When it Feels Like God Tricked You - Jeremiah 20: 7-13 & Matthew 10: 21-33

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

Have someone ever tricked you or deceived you? In The Grapes of Wrath, the Joad family is trying to escape Oklahoma and the Dust Bowl by going to California and the land of promise. Unfortunately, their car dies and it cannot be fixed. Desperate, they negotiate on a used car and scrape their few dollars to buy it. A few dozen miles outside of town, the car grinds to a halt. Upon further inspection, Mr. Joad discovers the seller had stuffed the rear differential with sawdust to help disguise the sounds of failing gears. Caveat emptor, the adage warns – let the buyer beware. The Joad family was tricked in their desperation. There is nothing new under the sun. Tricksters keep on tricking, just with new twists and turns. Just last week, a text message went out with the sender pretending to be me, asking for a favor, for recipients to send gift cards to “me.” I pray no one was tricked into sending this scoundrel anything. Please note: if I ever need money, I’ll just ask for cash. <grin>

I think some people, some young Christians – and here, by young, I don’t mean in age but in maturity, in faith-experience; the Corinthians, for example, were young and immature in the faith, still trying to learn and understand not only the truth of Jesus’ atonement but how that plays out in the Christian life. That is what I mean by “young Christians” – some young Christians think that the life of faith and discipleship will be easy street. After all, that’s how faith is often marketed. Give your money and your heart to Jesus and all will be right in the world. Go to church, read your Bible, give ten percent, boycott the correct stores, wear a James Avery cross and eat at Chick-Fil-A and all will be right at the world.

But then something happens, and that young faith is challenged. Perhaps it’s a phone call from the doctor saying that the bloodwork had something suspicious; better come in for some tests. The boss says, I’m sorry but work just isn’t what it used to be and we’re having to let people go. After verbal sparring with a son or daughter over the Christian faith became an out-right war of words, he or she left home because you are – quote – intolerant and bigoted in your beliefs. Friends whom you have loved and laughed and interacted with for years suddenly grow cold towards you, confiding in a mutual friend that you aren’t as fun as you used to be before you started going to church. You used to have extra income, it seems, but now that you’re giving to the church, the budget seems to be tighter than it was. While the church follows the light of Christ, you see the shadows of satan lurking nearby. When you started worshipping at a church, you thought the congregation was a loving, warm, and kind family of faith enwrapped in the love of Jesus but now that you’ve been involved, you realize there is whispering and grumbling and fighting just like when your own non-Christian family gets together. Has God tricked me? Is this all that the church is, a holier-than-thou version of what I thought I left behind?

I said this happens to young Christians, but I suppose, now that I’m thinking about it, it's not just young Christians that feel this way. It happens to us who have been in the church for decades. Yes, it happens to pastors, too. We start to feel like we’ve been tricked, fooled into thinking that the church, like the old grey mare, just ain’t what she used to be and we’ve picked the losing horse in the race of life. Worst of all, it’s not that we were tricked by other well-intended Christians. Sometimes, it feels like we’ve been tricked by none other than God Himself. Where is He? Where are His promises? Why is it so hard to do what He has called us to do? Why does “Follow me” feel more like trying to get through a house of mirrors? Has God tricked me into being a disciple - all risk, no reward? My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

If you’ve ever felt this way, this morning’s Gospel lesson and Old Testament lessons are for you.

Listen again to Jeremiah’s lament: “O Lord, you have deceived me and I was deceived.” Yes, Jeremiah accuses God of deceiving, seducing, overpowering, tricking – even bullying him. It’s as if Jeremiah is saying, “I’ve been proclaiming that which you have told me to say, God, but it’s not doing a lick of good. But, I’ve tried to not say it and it burns in my throat until I do. When I finally give in and prophesy, I get labeled as a terrorist (v3) and they call me a deceiver who must be overcome!” You tricked me and I let myself be tricked by none other than you!

Had Jeremiah been able to read the Gospel reading, perhaps he would have felt differently. Discipleship, following the Lord, is not a proverbial bed of roses. It is demanding, troublesome, emotionally draining, even physically, mentally, and spiritually punishing.  Not all the time, of course, but there are seasons, moments, times when the yoke of discipleship is so terribly heavy that one would never describe the burden as “light” the way Jesus says. At least, that’s been my two decades of experience. So I, for one, resonate with Jeremiah and in my own weakness, I search for answers as well. And this is why the words recorded by Matthew in chapter 10 are so poignant for us, as God’s people – not just pastors, but as God’s people who follow under the cross of Jesus. That, friends, is the reality behind the “Follow me” of Jesus.

Jeremiah, in his crisis, and Jesus, in His commissioning of the disciples, both shine the light on this reality that is often hidden and not talked about, or sugarcoated as if it is no big deal or it rarely happens. It happens, hard, fast, and ugly. And, lest the child of God – whether young or old, mature or immature – is prepared for such a thing, it is tempting to listen to the voice of satan and point our self-righteous finger at God and say, “You lied to me. You tricked me. You set me up. Some God you are.”

Both Jesus and Jeremiah are clear: following Jesus is difficult, hazardous, and challenging. The same baptismal water that washes away our sins and joins us to Christ’s death and resurrection also tattoos a spiritual target on our foreheads and hearts. Yet, Jesus says three times – not once or twice, but three times – fear not! Do not fear your opponents, do not fear those who kill, do not fear your worth in the eyes of the Lord, for He loves you deeply and fully, even more than the sparrows in the air.

What do you do when discipleship is hard? What do you do when the doctor calls, or the boss hands you a pink slip, when discipleship tears apart families and friendships, when all these things happen and your eyes and ears and even your heart are telling you things that God’s promises are words, just words?

