Together again, one day

Tags

faith, heaven, lutheran reformation, Lutheranism, Reformation Day, Una Sancta

Every year I am grateful that All Saints Day follows so closely on Reformation Day. With the 500th anniversary of the posting of the 95 Theses last year, especially, but at other times, too, there’s always a lot of chest beating involved in Reformation. Sure, we are grateful for confessors and martyrs of past generations who stood up for the gospel. No question. Without them, humanly speaking, we wouldn’t have the truth of God’s Word today. Without people to confess it in our day, the Word won’t keep going to future generations (again, humanly speaking).

However.

Part of what people are celebrating on Reformation Day, whether they like it or not, is a split, a rupture. It had to be and more would have been lost without it, but the fact remains, there is division in the outward Christian Church. If that doesn’t pain us, something’s wrong. If there’s division in the church, we need to root out the false doctrine that causes it. We need to banish the root of the division, and bring people back together around God’s Word again. Paradoxically, often that involves a split or a disagreement, a difference, to show who has God’s approval and who does not, by the doctrine they teach.

Really, this points us ahead to heaven, where there will only be one church and one church body — the Body of Christ, the Una Sancta, the one holy Christian Church of all believers from every time and place that we confess in the Creed. Until then, we keep working, we keep teaching, we keep reforming — until we all reach fullness in Christ, who is the Head of the Body, and who fills everything in every way. 

 

Advertisements

Loving Ascension Day

Tags

Ascension, assurance, comfort, Feast of the Ascension, hope, Jesus, joy, peace

The Lord tells us, “What is exalted among men is an abomination with God” (Luke 16:15). The reverse is also true. Following the lead of our Lord, who praised the widow for giving her mite and yet excoriated the outwardly righteous Pharisees, the Christian Church has always been fascinated with things the world dismisses. At her best, she does not care for the things the world has to offer; sad to say, the visible Church is not always at her best. But generally it is true: the Church pays attention to and loves things the world would just as soon cast aside.

Take the feast of Ascension. To the unbeliever’s eye, Ascension is a non-event. Jesus flies up into heaven, His disciples no longer see Him, and they go away rejoicing? What kind of a celebration is that? And yet Christians rightly celebrate and cherish Ascension day, for this day signifies that Christ has taken His power and begun to reign. Having finished His hard service of winning our salvation, He sat down at the right hand of God. He does not stand as the Old Testament priests did, day after day, performing sacrifices that can never really take away sins. No! He has given the ultimate sacrifice, the sacrifice above all other sacrifices: Himself. With His holy, precious blood and His bitter sufferings and death, He has purchased humanity once more for God. All is completed. Nothing more remains to give to God. Jesus has paid it all! Having destroyed death’s power, “on Christ’s ascension I now build the hope of mine ascension,” as we sing in the hymn. He has gone before us, to show us where one day we will go, and how: through faith in His blood.

Our hope that we express through Jesus’ ascension is not only for the far-off future in heaven. It’s a right-now, every-day, day-in, day-out hope. We have a living reliance on Christ our perfect Savior, because He lives and longs to hear us pray. We can picture Him sitting at the Father’s right hand, bending down, just waiting for us to pray – intent only on us, that He might hear us when we call. Your prayers are never in vain! They accomplish far more than any earthly means. They give better protection than any AR-15 or police force. They provide far better than all the world’s stores of silver and gold. They are worth more than all the rich and powerful friends one could ever hope to have. Your Savior loves you and longs to hear you pray! That thought alone should move us to pray often.

Jesus also ascends into heaven to send us the Holy Spirit from heaven. He Himself tells us as much in John 16, from which a string of gospels for Eastertide are taken: ”But very truly I tell you, it is for your good that I am going away. Unless I go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you. I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth” (Jn 16:7,12,13). The Holy Spirit is our Helper – thus that word behind what some translations give as Advocate can be rendered. He helps us in whatever way we need help. He helps us with His sevenfold gifts. Above all, He helps us by strengthening our faith, without which we would be lost, both in this world and eternally. What a priceless gift!

Not for nothing did the Venerable Bede, a Christian monk and teacher in the 8th century, fill his great hymn on the Ascension “A Hymn of Glory Let Us Sing” with alleluias – 42, if you’re scoring at home. When you consider all that Ascension signifies and gives us, that’s really the only word for it: Alleluia! Praise the risen and ascended Lord! Alleluia! Amen.

Noble Fact and Pious Fiction — the Feast of St. George, Martyr

Tags

dragon, legend, myth, saint's day, sanctoral calendar, St. George

Tonight my older boy, Mark, scratched his elbow while on the playground. It was a long scratch — probably 2 inches long — but not very deep. A scratch was preferable to a broken arm, which is what one of his older sisters did when she was 4.

At any rate, when we got home, I plunked him down on the bathroom counter and started soaking a washcloth in warm water to clean out the wound. Mark was already beginning to tense up and get ready to cry (because things hurt when you’re 4 and that’s what you do), so partly to distract him, I told him the story of St. George.

Today is St. George’s day. St. George was a Roman soldier of Greek extraction who served in the 3rd century. Perhaps the best-known story associated with him is how he killed a dragon. Once there was a dragon that was troubling a certain town. The townspeople gave it two sheep every day, so it would not destroy their town and kill them all. This worked fine, until they ran out of sheep. The townspeople resorted to human sacrifice. They drew lots and whoever was chosen had to go, unless someone else took their place. One day the king’s daughter was chosen by lot. Nobody volunteered to go, so she bravely went to her certain doom. St. George happened to be riding by, and when he saw the situation, he attacked the dragon, spearing it and pinning it to the ground, but not killing it. Then he used the princess’ girdle, or in some versions of the story, a ribbon from her hair, tied the dragon with it as with a leash, and the princess walked the dragon back to town. St. George said he would kill the dragon under the following conditions: that the people remember to care for the poor, that they all receive baptism, and that they faithfully attend worship. The people of course gladly agreed on the spot, and St. George finished the dragon off. Thus the town and the princess were safe, the dragon was dead, and God was glorified.

