when you send a birthday card in the mail to your granddaughter, when you wave at the mailman, you are doing a good work. When you give your last dollar to the kid selling lemonade, or you tell your pastor’s wife how much you appreciate all the little things she does that no one knows about, or you tell the acolyte “thanks for serving today,” you have done a good work.

Good works don’t have to be marked with the sign of the cross, sanctified by opening Bibles together to study Ephesians, or Mark, or Isaiah, or blessed by the clergy. They don’t have to be grand or grandiose. They don’t even have to be pre-planned or strategically executed or even a conscientious decision. Good works are done, empowered and enabled by the love of God that has been poured out into you by the Spirit of God. It’s the same love that sent Jesus to the cross to redeem, forgive, and make you whole. Much like faith isn’t about the size of faith, but where the faith rests, the “good” of good works isn’t in the size of the work, but in the love of Christ that is in you as a baptized, redeemed child of God. It’s who we are – or, more accurately, whose we are. That love compels you to action.

So, what I told that lady, that dear sister in Christ, that daughter of God, that young mother who was afraid of being a failure, what I told her was this: “You feel that you aren’t good enough. God sees you not only as good enough, but perfect in Christ Jesus. You feel your efforts aren’t good enough. Even the uncompleted tasks are perfect in God’s eyes. You are redeemed and so is your work.”

And then I did the good work of my vocation. This poor, miserable sinner, who is also called by Christ to speak on His authority, did the only thing he could do. I said, “So you do not doubt this, but instead believe that even these works are holy, I forgive you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.  You and your dishes, laundry, and parenting are all forgiven in Christ. Depart, and be at peace.”

And she did.
And she was.

 

The Ten Commandments Are NOT the Answer! - Exodus 20: 1-17

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

Last year, the Texas State Legislature attempted to pass legislation that would have forced public schools, from kindergarten through college and university level to have posted copies of the Ten Commandments in a “conspicuous place” in each classroom in a “size and typeface that is legible to a person with average vision from anywhere in the classroom.”  The logic for such laws stems from an admixture of moralism and pietism: if we post the Ten Commandments, society’s problems will disappear, starting with the kids and working their way upward and outward into homes, then parent relationships, into businesses, and across the country.

From www.imagesfromtexas.com

I use this illustration, not as a means of entering what has become a political hot-potato, but to make you think. Will the Ten Commandments instill morality and the Christian values so touted by the Right? I don’t think so. The problem is that God did not give the Ten Commandments to institute morality, or to establish pietistic practices. The Ten Commandments were given by God to establish boundaries around His people, around His gifts to His people, and against how the rest of the world lived. “I am the Lord your God,” the commandments began. It establishes the relationship: God and people, people and God. It also establishes the relationship as one of love: that God brought Israel out of Egypt, out of slavery, and was leading them to His promised land. In a word, it was a relationship grounded in His love, mercy and compassion for these people, these sons and daughters of Abraham to whom He first made the covenant.

Because He is Israel’s God, they are His people, and because He is a loving, merciful God, He is the giver of good gifts to His people. The Ten Commandments, properly understood, lay out these gifts and how they are to be used. Instead of thinking of the Uncle Sam poster, with God pointing His finger in a scolding fashion, snarling “Don’t you dare…,” instead see God as your Heavenly Father who has given you a good, beautiful, wonderful gift and then is giving you instructions on how to use it. It is as if God was saying this: I am giving you myself to be your God, therefore, don’t have any other Gods. I am giving you my name to use and use faithfully to call upon me and to worship Me, therefore  don’t misuse it. I am giving you a day for worship and to rest, both spiritually and physically, in my presence; therefore, don’t squander the time wastefully. Each commandment lays out the gift: the fourth is the gift of parents and authorities; the fifth, the gift of life; the sixth, the gift of marriage between husband and wife; the seventh, the gift of possessions; the eighth, the gift of a good name and reputation; the ninth and tenth, the gift of contentment. Each commandment gives a unique gift of love, and each commandment establishes the way the gift is to be used and treasured in a loving way. Understood this way, the Commandments become loving curbs to keep God’s people from straying away from how the gifts are to be used.

