Jesus Has Authority - Mark 1: 21-28

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In His name. Amen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the name of Jesus.

Amen.

A Christmas Epistle - 2020

10 December 2020

Dear friends in Christ,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Walk with Light. See You Next Sunday. John 1: 6-8, 19-28

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

There are two men named John that we hear of this morning. The first you know as John the Baptizer. He’s the camel-coat wearing, leather-belt tying, locust-eating, honey-dipping son of Zechariah and Elizabeth. He’s a second cousin of Jesus – their mothers were cousins – and he made a name for himself out in the wilderness by preaching and baptizing and calling out the Jewish leaders with such cute nicknames as “brood of vipers.” Ah, yes – the anti-Dale Carnegie of how not to win friends. His boldness would wind up costing him his life when he calls out King Herod for his sin of adultery with his brother’s wife and the woman’s daughter, quite literally, asks for John’s head on a platter in revenge.

The second John is the Evangelist, the apostle, the one whom Jesus loved. This John was one of the twelve called by Jesus to follow as a disciple and then be sent out as an apostle into the world. He’s part of the dynamic duo with his brother James, also named the Sons of Thunder, who foolishly think they can sit at Jesus’ right and left sides. This John wrote the Gospel and the epistles that bear his name as well as the book of Revelation. John is the only one of the Twelve to die a natural death, an old man exiled on the island of Patmos, separated from the congregations he helped begin years earlier.

John the Baptizer; John the Evangelist. Two distinct and different men whom God used in distinct and different ways for the same goal of pointing the world to the good news of Jesus.

First, the Baptizer. I can’t say I blame the Jews, the priests and the Levites who thought that John the Baptizer was a prophet in the line of the Old Testament greats. Like Elijah, he spoke the Word of the Lord with clear forth-telling, “Thus saith the Lord,” calling God’s people to repentance. And, like Moses, the greatest prophet of all, Elijah thundered with the very voice of God himself out in the wilderness.  Likewise, the Baptizer was the last of the Old Testament prophets, in a way, the last one to fore-tell of the One to come after Him whose sandals he would be unworthy to untie.

Nor could you quite blame them for thinking John might be the Christ. With his teaching, his preaching, his baptizing, and his unique flair he certainly did appear to be anointed as a servant of the living God. He most certainly command attention.

But, on the other hand, these are the religious leaders of the people. Priests and Levites have the responsibility to serve as an intermediary, an intercessor, a go-between between God and man, between man and God. They are the ones who are to be students of the Scriptures, searching out the truth of God’s Word for His people. They are the ones – more than anyone else who might be out in the wilderness, watching and listening to John – they are the ones who ought to be watchful, waiting, well attuned to just who and what the Messiah will be, what his message sounds like, what he will behave like, who he will be. If anyone should have even an inkling of an idea of who Messiah is, it should be the Jewish leaders. While they seem to be aware, at least on the periphery, that this is a Messiah-like person doing Messiah-like things, or at a minimum, a prophet-like person doing prophet-like things – if they were in my Bible class, I might call this a purple star moment – they miss the gold-star mark. Messiah-like is not the same as Messiah. Prophet-like is not the same as prophet.

John, however, was quick to identify that he was, in fact, neither the Christ nor Elijah nor Moses reincarnate. Unique, yes, but he was neither prophet nor Messiah. John’s job is to prepare, to set the stage, for the one who is arriving. The Jews, the priests and Levites don’t recognize John the Baptizer for who he is and what he is doing. They’re worried about his authority – who said you could do this, they wanted to know.

So, in a twisted sense of irony, the Jews, the priests and Levites not only don’t realize John the Baptist isn’t the Messiah, or Elijah, or Moses, they also don’t yet realize that the Baptizer is also the first of the New Testament evangelists – the Good News tellers – who will both confess that which is believed and testify to who he knows. And, they don’t recognize the one whom John the Baptizer points to: Jesus, who is the Christ, the Son of God, standing among His own. They can’t see because they’re trapped in the darkness.