Can you see why I told my boys this story?

St. George was a real person, but the facts are nearly impossible to sift from the palaver, to put it politely. Even the facts of his martyrdom are freighted down with folderol. The Catholic Encyclopedia, at newadvent.org, notes that the many and varied accounts of St. George’s martyrdom are

full beyond belief of extravagances and of quite incredible marvels. Three times is George put to death—chopped into small pieces, buried deep in the earth and consumed by fire—but each time he is resuscitated by the power of God. Besides this we have dead men brought to life to be baptized, wholesale conversions, including that of “the Empress Alexandra”, armies and idols destroyed instantaneously, beams of timber suddenly bursting into leaf, and finally milk flowing instead of blood from the martyr’s severed head.

As we say in Minnesota: uff da. You know it’s bad if the Catholic Encyclopedia refers to it as “full beyond belief of extravagences.” That’s a whole lot of nonsense, if you ask me. Some might shake their heads and tut that all the baloney detracts from the real core of the story, and from the One who should be the hero; and they’d be right. All the same, these stories are part of our heritage as Christians. Previous generations have enjoyed telling and retelling these and similar stories, and what’s the harm in a bit of fun? The handsome but penniless young man who grows up to be an insurance salesman with a mortgage on a house in a subdivision identical to all the others, 2 highly average children, a spare tire, and acid reflux is not going to light anyone’s fire. Nor will it be the plot of Disney’s next blockbuster. It won’t hold little boys spellbound, either — but St. George did.

I didn’t only tell my boys about the dragon. I also told them how he gave his life for Christ. I made sure to emphasize that that part of the story was real. That’s something they need to hear, even more than stories about dragons and princesses — they need to hear what true bravery, true love, true sacrifice look like. I think of St. Stephen, praying for the enraged Jews who were flinging stones at him — and then looking up to heaven and seeing Jesus waiting to welcome him. “Then he fell asleep” (Acts 7:60). I think of St. Peter being sprung from prison by an angel in Acts 12, not a scratch on him — only to be crucified head down later on. The Lord Jesus’ prophecy about him came true: “When you are old, someone will dress you and take you by the hands, and lead you where you do not want to go.” I think of St. Polycarp, kneeling down in the arena as the crowds jeer at him. I think of Ignatius of Antioch, being taken on a long journey to Rome, and writing letters to the believers along the way — you can still read those letters for yourself today. I think of the hundreds and thousands, maybe millions, of Christians who died in the arenas of the Roman empire, and in Communist prisons, jungles, and all sorts of other places. Nobody makes a hue and cry over their mistreatment or their deaths. There is no outrage in the media, and you search the headlines in vain for even a mention. The news cycle rolls on without the death of Christ’s followers even meriting a notice. But there is One who sees and knows, and He promises to repay a hundredfold – and more! – what we give up for the sake of His name. That’s the real benefit to St. George, and to all other Christians martyrs. They encourage us, they give glory to God, and they frighten the enemies of the gospel, who hope they can buy us off or silence us with intimidation, coercion, blandishments, or violence. Get behind us, Satan! You’ve lost, and Christ, the Risen One, has won! Be bold, be brave in the face of that ancient serpent, the devil. That’s one dragon that will never harm God’s people again — not truly. He who stands firm to the end shall be saved! God grant it! (Amen.)

 

 

 

 

Better than You

Tags

anointing, Christian love, forgiveness, joy, love, Luke 7:36-50, Mary Magdalene, Pharisees, sinful woman

Today the Christian Church commemorates Mary Magdalene. As sometimes happen with Biblical figures, at least half, if not more, of what’s said and repeated about her is bunk. Utter hogwash. Pure nonsense. Use whatever term you like, but not everything you hear associated with her name is true.  In addition to her cameo role in The Da Vinci Code (very convenient to make outlandish claims about those who are no longer here to defend themselves), there’s also a persistent tradition that Mary Magdalene is the nameless woman who was a sinner in Luke 7:36-50. In fact, that traditional (i.e. not satisfactorily substantiated by the Scriptures) claim is most likely why Luke 7:36-50 was appointed as the Gospel for her feast.

The woman is not named. For reasons not revealed to us, St. Luke was not inspired to note down that woman’s name. And yet, it could have been Mary Magdalene who anointed the Lord’s feet in Luke 7. She is mentioned in the context, if one looks at the chapters before and after Luke 7. Also, Mark 16:9 references the fact that Jesus drove seven demons out of Mary Magdalene before she became His follower. It has been noted that demons will often drive those whom they possess to engage in grotesque or promiscuous sins against the Sixth Commandment, and when you pair that fact with the fact that the unnamed woman in Luke 7 is called a sinner, which seems to be a polite euphemism for prostitute, it seems possible that the unnamed woman could have been Mary Magdalene. Is it anything more than circumstantial evidence? Not really. Does anyone’s salvation hang in the balance? Nope. But it is interesting to think about, and another example of the push and pull between tradition (which can mean different things to different people) and the close reading and study of the Scriptures.

Because we really can’t nail down definitively who that unnamed woman was, it made sense to Lutherans to leave Luke 7:36-50 as the Gospel for this feast. In the absence of a sinful consequence from continuing to use the reading, as long as Christian love and concern for people’s consciences are never left out of the equation, Lutherans will tend to err on the side of keeping what’s been handed down to us. One never knows — there may be wisdom in choices that thousands of people, many of them smarter than you, made centuries before. Those choices continue to shape our worship and enrich our faith even today, and it would be foolish and short-sighted simply to discard whatever we do not understand or appreciate immediately. If we adopted that approach, where does it end?