But, what happens when we do jump the curb? What happens when our reputation, or our job, or our bank account, or our happiness becomes the thing we desire most of all? What happens when gratitude for what God has given gets turned around and we begin coveting what we don’t have? Coveting, for example, quickly can lead to theft. We’re not likely to murder someone, but Jesus takes the gross action of physically taking a life and re-interprets it so say that if we even call someone names, we are guilty of murder? Who hasn’t called someone else stupid, moron, or worse, not only guilty of breaking the 7^th Commandment’s do not kill, but also ruining someone’s 8^th commandment good reputation? All this, because at the heart of breaking any of the Ten Commandments lies a shattered First Commandment, where we make ourselves out to be the triune godhead of me, myself and I.

Where do you go with your sins? Here is the problem with using the Ten Commandments to try to instill morality or Christian pietism. Turn back to the Commandments and you find only guilt, shame, and sin upon sin. The Law exposes sin, letting us see it in all of its unbridled shame like a mirror exposes the blemishes on our nose and the fading hairline. The Ten Commandments do not help in trying to make ourselves better; the Ten Commandments expose our failures as God’s people. If all we have is the Ten Commandments staring us in the face, we are left in despair. How can we possibly keep them? How can we square the debt? How can we possibly be holy as God is holy when we are unholy people? The Commandments show us that our best, isn’t; our self-security is precarious; our self-righteousness is nothing but dirty rags.

So, where do you go with your sins, with your list of broken commandments, with your failings as God’s people to fear, love and trust Him above all other things?

Some people misunderstand what God says: “I the Lord your God and a jealous God…” From a human perspective, jealousy is a bad thing. If love focuses externally on another person to whom love is given; jealousy is love inverted, focusing on how love doesn’t seem to be properly reciprocated but is directed elsewhere. A husband is jealous when his wife flirts with another man; a wife is jealous when her husband jokingly refers to a coworker as a “work wife.” God’s jealousy is holy. That is, His desire is for you to love Him solely, not to be one god (lower-case g) among many things where you place your fear, love and trust. So God sent His beloved Son into the world to redeem a broken and fallen, sin-stained people. It was as if God said, “Since you cannot love me perfectly, I will love you perfectly so you can experience the most perfect of love.” You don’t see this kind of love in a list of “Thou shalt’s” and “Thou shalt not’s.”   You see it in Jesus. You see it at the cross.

The Christian life is not about keeping the Commandments perfectly; it’s about trusting in the One who did. Christ placed Himself under His Father’s Law so that He could obey it perfectly in our place. Christ submitted to the Father’s will, not placing Himself above the Father in any way. Christ honored the Father’s name in prayer and in His preaching. He loved and honored His parents and those in authority, even when those in authority mocked Him and had Him crucified. He did not take anything that was not His, even giving to Ceasar that which belonged to Caesar, paying the tax with the help of a coin in a fish’s mouth. He spared the life of sinners caught under the Law. He didn’t even covet the pillow where others placed their heads. He sanctified the Sabbath day with His Sabbath rest in the tomb. And He blessed marriage, not only with His presence in Cana, but in His perfect marriage to the Church, His bride, whom He adorns in the splendor of His holiness. He loved the Lord God with all His heart, soul and mind, and loved His neighbor even more than Himself, going to the cross, sacrificing Himself in our place – the perfect for the imperfect, the Law keeper for the Law breakers.

This is not earned by keeping the Ten Commandments. This is a gift given by God the Father, through faith in His Son Jesus Christ, enabled by the power of the Holy Spirit.

So we are His loved, forgiven, and made-holy people, not because we keep the Commandments perfectly, but because Jesus did for us.

Here is a beautiful paradox: As God’s people, we don’t live under the Ten Commandments. As God’s people we do strive to keep the Commandments. We live under the cross, where the Commandments were completed for us. Not to earn our salvation, but in gratitude for being rescued and redeemed. Instead of seeing them as a burden, we see the Ten Commandments as protection against the fallenness of the world, a way to receive God’s gifts with thanksgiving, loving Him and serving our neighbor.

