Homily for Reformation Day (Observed) - 2020

"Free Indeed"

John 8:31-36

 

Jesus says, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

Talk of freedom resonates with us Americans; our ears perk up. We love our liberty. Freedom is our national middle name, our country’s heart and soul, our very DNA. Everything from the year 1776 to the Fourth of July every year to freedom of speech and religious liberty proclaims our love for liberty. But when we talk of freedom, we must ask two crucial questions: 1) Free from what? and 2) Free for what?

In our national experience, our love of liberty is rooted in freedom from government tyranny—that is, from government presuming it knows better than you how to run your life for you. Think King George, Great Britain, and burdensome taxes and regulations in the late 1700s. Building on the notion that all people are created equal, our American founders built a governing system “of the people, by the people, for the people,” as Abraham Lincoln would say a century later. Think freedom for living by the God-given rights of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” which means keeping your property.

In our Gospel, we hear of a different, deeper freedom. Jesus  teaches some Jews who had believed Him. They’ve heard His teaching and they believe that He is God’s promised Messiah. Exactly what they understood that to mean may be up for debate. So Jesus begins His sermon: “If you abide in My word, you are truly My disciples, and you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.” At that all ears perked up. “Will set you free?” These good Jewish believers thought they were already free. We good Americans think that we are already free. What does Jesus mean by “free”? Free from what?

The Jewish believers who listened to Jesus could not stomach being told they were slaves. They pushed back: “We…have never been enslaved to anyone.” On the surface we might say, “Oh yeah?” Had they conveniently forgotten their forefathers who lived in Egyptian slavery  for 400 years? What of their ancestors who lived in Babylonian exile for 70 years? Must have slipped their minds. Did they have blinders on to the Roman Empire occupying their backwater little country even as they spoke?

Or they may have been thinking of something else. Even when they were enslaved in Egypt, they could claim they still belonged only to the God of Israel. Even when they were exiled in Babylon, they still belonged to and served Yahweh. Even as they lived under Roman rule, their self-proclaimed allegiance was to the true God.

Either way, Jesus had to redirect their focus. They were forgetting one undeniable truth—slavery to sin. We also conveniently forget that we are, in fact, slaves to sin. As Jesus says, “Everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin.” We all commit our sins—insensitive words or deeds, uncaring, spiteful thoughts and feelings, neglecting to care for family or friends, gossip, greed, and so on. Jesus wants us to “abide in His word,” His word of truth. But we succumb to the slavery of our society and question if there is such a thing as absolute truth. We say with our fellow slaves in society, “What’s true for you is not true for me.”

Jesus wants us to abide in His Word. He wants us to remain in His truth. He wants us to dwell in His message of the liberated life. But all we need to do is examine our daily routines and priorities. Daily routines of work and school tend to crowd out time spent dwelling in Jesus’ Word. Our slavery to our schedules drives us to say, “I don’t have time for worship, for Bible study, for family prayer.” We are slaves to thinking we are in control of all things in life. We are slaves to our calendars, our commitments, and our self-imposed goals and priorities. We are slaves to the very computers, devices, and smart phones that are supposed to make life more free. We are slaves to ourselves—to imagining that we must control everything in life, even God Himself.

So Jesus says, “the slave does not remain in the house forever.” No slave—no sinner—gets to dwell in God’s house—that is, no sinner-slave who is not freed by Christ Himself. Our sins hang around our necks and weigh us down. Our guilt for putting ourselves in the place of God shackles us down. We cannot move. We need help. We need Someone to liberate us.

So, if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. Jesus Christ, true Son of God in the flesh, comes to set you free. How so? By taking the chains of your sin and your guilt off of you and putting them on Himself. And He takes not only your chains, but also the chains of the people around you, the chains of all people of all times and all places. These chains of sin shackled Jesus to the cross. And bound there by His eternal love for you and for all people, He was crushed under the burden. But then He rose from the dead. And you are free. Free from what? Free from sin, free from a guilty conscience.

Now we can ask: Free for what? Luther and the Reformation give us a great blessing: the Church always refocusing on God’s unshackled grace in Christ Jesus. In Christ we have all of God’s boundless mercy and love. In Christ Jesus we have freedom from sin, death, and hell. Now what? Now that we no longer have to impress God, butter Him up, or buy Him off, how do we go about life? For what are we free?

It’s sad but true that in our liberty-loving land of America, freedom has come to mean “free to do whatever I want.” Many in our land love freedom so much that they trash and defame the very country that gives them freedom. It’s even sadder that we Christians do the same with God’s rich, sweet, life-giving mercy. How often do we use the freedom of our Lord’s forgiveness to slip back into our sinful ways? What of the times when we either think or act as though hearing our Lord’s Word and receiving His Body and Blood were somehow optional, rather than necessary for life?

St. Paul captured this dilemma. “What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means!” (Rom. 6:1-2) Shall we use our freedom from sin to sin all the more? Of course not! St. Paul goes on: “Having been set free from sin, you become slaves of righteousness.” (Rom. 6:18). Yes, you are freed from sin for living a better life, a different kind of life. You are freed from service to self so that you may live as God designed you to live.

Luther expressed it this way during the Reformation: “A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is a perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject to all.” Here’s the paradox of our freedom in Christ. We are free before God—free from sin, guilt, and eternal death. We are completely free to relax in God’s presence. At the same time, we are also free for living as God’s servants. We are completely free to practice the kind of humanity that God designed for us. That means trusting God above all things and serving our neighbors in love.

For what has Christ set you free? He has set you free for service to other people. You are free to serve one another. Parents, you are free to serve your children, especially by teaching them God’s life-giving Word. Children, you are free to serve your parents by honoring and obeying them. Workers and students, you are free to put your best efforts into your work. Supervisors and managers, you are free to take care of your workers. As Christians—God’s free forgiven people—you are free to be slaves—slaves to people around you, free for service.

By God’s grace, may it be so for you—free from sin before God, free for service to your neighbor. If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. Amen.

 

Homily for St. Michael and All Angels (Observed) - 2020

"Seeing the Battle"

Luke 10:17-20

Blurry vision is better than no vision at all.

So I discovered this past Friday on my early morning bike ride. As I began my ride in the dark, I could see it was foggy. The further I rode, the soupier the fog became—like pea soup, as we say. The longer I rode, the more the moisture collected on my glasses, blocking my vision. When I stopped at the light at Holly Hills and Morganford, I removed my glasses and used my cycling jersey to wipe off the condensation. Well, that moved the water droplets around a bit. I had to stop again, after another mile and a half; then again after another mile. I even tried using my fingers as “windshield wipers” on my glasses as I rode. Finally, I decided simply to remove my glasses, put them in my jersey pocket, and ride the final five miles with blurry but better vision. It was much safer than riding with vision cut off by countless tiny water droplets and some finger smudges.

In a way, the 72 disciples of Jesus had to learn this lesson too. Jesus had sent them out to “Heal the sick…and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you’” (Lk. 10:9). He had enlisted them in the very same combat mission in which He was engaged. The difference between Jesus and His 72 sent out ones is this: He can clearly see the battle that’s raging. His fallen-but-redeemed human messengers? Not so much.