You go to the cross. That’s what we know is true. At the cross, we know Jesus died for us. He rescued us. He redeemed us. He stood in our place under the weight of the world’s sins, my sins, your sins, and He paid the ultimate price of being the perfect sacrifice, the perfect Lamb dying for imperfect sheep. You go to the cross, and when you go to the cross, you discover in Jeremiah’s words, the foreshadowing of what Jesus will face. At the cross, He was the laughingstock of God’s promises. People mocked Him to His face. “If you really are the Son of God, save yourself!” Friends turned tail and ran. And when He cried out for His Father’s help and hand, why have you forsaken me, the Father was silent. Yet and still, whom does Jesus trust: His Father. “Into your hands,” even in the silence, even in the mocking, even in the loss of my life, “Into your hands, I commend my spirit.” Jesus turns to what He knows is true: the very same words and promises of God that He proclaimed, that were rejected, that were thrown back at Him, Jesus clings to those promises as He follows the will and work of God.

On the cover of your bulletin is the graphic that quotes Jesus, Matthew 10:22, “The one who endures to the end will be saved.” On the one hand, there is literally the word “saved.” For us as God’s people, that is the word – it is a word of Hope (capitol H!), of promise, that is grounded in Jesus. It is the guarantee of salvation that is already ours and extends into eternity. It is the AMEN to our lives under the cross this side of heaven. But, it is preceded by that other big word “endure.” Endure brings to mind the connotation of hardship, of struggle, of great difficulty that we will face. In the context, Jesus is painting a grim but real picture of life as a disciple who follows Him. It sounds as though there will be much we have to endure, as if it places the onus on us.

But, the grammar here is fascinating. It’s less about us as the ones who must do the struggling and it’s more about the struggling that has been done for us. The verb tense technically isn’t one of a present or future mindset; it’s past-tense with an ongoing, continued action. And, instead of thinking of it as enduring, I would rather nuance it as remaining or abiding – in other words, the opposite of abandoning. “The one who remained and continues to remain…” This begs the question, then, abides and remains in what? In those very promises of God that are fulfilled in Christ. Not in your clinging and enduring, but in what Christ endured and clung to for your sake. And, having been baptized into Christ and His enduring, remaining, abiding love, this gift is given to you as well: His endurance for your salvation. So, putting this together, I would rather hear these words like this: The one who clings to what Christ has done for him or her by going to the cross, dying in his or her place, satisfying God’s payment, the one who clings to that very promise delivered in Baptism, even in the midst of what everything else seems to be is contrary, he or she will be saved.

That means, when you feel like Jeremiah, like this life of discipleship isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and in some ways you find yourself wondering if it’s worth the effort, if it’s worth enduring all this, follow the footsteps of that great, Old Testament prophet of old and simply cling to those very words and promises of God that you know are true in Christ Jesus our Lord.

What I Will Carry - Boot Camp Day 1

In his classic short story, "The Things They Carried," author Tim O'Brien tells the story of what men, grunts, carried in their packs while humping the boonies of Vietnam. The second paragraph begins: 

The things they carried were largely determined by necessity. Among the necessities or near-necessities were P-38 can openers, pocket knives, heat tabs, wristwatches, dog tags, mosquito repellant, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes, salt tablets, packets of Kook-Aid, lighters, matches, sewing kits, Military Payment Certificates, C-rations, and two or three canteens of water. Together, these items weighed between 15 and 20 pounds, depending on a man's habits or rate of metabolism." 

That wasn't counting his rifle, K-Bar knife, extra magazines of ammunition, pistol and its ammunition, helmet, flack jacket (if he chose to wear it) and soggy clothes, sodden with sweat and humidity. In short, the GI had a lot to carry on his back, body, and finally, on his feet. 

My son left for boot camp yesterday. He has enlisted in the United States Navy. While there is a new movement growing in the home renovation industry towards minimalism and the tiny house, the Navy takes it to all new levels of "less-is-more." Even in boot camp, the list of "can-haves" is practically a footnote in length compared to the laundry list of "can't haves." He can have: three small books, a religious pendant that must be smaller than his dogtags, his own running shoes, a watch, and his personal health items that he purchases when he gets there. For his books, he took a small Bible, a small prayer book, and a small notebook that serves as an address book. His pendant is a small steel circle stamped with Luther's Rose and "LUTHERAN" on the back. We tucked a few bandaids and a couple of stamps inside the cover, hoping they pass muster. His shoes must be plain colored. The watch must be an old-school "stupid" watch. No iWatches are allowed because there is no I in Navy. I kid you not. His civvies will be stored in a small box that he will get back when he graduates. In the meantime, everything he owns - excuse me, "is issued" - including his uniforms, must fit into a very small space. It's preparing him for life on a ship where your storage is the space under your bed and a small wall locker. His curly, thick locks will be shorn off, the barber playing the part of a sheep shearer, cutting so just a shadow of hair remains above the skin. He's no longer Christopher. He's Seaman Recruit Meyer. 

In short, part of boot camp is to strip the individual of all individuality and create simply the brotherhood and sisterhood of sailor. I am a United States Sailor... 

When I received the Luther's Rose pendant from our LCMS Ministry to the Armed Forces, I tried to find a stainless steel necklace that he could use. I figured stainless steel would be more durable than silver, while being less valuable so that sticky recruit fingers, tempted by the value, would be less likely to S.T.E.A.L - Strategically Transfer Equipment to Alternate Locations - it. The chain had too large of an eye on each end, however, and it didn't fit the small hole in the pendant. I ordered a slightly smaller chain and hung the pendant on it, and then hung the necklace around his neck shortly before we left for San Antonio. 

I am now wearing the original, too-large necklace. I found a small pendant that I hung on it, a pendant that someone must have given him. It has Chris' confirmation verse on it from Jeremiah 29:11, "I know the plans I have for you..." I don't know how much it weighs; combined, probably just a couple of ounces. It's funny. Mathematically, I shouldn't notice it at all. It weighs less than my Seiko steel-body watch, my ring of church keys, a steel pen I sometimes carry, and about as much as my small Swiss Army knife. But, I feel the weight around my neck. Perhaps it's just a sort-of placebo effect - I think about it so I feel it. But it feels like there is a heavy chain, not a light necklace, around my neck. I feel it, just as I feel his absence at home. 

