God wants you to know the love of His family

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter

John 13:31-35  +  1 Corinthians 13:1-13  +  Revelation 21:1-6

People stop by the church here for all sorts of reasons, from wanting to sell something or advertise something, to looking for a bit of food or gas money. But sometimes people come for another reason, and this one makes me smile. Some come looking for guidance, hoping to become better people, hoping that finding God will help them along that path. They come to the church, because that’s what they think the church is there for, and I smile, because almost without exception, what people want is one thing. What God wants to give them is another, and what God wants to give them is so much better than what they’re looking for.

What does God want you – or anyone – to find when you come to his house? God wants you to know the love of his family: 1) To receive the love of Christ that brings you into God’s family, 2) To imitate the love of Christ as members of God’s family.

TO RECEIVE THE LOVE OF CHRIST THAT BRINGS YOU INTO HIS FAMILY

Whenever we talk about “love,” we have to be careful how we define it. The love that Jesus spoke of in today’s Gospel isn’t the mushy-gushy, dreamy, “I think you’re the greatest!” kind of love. The best English equivalent of this concept of Biblical “love” would probably be “heartfelt devotion.” To be devoted to someone or something, that’s the idea here. So for the rest of the sermon, we’ll substitute the word “devotion” for the word “love.”

What God has always given to men is pure love. Pure devotion. What God has always required of men is pure love. Pure devotion: Devotion to God alone – to his glory, to his name, to his Word. That’s what true love looks like, as far as God is concerned. God devoted to us, his creatures, we, his creatures, devoted to him. Even the devotion we’re supposed to have for our neighbor has to flow out of devotion to God who tells us that, as part of our devotion to him, we are to be devoted to our neighbor, to the one he has placed next to us.

But that pure devotion – God for man, man for God – is something that an unbeliever can’t begin to fathom. They’re still hostile to the true God by nature, and they remain under God’s wrath. What God sees when he looks at the world is an ugly devotion to self. He sees it in everyone. He sees it and it makes him angry. He sees it, he condemns it and he will punish it.

From the grossest sinner to the finest citizen, God sees everyone asking the question, either consciously or subconsciously, “What’s in it for me?” It started with Eve and then Adam in the Garden of Eden, and it’s been going on ever since. What’s in it for me?

Even you, believers in Christ, have to recognize that self-devotion in your own sinful nature. Catch yourself, in a moment of gross selfishness, when you’re too busy worrying about yourself to even care about God or your neighbor, even here in church. “Hey, you’re sitting in my seat, my row. Please move.” The rude comment to or about the young mother who dared to disturb your worship by not silencing her child quick enough.

Catch yourself, in your finest work, in your greatest act of sacrifice and kindness, and see the question, buried underneath, “What’s in it for me?” Why did you give to that charity? Because it made me feel good. Why do you make sacrifices for your children? Because someday, I’ll need them to take care of me. Why did you bring your wife flowers? Because when she’s happy, I’m happy. Why do you volunteer at the shelter? Because then I don’t feel so guilty for the things I have. Because maybe God will bless me or accept me for it.  There’s always something in it for me. Such is our broken sinful nature, so broken that we can’t know pure devotion to God or to anyone else. So broken, that we can’t even begin to understand what pure devotion looks like.

You wanna know what pure devotion looks like – pure devotion to God and to man? Journey back to the Upper Room where Jesus and his disciples were gathered on Maundy Thursday. In the words right before our Gospel, John said this, Jesus knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having been devoted to his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his devotion. And he got up from the evening meal and washed his disciples’ dirty, smelly feet, even the feet of Judas, his betrayer.

And then, after awhile Judas left, and that’s where our Gospel began. When Judas, the betrayer, left to go and initiate the betrayal of the Lord who was devoted to him, that’s when the Passion – the suffering of Jesus truly began. There was no turning back now. “Now is the Son of Man glorified and God is glorified in him. If God is glorified in him, God will glorify the Son in himself, and will glorify him at once.” In his Passion that began at that moment and ended a day later when he died on the cross, we see the purest, truest example ever of devotion to God – Jesus to his Father who had sent him to do this very thing, to suffer and die for self-devoted mankind.  Without ever once asking, “What’s in it for me?”, Jesus submitted to the Father’s will. And because the Son of God had become the Son of Man, Jesus’ pure devotion to God fulfills God’s requirement for man and so the Son of Man is glorified.

At the same time, in the person of Jesus, God was showing his pure devotion to man, by giving his Son, his beloved Son, to the world as the sacrifice that pays for our sins. And so God the Father is glorified in this pure devotion. The Son of Man is glorified in this pure devotion.

And you and I are saved by the pure devotion of Christ – to God and man. This is what God wants you to know and believe. This is what God wants you to find in his Church: the message of the pure devotion of Christ that reconciles sinners to God and brings you into this devoted relationship, into God’s family. By faith in Christ, you get to claim his pure devotion to God and Man as your own. By faith in Christ, you escape God’s wrath and punishment. By faith in Christ, sealed in your baptism, you are born again as a new person who gets to call God your Father and receive from him on a daily basis all the devotion he has to give to his dear children.

One day, you’ll get to experience that devotion fully, when Jesus returns to make all things new, to create the new heavens and the new earth, to bring with him the New Jerusalem coming down out of heaven, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. That’s the Holy City, the Church Triumphant where only the devoted dwell.

TO IMITATE THE LOVE OF CHRIST AS MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY

Between now and then, you who believe in Christ are not to be idle. You’ve been given a new status before God, the status of a holy person, a saint, and with that new status, a new command: to make your life match up with your holy status. Specifically, to be devoted to one another in God’s family.

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” You see, when you enter God’s family by faith in Christ, you don’t enter alone. You enter along with all the rest who have faith in Christ. You become brothers and sisters in the truest sense of the word, all born of the same water, the same Word, the same Spirit, all gathering around the same Table to receive the same Sacrament, all calling on the same Lord Jesus as your Lord and Brother, all calling on the same God as your Father. When you come to God’s house, God not only wants you to know and to receive the devotion of Christ. He wants you to imitate the devotion of Christ with one another.

What does that devotion look like? Well, we’ve already seen it, haven’t we? As Christ has been devoted to you… It looks like patience; it looks like kindness. It looks like humility and forgiveness. It’s never rude, never self-seeking, not easily angered.