You see, wherever Jesus goes, whatever He does, He goes marching into battle. Remember when Jesus entered this fallen world. King Herod tried to snuff out the life of Mary and Joseph’s Child. By God’s direction they fled to Egypt for a time. Remember about 30 years later after Jesus was baptized. He was “led by the Spirit in the wilderness for forty days, being tempted by the devil” (Lk. 4:2). There He battled the arch enemy over some food, some physical protection, and a whole lot of earthly glory.

When He returned to His hometown of Nazareth, He used His synagogue sermon to set out the agenda for His ministry. He would proclaim good news to the poor and liberty to the captives. The blind would receive their sight, and the oppressed would be set free. He would proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor (Lk. 4:16-19). At first His hearers marveled at His gracious words. But then He confronted them with their own pride and unbelief. So they drove Him out of the town and tried to throw Him off the cliff. But He passed through the riotous crowd and walked away.

Then came the teachings and healings. Every word He spoke and every person He healed was a frontal assault on the ruler of this world. He spoke of God’s gracious reign entering—that is, invading—this world so darkened by suspicion, hatred, discontent, violence, and death. He spoke of the God who loves and forgives His fallen people, even though those same fallen people are prone to ignore Him. To those who do receive His message of divine grace, mercy, and forgiveness, He also spoke of not being judgmental but rather loving one’s neighbor in many and various ways. And the healings! Folks were liberated from various captivities: demon-possession, leprosy, paralysis, withered hands, sicknesses leading to death, even death itself.

Wherever Jesus goes, whatever He does, He brings the age-old battle to the enemy—the great dragon, that ancient serpent. The 72 were sent out with the same battle plan: to heal the sick and proclaim the coming of God’s gracious kingdom in Christ. When they returned to Jesus, they took pride in what they had done. “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!” They were giddy in their apparent victory and success. But their glasses were covered with the pea-soup fog of pride.

Yes, Jesus did see Satan fall like lightning from heaven, both at the beginning of creation and every time His sent ones proclaimed His kingdom of mercy and forgiveness. Yes, Jesus had given them authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and even over all the power of the enemy. He even promised that nothing would hurt them. But they needed to remove their glasses fogged up with pride. “Don’t rejoice that some junior devils are subject to you when you proclaim Me,” Jesus says. “Instead, ‘rejoice that your names are written in heaven.’”

It seems a bit counterintuitive, doesn’t it? Engage in the same war Jesus is engaged in, but do not focus on victories in the minor skirmishes? We do need to remove our glasses fogged up with the pea soup of pride. We do need to see with better clarity even if, to us, it’s still blurry.

You see, we are at war. Not against nations or terrorists. Not a ground war, sea war, air war, nuclear war, or war against a microscopic virus. Not a war against flesh and blood. We are at war “against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph. 6:12). It’s cosmic, spiritual warfare. We can see it only with blurred vision, which is better than not seeing because of pride.

In our Old Testament reading, we see the battle lines drawn. It’s the wise versus the wicked. It’s the kings of the earth lined up against the people of God. But they are not the only ones on the battlefield. There’s also Michael, the prince of God’s people. He and his forces confront and engage the antichrist.

This picture comes into clearer focus in our reading from Revelation. Michael and his ranks of angels do battle against the dragon and his fallen angels. And they defeat the the dragon and his evil minions. The victory comes in a most unexpected, unanticipated way. “They have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they loved not their lives even unto death” (Rev. 12:11). Our Lord Jesus, who had seen Satan fall like lightning from heaven, finally conquered the old evil foe. He who was higher than the angels became a little Child, humble, trusting His heavenly Father, and obedient unto death. By dying on a cross and shedding His innocent blood He conquered the ancient serpent. That with His resurrection on the third day crushed the serpent’s head. That’s the victory we can clearly see.

But the fighting is not over. Between that victory on Calvary and the Feast of Victory after the Last Day, the devil and his forces are still in the world doing their dirty work. Remember, “your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion” (1 Pet. 5:8). He and his forces will do whatever it takes to further their cause. They’ll use pandemics and responses to pandemics to turn people away from Jesus, prevent them from hearing His Word and receiving His Sacrament, and sow seeds of suspicion and division among people. They’ll use highly charged politics in an election year and violence in the streets to make fears and anxieties grow.

This is why, in our Gospel reading, our Lord warns His disciples not to become pawns of the evil one. How might you and I become pawns of the dragon in his battle against our Lord and His Church? By succumbing to pride. By desiring greatness and acclaim. By forgetting we are the Lord’s “little ones” who can see only with the clarity of faith, even as we have the blurred vision of physical sight.

As the Church engages in the struggle against Satan and his demonic forces, she does so with St. Michael and the holy angels at her side. In Holy Baptism, we become God’s “little children.” Our Father hears our prayers and sends His angels to guard us in all our ways. In Holy Absolution we hear our Father’s word of pardon for our offenses, including our offenses against weaker members of His family. In the Holy Supper we participate in the Feast of Victory and are fed with Life Himself as our living Bread from heaven. And in the liturgy we are brought into the very presence of our Lord Jesus and join the angels and archangels in their unending hymn of praise.

Let this St. Michael and All Angels Day remove your lenses of pride and improve your vision. We may not be able to see the battle against the spiritual forces of evil nor the holy angels themselves. But your Lord, by His blood, has conquered the evil foe. Your Lord sends His angels to serve as your powerful protectors. Rejoice that your names are written heaven. Amen.

Homily for Trinity 15

"Liberated from Anxious Worry"

Matthew 6:24-34

A Swedish proverb says, “Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow.” How true that is! This odd year called 2020 is conditioning us to make and live in lots of big shadows. Remember when the pandemic started and we endured the big shadow of toilet paper and paper towel shortages? I still have no idea what a run on paper goods rolled on cardboard tubes had to do with COVID, but there it was—that big shadow.

One anonymous source tried to calculate just what makes people anxious. According to that source,
40% of the average person’s anxieties focus on things that never happen;
30% of a person’s anxieties focus on things of the past, things that cannot be changed;
12% of one’s anxieties are over criticisms, which are mostly untrue;
10% of a person’s anxieties are over health issues, and those health issues only get worse with stress; and
only 8% of the average person’s anxieties are about real problems.   

We fallen creatures seem to relish giving small things a big shadow. Or, how about this picture for your worries and anxieties: Worry is like a rocking chair. It may give you something to do, but it gets you nowhere.

Our Lord knows this. He also knows how His disciples, both then and now, are so very prone to anxious worry. So He invites us to learn from the little birds and the tiny lily. He woos and invites us to be liberated from our anxious worry.

First, Jesus gives us an “either/or” lesson for looking at the world. Just before our text, He said, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Mt. 6:21). Then with His first words in our Gospel, He says: “No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.” You cannot divide your loyalties. You cannot simultaneously serve God and money. You cannot simultaneously serve God and anxious worry. There is only room in your heart for one lord and master. Will it be God, or will it be your anxious worry? As Luther said, “The confidence and faith of the heart alone make both God and an idol…. [W]hatever you set your heart on and put your trust in is truly your god” (LC I:2-3).

Next, Jesus gives us His wonderfully simple object lessons of the little birds and the tiny lily.