I feel his absence so I wear the necklace. I wear the necklace and I feel his absence. 

In a sense, his being at boot camp makes my fatherly vocation easier. He is not under my roof. I do not have to make sure has food to eat. I don't have to buy another pair of Levis this fall because the old ones are too short. I don't have to fuss at him for leaving his socks in a birds-nest of a pile in front of the couch (and I don't get to practice my bowline tying using said socks). I don't have to worry about his being out late or getting him up early. 

But, his being gone makes my fatherly vocation harder because I am having to surrender these responsibilities to someone else - his DIs, the Navy, and, most of all and most importantly, to God Himself. 

That's always been true. I full-well know that my son has always been a gift of God, entrusted to me to rear and then set free to be a Godly man in the world. But now, that surrendering has a whole new meaning and faith, that which is hoped for yet unseen, has a new aspect to it. I must trust the Lord's promise, given to my son in Baptism, and that He will care for Junior both now - outside my watchful gaze - and into eternity. 

So, I wear the necklace and pendant. I wear it to help me remember my son and pray for him even more dilligently than ever before. I wear it to remind me that the Lord is faithful, and He will watch over my son. I wear it to remind me that faith rests in the unseen promises of God which are, in fact, grounded in the seen promises fulfilled in the cross of Jesus. 

That's the same cross I made on Chris' forehead and heart on the morning that I baptized him eighteen years ago. "Receive the sign of the cross on your forehead and heart that you have been redeemed by Christ the crucified."  

And, when he kneels at the rail at the chapel in boot camp to receive the sacrament, and his dog tags click against his Luther's Rose pandant, and when I kneel at the rail at Zion in Mission Valley, and I feel the necklace weighing on my neck, in that moment, we will worship together even while separated by the miles. 

That's what the cross does. It unites us in Christ. 

And the pendant lets me carry just a bit of what my son carries. 

Excuse me...I think I have something in my eyes. 

The Compassion of Jesus - Matthew 9:35 - 10:8

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

“When Jesus saw the crowds, He had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd.”

Jesus had been journeying through countryside, teaching in synagogues, proclaiming the Good News, and healing diseases and afflictions and Matthew notes that Jesus had compassion on the crowds. It wasn’t the people who gathered to hear Him, or even the deaf, the blind, and the lame that made his guts hurt. It was the crowds, the people of God. They lacked spiritual leaders who cared for them and strengthened them with the Word of God. They were like sheep without a shepherd. They made his guts hurt. That’s what compassion means – His stomach hurt for their situation.

What do shepherd-less sheep look like? Lost, wandering, and in danger of being picked off by wild animals. What do shepherd-less people of God look like? Remarkably the same: lost, wandering, and in danger of being picked off by satan.

I suppose there were many things He could have done. He could have stayed right there and shepherded them Himself – after all, Jesus identifies Himself as the Good Shepherd. He could have called the scribes, pharisees, Sadducees, and priests to task and then showed them how it was done. He could have even miraculously provided in ways that we cannot even begin to imagine.

But, instead, Jesus speaks to His newly commissioned and called disciples, telling them “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore, pray to the Lord of harvest to send out laborers into His harvest.”

Prayer is often treated as “the Christian thing to do.” When we don’t know what else to say, we drop our voice a half-octave and utter solemnly, “We will keep you in our prayers.” It has become so trite that even comedians now make it part of their schtick about “thoughts and prayers.” For Christians, prayer has become a refuge of last resort. Several years ago, a man I know got a bad concussion. While in the ER, some friends stopped to check on him. His wife said the doctors had done an Xray, CAT scan and MRI. I suspect one of the friends was quite uncomfortable in the setting and, looking for a sanctified escape, uttered “Well, I guess all we can do now is pray,” to which the man replied sarcastically, “Oh, no! Is it that bad???”

Jesus calls the newly minted disciples to pray to the Lord of Harvest. It’s a bit of a mixed metaphor, jumping from sheep and shepherds to harvesting, but in an agrarian society that understood all blessings come from God, the disciples would have understood this to refer to God Himself.  Their prayers, invited and commanded by Jesus Himself, will be heard and answered the God.

Have you ever prayed for something, only to discover that your prayers are answered in ways you could never have imagined? I suspect that was the case for the twelve, here. After instructing them to pray, and what to pray for, Jesus takes the Twelve and sends them out as the very workers they were to pray for.  It’s as if Jesus is saying, “Pray for harvesters. Guess what, guys: God is providing whom you have prayed for with you.”

Last week, we heard Jesus call Matthew to discipleship with the simple command and invitation, “Follow me.” Matthew seems to fill out the ranks of disciples because today’s Gospel follows almost immediately after and we have named, for the first time, the men we come to know as The Twelve. Each was called by Jesus to follow Him.

Follow is an interesting word in our modern world. When I was a boy, it meant to be close, to be near someone. Since it is Father’s Day, I’ll use the example of, when I was a little boy, following in my Dad’s footsteps while he stomped through the fresh Iowa snow. Children learn by following – kids follow their parents’ speech, mannerisms, and ways of doing things. There is a physical connection, a closeness to following someone. Now, we use the word mostly, it seems, to describe social media interaction. We follow someone on Facebook, Instagram, Snap Chat, or YouTube. But, it’s a different kind of following, isn’t it? It’s at my leisure; I choose whom to follow when I want and often they never know it. It’s impersonal; it’s distant; it’s a rear-window view into someone’s life. And, because of that separation, there is little risk in me following someone. If I like you, I follow you. If you bore me, or I disagree with you, I click “unlike” and disappear into the ether-world.