The darkness. The darkness is scary space. Two weeks ago, I was driving home late in the evening, after 8pm. It was a dark night, overcast, so there was no moon to illuminate the night’s sky, no stars that twinkled in the distance teasing a romantic fool’s thoughts. It was just dark. I didn’t notice it in town – there are street lights and house lights and car’s lights and business lights and traffic lights and even the lights of a flashlight while someone walked their dog. Poor substitutions for the light of the sun, that’s for sure, but at least these lights let you see what’s in front of you, what’s behind you, what’s next to you, where people are, giving direction to you and fellow travelers. But outside of town, and then onto 447, it didn’t take long and I was swallowed into the darkness. Headlights only penetrate the darkness so far at 60 miles per hour. And, at 60 miles per hour, if something comes at you from out of the darkness – a frightened deer, an ornery hog, a lost dog – things don’t end well.

John, the evangelist, does not mean the Jewish leaders are trapped in the darkness that is opposite daytime. He is talking about the darkness that is absent the light of Christ. They are lost in the dark. Lost, absent Christ, that is a scary space. Things don’t end well for those without the Light of life.

Not so the Baptizer – he knows who His cousin is. He knows Jesus is the Light of the world, the One whom darkness cannot overcome. He knows that the darkness despises this Light, but he, John, will bear witness to that Light so that the Light shines.

Yet, John knows his place. Although Jesus will, later, say that John is the “greatest of all the prophets,” John says of himself that he is unworthy to untie Jesus’ sandals. That is such a menial task that historians tell us that, in that day, not even servants were tasked to untie a master’s shoes. Yet, John sees himself as below even the most menial of servants. He has the greatest of respect, the highest levels of awe for Jesus. After all, Jesus is Immanuel – God among us, God in the flesh, God enfleshed, but God nevertheless: God who spoke everything into existence with “Let there be,” God whose voice made the mountains shake and the waters roar and the thunder crash, God who sent prophet after prophet into the world to prepare the way for His Own. Jesus is the Light of the World.

But if you want to see the power of God in the person of Jesus, there is a strange place to look for Him. Not out in the wilderness, in plain sight, with John’s bony finger pointing, calling others to follow the Lamb of God. You see the power of God, the power of Jesus, in the darkness. Not just any darkness, though. On God’s Friday, on a small mountainside outside Jerusalem, called Golgatha, the light of the sun was blacked out and creation shook in recognition that the Light of the World was quickly dimming. The darkness of men’s evil was on full display. Men, who truly were not worthy of untying Jesus’ sandals, stripped Him naked and crucified Him for that which He did not do because they did not know Him, receive Him, welcome Him, or love Him. These men raised the Light high, not in glorious praise and recognition, but in mockery and dishonor.

Jesus doesn’t wait for their recognition. There in the darkness, the Light shines forth, for this moment – His crucifixion and death – is where His glory is seen, in fulfilling His Father’s plan for the salvation of the world.

The Baptizer’s witness and confession pointed people to Jesus. The Evangelist’s preaching and writing of the Light of the World shone into the darkness so that others, too, might see and believe.

And, then, there’s you. We’re living in strange times. All around us, people are living in darkness, absent the light of Christ. For some, it’s a deliberate decision to not know Him. For others, it’s ignorance. For others, it’s an admixture of reasons, excuses really, to not receive Him – I’m too busy, it’s inconvenient, Christianity is boring, Jesus is so irrelevant, I can do this myself. This is the world in which we live. Yet you, who have received Jesus by grace through faith, believe in His name, you who are children of God, you walk in the Light.

Your confession follows the witness of both John the Baptizer and John the Evangelist, and in your words and in your actions, the Light continues to shine. These last days of Advent, as the world muddles and wanders in the darkness, be bold with your confession of the Light. Speak of Jesus who came in time, who comes in Word and Sacrament, and who will return. As others lament the sadness and sorrow and confusion of the time, speak of He who is the Light of Life. When others talk about feeling helpless, show them wherein is the Light of hope. Put your faith into loving action and let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify the Father in heaven.

My advisor at Concordia Lutheran College in Austin was the Rev. Dr. Milton Reimer. Although he was listed as a professor of English, he was first and foremost a theologian, a pastor. Dr. Reimer would end every class with the phrase, “Walk with light. See you next class.” I asked him once why he did that and his answer was simple: to remind each student, in a subtle but consistent way, that their journey in this world is guided by faith in Jesus Who is the Light. When I finish Bible class, that’s how I end as well. Partly as a tribute to my advisor and friend; mostly as encouragement.

So, walk with Light. See you next Sunday.

In the name of Jesus.

Amen.