What can we learn from the little birds? One time Martin Luther was overwhelmed by the vast variety of birds in God’s creation. He pondered how much it might cost God to feed them all with so many different kinds of seeds and berries. Wouldn’t a few standard types of birds be more economical?, Luther wondered. There are robins, ravens, jackdaws, crows, canaries, cardinals, wrens, finches, and so many more. Yet God knows each and every one of them. And no petite hummingbird falls to the ground dead without God knowing it. They neither grow nor harvest their own crops, nor store their food in barns. “Yet,” Jesus says, “your heavenly Father feeds them.”

So who among you, people of God—people more valuable than those little birds, people bought back with the blood of Christ—who among you can add a mere 18 inches to your long-distance marathon of life? After all, you live your lives under the Father’s care. You live your lives with the Son’s cross-won forgiveness. Why be anxious? Why worry about a new disease that we now know has a 99% survivability rate? Why worry about destructive riots and devastating wildfires? Oh, I know, many in the media and some of our leaders keep stoking the fires of fear and anxiety. But they cannot overrule your Father’s promises in Jesus.

As Proverbs reminds you: “Anxiety in a man's heart weighs him down, but a good word makes him glad” (12:25). That good word is your Father’s love through Christ crucified for anxious sinners. The psalmist also reminds you: “It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep” (Ps. 127:2). You may rest safe and secure in your Father’s care.

What can we learn from the tiny lily? Now this is not the splendid, fragrant Easter lily, tall and proud. No, this is the tiny little flower you see growing in bunches in the grass along the roadside. This tiny lily grows as a creature of God. This miniature flower does not make itself grow, but God makes this lily grow. It is entirely dependent upon His goodness and provision. So it waits on God for its growth and strength. And it accepts God’s good design. It knows it is not a mighty oak tree. The tiny lily is not impatient. It has no hurry or fluster. It has a deep quiet and a strong peace.

We might think also of Mary’s Baby—quiet, hidden in her womb for nine months, and growing as God provided. Then after He was born, He grew into a young boy, He would go to school, play, help around the house, and perhaps play with the tiny lilies, without a care in the world. Remember this when you get flustered, impatient, and overshadowed with anxious worry. Remember the tiny lily. Especially remember the lily of the valleys, your Lord Jesus, who came from Mary, the rose of Sharon (Songs 2:1).

Not only is this tiny lily in Jesus’ object lesson a creature of God; it also lives solely to God. It has no anxious toil for security and safety in life. It does not spin or store up in banks or retirement funds. It does not worry about where to get clothing, food, drink, or toilet paper. It simply finds its fulfillment in living with the design and purpose given by God. Even its appearance and beauty is a gift from God. That’s what makes it more splendid and beautiful than Solomon in his luxurious glory.

But notice what else Jesus says about the tiny lily: today it’s alive and tomorrow it’s thrown into the oven. The lily can die quietly and without complaint. In death as in life, the lily lives only by God’s design and only with God’s purpose.

So too, the lily of the valleys, our Lord Jesus. He came into this sin-cursed world, this creation that groans under the weight of sin and death, to live God’s purpose of rescue and healing. He was crushed by the curse and thrown into the oven of crucifixion. He died without complaint, as He died for you and your salvation. And you know the rest of the story. He also rose again! His resurrection means your resurrection. His life restored means your life restored and creation restored for all eternity.

When it’s your time to die, you may die quietly and without complaint. This is true whether you die from natural causes, from COVID, in the path of a riot, or a wildfire, or a hurricane, or from something else. No need to be anxious, because your Father cares for you.

Jesus is drawing and wooing and inviting you to be free from all anxious worry over all of your needs. How can you do this? “Seek first the [reign] of God and His righteousness.” Receive His blessing and His calling that come only through Jesus. Keep seeking Jesus where He promises to be found. Keep seeking His gracious rule in the forgiveness of sins. You seek His reign when you seek His Gospel in the Scriptures and the Sacraments. You seek His reign with your brothers and sisters in Christ. Together you are joined to Jesus in your Baptism. Together you gather to hear His Word of life that makes anxiety dissipate. Together you receive His Body and Blood for forgiveness, life, and salvation.

“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:1-3). Amen.

Homily for Trinity 14

"Lepers Cleansed"

Luke 17:11-19

The ten lepers are us, and we are the ten lepers. They suffered from physical leprosy that ravaged their bodies. We and all people suffer from spiritual leprosy that ravages both body and soul. These ten lepers give us a picture of the human race infected with the leprosy of sin.

When we hear the term “leprosy,” we usually think of Hansen’s disease—a bacterial infection that can affect nerves, skin, and eyes and then lead to a loss of feeling and even paralysis. In the Bible, leprosy certainly included that, but it probably also included illnesses such as eczema—a skin rash—and dermatitis—scaly, flaking skin and itchiness.

Our sin is like leprosy in several respects:

• Leprosy affects and destroys the whole body. Sin totally infects, affects and destroys our strength in both body and soul—nothing sound from head to toe.
• Leprosy is a disease that spreads. So does sin, coming into the world through one man and spreading to us all. St. Paul calls it “the works of the flesh”—with all those nasty symptoms of “sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger” and so on—all those symptoms that even present themselves in us.
• Leprosy cannot be healed by man’s efforts. Today, treatments may prevent the disease from getting worse, but they cannot reverse the  damage. And remember the story of Naaman. He sought healing from the King of Israel, but the King of Israel cried out, “Am I God, to kill and to make alive?” (2 Kgs. 5:7). Sin absolutely cannot be healed by human means—not by doctors, paramedics, or politicians. After all, those “desires of the flesh are against the Spirit.”
• Leprosy is a viral disease that spreads to others who are healthy. Modern medicine may quibble with just how it spreads. Sin itself does spread its contamination. Consider the many ways our fallen world infects us all in thought, word and deed to think, speak and act in ways that go against God’s Word, ways that lead us to distrust God and be unloving to our neighbor—“rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies and things like these.”
• And leprosy, once it takes hold, eats its way more and more through the body. Likewise, sin. Because of this infection we all have, one sin leads to another, and that one easily to yet another. First, the desire; then the misdeed; then the excuse; then the cover-up; then the lie; and so on.

If it weren’t for our leprosy of sin, we would not need police officers, laws, penalties or rulings of law courts. If it weren’t for our leprosy of sin, we would not have to endure racial tensions, injustices, pandemics or destructive rioting.

In the Old Testament, God instructed His people on how to deal with lepers. Lepers had to separate themselves from everyone else because their diseases of infected, decaying, rotting flesh could infect others. When healthy people walked by, the lepers were supposed to warn them by crying out “Unclean!” When a person was infected with leprosy, he had to show himself to the priest. The priest would pronounce him unclean, and the person would have to quarantine in the leper colony outside the city. Social distancing, Bible-style!

When a leper was healed of his leprosy, he would again show himself to the priest, the priest would offer the appropriate sacrifices, and then pronounce him “clean.” In Leviticus 14, cleansing of lepers happened, first, by killing a bird in an earthen vessel over fresh, living water. Next, a live bird, a piece of cedarwood, and a scarlet yarn were dipped in that water mixed with blood. Then the priest, using the live bird wet with blood and water, would “sprinkle it seven times on him who is to be cleansed of the leprous disease” (Lev. 14:7). As God said, “Thus the priest shall make atonement for [the leper], and he shall be clean” (Lev. 14:20).

So, let’s imitate the ten lepers as Jesus comes passing along between the Samaria and Galilee of our lives. Let’s lift up our voices and cry out: “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” And let’s listen to and heed Him when He bids us to show ourselves to the priest. No, not those priests at the Jerusalem temple, but Jesus, our great High Priest who has passed through the heavens (Heb. 2:14). “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 2:15).