Often, at least in today’s world, that’s how people engage with the church. They chose to follow a church, whether that’s on social media or in person. They engage – from a distance; they follow – at arms’ length; they participate – minimally. Jesus, the Church, discipleship, they can all be changed or altered or passed by with just a click of the mouse, changing an address on the GPS, deciding it’s just not for me and following something or someone else instead.

Following Jesus is up-close, personal, and intimate. It’s less about the follower and more about the One who is followed. Leading is active; following is passive, but in an extra-ordinary, following Jesus is also transformative. The Word does that. The Word penetrates deep and changes you from the old adam into Baptized conformity with the Father through the Son by the power of the Holy Spirit. Jesus’ call to follow me moves you from “out there” to “in here,” into fellowship, into oneness into the body of Christ, the Church. Jesus calls the Twelve, not just to follow and go along for the ride, but to be active, transformed instruments in the work of the Kingdom. They are to comfort those who were discomforted by a lack of a shepherd. They are to tell about the One who is the Good Shepherd who comes into the world to save.

Remember – this is still early in Jesus’ ministry. The disciples don’t get it all, yet. They are still – as we would say – in training. They have much to learn. They will go out, and they will preach and teach in His name and with His authority. That’s the key word, here: His authority. Only in the name of Jesus and by His command can they heal the sick of every affliction. Only with the name of Jesus will demons submit to their command. Only with the name of Jesus will death be driven away. Only with the name of Jesus will true comfort be found. They’ll think it’s about power and authority and the miracles and the crowds. But Jesus will have more, much more to teach them about exactly Who He is and what it is that He must do.

Recall Jesus instructions to the disciples: “Pray to the Lord of the Harvest.” If you have ever planted a seed, you know this: for there to be a harvest, first, the seed you planted must die. This is true whether it is the smallest of seeds like mustard seeds or a large seed like a peach pit. When you put that seed in the ground, it must die. In its dying, new life forms and from that new life comes the harvest – ten, twenty, fifty fold more than the original, single seed.  So, in praying to the Lord of the Harvest, Jesus is pointing ahead to His own death. In the Gospel of John, later in His ministry, Jesus uses this image to speak of Himself to teach the disciples what must happen. “Truly, I say to you that unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit,” (John 12:24). Christ will die. He will be buried in the ground. And it will seem that all is lost: there is only death and still, silent earth. But, on Easter, the Harvest springs forth. Life abounds. Joy erupts. Christ is risen, raised as the first-fruits of the Great Harvest that is to come. St. Paul will pick up this image in 1 Corinthians 15 – make that your devotional reading this week. Paul proclaims, “20 But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. 21 For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. 22 For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. 23 But each in his own order: Christ the firstfruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ.” It will be a resurrection harvest that we can only begin to imagine.

But it begins with praying for the Lord of the Harvest to send out workers. Its no secret that the Christian church is struggling right now. Any poll will tell you that, outside the massive mega-churches, almost every denomination in North America is on a downward slide. The Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod is no exception. Not only is there a decline in overall church membership, but there is a shortage of pastors and church workers. I cannot speak for all denominations, but in the LCMS, we are expecting a significant shortage in the next ten years with about a 4-to-1 ratio of pastors retiring to those entering the ministry. In the twenty years since I graduated, we went from 196 men graduating our two seminaries in 2000 to just over 70 this year. I think it was something like 40 churches who attempted to call a graduate to be their pastor did not receive one. The average length of vacancy in the Texas District is now about two years. To put some skin on that, using that statistic, St. Paul, Groves – who called me this spring to be their pastor – will not have a pastor until Easter, 2025.

Pray the Lord of the Harvest to send workers into the field. The people of God who are shepherd-less need the Lord’s under-shepherds to care for them so that they don’t wander, stray and become lost. The Lord will have compassion on us, His people – not just the LCMS, but the entire Christian church on earth. And, who knows how the Lord will answer your prayer. Perhaps it will be your son who becomes a pastor, your daughter who becomes a deaconess, or a grandchild who becomes a Lutheran school teacher, a nephew or niece who becomes a missionary in the inner city, a foreign nation, or down in the brasada of the Valley so that these people, these lost, wandering shepherd-less sheep might also know the same love of Jesus and the forgiveness of sins that you and I know and receive by grace through faith.

Jesus Welcomes People Like Tax Collectors, Sinners, and You - Matthew 9: 9-13

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

Last year, I went to my doctor for my annual physical. (Who he is, is irrelevant for this conversation; please, don’t ask.) On his office door was a sign that said something like this: “If you have a fever, cough, sore throat, body aches, or chills, please do not come into our office. Instead, please return to your car and call 555-555-5555 for instructions.” Having none of those symptoms, I went in. When I finally saw the doc, I said something like, “I never expected to see a doctor’s office with a sign that basically says, “'Don’t come into my office if you’re sick'.” He looked very sad for a moment and then said, “I never thought I would have to tell people they can only be seen if they are reasonably well.”

I’m not being critical of the doctor. It was, please pardon a sad pun, a sign of the times. But that came to mind again this week because Jesus’ words: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick…I came not to call the righteous, but the sinners” (9: 12b, 13b).

In order to expound this familiar reading from Matthew 9, I want to take us first of all back into the Gospel of Matthew to the Sermon on the Mount, to a saying of Jesus that we modern readers actually might misunderstand, it's Matthew 6, verse 22. Jesus said this, “The eye is the lamp of the body, so if your eye is healthy, then your whole body will be full of light, but if your eye is bad, then your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness?”