Leaving aside those considerations of identity for a moment, just consider what Jesus is doing in Luke 7:36-50. With His little pointed parable about the two debtors, plus His simply noting aloud who did what — contrasting the actions of the Pharisee and the sinful woman — Jesus brings home who the “good” one, the righteous one, really is. It’s not the Pharisee. He thought he was, but he wasn’t. His lack of love betrayed his lack of faith, and his exalted position as a leader and teacher of Israel was no help in his standing with God, which is what mattered. By pointing out that “her many sins are forgiven, for she loved much, but he who is forgiven little loves little,” Jesus is pointing out that she is righteous. That righteousness is not caused by her love — that’s not the reason — but it is the proof; proof that was sorely lacking in Simon. Her trust in Jesus and His Word for forgiveness meant that she was forgiven, no matter what anyone said or thought.

We look so much at the outside. We focus on the things that the world praises and calls good: money, status, possessions, and what they say about us. We rarely consider ourselves the way God does: from the inside out. Or, at least we don’t as often as we should. Jesus scandalized those at the table with Him by absolving this sinful woman — just like that! But she understood His grace best of all. Mary Magdalene got to be one of the first witnesses to Christ’s resurrection, despite her sinfulness and despite having been plagued by foul demons. Not Simon, nor any of the other Pharisees or teachers of the law — but Mary Magdalene, a woman and a sinner, was given this honor.

So which one are you? Sinner, or Pharisee?

The collect, or prayer, for this feast nicely ties in Mary Magdalene’s story with the greater significance of the resurrection, and has some beautiful phrases:

O Almighty God, whose blessed Son did sanctify Mary Magdalene, and grant her to be a witness to His Resurrection : Mercifully grant that by Thy grace we may be healed of all our infirmities, and serve Thee in the power of His endless life; who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Ghost : ever one God, world without end. Amen.

— Brotherhood Prayer Book, 2nd ed., 2007, p.519

The heart of the gospel

Tags

Annunciation, calendar, fulfillment, God's Word, Good Friday, Incarnation of Christ, John Donne, Lent, liturgical calendar, poetry, Virgin Mary

Today is a fairly rare occurrence in the liturgical calendar: it’s Good Friday, but it’s also Annunciation, March 25. The next time this will happen is 2157, if that gives you any idea. The Church holds off on celebrating Annunciation if it falls during Holy Week, and I’ve seen varying opinions on where to move it to, but just the fact that they both fell on the same day this year is incredibly fitting.

On Annunciation, we ponder how the Angel Gabriel came to the Virgin Mary and told her that she was to be the mother of the Savior. Through the word Gabriel spoke, the Virgin Mary conceived  by the power of the Holy Spirit — yet another example of how God’s Spirit is always present with and active through God’s Word. (March 25 is nine months before December 25, Christmas — get it?) So this is the day that the Word became flesh for us. Jesus took on a fully human nature, assumed from the Virgin Mary, which meant that now He would be born, grow, learn, eat, breathe, play, worship, live — and finally, die.

That’s what Good Friday is for. We focus on the death of Christ, the Lamb of God, who paid for all sins of all people of all time — including you, gentle reader. Yes, you! He looked ahead in time, and with you on His mind knew that one day He would go to the cross, and die. Just like we do, He too had a definite span to His days — only He did not stay dead. The celebration of that comes on the “third day”, Easter Sunday, but today, we meditate on just how much free forgiveness costs — the unutterably steep price Christ paid to redeem us for God.

Annunciation and Good Friday. On one, He takes on a human body, to share our human nature; on the other, He sacrifices that body on the tree of the cross and dies, so that we might be free from sin and death forever. Take off your shoes, friends, for here we stand before the central mystery of our faith: the Word made flesh, dying so that we might live. The eternal Son of God lays down His life, that we from death might be free forever. It deepens your appreciation for the gospel, doesn’t it?

John Donne wrote a poem on this same occasion in his lifetime. Read it, and take a moment for yourself to appreciate what really happened on Good Friday.

Annunciation, Good Friday — the focus is the same. The heart of the gospel: it’s all about Jesus. A blessed Annunication, and Good Friday, to you all.

On Annunciation and Passion Falling on the Same Day, 1609

by John Donne 

TAMELY, frail body, abstain to-day ; to-day
My soul eats twice, Christ hither and away.
She sees Him man, so like God made in this,
That of them both a circle emblem is,
Whose first and last concur ; this doubtful day
Of feast or fast, Christ came, and went away ;
She sees Him nothing, twice at once, who’s all ;
She sees a cedar plant itself, and fall ;
Her Maker put to making, and the head
Of life at once not yet alive, yet dead ;
She sees at once the Virgin Mother stay
Reclused at home, public at Golgotha ;
Sad and rejoiced she’s seen at once, and seen
At almost fifty, and at scarce fifteen ;
At once a son is promised her, and gone ;
Gabriell gives Christ to her, He her to John ;
Not fully a mother, she’s in orbity ;
At once receiver and the legacy.
All this, and all between, this day hath shown,
Th’ abridgement of Christ’s story, which makes one—
As in plain maps, the furthest west is east—
Of th’ angels Ave, and Consummatum est.
How well the Church, God’s Court of Faculties,
Deals, in sometimes, and seldom joining these.
As by the self-fix’d Pole we never do
Direct our course, but the next star thereto,
Which shows where th’other is, and which we say
—Because it strays not far—doth never stray,
So God by His Church, nearest to him, we know,
And stand firm, if we by her motion go.
His Spirit, as His fiery pillar, doth
Lead, and His Church, as cloud ; to one end both.
This Church by letting those days join, hath shown
Death and conception in mankind is one ;
Or ’twas in Him the same humility,
That He would be a man, and leave to be ;
Or as creation He hath made, as God,
With the last judgment but one period,
His imitating spouse would join in one
Manhood’s extremes ; He shall come, He is gone ;
Or as though one blood drop, which thence did fall,
Accepted, would have served, He yet shed all,
So though the least of His pains, deeds, or words,
Would busy a life, she all this day affords.
This treasure then, in gross, my soul, uplay,
And in my life retail it every day.