How can we be healed and saved from our spiritual leprosy? Only by finding our way to Jesus, the sole physician for the soul. “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Heb. 2:16). “Offered was He for greatest and for least, / Himself the victim and Himself the priest” (LSB 637:1). Not only is Jesus both victim and priest for you, He is also the dead bird and the living bird for you. He is the One who cleanses you “by the washing of water with [His] word, so that He might present [you] to Himself in splendor” (Eph. 5:26-27), cleansed of your leprosy of sin.

Actually, we don’t have to find our way to Him. He has found His way to us! Just as the ten lepers were cleansed before they found their way to the priests—not by their own reason or strength, nor by their decision or will—we are cleansed in the bath of our Baptism—not by our own reason, strength, decision or will. Our baptismal bath sprinkles us with the very blood and water that flowed from the side of Christ crucified. He is the One who was crucified outside the city. He is the One who comes by water and blood; not by the water only but by the water and the blood (1 Jn. 5:6).

Now let’s put ourselves in the shoes of the one cleansed leper who returned to Jesus. Let’s take our cue from him on how to live all of life in our Baptism. I’m sure the other nine former lepers were generically thankful as civic courtesy and politeness would dictate. But they went on to live their lives apart from Jesus. The Samaritan, however, “turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving Him thanks.” He did more than just give thanks. He gave praise to God. He returned to the Giver of the gift of cleansing. He was not merely content to enjoy the gift; he wanted to enjoy and be with the Giver.

That’s living your baptismal life. Not just a generic thankfulness for a quick healing. Not just a slight nod and a mental note that something special happened a long time ago, but then getting back to “real life.” No, the baptismal life is about living all of life in Jesus, with Jesus, and in the presence of Jesus. Daily contrition and repentance. Drowning that Old Adam in you. Making him die with all sins and evil desires every day. And then—thank the Lord and sing His praise!—emerging and arising every day to live before God in righteousness and purity forever. Your one-time baptismal cleansing becomes your daily hygiene routine—not a burdensome routine, but a joyful living in the blood and water that continually heals and cleanses.

We all wrestle with sin every day. That leprous disease keeps flaring up even in us who are cleansed by Jesus’ blood and water. We will keep wrestling with our leprous sin until Jesus returns on the Last Day. It’s not a matter of Jesus’ healing not fully doing its job. It has! It’s a matter of living in faith, continually receiving His cleansing, and thus praising Him as did the Samaritan.

Martin Luther confessed this in the face of those who deny that sin remains after Baptism. The fact that sin remains after Baptism undercuts every notion of perfectionism—that is, thinking you can be free of sin or attain a sin-free life this side of heaven. It also topples any notion of “once-saved-always-saved.” While the healing for that Samaritan and the other nine was instantaneous, Jesus chooses to heal us over the long-haul. The sin is forgiven, to be sure; Jesus’ healing, though, is ongoing. Here’s how Luther expressed it:

“This life…is not godliness but the process of becoming godly, not health but getting well, not being but becoming, not rest but exercise. We are not now what we shall be, but we are on the way. The process is not yet finished, but it is actively going on. This is not the goal but it is the right road. At present, everything does not gleam and sparkle, but everything is being cleansed.” (“A Defense and Explanation of All Articles” [AE 32:24]).

So we return to Jesus yet again, at His Table. “Draw near and take the body of the Lord, / And drink the holy blood for you outpoured” (LSB 637:1). We return to receive the healing He gives. We return to give praise to Him.

“Let us praise the Word Incarnate,
Christ, who suffered in our place.
Jesus died and rose victorious
That we may know God by grace.
Let us sing for joy and gladness,
Seeing what our God has done;
Let us praise the true Redeemer,
Praise the One who makes us one” (LSB 849:3).

Amen.

Homily for Trinity 11 - 2020

"In Which Line Do You Stand?"

Luke 18:9-14

“Get in line, now!” Remember your grade school teacher’s voice repeating that command, several times each school day? Much of our school days were about learning how to stand in line, wait in line, and practice proper “line etiquette.” Stand right behind the child in front of you, not to the side. Don’t squirm or fidget or push others. And certainly do not, ever, cut in line. That got you into trouble in the lunch line and when you went out to recess. No one likes a line-cutter. After all, that’s cheating. Instead, be good, stand and walk single file, wait your turn, and you’ll get where you’re going in due time.

The reason we learn to stand in line during the school day is so that we can properly stand in line the rest of our lives. It’s a skill and an art form. All the more so these days, trying to stand on those social distancing stickers or mentally measuring the appropriate six feet. We do it at Schnucks when we get our groceries. Oh, and the scowls that come when that guy three people behind you cuts ahead of you when you weren’t looking!

Then there’s the sense of shame that comes from standing in the wrong line, waisting your time and having to go to the end of the other line. Think of the DMV, when you go to renew your driver’s license. You walk in, grab your little paper ticket with the number on it, and wait. (At the DMV, sitting in chairs is just another form of standing in line.) Finally, your number is called, you go to the desk and the gal sitting there says, “Sorry, this is the line for plate renewals. You’ll have to go over there and take another number.” So you start all over again.

Today’s Gospel shows two examples of getting in line. The Pharisee was a line-cutter, for sure. He strolled past everyone else and went to the front of the line. The Pharisee had priority. He deserved attention before anyone else. He pulled out his credentials and laid his papers on God’s desk. They were proof of his rights and claims. The Pharisee also knew to be polite. So he politely thanked God. It was only politeness, of course, because he was a self-made man. True thankfulness is the response to a gift. And accepting a gift means admitting you need and receive help from someone else. The Pharisee wasn’t going to admit that and weaken his case. He didn’t need any help. He trusted in himself. But it was still nice to be polite and thank God.

As the Pharisee stood at God’s desk, he looked around at others in the office. “A pretty sorry bunch,” he thought to himself. There’s the man who can’t get customers into his electronics shop. He must be overcharging them, underserving them, or both. Then he sternly looked at the child who suddenly wailed…and even more sternly at the irritated mother who had just corrected her child. The Pharisee saw no one who was like himself. This made him feel comfortable and pleased. His chances were good.

Most of us find it both necessary and gratifying to see someone as less than ourselves. We like our car more when we see that it’s better than someone else’s. When things go wrong in our lives, we console ourselves that others are worse off than we are. We crave being better than others around us. It may be in stronger muscles than the other guy or in a better singing voice than that gal. It may be in making a better salary or having better behaved children.

The Pharisee had no problem finding people less than himself. So he listed his superiorities. He fasted twice a week while most ordinary folks fasted only once a week, if that. The Pharisees thought that their extra measure of fasting would make up for, even atone for, those other schlubs who obviously had more sins. And while the “hoi polloi” would busy themselves at the unclean marketplace, the Pharisees would fast with special services and prayers—for the sins of those at the market, of course.

The Pharisees did the same with the tithe. God’s Law required a tenth of your produce or income. But those poor farmers and traders did not give the required tithe. So Pharisees upped their ante. Not only would they tithe on their income, but also on whatever they purchased. After all, that flour or sheep might just be untithed goods.