To be devoted to one another in God’s house means caring about the well-being of all your fellow members, not just the ones you know best or are closest with. It means praying for each other, reaching out to one another with acts of kindness, speaking well of each other and to each other. It means being nice to each other, not nasty, not snappy. It means being devoted to the children and especially to their Christian education.

This devotion doesn’t have to be mushy and gushy so that every member becomes your closest friend. But it does mean being willing to give the shirt off your back if your brother or sister needs it, to warn your brother or sister who, you know, is walking down a sinful path. It means giving your all for one another, and not expecting a thing in return, never once asking, “What’s in it for me?”

Not every Christian church has the reputation for being so loving, where the members are so devoted to one another. How repulsive and shameful that is! The name of Christ is slandered when his disciples don’t act like his disciples. Many years ago, a woman told me, speaking of her fellow members, “Pastor, it’s easy to love God. It’s hard to love people.” I had to remind her, “Yes, it’s almost unbelievable that God could bring himself to love a miserable person like you.” So don’t you dare look around here and say, “Yeah, these people here aren’t very loving,” or complain about how hard it is to love them. Judge your own heartfelt devotion, not the devotion of your brothers and sisters, and if it falls short of the devotion of Christ, then recognize your wretchedness and repent, and recommit to being devoted to your brothers and sisters. It wasn’t a suggestion Jesus made. It was a command.

You and I won’t always get this right, which is why we must live in daily repentance, which is why we need to keep hearing the Gospel of the devotion of Christ and receiving the Sacrament of the devotion of Christ. You only need the Lord’s Supper, after all, if your heartfelt devotion is lacking.  But we don’t get to stop trying or stop making it our goal to love one another as Christ has loved us. Because Jesus wants his devotion to be known in the devotion his disciples show to one another. “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” Can you think of a greater responsibility for a church? Can you think of a better reason for Jesus’ disciples to show the devotion that Christ commands?

To know the love of Christ, the love of his family – that’s what God wants to give everyone who steps through these doors. To know it, to believe it, and to live it forever. That’s what God wants to give you when you come here. What – in heaven or on earth – could be better than that? Amen.

Looking back at the Easter Vigil

Even though our Easter Vigil service was held almost a month ago, I’m still receiving comments about it, so now that we’ve had some time to breathe, here are some thoughts about it.

This was the first year we did the full service on the night of Holy Saturday (8:00 PM).  Even a new fire was kindled from flint (certainly the least dignified part of the service). The service lasted about an hour and a half. It included the full rite from Christian Worship: Occasional Services, including…

• Kindling of the new flame
• Procession with Paschal Candle
• Exsultet (chanted a cappella)
• Service of Lessons (seven this year), each read by a faithful member (male)
• Benedicite, Omnia Opera
• Service of Holy Baptism (no baptisms or confirmations this year, just an exhortation)
• Service of Holy Communion

I received the highest compliments for this service that I’ve ever received for any service, and I smile, because this was the service without a sermon, at least not one written and preached by me. This was the service for which I composed nothing, chose nothing save the distribution hymns. My part in this service was not preacher, but merely facilitator. The Liturgy said it all. The Scripture Lessons (read by others) said it all. The Easter Sacrament said it all.

It’s not to say that it didn’t take a lot of work to make the service go smoothly. Figuring out how to kindle fire from flint was time-consuming. The service folder was meticulously prepared, the lighting was carefully planned (still not without flaws), the chants were learned, and the rubrics were practiced so as to minimize distractions. The altar guild had the sanctuary beautifully decorated for when the lights came up. The men who read the Lessons practiced in advance. The organist knew when to play, what to play, and the right volume at which to play.

What was it that elicited such a deep, emotional response from so many members, if it wasn’t the great music they got to sing or hear, or the instruments jamming or the finely crafted sermon preached by a fired-up pastor? It was the sermon preached not by me.  It was the service itself that preached the Word in symbol and in song as the story of Christ unfolded from Genesis to John 20. It was the service itself that preached Christ and presented the Means of Grace, and the people of God received the Word by hearing and by watching and by eating and drinking.

It gives a pastor a great sense of unworthiness as the people come out of the service in wonder and awe, and still think back on the service with that same wonder and awe. The pastor knows, now better than ever, that he was nothing. The Word was everything. And yet he is the one receiving the gratitude of the people. Isn’t the ministry a strange thing?

The Easter Vigil service has reminded me to aspire to this goal in every service: to remain always in the background as a facilitator, that the people may see Christ and only Christ.  This has always been the goal of liturgical worship, not to be enslaved to a form, but to allow the pastor to fade into the background, that Christ may be seen more clearly.

Only his sheep can hear the Shepherd’s voice

Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter

John 10:22-30  +  Ezekiel 34:25-31  +  Revelation 7:9-17

Dear sheep of the Good Shepherd, “I am the Good Shepherd. I know my sheep and my sheep know me, and I lay down my life for the sheep.” Those tender words of Jesus weren’t part of the Gospel that was read today. They come right before it, though.  Aren’t those the words that brought you hear today in the first place?  Aren’t those the words that keep you coming back here Sunday after Sunday? The words of the Good Shepherd to his sheep, calling you to hear and to follow.  Lots of people hear the voice of Jesus. But as we heard in today’s Gospel, not everyone listens to it, that is, not everyone hears it in faith.

Why? Why do some trust in Jesus as their Good Shepherd while others don’t? Why do some people find the image of Jesus as Shepherd to be one of the most comforting, beautiful images in all the world, while others want nothing less than to be shepherded by Jesus? Why do some hear in faith while others do not? That’s a tough question, because it’s a question the Bible doesn’t answer to the complete satisfaction of our human reason. But our Gospel today does answer that question up to a point and this is the answer it gives: Only his sheep can hear the Shepherd’s voice.

Only his sheep can hear the Shepherd’s voice. They hear it when others don’t.

The Jews who came up to Jesus and surrounded him that day in Jerusalem’s temple weren’t earnestly investigating whether or not Jesus was the Christ, the promised Savior. What they wanted from him was a confession.

What they wanted to hear was for Jesus to come right out and say it, “If you’re the Christ, tell us plainly!” Because if he said those words, “I am the Christ,” they thought it would be easier to have him arrested by the Jewish leaders and executed on the spot. You see, these people hated Jesus. They hated that he accused them of being sinners. They had seen his miracles which, as Jesus said, testified to his being the Christ and they thought, “He must be demon-possessed!” They had heard him say that he was the Good Shepherd who would lay down his life for his sheep and take up his life again, and they thought, “No way! We don’t want him as our shepherd!” They heard Jesus’ voice, but they didn’t hear it and trust in him. They didn’t hear it and want him as their shepherd.