Homily for the 100th Anniversary of St. Matthew Lutheran Church, Appleton, WI — In Appreciation of Called Workers

Tags

anniversary, God's Word, holy ministry, light, Matt 5:13-19, salt, salt and light, St Matthew Appleton, WELS

Last weekend I was privileged to preach for the 100th anniversary of the congregation I grew up in, St. Matthew Lutheran Church in Appleton, WI. They have been having anniversary services all year long, one a month, and I got to be the penultimate guest preacher. (Rev. Mark Schroeder, our synod’s president, is up in November, so I reckon I’m in good company.) A lot has changed at St. Matthew since I went there, but a lot is still the same. God’s people still gather around His Word and His sacraments, and where that is, there the Body of Christ is living and active. The focus of the service I preached for was giving thanks for called workers. I was honored to be asked and to get to serve God’s people. (My sermon starts about 28:00 or so.)

Just One? (a Homily for the Martyrdom of St. John the Baptist)

Tags

bearing the cross, Christian love, daily life, faith, God's Word, hardship, John the Baptist, martyrdom, service, St John the Baptist, suffering

Whenever the topic of a person’s life work comes up, or the good that each of us hopes to accomplish before we leave this world, inevitably someone says, “Oh, if only I can help one person — just reach one person! If only I tell one person about Jesus and that person is saved, or my sufferings and my sacrifices can benefit just one person, then my life will have been worthwhile! Then everything I’ve gone through will not be in vain!”

Being the contrarian that I am, whenever I heard those sorts of statements, my first thought immediately is: “What if you don’t help one person?”

What then?

What if you go through your entire lifetime, and not one single other person ever benefits from your experiences, your kindness, your compassion, your witness or testimony? It’s unlikely, but given how often I’ve heard people say similar things to the above, it bears asking: What if nobody at all listens or believes what you say? Will it have been a waste then?

Today the Christian Church commemorates the Martyrdom of St. John the Baptist. By all appearances, his life was worthlessly given. He was the foremost of the prophets, occupying a unique place in salvation history: summing up the Old Testament prophets, while inaugurating the preaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ, which the apostles were soon to take out into the world. He was the Forerunnner. Jesus said that there was no one born of women that was greater than John the Baptist — and this is how he dies?

He didn’t die making a great heroic stand. He didn’t die in the arena, torn by the lions, or run through by the sword of a frustrated, angry pagan soldier. He didn’t give his life saving anyone from a burning building, or jumping on a grenade to save his buddies in battle.

John the Baptist was beheaded because he rebuked the wrong, powerful, person, and he incurred the anger of wicked, conniving people. You can read about it in St. Mark 6:14-29. Herod the king had married his brother’s wife — stolen her, in fact. John had rebuked him, and Salome, the brother’s wife (now Herod’s wife) in question, plus her mother, wanted revenge. So when Salome danced for Herod’s birthday party, and he being in an expansive move, he promised her anything, up to half his kingdom. Bad idea. She asked for John the Baptist’s head, and Herod, though he enjoyed listening to John and was afraid to do anything against him, was afraid of looking like a fool in front of the high rollers and power brokers — so he had John beheaded in prison. As one professor I heard years ago put it, John the Baptist died because of a bimbo. Put that together with a weak and scared ruler, and John looks like he was in the wrong place at the wrong time — and his head ends up on a platter.

Someone might well say, “Why did you speak up, John? It wasn’t your business! It didn’t bother or hurt you at all that Herod married his brother’s wife! Why provoke powerful people and make them not like you? Just let it go — it’s not your problem anyway.” That’s the voice of fear. That cowardice manages to silence Christians all over the world every day, because at the least hint of trouble — even before anything actually happens! — we’re running up the white flag in our minds. What if someone gets mad at me! — what if I lose my job! — what if I lose my friends! — what if my family member won’t speak to me! — what if, what if, what if! And we are intimidated and shamed into silence by our ungodly fear and cowardice.

John the Baptist spoke up because he didn’t care what happened to himself. All he cared about was God’s Word. His death was one that had no honor in the eyes of the world, but it was an honorable death and a good death in the eyes of God, for he died rebuking sin and speaking God’s truth. That reckless consistency of conviction, that fearless confession, unheeding of what may happen to one’s own life or livelihood, is part and parcel of bearing the cross. Without sin being rebuked, how will anyone know or care that they are wrong? How will they be moved to search anxiously for a solution, for a Savior, if they don’t know they’ve done wrong, or they’re accustomed to silencing or placating their conscience? How will they find peace and salvation, if they don’t encounter the Word from us that gives life?

More importantly — how will a sinner be saved if God’s Word is never brought to bear on his or her heart? Maybe the person we’re rebuking or correcting will hear and take it to heart; maybe they won’t. But whatever happens after we confess and proclaim God’s Word is His business, not ours. He doesn’t ask us for results. He asks us to be faithful. Let me repeat that again, loud and clear, so you can hear it over our “leadership”-saturated, overly pragmatic, manager culture: God doesn’t ask us for results. He asks us to be faithful. Once you grasp the difference, John the Baptist’s death becomes more glorious, a death full of honor. We could all use a dose of John the Baptist’s don’t-give-a-hoot, unfailingly upfront confession of God’s Word. Speak God’s Word the way John the Baptist did — with a bracing, straightedge moxie, but also never without love for the other person. Regardless of the consequences. Never backing down from God’s truth. It scares the enemies of the gospel and it encourages the fainthearted, and it glorifies the Lord, to whom be all power, glory, honor, and strength, for ever and ever. Amen.

Preached at the nursing home in Morgan, MN, for the feast of the Beheading of St. John the Baptist, 2014.

 But when Herod heard thereof, he said, It is John, whom I beheaded: he is risen from the dead.

¹⁷ For Herod himself had sent forth and laid hold upon John, and bound him in prison for Herodias’ sake, his brother Philip’s wife: for he had married her.

¹⁸ For John had said unto Herod, It is not lawful for thee to have thy brother’s wife.