So the Pharisees did have a lot to show for themselves. They did live clean, decent, useful lives. They did their best to fulfill God’s Law and be responsible for their neighbors.

Now before we condemn those Pharisees, we should compare their exemplary lives with our own. How many of us are ready to give 10 percent twice to the Lord, first for our income, then second for every purchase we make? How many of us look down on the Pharisees for relying on their works? After all, we Lutherans know we’re saved only by grace through faith; it’s the gift of God, not a result of works. No, dear saints, we may not condemn that Pharisee. Instead, we must learn to recognize and condemn this Pharisee, the one each of us sees in the mirror. You see, each of us measures himself/herself over against other people and finds himself/herself bigger and better than they.

This is not even the height of being a Pharisee. That comes when we take God’s Law and use it to glorify ourselves before God Himself. We think we are good, decent and moral people. We actually expect God to agree with our good opinion of ourselves. We conclude that we are self-made persons whom God Himself should admire and look up to. But such lofty evaluations of ourselves only block us from seeing God, from seeing ourselves alone in His presence.

There was someone that day who did know that he stood alone in the presence of the personal, holy, living God. And he was afraid. He did not get in the line; he stayed outside the church. That line was for the good people who had tamed God. This man didn’t even think he knew how to pray. He did not know the proper phrases or gestures. He just blurted out the truth about himself. He was a sinner. He needed mercy. He cried to God.

Realizing this comes not from comparing oneself with other people, but by standing in the presence of God. There every pretense and deception is stripped away. How does God judge each of us? He says, “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy” (Lev. 19:2). We are not at all as God is. He is holy; we are sinners. No amount of comparing ourselves with others can change that.

So the tax collector blurts out: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” He thinks other people may be all right; he does not judge them. He stands alone before God. It’s between him and God. And sinners have no rights before God. He gave God the right to condemn and reject him. He was a sinner and needed God. He cried to God for blood-bought mercy. Only by the mercy of God could he stand. And so he returned to his house having received mercy. He returned with God. The tax collector was in the right line after all. This line has a sign above it that says: “For Sinners Only.”

Our Lord Jesus does not condemn the exemplary life of the Pharisee, nor does He commend the dishonest life of the tax collector. He simply points out how the Pharisee tries to negotiate and bargain with God, while the tax collector surrenders every right and claim. You see, mercy is possible only when you surrender yourself into God’s hands and God’s decision.

The Pharisee could not and did not do that, but the tax collector did. And he, by God’s grace in Christ crucified and risen, went down to his house justified. He was given mercy by the bloody sacrifice of Jesus. He was forgiven. Now he was God’s free, joyful, and grateful man.

So the question for you is this: in which line do you stand?

“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” Amen.

Homily for Trinity 3 - 2020

"Shepherd vs. Lion"
Luke 15:1-10 & 1 Peter 5:6-11

Listen here.

Before he became Israel’s greatest king, David was but a lowly shepherd. In fact, when God sent Samuel to Jesse to anoint one of his sons as the next king of Israel, to succeed Saul, they had to go find David as he was out tending his father’s sheep. Once anointed, David also entered the service of King Saul. And what service it would turn out to be!

Saul then led the army of Israel out to battle with the army of the Philistines. There they were confronted by the giant named Goliath, who taunted and struck fear into the soldiers of God’s army. “They were dismayed and greatly afraid” (1 Sam. 17:11). Along came David on a mission of mercy to deliver food to three of his older brothers on the front lines. As Israel’s mighty men cowered in fear, young David bravely stepped up to fight the Philistine giant. His brother Eliab angrily questioned David’s motives for being there. King Saul questioned David about how he, a smaller youth, could fight the huge, battled-tested Goliath. David answered: “Your servant has struck down both lions and bears, and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be like one of them, for he has defied the armies of the living God” (1 Sam. 17:36). The humble shepherd had come to battle the roaring lion, and you know how that story went. Youthful David, trusting in and calling upon his God, conquered mighty Goliath with a sling and a stone.

The stage is now set for what we hear today. In our Gospel reading we hear of a shepherd; in our Epistle, we hear of a roaring lion. We heard of and celebrated this Shepherd back in the Easter season. He’s the Good Shepherd who lays down His life and takes it up again for His sheep. Back in the Easter season we were but new-born babes, reveling in that blessed time of childhood as we celebrated our Lord’s resurrection. Now that Pentecost and the Holy Spirit have come, we are declared of age. We are called to grow up and live with courage in this wild, woolly fallen world.

During the weeks of Easter, we focused on our Good Shepherd. Now, in the “green season,” this time of living and growing in God’s grace and care, we are confronted with our very real needs of life. A disturber of the peace rears its ugly head. That enemy is the sin that dwells within, spurred on by the adversary who prowls around like a roaring lion. So Jesus—Son of David, the greater David, our Good Shepherd—reminds us what He comes to do, what is most important, what is most comforting, what gives us both solace and strength.

The Shepherd has one hundred sheep. One of them goes astray. He leaves the ninety-nine to find the one. “And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing.” The sheep does not rescue itself. The sheep is too scared to find its own way back to the Shepherd or the fold. The Shepherd does all the heavy-lifting. The Shepherd finds you who are lost in your doubts, your fears, your misplaced loyalties—your sin. Then He puts you on His shoulders and rejoices. It’s a beautiful picture of what happens every Divine Service, from Invocation to Benediction, with hearing His Word and receiving His Body and Blood in between.

And to show that this is no mere “me-and-Jesus” time, to show that each of us absolutely needs the gifts of Jesus in the Body of Christ—both the Word and the Sacrament—our Shepherd brings us home to the flock and calls for rejoicing together. “When he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’” Not “alone-together,” but “together-together.” Not rugged individualism, but community rejoicing.

Now the truly joyous message is Jesus’ punchline after each of His two parables before us: “There is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” How do we live and grow in the grace and care of our Shepherd? By repentance. How do we conduct ourselves in the face of pandemic in the world, propaganda in the media, and pandemonium in the streets? With repentance. We repent of our doubts, of our fears, of our penchant to rely on human-defined notions of safety and security, of health and healing, over our Shepherd Himself. As Luther reminded us, the whole life of the Christian is one of repentance—one of living in sorrow for our sin and the ways we stray, one of relying on the Shepherd Himself to pick us up in mercy, place us on His shoulders and bring us home to His font, pulpit, and altar.

You see, we do have an adversary prowling around—the devil himself. And he constantly seeks to devour you and your brothers and sisters in Christ. He always seeks to divide and scatter the Lord’s flock. He will use anything and everything to maximize your anxiety and minimize your trust in Jesus—viruses old and new; pandemonium in the streets; ineffective, weak-kneed leaders; media bent on stirring up fear and panic; and toxic, vitriolic debates on social media. The list could go on. Yes, we renounced him and all his ways in our Baptism, but he still prowls around, and too often we allow ourselves to be deceived. Too often we allow him and what’s happening in the world to divert our eyes and our ears from our Shepherd.

It’s why Peter calls us to humble ourselves under God’s mighty hand—another way of saying live in repentance. It’s why Peter reminds us of Psalm 55: “Cast your burden on the Lord, and He will sustain you” (v. 22a). You may cast your anxieties—each and every one of them—on your Good Shepherd because He cares for you. He has laid down His life for you. He has conquered the lion, that old evil foe, for you. He has given you His resurrection life in your Baptism. He continues to sustain you through His Word put in your ears and His Body and Blood placed on your tongue.