Why? They had heard the same words that everyone else had heard, seen the same miracles. Why did these people turn him away?  “You don’t believe,” Jesus said, “because you’re not my sheep. My sheep listen to, my sheep hear my voice.”

When someone hears the voice of Jesus and doesn’t want to hear it as the voice of their shepherd calling out to them, it’s not God’s fault.  Long ago, there was a theologian named John Calvin, whose teaching still influence many of the Reformed and Evangelical churches in America. According to his teaching, if someone hears the Gospel and doesn’t believe, God is responsible. He taught what’s called “double predestination,” that God not only chose some people ahead of time and destined them for salvation, which the Bible does teach – those are the “sheep” Jesus was talking about. But “double predestination” teaches that God also chose some people ahead of time and destined them for hell, and that, the Bible doesn’t teach. God so loved “the world,” after all. Those who don’t believe have only themselves to blame.

Calvin also taught what he called a “limited atonement,” that Jesus only died as payment for the sins of the chosen ones, of the elect, of his sheep. But the Bible doesn’t teach that. It says that Jesus is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, yet not only for ours, but also for the sins of the whole world. Those who don’t believe have only themselves to blame.

Calvin also taught that the Holy Spirit works irresistibly on people, apart from the Means of Grace. So if someone hears the Gospel and doesn’t believe it, it’s because the Holy Spirit wasn’t there in the Gospel to create faith. But the Bible doesn’t teach that. It says that the Word of Christ is the power of God, the sword of the Spirit, that whenever the good news of Christ is preached, the Holy Spirit is there offering salvation, working on a person’s heart to create faith in Jesus. Those who don’t believe have only themselves to blame.

What a horrible thing! To resist the Holy Spirit! To cling to sin and to shut out the Good Shepherd’s voice. Those who don’t want Jesus for their shepherd will find that, on the Day of God’s wrath, they will have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no Mediator to speak up for them, no Good Shepherd to care for them. Worst of all, they will find that God really did love them, that Jesus really did die for their sins, too, and that his invitation to believe in the Gospel was real. But they didn’t want it, because they weren’t Jesus’ sheep. That may be an explanation for their unbelief, but it’s not an excuse.

So it’s not God’s fault when someone doesn’t hear. But neither is it within a person’s capability to choose to hear. Only his sheep can hear the Shepherd’s voice. They hear it because of God’s election.

By nature, no one really trusts in God or knows God or loves God. “We all like sheep have gone astray. Each of us has turned to his own way,” as the prophet says. You and I were once wandering sheep, too, living to gratify the cravings of our sinful nature, living our lives as if we got to make up our own rules, our own truth, be own our god. That sinful mind is hostile to God – it doesn’t submit to his law, and it can’t. Do you know what it’s like to run away from God – to know he’s real, to know his Word is true, but to keep on running anyway?

We would all keep running away from the Shepherd’s voice, so far gone we are by nature. But God the Father did the most wonderful thing a long time ago, even before the world was made. He foresaw humanity running away from him, and out of pure grace, he determined, “This one I will bring back. And this one. And that one. For as stubborn as they are, these sinners are my chosen ones. These are my elect, these are my sheep, and they will not be lost forever.  They are mine.”

But a price had to be paid, if these sheep were to be bought back from death to the Father’s fold. The Father’s Son had to die to bring them back from death. And he was so willing, so eager to do it. “I lay down my life for the sheep. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.” That was the price for saving the sheep, paid in full on Calvary’s cross, paid in full with the blood of the Lamb. That payment for sin qualified Jesus forever as the Good Shepherd of the sheep. And so what did the Father do with those sheep he chose for himself in eternity? What did Jesus say in our text? “My Father has given them to me.”

That’s why Jesus can say, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”  These sheep belong to Jesus!  Not because they’re more worthy than others. Not because they’re less sinful or better at believing. But only because of God’s grace in electing them. Because of the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ who died for them. And because of the grace of the Holy Spirit of God who tugs at their hearts through the Gospel and leads them to rely on Jesus as their Good Shepherd. Only his sheep can hear the Shepherd’s voice. They hear it because of God’s election.

Only his sheep can hear the Shepherd’s voice. They hear it and are saved eternally. 

I give them eternal life, Jesus says. But how does he give it? Where does he give it? Not at the cross. It’s not when the Shepherd died for the sheep that they entered his fold. You know when you were given eternal life? You know when God declared you innocent and brought you into the fold of the Good Shepherd? It’s when the Good Shepherd sent the Gospel to your ears, when some Christian spoke it to you, maybe a shepherd of the Good Shepherd, and when the Holy Spirit broke through your heart by that Gospel and taught you to hear the Shepherd’s voice. There was probably water involved, too, and there in Baptism the voice of the Shepherd was not only heard in words, but was seen and felt as a cleansing bath.

I give them eternal life and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand.  What a promise! The devil assails the sheep with doubt and fear and guilt. The world tries to intimidate the sheep and push them around. Their own sinful nature tugs at them and entices them. But Jesus’ sheep will be kept safe until the end. They may stumble, they may even fall, but the voice of the Good Shepherd will reach them again and call them back to repentance and faith, so that, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil, because he is with us. In life, in death, and in the resurrection from the dead.

But even this promise isn’t something that Jesus fulfills apart from the Means of Grace, but through the Means of Grace. How will the wolf be kept at bay? How will the devil and the world and the sinful nature be kept from snatching Jesus’ sheep out of his hand?  By the power of the Gospel that you continue to hear, by the power of baptism in which you still live, by the power of the body and blood of the Good Shepherd with which he feeds his sheep throughout this life, guarding them from unbelief, protecting them from the wolf.  The voice of the Shepherd calls out to his sheep in a sermon, in a Bible reading, in the liturgy, in the hymns, in bread and wine, “Here is salvation! Here is eternal life! Here I am, my sheep! Come to me!” And his sheep hear and come. Only his sheep can hear the Shepherd’s voice. They hear it, and are saved eternally.

Why do some hear Jesus’ voice with faith while others don’t? More important than the question why is the question, what about you? Do you hear his voice? Did you come today in repentance and faith, yearning to hear again the voice of your Good Shepherd? Doesn’t his Word of forgiveness comfort you? Doesn’t his promise to shepherd you safely through this life make you love him all the more, make you more eager to follow him, wherever he may lead? As the writer to the Hebrews says, “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts… See to it, brothers, that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God.  But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness.  We have come to share in Christ if we hold firmly till the end the confidence we had at first.”