 

Who Is Jesus to You? - 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?” That’s a good question, and a loaded one, that Jesus asks of His disciples. The people are starting to see and recognize there is more to Jesus than just another itinerant rabbi.  He was the talk of the towns. After all, He’s dared to speak against the Jewish leaders. He preached with authority unlike what anyone has heard in their lifetime – not since the days of old. He did signs and wonders, marking Him as someone on whom Divine favor rests. He called people to repentance, and declared the Kingdom of Heaven was there. “Who do people say that I am?” It’s as if Jesus is asking, “Do they understand? Do they yet believe that I am the One whom Scripture points to, the One for whom God’s people have waited for centuries? How about it, guys? What are people saying?”

I wonder what would happen if we were to ask people in Mission Valley, or anywhere in the Crossroads, “Who is Jesus?” What do you think they would say? I suspect, here in a relatively Biblically conservative area, most would say Jesus is the Son of God, but we might be surprised at some answers. Extrapolating from a Newsweek survey in 2020[1], about half will deny Jesus’ divinity, and even among Christians we can expect a third to say Jesus isn’t God.

I wonder what would happen if we were to take Jesus’ question and turn it just slightly. Instead of “Who is Jesus,” what if we were to ask, “Who or what is your God? Who or what do you put your trust?” In a growing, secularistic world, author David Zahl suggests that careers, being the perfect parent, having the latest and greatest tech, food, politics or politicians, and romance have risen to become the new pantheon of American deities that people worship.[2] So, Jesus becomes a tool to help us get to where we want to be instead of humbly placing ourselves where He wants us to be: under the cross.

What does that mean, to be under the cross? What does that look like? For that matter, where is it? Life under the cross is a way of expressing our struggles in this life because of following Jesus, and seeing the mercy and grace of God for us in Christ, even in those struggles. These can be physical, emotional, relational, economic, sometimes even spiritual. Think of it as a crossroads where faith and life crash into each other. We know this is true as a child of God, but we see this around us, we experience this thing that seems contra. That is living under the cross.

Take Peter, for example. Right after asking “who do people say I am,” Jesus turns the question to His own disciples. “But you, disciples, who do you all say that I am?” Peter, always quick to act, speaks up “You are the Christ.” Not just a rabbi, not just a teacher, not just a prophet, not even the Baptizer, but the Christ, the Messiah, the Anointed One for whom Israel had so long waited. 

But, what does that mean, Peter identifying Jesus as Messiah-Christ? By the time of Jesus, the title Messiah had lost a lot of it’s theological weight and had become more and more of a political brand. The historians tell us that there were many, many self-proclaimed messiahs by the time of Jesus, revolutionaries who were willing and able to Make Israel Great Again™, to lead a holy war against the heathen Romans, reestablish the rule of David, and become the earthly king that Israel always seemed to think they needed.

It seems Peter is operating under this model. He wants Jesus to rise up and be a military king, a political pundit who is able to maneuver his way into independence and revolution and heroics with bands and drums and armies. It almost certainly has nothing to do with being under a cross.

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

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

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

This is why Jesus speaks so severely to Peter: Get behind me Satan! Peter means “rock,” but satan means “liar.” No one wants a cross-less Christ more than the devil himself, and in short order, Peter – the great spokesperson for the confession of the Church – had also become the infamous spokesperson for satan himself. See how easy it is? In a moment of weakness and unbelief, Peter turns away from life under the cross. He shows the incredible struggle of being sinner and saint at the same time. One minute, Peter proclaims Jesus as Messiah and a moment later, and with the same mouth, Peter tells Jesus He cannot go to the cross.

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

The cross is where Jesus must go. So, while we may understand Peter not wanting Jesus to talk about the cross, that doesn’t excuse him. The cross 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 for the sins of the world. It was His anointing.

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

Jesus speaks a warning of being ashamed of Him. “Whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed, when He comes in the glory of His Father with the holy angels.” Jesus wasn’t simply speaking of His own generation when He called it “adulterous” and “sinful.”  