And what about Jesus’ second parable? Just as the Shepherd searched for and found His lost sheep, a woman searched for and found her lost coin. Let’s take this woman as the Church, our mother in the faith. What is the Church’s task in this broken, fallen, chaotic world? She also searches and seeks after what is lost. She—that’s you, me, and all Christians—is called to find sinful people and bring them home to life with the Shepherd and in His flock. She kindles and carries the light who is Christ Jesus—the light that shines, warms and gives life through font, pulpit and altar.

What are we, the Church, to search for? The lost coin of the human soul fallen and defaced through sin. The analogy of the soul as a coin is marvelous. A coin bears the stamp of an image, usually an honored leader. Think of the image of George Washington on a quarter or Abraham Lincoln on a penny. What is the image stamped on your soul and the soul of your fellow human being? The image of God, of course, King of kings and Lord of lords. The problem is, ever since the Garden of Eden, that image has been defaced and erased, wrecked and ruined by sin. We can see it in ourselves. We can really see it in all the chaos of the world, especially in recent days and weeks. Humans acting and behaving less than human in matters of race; in rioting, looting and killing; and in efforts to critique, control, even condemn those who speak or or even think different points of view. The image of God in the soul has been defaced and demolished.

You and I and all in our Lord’s Church have a unique, precious, and life-restoring calling. Our Lord Jesus is the image of the invisible God. Through His Word and Sacraments He restores and re-etches His image on us. We are called to shine the light that is Christ into the dark, chaotic, fearful world and search for souls darkened by sin. Just as we are being transformed into the image of Christ through Baptism, Word, and Supper, we are privileged to seek out other lost souls and bring them home to our Savior, so that they too may bear the image of the Man of heaven.

So our Shepherd has overcome the roaring lion that leads you and your fellow human beings to live in fear. He picks us up and carries us home. He does not remove His sheep from His shoulders, and He seeks to carry every lost one home to eternal life with Him. Amen.

Homily for Trinity 2 - 2020

The following homily was skillfully crafted and excellently delivered by Rev. Ahren Reiter (my favorite son-in-law!), the first homily he delivered after his ordination. Thank you, Ahren, for your permission to post it here.

"The Call Issues Forth"
Proverbs 9:1-10; Ephesians 2:13-23; Luke 14:15-24

Listen here.

One - Wisdom
Wisdom builds her house with care
Seven pillars strong, of stone
There she works to make a feast
Choicest meat and finest wine
“Come,” she bids from street and square
Sending forth her maidens fair
From Wisdom it’s spoken, the call issues forth

Up and down the paths they roam
Calling out from high, from low
“Turn aside and leave your ways
Lest you bring yourself to harm
Rush not headlong into danger”
Wisdom and her host implore
From rooftop, from mountain, the call issues forth

“Blessèd is the man who listens
Watching daily at my door
Finding me is finding life
Failing to results in death
Seek you favor from the Lord?
Hearken, then, unto my words”
To mankind, invited, the call issues forth

“Drink my proverbs, sweetest draughts
Tantalizing to the tongue
Eat my food, all which comprises
Words to satisfy the soul
Finest meat, my teachings rival
Pleasure lies in tasting, chewing.”
Wisdom’s feast is prepared; the call issues forth.

Notice, now, whom she addresses
“Let the simple come in here”
Not the proud, the mighty ones
Does she beckon to come near.
“Leave your simple ways and live
Walk in ways of understanding.”
To mankind, the simple, the call issues forth.

Wisdom starts with fearing God
Knowledge of the Holy One
Heed rebuke, don’t chide a mocker
Lest he hate you for your words
But wise men grow wiser still
When correction comes their way
To the humble in heart, the call issues forth

And what about you, Christian, what about you?

Do you scorn when words correct you?
Are you wise in your own eyes?
Have you courted grave disaster
Cherishing your wounded pride?
Are you quick to speak, not listen,
Gossip rolling off your tongue?
Then to you, dear sinner, the call issues forth.

Two - The Master
Likewise does the master call
Many to his banquet hall
Sends his servants far and wide
To proclaim the time has come
“Everything is ready now”
Hear the blessèd, summoned ones
To them, the invited, the call issues forth.

But as we know life impedes
We are busy people, we
One has real estate to see
Purchase prices are agreed
“Till the land and sow the seed
I’ve a family to feed.”
To unfertile soil, the call issues forth.

Yet another needs to try
Yokes of oxen numb’ring five
Thus he counters with a sigh
“They won’t work unless I drive”
“Please excuse me!” his reply
Stopping short the servant’s cry.
To stubborn-hearted beasts, the call issues forth.

Still one more says “I am married!
Just today to home I’ve carried
My new wife and we are wearied
I can’t come, for I am worried
Won’t my life become too harried?”
Thus the servant’s words are parried
To the heedless lovers, the call issues forth

And the servant now returning
Bears the awful news to home
Meets his master and reporting
Says “No invitations, none,
Found a home in any heart.
All have given up their part.”
To the unwilling guests, the call issues forth

And what about you, Christian, what about you?

Fire flashes in his eyes
As the master bellows out
“Go into the streets and alleys
Find the crippled, blind, and lame.
Invitations for the poor
These my banquet shall enjoy.”
To those dead to the world, the call issues forth

And what about you, Christian, what about you?

Do you find yourself drawn near
Crowding to the banquet hall?
Awkwardly you come to knock
See the door in disbelief?
How could such as I be brought
Wounded as I am within?
To us who’ve nothing left, the call issues forth

Three - Christ
Stuck are we, outside the door
Only righteousness goes in
Never could we hope to enter
Never taste the food within
Who will help us in our weakness?
Who will cleanse our hearts of sin?
“Lord, have mercy!” we cry.  The call issues forth

We dare not cry for justice
But rather beg for peace
Should God give what we deserve
Hell were ours to keep
Not a seat at Wisdom’s place
Nor the feast the master makes
“Kyrie eleison!”  The call issues forth

Notice how the master acts
Notice now, what Wisdom does
Turn your eyes to fix on Jesus
God incarnate, from above
How does he take up our cause?
How does he “identify”?
“Behold the Lamb of God!” the call issues forth

Jesus comes, takes up our cause
Jesus comes to set us free
Not renouncing “privilege”
Divine, imagined, otherwise
But in emptying himself
Taking up the flesh of man
“Today, a savior’s born,” the call issues forth

True God, he is, and true man
The champion at our side
The righteous one intercedes
The very Son comes to die!
He takes our place, he wins peace
He takes the curse; he steps in
“Why have you forsaken?” the cry issues forth

For He, Himself, is our peace
Safe within His arms we rest
Wrath of God shall not destroy us
Justice falls on Jesus’ head
Penalty that all men owe
Rests on one, that heavy blow
“It is finished,” He cries.  The call issues forth.