¹⁹ Therefore Herodias had a quarrel against him, and would have killed him; but she could not:

²⁰ For Herod feared John, knowing that he was a just man and an holy, and observed him; and when he heard him, he did many things, and heard him gladly.

²¹ And when a convenient day was come, that Herod on his birthday made a supper to his lords, high captains, and chief estates of Galilee;

²² And when the daughter of the said Herodias came in, and danced, and pleased Herod and them that sat with him, the king said unto the damsel, Ask of me whatsoever thou wilt, and I will give it thee.

²³ And he sware unto her, Whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give it thee, unto the half of my kingdom.

²⁴ And she went forth, and said unto her mother, What shall I ask? And she said, The head of John the Baptist.

²⁵ And she came in straightway with haste unto the king, and asked, saying, I will that thou give me by and by in a charger the head of John the Baptist.

²⁶ And the king was exceeding sorry; yet for his oath’s sake, and for their sakes which sat with him, he would not reject her.

²⁷ And immediately the king sent an executioner, and commanded his head to be brought: and he went and beheaded him in the prison,

²⁸ And brought his head in a charger, and gave it to the damsel: and the damsel gave it to her mother.

²⁹ And when his disciples heard of it, they came and took up his corpse, and laid it in a tomb.

— St. Mark 6:16-29

Sermon for the Feast of the Holy Trinity: Isaiah 6:1-8

Tags

evangelism, frowny face, Holy, Isaiah, Isaiah 6, prophet isaiah, Psalm 110, sapphire throne, seraphim, seraphs, throne room, Triune God

In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple. ² Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he did fly.³ And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.⁴ And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and the house was filled with smoke. ⁵ Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.⁶ Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar:⁷ And he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged.⁸ Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.

— Isaiah 6:1-8

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to see God? What would that sight be like? There was a song on the radio a few years ago called “I Can Only Imagine” that was based on that idea. It talked about all the different reactions a believer might have when face to face with God. It was a pretty good song. We have some descriptions in the Bible from those who were fortunate enough to be given visions of God or to get to see Him – Moses, Ezekiel, the apostle John, among others – but even what they’ve left for us hardly seems to help us understand, as we’ll see in a moment.

Today it’s Isaiah who gets to see into the throne room of heaven, and it is impressive. He saw the Lord, high and exalted, sitting on His throne, with the train of His robe filling the temple. He saw seraphs, angels, flying around Him, worshipping Him, singing His praises. They sing a majestic hymn – “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God almighty! The whole earth is full of His glory!” No wonder we still sing their song as part of our Communion liturgy, right before the Words of Institution. We’re in the Triune God’s presence then, just as Isaiah was. That threefold holy is a subtle but unmistakable teaching of the Trinity. God is three persons in one God, that’s why the seraphim sing what they do. Their praises are so loud that the ground underneath the temple is shaking. It’s a supernaturally strong, powerful shaking that seems to go right down to the earth’s core. The smoke that always hid God’s glory fills the temple, and Isaiah can’t even see the Lord.

So how does Isaiah react to this vision? Does he stand up, lift up his hands, and burst into a praise song? Does he start singing joyfully about how he just wants to praise God, He is worthy, He is holy, He is mighty, He is powerful, all those sorts of things? Does Isaiah close his eyes and wave his hands in the air? Hardly. He cries out, “Woe is me! I’m about to die! I’ve said many things I never should have about God, I’ve blasphemed His holy name, and the people that I live among have blasphemed Him too, and now I’m looking at Him as He sits on His throne! I’m sinful and deserve to die! I’m not going to survive this!” Isaiah is abjectly terrified because of his sin. He instantly realizes what sin is: a personal offense against the mightiest being in all creation, the Holy One of Israel. That’s who he has offended. That’s who he deserves to be punished by.

Do we have that same consciousness of sin? Do we perceive that our sins stink in the nostrils of the Almighty God and we deserve nothing but eternal death and punishment from Him? Are we sorry for our sins? Or do we deny that we even have sin – do we excuse it or even defend it? Would we react that way if we saw what Isaiah saw?

We don’t always think about God in that way. All of God’s attributes really are one, because God is one. He has no parts. We’re used to piecing and parceling out His various attributes – His love, His mercy, His holiness, and so on – and only thinking about a few of them or one of them at a time, but that’s not what God’s attributes are like in action, when you see Him in person. The thing about true holiness – the real deal, the genuine article, not the counterfeit kind we’re fond of – is that it burns. It destroys everything that isn’t as holy as itself, unless the Holy One actively wills it not to be so.

We have an example of this in the book of 2 Chronicles, chapter 26. King Uzziah was a godly king – in fact, it says, “As long as he sought the Lord, God gave him success” (v.5). But he became unfaithful. He thought that he should be able to offer incense at the altar, just like the priests did, even though God had not called him to do that. God had called him to be a king, but not a priest. Uzziah’s pride and arrogance led him to trespass into God’s presence. He attempted to offer incense at the altar in the temple, and the priests, the sons of Aaron, attempted to dissuade him. He became angry at them, and as he shouted at them, leprosy broke out on his forehead and quickly spread over all his skin. Appalled, he rushed out of the house of the Lord and never set foot in it ever again. King Uzziah found out the hard way that God’s holiness is not to be taken lightly.

We have each received what Isaiah did. The word of absolution – Jesus’ personal guarantee through His minister that your sins are forgiven – is the burning coal that touches our filthy mouths. It burns away the impurity of our lips. Its heat sears our foul, corrupt lips and burns away everything wrong, everything false, everything untrue to Him. We all need to have our lips touched by the coal – to have the sins of our mouths atoned for. “God’s name is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of [us.]” Our mouths do not always sound like the mouths of Christians. “Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be.” Our lips are not worthy to speak of the wonders of God, and yet – oh wonder of wonders! – He forgives us! He atoned for the sins of our lips, because “never man spoke like this Man did.” Jesus always spoke faithfully about God. He proclaimed God’s kingdom unflinchingly – warmly, honestly, and directly, at times almost adversarial, yet never without love.