What are we ashamed of? What do we keep hidden and personal? Conventional wisdom says to not talk about religion because it’s divisive. Postmodernism has taught us that any person’s truth is as valid as the next. Political correctness tells us that all roads lead to heaven and, besides, we shouldn’t say who is and who isn’t a good person. In the words of the comic strip character, Pogo, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” We are ashamed of Jesus, the cross, and the Church that declares He is the only One who takes away our sins, who justifies us, who washes our Sin away with His blood. When confronted with the question, “Who do you say Jesus is?” we remain woefully silent.

So, how do we not be ashamed? How do we be better prepared so that, when asked, “And you, who do you say Jesus is?” you are able to speak of Christ with faithfulness instead of weakness? The Apostle’s Creed is a good place to start. John 3:16 had been described as “The Gospel in a nutshell,” also a handy verse to have memorized.

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

Try it: In seven words or less, answer Jesus’ question: “Who do you say I am?” Prayerfully consider the question, read through the Scriptures this week, and then be prepared to use it to answer, “Who do you say Jesus is.”  

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

Amen.

---

[1] 52 Percent of Americans Say Jesus Isn't God but Was a Great Teacher, Survey Says (newsweek.com)

[2] See Zahl, David , Seculosity: How Career, Parenting, Technology, Food, Politics, and Romance Became our New Religion and What to Do About It. Fortress Press: Minneapolis, © 2017.

The Simple Truth of Temptation; the Greater Truth of Grace - Mark 1: 9-15

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

I am a relatively simple man. I like coffee black, without cream or sugar. I like pie without ice cream. I don’t wear a smart watch. I even write the occasional sermon with a fountain pen and paper. Maybe that’s why I like Mark’s account of Jesus’ temptation: it’s a lesson in simplicity. Where Matthew and Luke give us the play-by-play, what the Devil said, how Jesus responded, and what Scripture was used to defeat satan’s lies, Mark does it in one sentence: “And [Jesus] was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by satan.” That’s it: simple, direct and to the point.

But as a pastor, there is a different reason I like this brief narrative. I like it because it strips away the “DIY” aspect of temptation and forces us to simply see Jesus.

When you read Matthew and Luke, you hear the devil tempt Jesus three, distinct times. Jesus was hungry, so the first temptation, turn stones to bread, is very enticing. The second and third temptations, for Jesus to throw Himself off the temple pinnacle and to bow down and worship satan, sound rather ridiculous and superfluous, but Satan’s goal, after 40 days, is to keep Jesus from the cross by tempting Jesus’ trust in the Heavenly Father. Each time, Jesus turns to the Scripture and pointedly answers the temptation with the very Word of God.

So, the preacher wants to say, if you become like Jesus and learn your Bibles, if you study, you, too, can resist the devil’s temptations. The pious child of God, not wanting to be as salacious as our infamously ill-fated parents, Adam and Eve, who failed miserably when tempted, straps up with the armor of God and practices blocking satan’s temptous arrows. I can do it, the Christian says, and leaves the church in confidence that he or she will withstand satan’s temptations.

But at lunch at the restaurant, a beautiful or handsome stranger catches your eye and before you can say, “Lead us not into temptation,” the eyes linger longer than they need to and a thought, just a thought, flits through the mind. Strike one. That afternoon, the ref misses what you – and everyone else – sees as an obvious call, and before you can pray, “May the words of my mouth be acceptable in your sight,” you tell that ref just how poor his eyesight is with rather colorful verbiage. Grr…strike two. You make it through the week, more or less unscathed, but then last night, tempers flare faster than you can say, “A soft answer turneth away wrath,” and you and your spouse, or maybe you and your kids, or maybe you and your parents mix it up pretty good, with verbal shots fired and emotional wounds on both sides. Strike three. I guess we aren’t that different than those Garden Great-Great Grandparents, are we? But remember: when it comes to failing to keep God’s Law, a miss is as good as a mile; there are no three strikes. “Be holy as I am holy” leaves no wiggle room for “almost” or “pretty good.”