Or did you perhaps come not yet knowing the voice of the Good Shepherd?  Do you hear his voice and say to yourself, “Jesus sounds like such a good Shepherd! I want to believe in him, but I don’t know if I can. I want to have him for my Shepherd, but I’m so weak and feeble and prone to sin. Maybe I’m not his sheep.” Friend, if you’ve heard the voice of Jesus and his voice seems at all pleasant to you, if his voice has led you to mourn over your sin and to want salvation from him, then guess what that makes you! Only his sheep can hear the Shepherd’s voice. Trust him, then. He wouldn’t lie to you. He laid down his life for you, and gives you eternal life. What a joy it is to hear the Shepherd’s voice! Amen.

A Good Friday gift

Our Good Friday services are mainly attended by members, or by WELS members visiting the area. That was true at noon today, and I expect it to be true this evening.

But what a wonderful opportunity I had in between!  As I drove into the parking lot after a late lunch at home, there was a car parked in front of our church sign. These people usually drive away when they see me drive in, but this time they drove back into the parking lot to chat and ask about our church and our services. They came inside to talk.

It turns out they didn’t have a church, but have attended the local ELCA church. They asked how we were different.

With the Good Friday cross in the background, we talked about the whole plan of salvation, culminating in Good Friday and in the very gospel God had graciously brought them to hear on this Good Friday. They come from a liberal background, both politically and morally, and they had lots of challenges for some of the public teachings of the Church. The ELCA certainly is a better fit for their belief system. But as I told them, their belief system and God’s truth don’t match.

I have no idea what the future holds for this couple, but I saw the Law have its stinging effect on them as we talked about the First Commandment and this inherent desire to be our own god. Did I also notice the Gospel softening the lines on their skeptical faces?  It seemed like it.  They did agree to start a Bible Information Course with me next week.

There’s nothing better than an evangelism opportunity on Good Friday.  The Father’s gift to his Son.

“But I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself” John 12:32.

The end of the night

Sermon: Good Friday Tenebrae

The night has just begun, but the day is not yet over.

What a strange pattern we have for keeping track of our days! In civil time, throughout the world, our days begin and end in the middle of the night. 12:00 AM. Our days begin in darkness and end in darkness, with a period of light sandwiched in between. Darkness, light, darkness. Such is the pattern of our days.

It wasn’t so in the ancient order of God’s creation. That ancient pattern began in darkness, and ended in light. First night and then day, first evening and then morning. Such was the pattern of a day when God first made the days. Darkness gives way to light. Darkness gives way to light.

The Jews kept that pattern of night and day throughout the Old Testament. And so Good Friday, too, began in darkness when the sun went down on the day we call Thursday, and as if to emphasize the significance of that, Jesus told the men who came out Gethsemane to arrest him, “This is your hour, when darkness reigns.”

The light of day came on Good Friday, but darkness still reigned. The Son of God was condemned to die a horrific death, and as if to emphasize the significance of that, God took away the light of the sun from noon till three. The pattern of day changed on that day: darkness, light, darkness. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

But then came the cry from the cross, “It is finished! Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” The Son of God died, and, as if to emphasize the significance of that, light returned to the earth for the remainder of the day, restoring the ancient pattern even to Good Friday: darkness and then light, darkness and then light.

What does it all mean?

Isaiah told us 700 years before Christ was born what Christ’s death would mean:  Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the Lord makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand. After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities. Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.

Jesus had to enter the darkness and be crushed. It was the Lord’s will! It was the Lord’s will to crush him so that he wouldn’t have to crush you. Your sin has brought the darkness of death into your house. Your guilt has brought the shadow of despair into your life and the eerie darkness of the grave into your future.  You have sinned and earned a guilty verdict for yourself in God’s courtroom. You, and not the person sitting next to you or the person who didn’t come here tonight. You.

But it was the Lord’s will to crush him, not you.  It was the Lord’s will to condemn him, not you. Jesus bore your sins into the darkness, so that when he was crushed, your sins might be crushed, too, along with their power to condemn you. The Lord made his life a guilt offering, so that with his death, your guilt might be banished into the darkness once and for all.

And now darkness gives way to light.  The day comes after the night.  Such is the ancient pattern.  After the darkness of Good Friday comes the light of Easter. After the darkness of sin and death comes the light of forgiveness and life for all who trust in Christ Jesus.

And so today is not a sad day, but a serious day.  We don’t mourn the death of Jesus, but we take seriously the reason for his death – our sin. And we take seriously God’s call to repent of our sin, to turn away from it, and to put our faith in the one who hung in the darkness to pay for it.

The darkness of this day, the darkness of this service is not meant to cause fear, but to inspire hope, because your sure hope of life is to be found only in the darkness of the death of the Son of God. The ancient pattern of darkness and then light must prevail, because it’s tied to God’s promise of resurrection from the dead.

And so tonight, as the candles are extinguished, as the lights grow dimmer, as you stand praying in the darkness, gives thanks to our Father in heaven for the darkness of Good Friday. It means that light is on its way.  And since the sun has already set on Good Friday, we’ve already entered the Sabbath rest of Holy Saturday, a rest won for us by Christ, the Lamb of God, whose bones also rested for one Sabbath in the tomb. One more night. One more day. And when the sun sets tomorrow, the light of our Easter Vigil begins. Darkness will give way to Easter light, and with joy we will welcome the end of the night.

The Curse that hung on the cross

Sermon: Good Friday, Service of the Cross of Christ

There is a curse that hangs over this world. The moment a child is born, the moment a child is conceived, a curse moves over that child. It doesn’t get bigger, it doesn’t get smaller. It just is. And it follows a person as he or she grows up, wherever he goes, whatever she does. There is the curse, hanging over the soul. No magic spell can make it go away. No hard work can lift it.

The curse is God’s anger over sin. The curse is having God’s utter disappointment follow a person around all the time, always a frown on his face, always a look of disgust. The curse is a meaningless life on earth that will end in death. The curse is a soul tormented even after death. The curse is the punishment God threatens for everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the Book of the Law.