Jesus crushes in his flesh
All things which divide our race
Making from the two men one
(He) Lifts the humble, breaks our pride
Now no longer Jew and Greek
Neither are we black and white
To one new man, not two, the call issues forth

Four - Church
What does it take to make peace?
Where does justice find a home?
In a world where violence reigns
At a time when peoples groan?
Who can break down hostile walls?
Whence will come true unity?
Only from Christ’s body, the call issues forth

Christ himself as cornerstone
Of a building, new and great
Crafts His body, yes, the Church
By His Spirit calls us forth
Living stones th’apostles heed
One foundation with (the) prophets
Wisdom has built her house; the call issues forth

Inward then, we venture now
Once excluded, yet no more.
Strangers of the covenants
Now are children of the Lord.
Newborn in His promises,
Foreigners receive new life
“Join me in my banquet,” the call issues forth

So we leave our simple ways
In repentance new each day
Come to sit at Wisdom’s door
Where we learn to fear the Lord
Hearken as she speaks anew
From the altar to the pew
The Word of God speaks up; the call issues forth

Here we taste the Word of God
First with ear, and then with tongue
Drink its sweet, refreshing flavor
Chew upon it, fill our souls
Taste and see, the Lord is Good!
Smell forgiveness on your breath
His body to our mouths, the call issues forth

Justified, we rise, forgiven
Thankfulness our hearts doth fill
Glorious in jubilation
Souls at rest and conscience still
All renewed to serve the master
And once more our voices raise
In our hymns and praises, the call issues forth

Joining with the host of heav’n
Here we touch eternity
Sing our songs while exalting
God, the Lord, the Trinity
Praise the Father, Praise the Son
Praise the Spirit, three in one
Our voices to heaven, the call issues forth

Five - World
Strengthened, then, we venture out
Our vocations taking up
Fathers, mothers, wives and husbands
Parents, children, and the like
Yet, slaves or masters, none can be
More than Christ, who sets us free
“Take my yoke upon you,” the call issues forth

All disciples, new and old   
Follow in his footsteps now
We are called to greater things
Than our own desires bring
“In this world will suff’ring be.
It hates you for loving me.”
“Take up your cross, follow,” the call issues forth

Jesus’ way indeed is harder
None could take it, none would wish
Its involvement more demanding
Than “renouncing privilege”
Being like the master means
Emptying ourselves of all
“Learn from Jesus to die,” the call issues forth

Wisdom’s call, the master’s call,
The call of Christ, they bid us
To die to sin, to world, to self
Of things that would divide us.
For in His body Christ makes one
Sad Adam’s scattered race
He wrecks our inward-focused lives
Then dons our neighbor’s face
And Christ has overcome the world
Its power now is broken
Our sin, our pride, and Satan,
Have heard their death knell spoken
And death itself defeated
With all its rage and spite
Shies away its ugly head,
Destroyed by Jesus’ might.

Even wars and rumors of
Despot rulers in power
Sickness, disease, loss of love,
Famine, economic ruin
Naught can snatch us from His hand
Who upholds the world at will
Unconquered e’en by death, the call issues forth

Join together, then, one body
Grasping hands through time, through space
Listen to the words of Wisdom
Understand the prophets’ strains
Shout it at the master’s feast
“Alleluia, Christ is ris’n!”
As throughout eternity, the call issues forth

Now may the peace of our God
Passing all understanding
Guard your hearts and minds in faith
Holding tight to Jesus Christ
Till that day of his return
When he brings us to our home
When the final trumpet, the call issues forth.
Amen.

Homily for the Resurrection of Our Lord (2020)

You Cannot Ruin Easter!
Mark 16:1-8

Listen here.

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

You cannot ruin Easter! You cannot cancel it. You cannot put it on pause, mute it, or make it stay home. Just as Jesus burst forth from the tomb that first Easter Sunday, Christians will alway find a way to celebrate this soul-healing, life-changing day. And we will always find ways to bring other people into the sheer joy of it all.

A dark shroud of gloom enveloped the two Marys and Salome as they finally left home to perform their act of loving devotion. Their Lord had died. They had to shelter in place on the Sabbath day until Sunday morning before finishing the task of giving Him a proper burial. But what about that huge stone? Who would roll it away? Their gloom of grief was multiplied by their anxiety over the stone. They were afraid they would not be allowed to care for the dead body of their Jesus.

What gloom envelops you? What anxiety has seized you? What fears of late have shackled you?

Then the women noticed the stone had already been rolled away. So they went into the tomb and saw the young man dressed in a white robe. The other gospels use the term “angel,” but Mark says, “young man.” He’s communicating vibrant life, new creation, and hope renewed. Then the young man tells the women, “Do not be alarmed.” There’s good reason not to be alarmed—for them and for you. Not only had the huge stone been mysteriously rolled away. Not only would the young angelic man not harm them. But “Jesus of Nazareth…has risen; He is not here”…in the tomb, that is. The women were invited to “see the place where they laid Him.” No body; just empty grave cloths.

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Then the women were instructed to go tell His disciples, especially Peter, that Jesus was alive and He would meet them in Galilee. And as they fled the tomb, trembling and astonishment seized them and they closed their lips. “For they were afraid.” Even after hearing the joyous news that Jesus had risen, even after seeing the evidence of empty grave cloths and empty tomb, they still succumbed to fear. Sounds a bit like the disciples themselves forty days later on the mount of the Ascension. As Matthew tells us, even when they saw Jesus in Galilee, “they worshiped him, but some doubted” (Mt. 28:17).

What are you afraid of? What doubts swirl in your soul even as you worship on this most bizarre Easter? Whatever it is, you cannot ruin Easter.

There’s really only one reason we are celebrating Easter in this unprecedented way, on this day, in this year, separated from each other, not able to be in church together, forced to watch online instead of rejoicing live and in person together. No, it’s not the social spacing. It’s not the city or state stay-at-home orders. It’s not even Coronavirus or COVID-19, believe it or not. On the surface, these are the reasons. But they’re not the ultimate reason. There’s only one reason we’re celebrating Easter in this strange fashion.

It’s the same reason we celebrate it every year. I know, in other years we get to gather together. In other years, we’ve been able to have Easter breakfasts, see each other in brand new, festive Easter clothing. In other years, we’ve been able to sing “At the Lamb’s High Feast We Sing” and then actually get to feast together at the Table of the Lamb’s resurrected Body and Blood.

But not this year, unfortunately. And there’s only one reason for it. That reason is DEATH—the Grim Reaper, the rider on the pale horse in the book of Revelation. He and his buddy Hades “were given authority over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by wild beasts of the earth” (Rev. 6:8). Death just happens to be raging in a novel way right now. But there’s nothing new under the sun. Death has reared its hideous head in many and various ways since the Garden of Eden. It may be your loss of a loved one. It may be your own pending funeral. It may be the black plague of the 1300s or the plagues Luther dealt with in Wittenberg or even our current pandemic.

Because Death is raging, we are growing accustomed to rising death tolls. As of this morning, Death has taken just over 20,000 lives in the U.S. by means of Coronavirus. Worldwide, Death has taken over 108,000. (WHO, CDC).

Death has been quite busy all year in all sorts of ways. Here are some death toll figures thus far in 2020 for the whole world (source: worldometers.info, accessed 4/12/20):

• Death by Seasonal flu - 136,000
• Death by Malaria - 275,000
• Death by Suicide - 300,000
• Death by Road traffic accidents - 378,000
• Death by HIV/AIDS - 471,000
• Alcohol-related deaths - 700,000
• Deaths caused by smoking - 1,400,000
• Deaths from cancer - 2,300,000

A LOT of people are dying all around the world just so far this year! And, trust me, Jesus knows a little something about death. He went there. He did that. He spilled His blood and gave up His spirit to forgive you all your sins. And then He burst a gigantic hole in Death’s belly. Now for all who trust Jesus—for you who trust Him—death no longer has dominion over you, just as it has no dominion over Him. (Rom. 6:9).