Now here's the problem. When Jesus says that the eye is the lamp of the body, we automatically interpret the metaphor in light of (pun intended) how we scientifically understand light to work and our eyes to work. We know scientifically that light comes into our eyes and it connects with some complicated neuro stuff and then it sends messages to the brain and then we know stuff. In other words, we think of the eyes as openings through which light and images comes into the body. Yeah, of course. There's a sense in which that's correct. But there is actually an abundance of evidence that Jesus words would not have been understood in that way and that he did not intend them in that way. Rather, he meant something quite the opposite. For the ancients, light comes out of the body, through the eyes: just as a lamp shines out and enables light to fall on an object, here or there, so it is with your eyes. The eye is the lamp of the body. The body goes in whatever direction the lamp points. When the light chooses to rest on something good, well, that tells you about what's in the body. The light comes out and it chooses, for instance in Matthew 6, to serve God the Father and Him only. On the other hand, if the eyes rest on something flawed or evil, in order to serve that reality, then the light is really darkness. And that means that there is darkness inside of the body where it’s really, really dark.

Now in Matthew 6, Jesus uses this image to warn his disciples not to serve mammon. He says don't shine your lamp on that. Don't let your eyes light on that, don't set your heart on that, for no one can serve two masters. You cannot set your light on, you cannot serve, both God and money. So, the point is this: where you look and what you see when you look there says something very important about what's inside of you.

Now, why do I bring this up as a way of introducing the reading from Matthew 9? Well, here's the reason: Matthew writes that after Jesus called him to discipleship, “Behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples.” And then this: “When the Pharisees saw this...” When that lamp of the Pharisees, when their eyes came to rest on what was going on in that house, then they revealed the darkness. That was what was inside of them.

Now notice that they don't actually criticize Jesus, at least explicitly, or confront Him, and they don't say anything about Him particularly. They're actually willing to call him teacher. But they're not happy about what's going what they see. There could be any number of reasons why they're not happy, I suppose, but what they are actually objecting to is the presence of those people, the tax gatherers and the sinners with Jesus. Why are those people there with him. Whatever objection they may have with Jesus is caused by the people that they see around Him.

To be fair, there could be more than one way to see those tax gatherers and sinners. It was actually true, objectively true that these were people who typically had made really, really bad choices. We often think of them as the Big Three: sinners, tax collectors and prostitutes. But, the Pharisees could also be seeing them as those who didn't measure up to the oral tradition of Moses and the Ten Commandments and the 600-plus rules and standards that have been put into place over the centuries. That's probably going on here as well. But the basic problem is that they're looking at the tax collectors and the sinners and they see them as “them.” As in, “Not us, but them.” They think, “We’re not like that. We study the word of God and we try to do what's right and even though we fail (and yes, Pharisees did understand that they failed), at least we are not like that.”

 The Pharisees, it seems, were all about comparison. Remember the parable in Luke when the Pharisee prayed, “I thank you God that I am not like other men”?  And here they look at Jesus and they say to his disciples, “Why? Why them?”

Jesus is giving them a new way to look at these troubled and broken people who are all around him. He says, in fact, that they're sick. And if they're sick, and Jesus is spending time with them, then that means that Jesus is a doctor. Yes, they're sinners. But after all, as Jesus reveals, that's the only kind of people for whom he has come. “I did not come for righteous people” (because there really is no such thing) but sinners I came to call. Sinners. I came as a doctor for people who are sin-sick just like these people.

Now, what I'd like you to do at this moment is to use your imagination, your memory and perhaps also your own pain. If it helps, close your eyes. And I'd like you to imagine a person, or maybe a certain kind of person, that you are actually tempted to despise; or, perhaps, someone that you are actively despising; or, someone for whom it would be really easy to begin despising. Imagine a person, someone on whom you shine the lamp of your eyes and think, “Oh God, I thank you that I'm not like that.” Now it might be someone out in society, it might be someone that you read about on-line. It could some sort of a radical, non Christian, evil sort of person, or it could be someone in your family, place of business, or even our congregation. This is someone of whom you think so little that it's actually difficult for you to talk about them in a civil sort of way. If your pulse has upticked a few beats, if you feel some tension in your arms or neck, of you have had to take an extra breath, you’ve got the idea.

And now I'd like you to imagine that person sitting with Matthew and reclining at table with Jesus.

Because people who are well don't need a physician. It's sort of common sense, right, that people who are sick need a doctor?

Now, I want you to imagine Jesus reaching out in love to whomever it is that you're imagining. But not just him or her, but to lots of those kinds of people. Because Jesus does want to love them and forgive them and yes, to change them, although perhaps not in all of the ways that we think He should. You see all those people that you're thinking of? All those sinners - and they are that, they are sinners - all those people and all of us, we're just sick people who need a doctor.

The God of Israel, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, that one true God desires mercy for all - even His enemies. Even though He knows that many will spurn His mercy and turn away forever from it. Even when they crucified Him, even when they mocked Him, even when they tried to seal the tomb and make Him go away, even after they spread the lie that the body had been stolen, even then - Jesus desires mercy for everyone. For “them,” and for you. And so Jesus became God's mercy for all. And Jesus called people like Matthew, people like “them,” to follow Him and to be His.

Do you desire a cure for the us vs them mentality? Change the question. Ask these two questions. First: Who am I? Who am I, other than someone to whom mercy has come and someone with whom mercy is having its way.”  Then, second, “Who are you, other than someone to whom mercy has come and with whom mercy is having its way.” When you get rid of “us” and “them” and simply stand under the cross of Jesus, the name is changed to simply “Mercied.”

And if you want know what mercy is, think of it like light. It's like light that can fill the whole body. And then the light fills the body, and it becomes gleaming and shining and full of light. And then when I look at others who could easily be “them,” and the light of the mercy that fills every nook and cranny of our being, then it's hard to have “them.” There's only mercy. And there's wonder that at the table there is a place for someone, not like “them” but for sinners like you.