How foolish, then, to pretend that the curse could ever be removed by being a good enough person, by doing the right things. A sinless life – from start to finish – is the only life that doesn’t invoke the curse. But God insists that all have sinned, and so all invoke the curse. He is rightly disappointed in everyone, rightly angry, and righteous in the curse he pronounces.

With this curse hanging over the world, life on earth would be totally meaningless, except that on Good Friday, God broke his own law and hung his curse where it didn’t belong. He hung his curse on a certain tree that had been hacked apart and banded together again in the form of a cross. He used the arms and hands of men to nail that curse to the cross, where it hung for six hours or so – six hours of world history. It took six hours for God to upload mankind’s well-deserved curse to the innocent God-Man who hung on the cross. And after six hours of agonizing pain of body and more agonizing pain of soul, after six hours of God’s anger, disappointment and punishment being poured out on that man, the upload was complete. The transfer was – “it was finished.”

As of that moment, about 3:00 in the afternoon of Good Friday, the curse that hung on the cross became a valid substitute for every member of the human race, a valid alternative location where our curse can rest.  Either the curse hangs over me, or it hangs on the cross. One or the other.  It can’t be both. If I pretend there is no curse, I call God a liar and the curse remains over me. If I try to escape the curse that hangs over me by trying to be good enough, I’m fooling myself, because I would have to keep God’s holy law to avoid the curse, but I haven’t and I can’t, and the curse remains over me.

But God, in his mercy, has told you and me how our curse is transferred to the cross. And it’s not by trying, and it’s not by doing, and it’s not by self-sacrifice. It’s by trusting in someone else’s trying and doing. It’s by trusting in someone else’s sacrifice. It’s by faith – faith in the one who hung on the cross, faith in him as our curse. Faith is the link that moves the curse from us to the cross of Christ, and if your curse hung on the cross, then it no longer hangs over you.  That’s what it means to be forgiven! That’s what it means to be justified, declared innocent before God, because your crimes have been paid for on the cross of Christ, your guilt has been atoned for, your death sentence has been carried out.

On Good Friday, remember the curse that hung on a cross. Whenever you see a cross, like the one before us today, like the one that’s embedded in the wall, when you see a cross with an image of the body of Jesus hanging from it, remember! Remember Good Friday! And trust in the curse that hung on the cross, and believe what God promises you: that one was cursed for many, that by faith in Christ, your curse has been removed from you and transferred to another, that your sins have been forgiven, that God’s love now hangs over your head everywhere you go, in everything you do, that he is pleased with for Christ’s sake, that eternal life has become yours, because Christ Jesus became your death. Because Christ Jesus became your curse.

A reading from Galatians chapter 3.

¹⁰ All who rely on observing the law are under a curse, for it is written: “Cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the Book of the Law.” ¹¹ Clearly no one is justified before God by the law, because, “The righteous will live by faith.” ¹² The law is not based on faith; on the contrary, “The man who does these things will live by them.” ¹³ Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: “Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree.”

To the Church in Laodicea

Sermon for Maundy Thursday

(the seventh in a Lenten series on the Seven Letters to the Seven Churches of Revelation)

Revelation 3:14-22

Introduction

Here we are, gathered together on a Thursday night. Jesus’ disciples have been gathering on this Thursday night of Holy Week for hundreds and hundreds of years: to be with Jesus, to hear his Word, to remember his love, to “do this” sacred meal that Jesus first gave his disciples to do on a Thursday night.

We’re also here to watch and pray. It was on that Thursday night long ago that Jesus’ disciples failed to watch and pray, and so all, even Peter, fell away.

If it could happen to the Twelve, it can happen to us. We gather here tonight to remember that we are in danger, and to receive the only protection there is: the words of Jesus. In the past six weeks we’ve heard the words of Jesus to six of the Seven Churches of Revelation, words of comfort, words of encouragement, words of warning. The last letter is before us tonight, and it’s the toughest letter of all, because this church was in the greatest danger of all. These are the words of Jesus…to the church in Laodicea.

To the angel of the church in Laodicea write: These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation.

We say “Amen,” we sing “Amen” all the time, don’t we?, sometimes with precious little enthusiasm. I’d bet that to some of you, “Amen” means nothing more than, “The prayer is over now. The sermon is over now.” But it means so much more! It means, “Yes, that is absolutely true!” It means, “Yes, let it be so!” It’s a response that calls upon Jesus, the Son of God, to make it so.  Jesus is the Amen.

In the beginning of creation, when the Father said, “Let there be light!”, Jesus was the Amen that made it so. The Father speaks, and the response is “Christ!” Four thousand years later, the Father said, “Let there be a faithful and true witness to who I am! Let my Only-begotten Son become a child in the womb of the virgin Mary!” Jesus was the Amen. Thirty-three years later, the Father said, “Let there be a perfect sacrifice for mankind’s wickedness!” “Amen!”  “Let him be betrayed and condemned and whipped and beaten and crucified!” “Amen, Father! Your will be done!” “Let him rise from the dead and let forgiveness of sins be proclaimed in his name!” “Amen!”

And yet for all of it, the church in Laodicea, this church that knew Jesus to be the Father’s Amen and their Savior, didn’t really care anymore.

I know your deeds, says the Amen, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other!

Some are convinced that to be hot is to love Jesus with a fervent love, and to be cold is to hate Jesus and his gospel. But since Jesus wishes for his church to be either hot or cold, it would seem that both are good things, like a hot cup of tea is good or a cold glass of ice tea is good. A hot cup of tea warms you up on a cold day. A cold glass of ice tea cools you down on a hot day.  All believers in Christ spend some time being hot and some time being cold, and both are good things.

The believer who is like a hot cup of tea does have a fervent love for Jesus that boils over into works of service, a faith that’s never satisfied with its knowledge of God but always has to be learning more, studying more, and spreading the gospel of Christ. When the world around is cold and uncaring, these believers remain zealous for the Lord. Jesus longs for his church to be like that.

The believer who is like a cold glass of ice tea also has a fervent love for Jesus, and when the world around starts heating up, in the midst of persecution and suffering and hardship, these believers have a refreshing stability about them, a tried and tested faith that runs back to Christ for help. They stay close to him in Word and Sacrament, they pray with a quiet trust, they share an encouraging word with others who suffer. When life around them heats up, these believers stay cool, calm and collected in faith. Jesus longs for his church to be like that.

What he doesn’t long for, what he can’t stand, is for a church or for a church member to be lukewarm.

So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth. You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.