And it frustrates the child of God who wants to resist temptations, who does not want to surrender to the flesh, the mouth, the eyes, or the ears, who wants to follow in the footsteps of Christ and not in the stumble-bumbles of our Eden forefathers. What went wrong? Why can’t we resist temptations? Why can’t I be like Jesus?

You are in good company – and I use the word “good” here in a sanctified sense. Every Christian struggles with temptation, although in some ways, I am finding that it does get easier as I get older...until it isn’t any easier, after all. Even St. Paul lamented that the good he wanted to do he failed to do, and the evil he wanted to avoid, he did anyway. In a way, that helps ease the conscience (at least I’m not alone) but on the other hand, it adds to the burden (if Paul can’t do it, how can I?).

Go back to the Gospel lesson for a moment. Notice that right before Jesus is tempted, He is baptized. For those of you thinking, didn’t we already hear that Gospel narrative a few weeks ago, yes – it was the first Sunday after Epiphany 6 weeks ago. There is a reason it’s repeated, but it may not be exactly what you think.  Still dripping with Jordan’s baptismal waters, the Father’s blessing, “You are my beloved Son,” still ringing in His ears, the dove’s descending fresh in His memory, Jesus is driven out into the wilderness by none other than the Spirit of God, Himself, not for prayer time, or alone time, or time to rest, but to be tempted by Satan. The Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness, alone, so that Jesus, baptized like us, Spirit-filled like us, blessed by God like us, can be tempted like us.

He does that so He can crush the devil at his own game. Where the devil lies about the Father’s care, Jesus is the Truth. Where the devil tries to redirect Jesus from the cross, Jesus is the Way. Where the devil points to certain death, Jesus is the Life. Jesus, the Word of God incarnate, the Way, the Truth and the Life, defeats the old, evil foe. He emerges, not defeated as we have been – sometimes accidentally in weakness, sometimes willingly in arrogant foolishness - but victorious, tempted in every way as we are tempted, yet without sin. Don’t mistake these temptations as being mere facades, phony bologna, a smoke-and-mirrors production to make you think Jesus understands. The physical temptations were real, but what greater temptation is there than this: do you trust God’s merciful love and grace for you? Do you trust His promise that you are His beloved? Do you believe that in the face of all of this that you see, experience, and feel, He really cares – because, if He did, would He let this all be happening? From the empty wilderness of temptation to the abandoned wilderness of the cross, Christ trusts His Father, even when all evidence points to the contrary.

What happens to Jesus is what happens to all the baptized today. Whether the baptismal water is freshly dripping off our foreheads or a vague memory in our parent’s minds, whether we are six days old or six decades old, those same Baptismal waters that mark us as children of God, that wash away our sins, that opens the doors of heaven for us, also put a cross-hair target on us for satan’s temptations. He doesn’t need to work on his own; he works on children of God, and the sign of the cross that marks us redeemed by Christ the crucified also marks us as his target. “You are baptized,” satan says. “That’s nice. Congrats.” It’s what Jesus faced, now dropped onto you: “Do you trust God’s merciful love and grace for you? Do you trust His promise that you are His beloved? Do you believe that in the face of all of this that you see, experience, and feel, He really cares – because, if He did, would He let this all be happening?”

Your task, your calling, your life as a child of God is not to perfectly resist satan’s lies and temptations. You are not called to be your own Savior. That is Jesus’ job; do not try to put him out of work. Besides, the work is done already! The Chrisitan’s calling is to trust in the One who emerged from the wilderness victorious over satan’s half-truths (as an aside, have you ever notice that a half-truth is more dangerous than a complete lie?), even as you follow after Christ and His cross, and even as you stumble in that cross-marked and cross-bearing journey.

The cross…there it is. That same cross that was placed on you, that marks you as satan’s enemy and fresh-faced target, that cross is where Jesus goes. From the temptation in the wilderness, it will take Jesus three years to arrive at the cross outside Jerusalem, to be given a sham trial, to be innocently convicted, and be put to death. But, this is God’s plan for the salvation of the world. Christ is your substitute, not only in being tempted without falling but in innocently dying. He takes your place in death so that you can join Him in life, now and into eternity.