Jesus told the Pharisees, go and study Hosea. That’s where we read this morning, God desires mercy, not sacrifice. So, to you, go and study the Bible. You need Scripture to form you. Grow in mercy. Let there be no “them.” Let there be only sick people for whom the physician has come. Let there be no “them.” Only troubled, broken, outcast people to whom Jesus had mercy and said, “Follow me.” In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Holy Trinity: Where do you begin? The Beginning! Genesis 1:1 - 2:4

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

We live in an age where attacking the Christian faith is not only acceptable, but encouraged. Listen to the way people talk around you. Now, it may not be as bad out here in Mission Valley or in Victoria or Goliad or Cuero as in Austin, or Houston, or Dallas, or in New York or Sacramento or Las Vegas, but people openly use Jesus, the Church, and Christians for verbal target practice. You may have experienced this yourself as people grill you about the faith you confess with very pointed and direct questions. Sometimes, those honest questions searching for answers; sometimes, those are questions set up as “gotcha” questions to poke holes in your faith. I hate to say this, but I suspect those questions will only increase in the years ahead. The Lord will place people in your path who desperately need to hear the truth of Jesus, whether they want to or not; and the devil will also cause people to enter your path to tempt you and lead you away from the power of the Gospel.

When that happens – when people ask you questions about our Triune God, no matter what their motivation might be; or even if you have questions about your own faith, we are called to confess what it is we believe, to stand firm and be prepared to answer those who question us. But where do you begin? The Catechism is a pretty big book; the Bible even moreso. This is one of the beauty of the Creeds.

We know the Apostle’s Creed and Nicene Creeds. The Apostle’s Creed is the oldest Creed, based on what the Apostle’s taught from the Scriptures. It was the original Baptismal Creed allowing the candidate to confess, "I believe what the Church teaches" - thus, it begins, "I believe..."  It teaches the simple Trinitarian truth of the Father as Creator, the Son as Redeemer, the Holy Spirit as Sanctifier. The Apostle’s Creed particularly focuses on the human nature of Jesus. Consider the verbs: conceived, born, suffered, died, buried, rose, ascended, lives and reigns. These are human words. In the early 300s, the question was raised whether Jesus was really God. So, the Church gathered together and prepared the Nicene Creed, building on the teaching of the Apostles. Because it was the Church's confession, it confesses "We believe," again going back to the Scriptures, confessing the Trinitarian Godhead. The Nicene Creed particularly focuses on the Divine nature of Jesus. Again, notice the language: God of God, light of light, very God of very God, begotten not made, being of one substance with the Father. We know these Creeds and can confess them from memory. There is the Athanasian Creed as well, lengthy and complex, an intricate defense of the Trinity in a time when some within the Church began to teach and argue there was no such thing as a Three-In-One God and that Jesus was just a great teacher. It also stands as a defense of Jesus Christ as both God and Man when others argued this was an impossibility. Those are wonderful tools to keep in the brain to use as short-cuts to speak of the faith.

But, perhaps the person you are speaking to wants more. They want to go back to the Bible. They want the words, they want The Word. So, where do you go? Begin in the beginning. This morning’s Old Testament lesson, Genesis 1:1 – 2:4 tells the story of creation and it begins with one of the most incredible sentences in the Bible: “In the beginning, God…” God has always existed. To human minds, who only understand the limits of time, that is literally mind-blowing. God has ALWAYS been and ALWAYS will be! Yet one day, out of His love, He began a 7-day process of creating all that exists out of nothing. With only the words, “Let there be,” all came into being. To be sure, we have questions about creation – What about dinosaurs? Did Adam have a belly-button? Where did all the other people come from? – but these questions do not take away from the power of God’s strength and might. Stay focused; stay on task; stay on message to point to Jesus.

Into this perfect world, He placed the pinnacle of His creation: Adam and Eve, created in His image of holiness and sinlessness. Everything was at their fingertips – they were to care for and enjoy God’s creation with only one stipulation: do not eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. But that is exactly what they did, eating from the forbidden tree. We know God is a righteous and just judge – the wages of sin is death and we deserve nothing but punishment for those sins. Adam and Eve and all their descendants, including you and the person to whom you are speaking, deserve the eternal damnation of hell.

So, in the fullness of time, God sent His only-begotten Son into the world to take our punishment upon Himself. In another miracle of time that we can only begin to understand, Jesus – who, as fully God, was present at creation; the Voice (the Word) of Creation, if you will – entered our human world in human time as a human baby. He lived a perfect life (what we were supposed to do) without sinning (what we cannot do) so that we could again have peace with God (what we could never hope to do on our own). His death paid the price for our sins. And His resurrection means that God has accepted His death as this payment, and guarantees us the promise of heaven.

It is into this death and resurrection that you were Baptized. The same Holy Spirit – the Spirit of God that hovered upon the tohu wabohu – the chaos – of pre-creation – hovered upon your heart as the pastor poured three handfuls of water over your head and spoke that wonderful sentence: I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. In those powerful words, coupled with the out-pouring of water, the Holy Spirit plants the seed of faith in your heart. You are united to the Father through the death and resurrection of the Son by the power of the Holy Spirit at work in Water and Word. Your sins are washed away; you become a child of God; heaven is yours. The Father sent the Son who sent the Spirit who leads us to faith in Jesus who leads us to the Father. It’s a rainbow of sending and leading and sending and leading. The rainbow; a reminder of the saving work of God through the flood. The rainbow; a reminder of the baptismal flood that washed your sins and united you to the Triune God.

Your Triune God – Father, Son, Holy Spirit – remains active in you. Not only has He created you, He provides for you in abundant ways. Not only has He died for you, He continues to forgive you and pray for you. Not only has He begun the work of faith in you, He continues to strengthen you by gathering You into His Church to receive those very gifts given in His Triune name. 

And now, especially now, as the temptations of the world continue to work against you, as the grey and latter days weigh against you, as satan uses the questions and unfaithfulness of others to lure you away from faith in the Triune God, the same Lord invites you to His table to eat and drink His body and blood, in, with and under the bread and wine. Ah, another mystery! Again, we cannot fully understand how this takes place. Don’t question it. Believe it. Why? Because Jesus says so. He invites us to this table where He is both the meal and the host. This is spiritual food to strengthen faith that can be made weak by the weariness of the world.