Jesus defines here what it means for a church to be lukewarm. To be lukewarm is to lack true contrition, to feel confident in yourself, to see yourself as doing fine. There is nothing worse than for a church to say, “I’m doing fine. I have plenty of faith. God and I are buddies. If I hear the Word of God, it’s fine. If I don’t hear it, it’s fine. If I go to the Lord’s Supper, it’s fine. If I miss it, it’s fine. I have all the knowledge of Scripture that I need. I have all the strength I need.  I believe in Jesus, after all. I’m doing fine.”

Friends, that’s exactly what the disciples of Jesus thought on Maundy Thursday. In spite of Jesus’ warning that all would fall away on account of him, they all denied it. “No, Lord, we would never do that.  Our faith is fine.” You know how that turned out.

The truth is, you’re a sinner. Not a kinda sorta sinner, but the wretched, pitiful kind.  If you think for a moment that you’re not, then Christ wants nothing to do with you, because he only came to save the wretched, pitiful kind of sinners. You can claim all you want, “I have faith! I have faith! I have faith!” But real faith is a humble thing. Genuine faith never says, “I don’t need a thing.” Faith always says, “I’m a poor miserable sinner. I am weak and poor and needy. I always need Christ. I always need his forgiveness. I always need his strength.” And so genuine faith always looks to where Christ has promised to fill the needy with good things: in his Word and Sacraments, and there faith finds forgiveness and strength.

I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.

What is the gold refined in the fire that makes a church rich? It’s faith. How much does it cost? Everything and nothing.  Nothing, because it’s Jesus’ free gift to you, not purchased with money or with works. Everything, because it requires you to see yourself as a poor beggar all the time, thus crucifying everything you are apart from Christ.

But see! Jesus freely offers to give the riches of faith to the one who turns to him in contrition. He offers the white clothes of his righteousness to the one who turns to him for righteousness. He offers the salve of his Holy Spirit’s enlightenment to the blind who look to him for sight.

Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent.

If you see any of this lukewarmness in yourself, for the love of God, don’t brush Jesus’ words aside. Don’t go away angered by his rebuke. He rebukes those he loves, not to harm, but to save. If he didn’t care about you, he’d let you be. He’d let you go on in your self-destructive indifference. He’d let you keep living under the delusion that your faith is alive and well. But he does care, and so he pleads with you to be earnest and repent. Get serious about your spiritual life, about your soul, about your deep and desperate and constant need for Christ.

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock.

Jesus knows full well that you’re a miserable wretch, but he doesn’t throw rocks at your house as he passes by. He comes to your house for a visit. He comes to your heart and knocks. How does he knock? He knocks through these words. He knocks through the voice of the angel of the church, its pastor.

If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.

Opening the door does not mean making some decision for Christ. It means that, when you recognize your need, you turn to him to fill it. And fill it he will. He’ll come in and dine with you.

And so here we are on Holy Thursday. Here is a special meal for those who open the door to him through repentance. Jesus longs to have this meal with you, in which he is both the host and the banquet.  He knew that it would be a couple thousand years or so before he and his Church would come together at the heavenly marriage banquet, and so in the meantime he has given us this banquet in which he truly comes into our church with his own body and blood to have a meal with us, as often as we wish, to give himself to the needy, to give forgiveness of sins to beggars.

It’s for this reason, isn’t it?, that we changed our long-standing practice one year ago on Easter Sunday and began offering the Sacrament every Sunday instead of every other. It was too easy before on non-Communion Sundays to become like the church in Laodicea, to become lukewarm toward this special meal that Christ has given us. It was too tempting to think to ourselves, “I got enough Jesus in the sermon. I don’t need the Sacrament today.”  What do you think, now, a year later, that we come together for this special meal with Jesus every Sunday and sometimes in between? I, for one, would never want to go back, would you?

To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne.

To overcome implies that we will have things to overcome in this life as we finish out our heavenward march. And we will. Jesus knows it.  That’s why Jesus gave his Bride the Seven Letters to the Seven Churches of Revelation. These are the words of Jesus to his church in this place, too: words that will enable us to overcome the same demonic powers that fought in vain to overcome Jesus on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday; words that will enable us to be victorious over the world as Jesus was on Easter Sunday, words that will keep us watchful and waiting for our Savior to return.

He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. Amen.

Finally! A King Who Doesn’t Disappoint

Sermon for Palm Sunday

Zechariah 9:9-10  +  Luke 19:28-40  +  Philippians 2:5-11

Are you as tired as I am of American politics? World politics, for that matter?  Are you tired of politicians – on the left and on the right? Tired of the spin, tired of the lies, tired of the rhetoric? Are you disgusted with the political games? Are you frightened about health care reform? Scared for the future of our nation, the future of our children?

Well, what do you expect? It’s time for us to remember a very important fact about life in this world: it’s going to be one big disappointment. Every politician will disappoint. Every kingdom, every nation on earth, even our beloved United States, will disappoint.  It has never been and will never be a little slice of heaven on earth, it will get worse, not better, and it can’t last much longer anyway. The kingdoms of this world are all bound to fall, and we are all bound to die, whether sooner or later, because we’re all infected with this spiritual disease called sin, and it’s incurable and lethal every time. What a great disappointment!

So Palm Sunday couldn’t have come at a better time.  Once in world history there came a King like no other, the one who came to Jerusalem some 2000 years ago riding on a donkey. His coming was predicted hundreds of years before and has been heralded with palm branches for thousands of years since, because it was a unique moment in human history: Finally! A King Who Doesn’t Disappoint! He’s a better kind of King, who comes to create a better kind of kingdom.

A BETTER KIND OF KING

Half of today’s Gospel from Luke was about Jesus getting a donkey to ride, a special donkey, never ridden by anyone, bred for a single purpose: to carry the Son of God from the Mt. of Olives down into the valley, and up the hill to Mt. Zion, to the city of Jerusalem. Luke doesn’t even mention the palm branches the other Gospel writers mention, just the donkey and the disciples’ cloaks that covered the donkey’s back and the road where the donkey would walk.

So, as we do every year, we go back to that Old Testament book of Zechariah where this important donkey was prophesied, together with its much more important rider.  Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Now at the time of Zechariah, some 520 years before Christ, the Israelites had just gotten back from 70 years in captivity in Babylonia, captivity that they suffered largely because their kings were pathetic. Idolaters, fornicators, greedy, self-serving unbelievers who sold out God’s people for a bribe and led their people further and further away from the true God. Even the best of their kings, like David 500 years before, fell into big sins that brought shame on Jerusalem. Their kings had all been disappointments, to one degree or another, so when Zechariah says, “Rejoice! Your king is coming to you!”, the people had every reason to be skeptical.