In the eternal bliss of heaven, temptation will cease and there will be no more burden of conscience from this life when we sin against God and our fellow neighbor. There will be only grace upon grace, with tears and sorrow and sighing will fade into the forgetfulness of the grave, and our Lord will NOT raise these with our whole, holy and restored bodies.

But until then, temptation – real, honest, temptation - along with the gut-wrenching, conscience-bruising, heart-aching realization that we have sinned against not just our neighbors (which includes spouse and child and parent, but also friends and enemies, the guy two houses and three fences over, coworkers, civil authorities, and brothers and sisters in Christ) but also against God Himself, temptation is answered not in greater resolve to not be tempted, but in confessing it, repenting of it, and being forgiven of it. (It is worth mentioning that being tempted is not a sin, after all, Jesus was tempted but remained sinless, but it is also worth remembering that in our weak human flesh, the line where temptation ends and sin begins is often blurry, at best, or unseen until viewed with hindsight.) The greatest temptation of all is that having fallen into temptation and sin, that somehow makes you unworthy of God’s love and mercy; that having sinned, you are outside His grace; that your Baptism is somehow invalid because of your un-child-of-God-like behavior; that you are no longer Christian but merely sinner who deserves the worst, condemnation.

In Matthew and Luke’s record of the temptation, Jesus tells satan, “Be gone!” He will never say that to you. Instead, He calls, gathers, invites you into the Church to hear again the baptismal promise that your sins are forgiven in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. He summons you, the tempted ones, the weak-in-faith ones, the sin-marked and conscience-burdened ones, the repentant ones, to His table, where He is present for you as both the meal and the host, and invites you to eat and drink of His body and blood.  There is no guilting, shaming, scolding or chastising. There is grace upon grace, pouring down upon you from the cross of Christ, forgiveness multiplied upon itself, forgiving, strengthening, and encouraging. With spiritual food and drink, you are refreshed and renewed to leave this holy hill and descend back down into the valley of the shadow where you will be tempted again, and you will stumble, fall, and sin again. This side of heaven, you are still a sinner and sinners sin. Yet, this constant remains: you are a baptized child of God. God’s grace is greater than your sins.

So, depart in peace, dear fellow sinners-and-saints. In the eyes of God, all He sees is His Son and you in Him. He doesn’t see successes or failures. What He sees is Jesus and you redeemed and forgiven through the cross. After all, “you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:3). Amen.

"And Jesus Was Transfigured..." Mark 9: 2-9

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Peter? Peter was not ready for Jesus to go down to the valley of the shadow. If he could delay Jesus, if He could impede His descent from the holy mountain down to where Jesus’ enemies would be waiting, then all would be well. Peter didn’t have plastic surgery available, nor did he have packaged supplements to take. But what he did have was a little bit of know-how to make shelters – tabernacles, or tents - and the determination to keep Jesus on top of the mountain, away from His enemies below who wanted to kill him. He offers to build three tabernacles, three tents, one each for Jesus, Moses and Elijah, and says so that they can all stay up on the mountain and live happily ever after. No death…no dying…none of that stuff we don’t want to talk about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

Preach It, Jesus! - Mark 1: 29-39

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

When you think of Jesus’ ministry, this morning’s Gospel lesson is a nice, brief synopsis, and boy, is it loaded up for us. First, there is the healing of Peter’s mother in law. (Surprise! Did you know Peter was married?) Jesus restored her to health with nothing but His touch – from Mark’s description, Jesus doesn’t even say a word.  Some of you remember the asprin commercial that promised their product would fix headaches, back aches and fevers as “the wonder drug that works wonders;” when word gets out that the Healer is doing miraculous healings, even driving out demons, the crowds flock to the house, all looking for a miracle, praying that Jesus would work wonders for them and their loved ones.