Then, when you are asked, by someone, anyone, about this God in whom your faith rests, stop and start anew: “In the beginning, God…”  And then say, “This I believe. Amen.”

 

Pentecost: Fire, Water, and Spirit - John 7: 37-39

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

Today is Pentecost Sunday. We think of Pentecost, and we think what we read from Acts: the disciples in the upper room, the tongues of fire, the sound of the rushing wind, the large crowd, Peter’s great preaching, the speaking in tongues, and the conversion of 5000 souls to faith in Christ as Savior. It’s a story we know, a story we love, a story that ignites the imagination of what it may have been like to experience such an event and witness an incredible coming to faith by the power of Jesus at work in the preached Word. That IS Pentecost.

But then you have this brief reading from St. John where instead of fire and wind and language and conversion, there is water. Jesus cries out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scriptures have said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” Now, that’s a different picture for us to consider this Pentecost. What is He talking about? What does living water have to do with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit? What does that have to do with Pentecost?

Pentecost was the final day of the Festival of Booths. The Festival was similar to our modern, American Thanksgiving day, but stretched out over seven days. The Festival of Booths, or sukkoth in Hebrew, was a time to give thanks and remember God’s providential care of Israel. The harvest would be complete, so part of the Festival was thanksgiving for God’s providing through the crops gathered in. But, more than just a harvest celebration, it was also a time of remembrance. Each family was to live in a tent as a symbol of the tents they used in the wilderness. During the Festival, Israel retold the stories of how God cared for their ancestors in the wilderness wanderings and how He led them to the Promised Land of Milk and Honey. Water was a big part of the festival. In remembering the Exodus, they remembered how God provided water at Mamre, at Massah and Meribah, just as they were on the verge of dying from dehydration. As we know, water is hugely important in an agrarian community. They thanked God for the rains over the past growing season and also was a way of imploring God to send rains for the next harvest to come.

On the final day of sukkoth, there would be a procession in the city of Jerusalem from the pool of Siloam up to the Temple. Priests would dip a pitcher of water from the pool and pour it into one of the sacred vessels used that day for sacrifice. Prayers were offered for forgiveness of their past idolatry, rejoicing for the return of Israel to the promised land, a pledge of a new obedience to God, and for the continued protection of the Lord over the security of Jerusalem. But, chief, was the hope for the restoration of Israel under the Messianic King to come. The ceremonial water-rites made past-to-future connections of God’s action of creation, separating the waters above and below, with providing water in the Exodus, His continued providence, and the prophetic pledge of water to flow from the temple when Messiah would arrive. The Temple and its waters will become the source of the paradise to come and the center of the New Israel. “On that day,” Zechariah wrote, “on that day there shall be a fountain opened for the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem to cleanse them from sin and uncleanness,” (13: 1). He was looking ahead to a great, Messianic arrival when he added that the living waters of the Temple “will flow from Jerusalem, half of them to the eastern sea and half to the western sea,” (14:8).

So, when Jesus speaks, He is connecting Himself to the God of creation. He is in the Temple, and He is drawing a connection of Himself with the waters poured out in the Temple rites. And He is also identifying Himself as the very Messiah that the Feast is proclaiming, the provider of the very redemptive waters that Israel is yearning for.  All of the springs, all of the fountains, all of the rocks from which water flowed, both while Israel was wandering in the desert and after they entered the Promised Land, all of the waters were foreshadowing Jesus and His own lifegiving, redemptive work. His plea for hearers to come to Him and for the thirsty to drink was if He was saying, if you drink from the pool of Siloam this year, you’ll have to do it again and again and again. But I give water that gives life, now and into eternity. Stop doubting; stop waiting; come and drink.

Zechariah, seven hundred years earlier, before the birth of Jesus, pointed ahead to an even greater fountain that would come flow, giving life beyond measure. That Fount of Life will appear about a year after Jesus speaks these words: “when one of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, at once blood and water came out.” Zechariah proclaimed that living waters would come from Jerusalem, and John helps us see that those living waters, mixed with the blood of Jesus, came from His side on the cross. The conclusion is simple: Jesus Christ, crucified, is the new Jerusalem; Jesus Christ, crucified, is the new Temple; Jesus Christ, crucified, is Messiah who rescues and redeems His people with blood and water.

So, what does a Jewish celebration of harvest thanksgiving and exodus remembrance have to do with the disciples in Acts 2, or with us for that matter? Glad you asked.

John notes that this outflowing of living water has to do with the Holy Spirit, but “as yet, the Spirit had not been given because Jesus was not yet glorified.” The Spirit and the cross go together. The Spirit can only be delivered through Jesus glorification on the cross. Jesus hands over His Spirit when He is glorified in His death. In other words, the gift of the Spirit comes only through and with the living death of the Lamb of God. There is water, and there is blood, and there is death, and there is life, and there is Spirit.

People often think of Pentecost as the Holy Spirit stepping up to the plate, making His presence known, and being the star of the show. As part of the Triune Godhead, the Spirit of God has always been present. Next week we’ll confess in the Athanasian Creed, the Father is God, the Son is God, the Holy Spirit is God, yet they are not three gods but one God. If you try to shine the spotlight on the Holy Spirit, the remarkable thing is He instead reflects the light of Christ. The Spirit leads you back to the cross. The Spirit is given and comes only through the means of the cross. Where the cross is, there is the life-giving Spirit; where the life-giving Spirit is, there is the cross. The life given by the Spirit is the life of the cross. The life guided by the Spirit is life under the cross. The life lived in the Spirit is the baptized life, marked with the sign of the cross. And, now, we are back to water.