But see! This was a better kind of King, better than they had ever known or could ever imagine.  Finally! A righteous King who will do what is right all the time. He won’t cave to political pressure. He won’t scheme to get what he wants or pander to the crowd. He won’t take a bribe. He’ll neither steal from the rich nor neglect the poor. He’ll be perfectly fair to everyone.

Finally! A King who has salvation. Even when earthly rulers do their best to keep their country safe, they don’t always succeed. Foreign enemies sometimes break through the defenses. Terrorists attack. And what king or president or ruler can save his people from themselves – their addictions, their laziness, their greed, their insatiable lust? Nations more often than not self-destruct from the inside before any foreign enemy can conquer, and no ordinary ruler can stop it. But this King, riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, brings salvation from every enemy, from every danger – from Satan, from sin, from the power of death.

Finally! A King who is gentle, not proud. He doesn’t brag about his accomplishments to make people like him. He doesn’t lord his kingship over anyone or force his subjects to obey. He tells the truth, even when it hurts, but he doesn’t lift a finger to harm anyone. He doesn’t come to be served, but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many. He’s a humble King. He comes riding on a donkey.

Finally! The promised King came riding into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. Jesus was that king, and he wanted Jerusalem to know it, wanted you and me to know it. Finally, a better kind of King is here, one who doesn’t disappoint.

And he comes to create a better kind of kingdom.

A BETTER KIND OF KINGDOM

Here’s what Zechariah said in v.10: I will take away the chariots from Ephraim and the war-horses from Jerusalem, and the battle bow will be broken. He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth.

The people of Jerusalem were hoping that King Jesus had come on Palm Sunday to do just what Zechariah says here: to bring peace to Jerusalem, to end her submission to the Romans, to establish an earthly kingdom that would make Jerusalem not the capital city of the tiny land of Israel, but the capital city of the world, with King Jesus on the throne.

But of course, it didn’t happen quite that way. Instead, King Jesus was crucified. Instead, Jerusalem was destroyed 40 years later and has been a place of contention and warfare ever since. Did King Jesus disappoint?

He only disappointed those stubborn, self-righteous people who didn’t care about the real peace he came to bring. Real peace has been made for Jerusalem – not for the city that the Israelis and Palestinians are fighting over – but for the real Jerusalem, the spiritual Jerusalem, New Jerusalem, the people of God. The humble King who, being in very nature God did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, humbled himself, all the way down to becoming a man, all the way down to death, even death on a cross. That’s how peace was made for Jerusalem, for all who trust in him.  It’s a better kind of city, a better kind of kingdom.

In the Old Testament, God’s kingdom centered on a plot of land. With the coming of Christ and the New Covenant of Maundy Thursday, that all changed. God’s kingdom abandoned the plot of land that rejected King Jesus. God’s kingdom became a purely spiritual kingdom, whose borders are not found on a map, but in hearts that believe in Jesus Christ as King, as Savior.

Contrary to popular belief, Jesus did not come to set up a system of social justice on earth. Politicians on the right and on the left get this wrong. He did not come to promote socialism – the attempt to force the members of a society to do what some consider to be just. Neither did he come to set up his kingdom in the land of Israel. He came to create a better kind of kingdom, a spiritual kingdom of those who have peace with God by faith in his name. He came to create a better kind of kingdom, a spiritual kingdom made up only of people who want to be there, people who want Christ as their king. He came to create a better kind of kingdom, a spiritual kingdom of those who don’t do what’s right under compulsion or because the law requires them to, but because they are the people of God, because they love that king who rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday to give his life for them. He came to create a better kind of kingdom that will outlast all the kingdoms of this earth. That’s the only kingdom that will be left standing when the King comes again. Finally! A king who doesn’t disappoint!

You see what a treasure we have in Baptism? It’s God’s path of citizenship into the better kingdom of Christ the King. You see what a treasure we have in the Lord’s Supper? It’s King Jesus himself riding humbly in bread and wine up to the gates of Jerusalem – up to the mouths and the hearts of his people to keep us in the kingdom until he comes again on the Last Day. Here comes your king, week after week, bringing you the very body and blood that were sacrificed outside Jerusalem to bring you into the New Jerusalem, the better kingdom of Christ. Here he proclaims peace and forgiveness and life. Here he gives himself to you as your King, and when you commune at the King’s Table, it’s your humble confession, “I want Jesus as my King.” What better way could there be to receive him when he comes riding into Jerusalem?

CONCLUSION

So when you get tired of politicians and their rhetoric, when rulers disappoint, as the kingdoms of this world crumble around us, as our country self-destructs before your very eyes, keep your eyes on the King who rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. Hear his Gospel this week. From his last meal with his disciples, to the Garden of Gethsemane, to Pilate’s court, to Calvary’s cross, to the empty tomb, Jesus is the King who never, ever disappoints. Amen.

Renters, Beware!

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday in Lent

Luke 20:9-19  +  Isaiah 43:16-24  +  Romans 11:11-21

Have you ever benefited from someone else’s mistake? Someone bought a house they really couldn’t afford, put 0% down on the house, the market collapsed and they were forced into foreclosure. That allowed someone else to come along and buy that home at a steal of a price. The person ahead of you at work gets caught stealing, so you get promoted by default. The lead skater in a speed skating competition makes a bad turn and falls, and so the guy in fourth place who was going to go home with nothing ends up with a medal. Things like that happen all the time.

It’s happened to you, whether you realize it or not. You and I are the beneficiaries of the biggest mistake in world history, the mistake made by the people of Israel when they rejected the Son of God. As we stand at the doorstep of Holy Week, we need to understand what happened to the Jews and what’s happened to us as a result. If we don’t, we’ll end up making the same mistake they did, and we’ll lose the same thing they lost – a place in God’s family. Jesus warned the Jews and he warns us Gentiles with the Parable of the Tenants. The message today is simple: Renters, beware!

A WARNING TO THE FIRST RENTERS

Fast forward past the palms of Palm Sunday to Monday or Tuesday of Holy Week. The Jewish leaders were trying their hardest to trap Jesus in his words, looking for a reason or a way to arrest him. The common people were oblivious to their plot, and Jesus wasn’t about to spoil it for the leaders. So he told this parable of the tenants, the renters, in such a masterful way that only the wicked Jewish leaders understand that he was speaking against them.