Now He has sent His ministers into all the world to proclaim forgiveness for these sins of the tongue – this lying, cursing, anger, dishonesty, the violence of our words and our hearts – and that forgiveness comes through the holy absolution. The announcement of Jesus’ forgiveness to the sinner is the loosing key that takes away your sins. It is the glowing coal that touches your lips and purifies them, even as it stings and sears. It’s painful and scorching to hear from God’s Word that you’re a sinner, but that same Word has a healing and a purifying heat. God’s law condemns our sins and it condemns us. It stings and burns as it sounds the death sentence over us, but His gospel also burns away the uncleanness and the impurity. It burns away all the guilt, the liability to punishment that we inherited and that we exercise every day. It leaves us with holy burns, the scars where our sin was. We are forgiven and healed. Nothing is hidden from its heat, because nothing has been left undone by Christ. He leaves no sin unsearched for or unforgiven in your heart by His Word. All is right now between you and God again, and we can call on Him as our heavenly Father once more.

Once I got poked in the eye playing basketball. It hurt a little at first, but later that day it really started to hurt. I went to the eye doctor, who took one look at my eye and pronounced it infected. He gave me some drops to put in it a few times per day. Those drops burned and stung my infected eye like nobody’s business! But it was a glad stinging and burning, because I could tell the eye drops were getting rid of the infection. I felt a rush of relief every time those eye drops began to sting and burn in my eye, because I knew it was a sign they were working and my eye was healing. So it is with God’s Word. Its message of law burns and stings when it’s applied to us. Nobody ever wants to hear exactly how they’ve sinned. Yet that harsh stinging message of law is part of the cure for sin when it’s followed by the gospel, which cleanses and absolves and heals us. The stinging law and the healing gospel are God’s way of bringing sinners back – of restoring them for service to the Triune God. Or think of it this way: Imagine taking a charcoal briquette that’s glowing cherry red out of your grill, and then holding that on your lips, which are among the most sensitive parts of your body. Ouch. That would not be pleasant, but for Isaiah here, and for us, it’s very necessary.

Isaiah doesn’t see the Lord’s form even then. He only hears a voice. This is consistent with Scripture’s teaching that no one has seen God in His open glory here on earth. (Even Moses only got to see God’s back.) If you want to see God walking on earth, look at Jesus Christ. The full vision of God’s glory is reserved for heaven, where “we will see Him as He is.”

This voice, this speaking of God, which Isaiah heard directly and which we hear through His Word, asks, “Whom will I send? And who will go for Us?” This is again a subtle but unmistakable teaching of the Trinity. These verses testify that there is more than one person in the one true God.

Note that God doesn’t order Isaiah to go. He doesn’t put on a frowny face as He sits on His sapphire throne and command the prophet, “Go, get going! People are dying everywhere, and you have the saving message! Only you can prevent people from heedlessly running into hell, and if they do go there it’s your fault! Time is wasting, move it! You don’t want to be the reason someone isn’t saved – do you??” The Father never speaks that way. People do, synods do, but never the Triune God. That’s not His way.

Instead, the Triune God looks at His redeemed, His chosen, His saved, His very own – you and me! along with Isaiah – and He asks for volunteers. He does this because He knows that His troops will be willing on the day of battle, as Psalm 110 teaches. God doesn’t have to force us, because we want to serve Him. We all cry out joyfully, “Pick me, Lord! Pick me! Here am I – send me!”

The Triune God needs bold confessors in a fallen world, especially in these grey and latter days, where literally anything goes and the only sin is to say that you have the truth and someone else might not. St. Anthony of Egypt, an early Christian teacher, once observed, “The time is coming when people will be insane, and when they see someone who is not insane, they will attack that person, saying: You are insane, because you are not like us.” That time is coming, and has now come. The world is sickeningly comfortable with a multiplicity of truths, a myriad of gods, a plethora of things to worship and serve – but never the true God. The Triune God is the only thing they can’t abide. His messengers and His Word are the one thing they can’t leave alone. They feel driven to lash out at the Trinity, to thumb their noses at Him, to flaunt their unbelief and to attack Him – yet He is the one thing they need. They can’t survive eternally without Him.
It will not be easy, pleasant, welcome, or always fun to witness to the Triune God. But it will be pleasing to Him, the Lord of heaven and earth who has sent us, and it will be saving for a few who will hear and believe – that’s His promise, and it’s far better than being liked or admired.

Look at Isaiah’s own ministry. The Lord commissions him in this grand and glorious vision, then He sends Isaiah to go and tell His people, “Be ever hearing, but never understanding; be ever seeing, but never perceiving. Make the heart of this people calloused; make their ears dull and close their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed.” Isaiah asks, “How long, Lord?” And the Lord answers, “Until the cities lie ruined and without inhabitant, until the houses are left deserted and the fields ruined and ravaged, until the Lord has sent everyone far away and the land is utterly forsaken. And though a tenth remain in the land, it will again be laid waste.” The Lord basically calls Isaiah to a mission that, by human standards, is destined to fail! Yet the Lord does not take back His promise of a Savior: “But as the terebinth and oak leave stumps when they are cut down, so the holy Seed will be the stump in the land.” That same Savior is who we proclaim to an indifferent and hostile world, and He is the one who will take us to be with Him forever in the endless joys of heaven.

So speak up. Testify to the true God, the Triune God – who He is, what He says about sin and judgment and forgiveness. Speak of what you have seen and heard in the throne room of God Almighty. Rebuke sin openly, frankly, and without fear when it crosses your path – because it will, and heaven knows there’s enough of it these days. Endure opposition from sinful men and always hold fast to the truths of God, because this is what saves us and our hearers. Remember what you’ve witnessed in the throne room of the Triune God. His burning coal has touched your lips. Do not be afraid to speak all that He tells you. Amen.