And, in the Church, where there is water, there is blood, and where there is water, there is death and life, and there is Spirit. And when water is combined with the word of God, the Spirit of God moves in, with and under the waters as He did in creation, creating Life in Christ, washing away sins, uniting together the faithful under the headship of Christ as one body of believers. Jesus said, “Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’.” You leave here today refreshed by that same living water that has been poured out for you and on you. That faith, instilled in you by God’s grace, that trusts solely in the work of Jesus at the cross, that faith flows from you to those around you in what you say and in what you do. God uses you in your vocation, and from you flows living water. You speak of Jesus, you proclaim that sins have been forgiven by His death, you say He is risen – risen, indeed! – and that gives you Hope (!) in these grey and latter days. You proclaim that victory has already been assured in Christ and that nothing can separate you from His love.

And in that moment, Pentecost continues: not with fire and wind and unknown languages being spoken, but with the forgiveness of sins, won at the cross when the Father sent the Son to die, delivered by God’s grace through faith that is enabled by the Spirit, who leads back to the cross from where flowed blood and living water.

Amen.

 

Letting Go: Reflecting on the Last High School Graduation

Letting your oldest child go, leaving home, heading off on his or her journey to study, earn, or just live, is a terribly painful moment. As a father, I don’t know what childbirth is like, first-hand, but I imagine in some ways, it is almost as painful. After all, in child birth a woman releases her child whom she cared for and nurtured in utero for nine months out into the world. When that same child reaches early adulthood, somewhere between sixteen and thirty, and the ersatz adult decides it’s time to fly the nest, that too is a parent releasing the child, whom he or she now cared for somewhere around two decades (which equates to approximately 25 pregnancies worth of time), out into the world. Again, it’s a birth of another magnitude, a full-blown earthquake compared to the rumblings that preceeded it, but it is painful in a wholly new way and level.

Now, I have experienced some parents – fathers, mostly – who blustered about how when their child left home, they had new paint on the kid’s bedroom wall before the car was even fully packed and by the time they left the driveway, the room was well on the way to becoming a full-blown “man-cave.” I call bullshit on such machismo. Either that, or the dad has an EQ (emotional quotient) of a soft-boiled egg, a n over-ripe turnip, or a fencepost where birds continuously sit and poop due to it’s proximity to the feeder. No parent can be so callous, so undetached from their offspring as to not care that the child is leaving home. Can they?

I experienced this for the first time when our oldest stepped forth from the nest, flying east in 2015 to the University of Alabama. I was not prepared for the emotional weight and heart-wrenching emotions I felt in her senior year of high school. Several dads, like those mentioned above, “consoled” me by berating, mocking, and gaslighting me until I felt like a total fool. (How effective was their criticism? Even writing that sentence almost ten years later, I feel as if I am playing the “victim” card.)  After crashing and burning, and subsequently getting professional help at the insistence of my loving wife, I finally got myself squared away.  Then, and only then, could I appreciate the wisdom of my brother-in-law, who is one of the smartest men I know, who said, “She is doing what you have reared her to be: smart, strong, and independent. You have done your job. Now, enjoy watching your work continue to grow.”

That is exactly what we have done. She graduated, got a very good job with a good company that cares for its employees, met a faithful and dedicated man (who is also a helpless and hopeless romantic, like her father, as well as a hard worker) and plans to marry soon. Our middle child also is on her own trajectory. She graduated high school the same year her sister graduated from the university. She is now a junior at the University of Houston – Victoria, studying business communication. While the trajectory hasn’t been as flat or straight as her sister’s, she has overcome many personal obstacles that her sister didn’t have to face. Again, like her sister, she is continuing to grow into a smart, strong, and more independent woman.

Now, our youngest is graduating from high school. He turned 18 last December, making all three children adults. In February, he enlisted in the United States Navy after determining that college wasn’t for him – at least, not right now. A third child with yet another, third trajectory towards adulthood. And he, too, is growing into a smarter, stronger, and more independent young man. We will be surrendering our responsibility as parents and teachers to his drill instructors and then the teachers at his training schools. They will continue the process of molding and shaping him. He will – I hope – grow even smarter and stronger, physically, mentally and emotionally. His independence will be different than his sisters, with a great deal of emphasis placed on inter-dependence, relying on shipmates to work together.

He ships out in four weeks and one day for boot camp. In just twenty nine days, we’ll hug him, kiss him, and shake his hand as a boy and send him through the doors towards manhood. He’ll go into the MEPS center to be carried to the Great Lakes Navy Recruiting Training Command where in ten weeks, the Navy will shape, fold, spin, and bend him to their purposes, turning a kid into a sailor complete with Navy regulation bell bottoms (yes, they still use bell bottoms) and the Popeye hat.

That’s what the Navy will do.

My wife and I will go home with the experience of having just birthed our son out into the world. In many ways, it will be more painful than the first birth. In other ways it will be easier. But it will hurt, regardless. I’m sure we will cry as we remember his shenanigans, and we will laugh as we think about his goofiness. Personally, as the one who has had to stick dynamite under his pillow or hook him to a tow truck to pull him out of bed, I will laugh every morning as oh-dark-thirty rolls around and I imagine him having to get up the first time, get up without complaining so the DI can hear it, get up and not use all the hot water, get up and go to the bathroom in under two minutes and get up (GASP!) without a cell phone.  

But, then I will probably catch myself wanting to holler at him to come out and play catch, or see what sounds good for dinner, or to help me pick the peaches, or ask him how his day was, or just have him tell me a story. And, in that moment, realizing he is far, far from home, I know there will be a catch in my throat and likely a tear in my eye.

The Navy may be making him into a man, but he will always be my son.

So, for twenty-nine more days, I still have my boy. For twenty-nine more days, I’m going to try to prepare him as best as I can for what is ahead. For twenty-nine more days, I’ll feed him, play catch with him, fuss at him, hug him, and soak up as much time as I can.

For twenty-eight days, I’ll let him sleep in.

But on the twenty-ninth, I’m getting him up early so I can have just a few more minutes before he goes.