Now, for us who have all the facts, the parable is pretty easy to understand. A man plants a vineyard and rents it out to some farmers. Three times he sends servants to go collect some of the fruit of the vineyard, and three times those wicked renters of the vineyard beat up the servants and sent them away empty-handed. Now, what would you do at that point if you were the owner? Of course! You’d send your son to them, right? Of course not!

But God did.

He had planted this vineyard called Israel some 2000 years earlier when he called Abraham and promised to make him the father of many. If we just substitute the word vineyard with the word “church,” it’ll help us to understand this whole thing better. God planted his church and called it Israel. He tended his church and gave them every blessing under the sun. He “made a way through the sea,” as Isaiah mentioned in our First Lesson. He parted the waters of the Red Sea and led his church through on dry ground and drowned the armies of Egypt after them. He provided good laws for them to have a good life on earth. He gave them that beautiful plot of land along the Mediterranean Sea. He protected them, provided for them, loved and cared for them.

Why? Because he is a good a gracious God, slow to anger and abounding in love and faithfulness. Not because Israel earned or deserved it.

But when he sent his prophets to Israel, his vineyard, his church, the people mistreated them, all of them, from Moses to Malachi. And yet still, God says, “I’ll send them my beloved Son.”

Why? Because he had a promise to keep. A promise made long ago to Adam and Eve, to Abraham, to David. A promise to punish one instead of many. A promise to take the sins of the world and lay them on his Christ, so that whoever believes in him will be saved.

Here’s the tragedy: Israel, as a whole, didn’t believe in him, didn’t want him. The leaders were plotting his murder, and Jesus tells them ahead of time, “I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to kill the son who has been sent to you, you wicked renters.”

Then what? The owner of the vineyard will come and kill those tenants and give the vineyard to others.  For 2000 years, God had carried Israel on eagles’ wings and kept his church among them, in spite of all their wickedness and rebellion and sin. But renters, beware! The stone that you reject will become the capstone and will crush you to pieces. If you reject the Christ, you reject God’s salvation, and the vineyard, the church, will be ripped away from you and given to others.

A WARNING TO THE NEW RENTERS

Brothers and sisters in Christ, you and I are the others. For 2000 years the Church of God was found in Israel. But because of Israel’s 2000 years’ worth of mistakes, culminating in the crucifixion of God’s Son, the Church of God was, for the most part, ripped away from the Jews and given to new renters – to the Gentiles – the non-Jews. How should we look at that?

Paul says in Romans, we should look at that with the greatest humility.  If you get promoted because the guy ahead of you messed up, that’s not to your credit, is it? Neither is it to your credit that you get to call yourself a child of God. You haven’t earned a single crumb of his kindness. Your sins condemned you as much as Israel’s sins condemned them.

But because of Israel’s mistake, your Substitute under God’s holy law was killed. Because of Israel’s mistake, your death-penalty was served in the cross of Christ, and your eternal life was won. Because of Israel’s mistake, the gospel of Christ was preached to the Gentiles, forgiveness of sins has been preached in the world, and the Church of God – the vineyard – has been given to you who have heard and believed.

Now you and I are the beneficiaries of all of God’s promises: to be our God, to provide for us and to defend us against the assaults of the devil, the world, and even our own sinful flesh, to see us through this life in this sinful world and to bring us safely into his heavenly kingdom. So how should we look at Israel’s fall? With the greatest thanksgiving.

But there is a warning in Jesus’ parable of the tenants for the new tenants, too, a warning which Paul expands on in Romans 11, and that warning bears repeating. If some of the branches have been broken off, and you, though a wild olive shoot, have been grafted in among the others and now share in the nourishing sap from the olive root, do not boast over those branches. If you do, consider this: You do not support the root, but the root supports you. You will say then, “Branches were broken off so that I could be grafted in.” Granted. But they were broken off because of unbelief, and you stand by faith. Do not be arrogant, but be afraid.  For if God did not spare the natural branches, he will not spare you either.

Renters, beware!  Because of Israel’s mistake, the Church has been given to you. God’s kingdom has been given to you. All things have been given to you. But they only belong to you because you belong to Christ, and if they could fall into unbelief, after 2000 years’ worth of the best care possible, you could, too.

And some will say, “Well, I would never fall away. I’ll always believe in God.” As soon as you say that, you are closer to falling away than you can possibly imagine. That’s the very arrogance that Paul warns against. That’s the very arrogance that led Israel to say, “We’re God’s people, no matter what. We don’t even need the Christ.” 

Renters, beware!  Jesus himself said, “In the last days, many will turn away from the faith.” The devil, the world, and your own arrogant sinful nature will not rest until that happens to you. Does that frighten you at all?

It’s good to be afraid! As long as fear drives you back to Christ, to his Word and to his Sacraments. Fear is better than arrogance, because arrogance makes you think you don’t need to hear God’s Word so often or study it so much. You know enough. Fear makes you see that your spiritual life depends on hearing the Gospel. Arrogance makes you rely on the fact that you’ve been a member of the Church for a long time and are in no danger of falling away. Fear makes you run and hide under the baptismal waters that covered you long ago. There alone is safety. Arrogance makes you see the Lord’s Supper as something you can take or leave. Fear makes you see the Lord’s Supper as the meal of faith you can’t do without.

Renters, beware! The vineyard – the Church – isn’t defined by a church building or location or membership list. The Church is where faith in Christ is. The Church will prevail. The question is, will you continue to be a part of it, or will God tear it away from you and give it to others who will produce its fruit? You stand by faith, faith that is as fragile as fine china.  But it’s not the strength of the faith that matters. It’s the Stone – the Rock – on which it rests. Christ, the stone the builders rejected. We’ll follow that stone again next week, from his Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, to the Upper Room and Gethsemane on Maundy Thursday, to the cross and the grave on Good Friday and to resurrected life on Easter Sunday. The Holy Week Gospel is the very thing that put God’s vineyard into your hands, and it remains the power of God that will sustain your faith and insure that the vineyard will remain in your hands forever. Amen.

Synod President Has Solid Understanding of Worship

Here’s a good summary from Rick over at Light from Light on WELS President Mark Schroeder and the purpose of worship.

http://vdma.wordpress.com/2010/03/18/the-proper-focus-of-worship-by-president-schroeder/