Those moments are referred to daily, hourly in houses, hospitals, and nursing homes all across the world. You have probably prayed for these very things yourself, for loved ones, for friends, for coworkers and classmates, that the Lord would, in some wonderful and miraculous way, reach down from heaven and heal the loved one who is gravely ill, remove the cancer, restore the heartbeat, fix what doctors don’t seem to be able to fix. If only Jesus will do the same for me, my mom, my grandson, my spouse…

It's very easy to read this section from Mark 1 (in fact, back up to last week’s Gospel, 1: 21-28) 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, Mark reports that He did these things, but remember: every one of those people whom Jesus healed would one day die. So, if that’s all Jesus is reduced to being, a miracle-working physician and demon-caster-outer, something is missing – something eternal. There is more to Jesus than just being the Great Physician.

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.

I don’t know that we think of Jesus-as-preacher and the significance of that act. Water-to-wine, stiller of storms, raiser of the dead – we know and gravitate to those incredible narratives in the Scriptures because they show His power, His authority, His Divine authority. But when we hear that Jesus began to preach, we kind of yawn and look for the next action sequence.

Preaching is proclamation. Preaching is declaration. Preaching is announcing words to listening – and sometimes non-listening – ears. It is saying, “Thus saith the Lord” and “This is most certainly true!” And, if that is true of human preachers, it is infinitely more true of Jesus. 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.

Jesus has to preach. He must tell that this is His purpose, His mission: to be the Savior for whom the world had long waited. He must move on so others can hear, so others can believe. The miracles are important, but their importance is not the miracle in and of itself. The miracles demonstrate His God-ness, His divinity. Only God can do such a thing, and His doing the miraculous healing shows the people He is God in flesh, Immanuel, Messiah – the Christ – that Israel has long waited for. Think about miracles for a moment and who benefits from them. When Jesus healed, we have no evidence that He did a Benny Hinn show, waving his arms over whole sections of the audience to heal. He did it one-on-one, by touch, by command. Yes, for that person, it was life changing and for those who saw it, it was revealing, but the audience, usually, was limited – even with the greater miracles, water-to-wine, calming the storm, and even raising the dead. But, when He preaches, the crowds hear, the words flow from Jesus’ lips to the ears of the multitudes, from Capernaum radiating outward to Bethsaida, Galilee, Judea and even Samaria.

He comes to preach, publicly, openly, to declare He is this One and that anyone and everyone can hear. That the Kingdom has arrived in His ministry. That He must suffer and die and be raised. That He will take all of our sicknesses, all our frailties, all our weaknesses that are a result of the fallenness of our bodies and the fallenness of this world and He will take each and every one to the cross. And He will die your death. And He will defeat it into eternity. The miracles are evidence of the new creation that will be restored. They are precursors, sneak peaks of His resurrection, when He – the Creator and Redeemer of the World – begins restoring Creation again.

But His preaching – His preaching gives life that cannot be taken away. 

Last week, I said I was jealous of the people in the Capernaum synagogue who got to sit and be amazed at Jesus’ teaching. Perhaps you feel that about Jesus’ healing ministry: “Sure would be nice if we could have a miracle like they had in Capernaum.” So, if you want to see a miracle, here is one among us today: by the power of the spirit of God, who is active in the written, read, and preached word of Jesus Christ, the preaching of the Good News today in Mission Valley is as powerful as the Good News that was proclaimed on a hillside in Capernaum 2000 years ago. Yes: in the absolution declared, in the Scriptures read from the lectern, in the Creed confessed, in the words of institution that offer Christ’s body and blood to us in, with, and under the bread and wine, with the Benediction that will send us out to the world, and, yes, even in the words of this sermon, Christ is present in these simple, words spoken by human mouths.

We tend to jump from the work of Jesus in the New Testament to waiting for the return of Jesus, skipping from past to future. Preaching is always a present tense activity. There is the miracle: the Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword because Christ is the very Word of God incarnate. When preaching happens, when the Word is rightly preached, Christ, who is the very Word of God incarnate, is present and active.  His Word gives life against death, it shines light against the darkness, it breathes hope where there is doom, it strengthens where there is weakness, it forgives where there is guilt and shame, it restores, it gives peace, it raises up as on eagle’s wings.