The fulfillment of prophecy on Golgotha: a sermon for Good Friday, 18 Apr 2014

Tags

crucifixion, faith, fulfillment, fulfillment of prophecy, God's Word, Good Friday, Lent, New Testament, old testament, prophecy, Psalms, Roman soldiers

(Sermon on St John 19:17-30, broadcast on the Lutheran Chapel Service and delivered at Zion Lutheran Church, Morgan, MN, 18 Apr 14)

Carrying his own cross, he went out to the place of the Skull (which in Aramaic is called Golgotha). ¹⁸ Here they crucified him, and with him two others—one on each side and Jesus in the middle.

19 Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS. ²⁰ Many of the Jews read this sign, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and the sign was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek. ²¹ The chief priests of the Jews protested to Pilate, “Do not write ‘The King of the Jews,’ but that this man claimed to be king of the Jews.”

22 Pilate answered, “What I have written, I have written.”

23 When the soldiers crucified Jesus, they took his clothes, dividing them into four shares, one for each of them, with the undergarment remaining. This garment was seamless, woven in one piece from top to bottom.

24 “Let’s not tear it,” they said to one another. “Let’s decide by lot who will get it.”

This happened that the scripture might be fulfilled which said,

“They divided my garments among them

and cast lots for my clothing.”

So this is what the soldiers did.

25 Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. ²⁶ When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Dear woman, here is your son,” ²⁷ and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.

28 Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” ²⁹ A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. ³⁰ When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

 

If we were so inclined, we could go through our Lord’s Passion with our Old Testaments open, and find a prophecy, whether in words or in actions, for literally each and every last detail. Everything Jesus said, did, saw, or felt, everything He experienced or went through, was foretold in the Law of Moses, the Prophets, and the Psalms. We will see that again today as we turn our hearts to St. John chapter 19, and ponder again everything Jesus went through for our sakes, and how completely and perfectly it was all foretold, for the assurance of our faith and our comfort and strengthening.

Our text begins with Jesus carrying His own cross to the place of His execution. Here, as He is hoisted on the shameful deadly cross, He fulfills His own word, from St. John 12:32, that “I, when I am lifted up, will draw all men to Myself.” He also fulfills the shadow cast by the bronze serpent on the pole, that Moses lifted up in the wilderness. Recall the story from Numbers 21 – whoever was bitten and looked to the bronze snake, lived. We look to Christ, hanging there on the cross for us, and we live. He is crucified between two others, malefactors or criminals, St. Luke calls them. This fulfills Isaiah’s prophecy in 53:12 of his book, that, “He was numbered with the transgressors.” Jesus is on that middle cross because it should have been your cross. He’s dying the slow, agonizing death you should have died. He took on Himself the unimaginable agony of experiencing death forever in hell, so that you never would. How great is the love of our God!

Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross, which proclaimed Jesus to be the King of the Jews. St. John notes that many of the Jews read this sign. This is yet another testimony that Jesus is the Son of God and the only Savior. He is the eternal King that the Jews were expecting, based on Psalm 72, Psalm 45, Psalm 89, Psalm 8, to name just a few instances from only one book, the book of Psalms. Ezekiel, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Zechariah, and Micah, to pick just a few names almost at random, also tell of what this King would be – and here He is. The sign over Christ’s head proclaims the truth: this Man hanging on the cross is the eternal King and Deliverer that they had been promised – yet His suffering and death don’t look very glorious or powerful at all. In this, and in the Jews’ reaction to Christ, there is a warning for us. Let us not turn away from the sufferings of Christ, nor think that He is altogether too insignificant or unpowerful of a Savior. Whether from boredom or despair, let no one think that this Jesus of Nazareth is lacking in any way as God’s appointed Deliverer. Pilate’s sign, which he wrote mainly to get back at the Jews and irritate them after they railroaded him into killing Christ, still stands true. This Jesus of Nazareth is the King of the Jews, for not all who are Israel according to the flesh, are Israel. God’s people now are those who trust in His Son.

The Roman soldiers passing the time below Jesus’ cross also fulfill a prophecy. They amuse themselves by throwing dice for Jesus’ clothing. The Romans customarily used knuckle bones from butchered animals as dice, or as counters in gambling, but throwing dice is the modern equivalent. Imagine being a condemned criminal crucified on a cross, looking down and seeing the soldiers who hung you there dividing up your clothing as if you’re already dead. Few things could bring home with more finality the irreducible fact that you’re going to die now. You won’t be needing those any more. The soldiers viewed this as part of their pay, one of the perks of boring duty, but there’s far more than that going on here. St. John explicitly draws our attention to Psalm 22, which says that, “They divided My garments among them and cast lots for My clothing.” With each throw of the dice, the Roman soldiers are unwittingly fulfilling prophecy. In fact, this – not any other reason, not their own profit or amusement, not the custom of the time – is the real reason they gamble for His clothes: because the Word of God said that they would. Therefore we see how God’s Word creates reality. It determines the course of history and guides events, even so small as four soldiers playing dice for Jesus’ clothing. God’s Word never fails. Its promises and its prophecies are always true, and will always be true to all eternity. Not one of them has ever fallen to the ground, so that you can be sure your sins are forgiven and heaven truly is yours when you leave this world.

The seamless garment that Christ wore reminds us of the garment of His righteousness that by faith in Him we all wear. All of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus have put on Christ, St. Paul says, and thus we are clothed not just in Jesus’ garment, but in Jesus Himself as our righteousness before God. There is no seams in it because it was woven all of a piece by Christ – He made it complete and perfect all on His own. His garment of perfect holiness becomes the white robe of righteousness we wear in heaven before the Father’s throne. This is the garment dipped in blood worn by the One who treads the winepress of God’s wrath alone, in Isaiah 63. It’s His own blood, because the shedding of His blood was the result of the wrath of God, and also of His mercy. God did not want us sinners to die, so He provided the means for us to be free of our sin – by trusting in the blood of His only Son, shed for us. That painful scene, that gory yet very welcome sight, is what holds our eyes and our hearts this Good Friday.

After He commends His blessed Mother to St. John’s keeping – an event which shows His love and mercy, which misses no one, not even the most forgotten and overlooked – our Gospel says, “Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I thirst.” This was in fulfillment of Psalm 69, in which Christ says through the mouth of David that He will be given gall and vinegar for His thirst, which parches His throat, and also Psalm 22, which describes Christ’s tongue sticking to the roof of His mouth from thirst – an eerie level of detail, and one that can only be accounted for by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Once again, we see that not even one of His words falls to the ground unfulfilled. Every last detail is completed, so that you don’t have to wonder, “Was Jesus really the Christ? Did He really do everything necessary for me to be forgiven?” The answer is yes!

Earlier, in the upper room with His disciples shortly after the Last Supper, where Christ instituted His blessed Sacrament to nourish His people until His return, Jesus had promised very strongly that He would not partake of the “fruit of the vine”, that is, wine, until He drank it anew with His disciples in heaven – which includes us. Here we see Him keeping His word, even in such a seemingly small matter as this. Jesus accepts the wine vinegar, which is made from wine but is not the same product. This small sip is enough to wet His lips and moisten His mouth, so He can cry out, “It is finished!”

This phrase – one word in the original Greek – was scrawled by merchants at the bottom of their bills: “Paid in Full.” No better description of Jesus’ atonement can be given than that. All sin has been paid in full – those sins for which your conscience torments you, as well as those of which you are scarcely aware, and those which you may even, heaven forbid, be indifferent to or over which you shrug. All sin of all people of all time was loaded onto Christ, and He bore the punishment for us all. Because of Him your sins are gone. You do not need to give God anything else; in fact, anything you try and give God on your own, apart from faith, will only serve to undercut that great gift. Let the great gift be what it is: nothing less than the complete blood-price for your sins, fully and freely given. Your sin was so great that it took nothing less than the death of God’s Son to atone for it, but the death of the God-man is infinitely great and precious in God’s sight, so that your sins truly are paid for. It is for this reason that Christ took on human flesh, and God became man. It is for this reason that He gasped and cried out and died. It is for this reason that He was anointed with the Spirit, which He then handed back in the moment of His death, only to send Him afresh into our hearts and renew the face of the earth. God has forgiven the offense of all the earth in a single day. Thanks be to God. Amen.

 

If it matters

Tags

be ready, confessing the faith, disciples, false religion, garrison keillor, God's Word, Holy Baptism, Lord's Supper, Lutheranism, perseverence, Presentation of the Augsburg Confession, spirituality, truth of god

Sometimes we Lutherans are just a little bit chary of looking like extremists. We play into Garrison Keillor’s stereotypes about Lake Woebegone Lutherans, who are safe, staid, and studiously avoid conflict or raised voices. Even if we feel very strongly attached to our church and our way of following the Lord, we may still be anxious not to make too many waves — not to care too much (or to appear like we do), lest we lose our heads or our cool. We may fear being labeled extremists, or worse (like being equated with militant Muslims or irritating Jehovah’s Witnesses), so that even the thought of a sideways look (not even an actual sideways look) is enough to root us to our seats and seal our lips. We know too well, from watching the evening news, listening to talk radio, and interacting with our neighbors and coworkers, that the only unforgiveable sin in the eyes of the world nowadays is to declare that you, personally, are in possession of the truth. For too many, that implies, if not outright states, that they do not therefore know the truth — and the one thing just about anybody knows for sure nowadays is that no one person can know what the truth is. That being the case, if you speak up about the truth of God’s Word, you know good and well that you’ll get pegged, pigeonholed, and labeled for it — so the temptation to just sit down and be quiet about God’s truth. Because, after all, who wants to be labeled an extremist.

We should be less bothered by that. I keep coming back to this one phrase in my mind: if it matters. If it matters that those who do not trust in Christ don’t make it to heaven, why would we be kind and respectful of someone else’s false religion? If it matters that denying infants Holy Baptism is a serious matter, so serious that it puts the salvation of their souls in jeopardy, why would we make nice with those who deny the Savior’s Word on that score, and who overturn the historic practice of the Church? If it matters whether or not our Lord is present in, with, and under the bread and wine that are consecrated and consumed in the Sacrament, how can we be indifferent to someone else’s fanatical insistence that Jesus didn’t mean what He said when He declared, “This is My Body – this is My Blood?” If “the gospel is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes,” why would we not speak up when we hear someone confuse or mix law and gospel, or pervert the gospel of Christ into merely a higher form of works? If God’s Word alone creates and sustains faith, why in the world would we sit back idly when people actively promote and encourage worship forms and practices that are drawn from the exact opposite teaching? IF IT MATTERS, WHY DON’T WE SAY SOMETHING?

The Lutheran Church has historically been predicated on “saying something” — as indeed has the Christian Church herself. It is the confession of the unconditional gospel of Jesus Christ that saves and creates alive, and it is that same gospel that is therefore worth dying for. If you really believe it to be true, the way you confessed you did on your confirmation day and the way you do every Sunday since then, then why not act like it matters? Why not live it? The Church today, more than ever, needs those who will live their faith in their lives, not just make the motions with their lips — if they even go that far. Christ has redeemed you body, soul, and spirit. You are His through Holy Baptism. Why not speak up like it, live like it; be willing to depart this life and suffer all, even death, rather than be parted from Him?

Today is the anniversary of the Presentation of the Augsburg Confession. If the Christian Church is to endure on earth, she needs faithful confessors — not just the people with the titles or the initials behind their names, but ordinary laypeople whose faith is founded in Christ and His Word. Being Lutheran, truly, authentically Lutheran, really matters — because Christ and His Word matter. They are the only thing that bridge the gap between earth and heaven. Nothing else endures, except for what Christ gives. Let’s not be afraid to look like extremists — let’s live like our Lutheranism matters. Because it does.

The Presentation of the Augsburg Confession — where Lutherans first stood up as an identifiable group and confessed the faith entrusted once for all to the saints. Will we do as well as they in our own day?