You cannot ruin Easter. If anything, now is the time for Easter take center stage and brightly shine. Now is the time to trumpet Easter’s joyous message from the housetops and over the internet. (After all, what else to you have to do while you’re hunkering down? :-)

How did St. Paul proclaim it? “Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” We know the world needs to hear that, especially now! While our eyes, ears, hearts and minds seem to be swallowed up by the current method of Death’s raging, we—you and I, with all the saints around the world—we know better. Death has been conquered. Jesus reigns victorious. “The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” You cannot ruin Easter and you certainly cannot make it stay at home.

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Jesus’ resurrection in the body means resurrection in the body for you. “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. But each in his own order: Christ the firstfruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ” (1 Cor. 15:22-23). This is most certainly true no matter the ailment or cause of death. So even when Death rages with a newfound fury, even when death tolls mount, even when everyone around us succumbs to fear and panic, we have hope. We have peace. We have a promise. “For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality.”

You cannot ruin Easter. Nor can you push the pause button on it. Do you realize the golden opportunity we in the Church now have? People are dying. The world is consumed with death. And we alone have the only message of life. We may not be able to meet together right now to sing His praises, but our risen Lord still wants to use our lips and tongues to tell the Good News.

Later in Mark 16, after our Gospel reading, Mary Magdalene did go and tell the disciples that Jesus had risen. Then Jesus appeared to two others—the two on the road to Emmaus—and they went and told the rest. Then Jesus appeared to all of them and said, “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved” (Mk. 16:15-16). He takes His frightened little bunch of followers—both in Mark 16 and in the year 2020—and uses them and their voices to bring His healing Gospel to all of creation—to the anxious, to the sick, to the despairing, to the dying, to everyone. What a golden opportunity! What a joyous privilege and honor!

You cannot keep Jesus, the only good man, down. You cannot keep His Christians from speaking, praising and singing His name. You cannot prevent the message of life, now and into eternity, from getting out. You cannot ruin Easter!

“Death’s flood has lost its chill
Since Jesus crossed the river;
Lover of souls, from ill
My passing soul deliver:
Had Christ, who once was slain,
Not burst His three-day prison,
Our faith had been in vain:
But now has Christ arisen, arisen, arisen;
But now has Christ arisen!” (LSB 482:2)

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Homily for Lent 4 Evening Prayer - 2020

"No Cover for Cover-Ups"
Joshua 7:16-26 & Matthew 27:1-31

This homily was prepared before this evening's Lent Evening Prayer had to be cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

To prepare for the homily, read the Scripture readings above.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.” (Prov. 28:13) Achan sure excelled at concealing his transgressions. Truth is: so do we. But there’s no cover for cover-ups. You see, when we try to cover up our sins, God will make sure that they, and we, are exposed. That’s what we cover-ups have to look forward to on the Last Day.

Achan’s greedy sin and cover up actually began with the Lord’s glorious victory over the city of Jericho. They marched around the city once a day for six days and seven times on the seventh day. They blew their trumpets, the walls came tumbling down, and Israel rushed in to conquer, just as God had promised. It was a glorious victory and a joyous day. But God had also given two clear mandates—first: “keep yourselves from the things devoted to destruction”; and second: “all silver and gold, and every vessel of bronze and iron, are holy to the LORD; they shall go into the treasury of the LORD.”(Josh. 6:18-19)

Then Israel turned to its next target for conquest, the city of Ai. Things went much differently. Intoxicated by the victory at Jericho, they assumed they would conquer yet again. But no! They received the thumping of a lifetime; they got their clocks royally cleaned; and God Himself made sure of it. Despair descended on all Israel. Joshua tore his clothes in humble lamentation. “What happened, Lord? Have you rescued us from Egypt just to turn us over to the godless pagans of Canaan-land?” And how did God respond to being put on trial by his puny, defeated general? “Come on, Joshua! Get up! Man up! ‘Israel has sinned; they have transgressed my covenant that I commanded them; they have taken some of the devoted things; they have stolen and lied and put them among their own belongings.’” (Josh. 7:12)

Can’t you just see Joshua dropping his jaw and scratching his head in confusion? “We, Israel, have sinned? We have taken Your possessions, the spoils from Jericho? No way! We heard Your instruction. We followed Your commands. What on earth is happening?”

The Lord, though, told Joshua how to root out the lone culprit of the people’s demise. The whole people of Israel consecrated themselves and presented themselves before Joshua and before God. Then came the process of elimination: the tribe of Judah was singled out, from them the clan of Zerah, from them the household of Zabdi, and finally Achan, the son of Carmi, the suspect and culprit. The sin of this one man, from this one household in this one clan of the one tribe had spoiled things for all Israel, the whole nation, all the people. Other people died because of Achan’s sin!

“Then Joshua said to Achan, ‘My son, give glory to the LORD God of Israel and give praise to him. And tell me now what you have done; do not hide it from me.” One man’s sin of greed and theft had handicapped the whole people of God. Joshua implored Achan to give glory to God by confessing his specific, concrete sins of greed and theft to him, a fellow sinner.

You see, we all sin because we’re all sinners. And when we sin as individual sinners, we affect and trouble the people around us, especially the whole people of God called the Church. It’s like throwing a single stone into a large pond. It’s only a small piece of rock, but the moment it splashes into the still water, the ripples emanate outward and affect the whole body of water. When one of us commits sin—the single stone tossed into the water—the whole body of Christ is disturbed by the affects that ripple outward. And so, we confess.

“Achan answered Joshua, ‘Truly I have sinned against the LORD God of Israel, and this is what I did: when I saw among the spoil a beautiful cloak from Shinar, and 200 shekels of silver, and a bar of gold weighing 50 shekels, then I coveted them and took them. And see, they are hidden in the earth inside my tent, with the silver underneath.” (Josh. 7:20-21) See how Achan gave glory to God: by getting specific in confessing his sins. Not just: “I coveted and stole something,” but: “I coveted and stole that beautiful cloak, that silver and that gold. And I’ve hidden them in my tent.”

Will we confess our specific sins? In agonizing detail? To a fellow sinner, usually our pastor? Will we confess at the altar rail before the pastor that we get just as greedy as Achan did? Will we expose our sinful stealing such as cheating on those income taxes, or keeping the extra change we mistakenly received, or getting paid for goofing off at work? Will we admit that we actually do steal from God Himself by thinking and claiming that our money and goods belong to us, not to Him, and by living that lie when we give cheaply in the offering or neglect to help our needy neighbor?

I know: Scandalous! But Joshua did call it giving glory to God, even when confessing to a fellow sinner. After all, why should we be nervous about confessing the dirty details of our rotten sins to a fellow sinner who has his own dirty, rotten specific sins? That sinner cannot do anything to us. In fact, he may even be able to relate to us, in that twisted misery-loves-company sort of way. We really should tremble, though, to confess our sins “directly to God,” as we often say. Why? Because He can – and He does – do something about them! Jesus said, “do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear Him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” (Mt. 10:28) Confessing sins to a fellow sinner certainly does not kill the body, but what about the rest of that verse? Well, it still applies. Bury your sin, and God will bury you!

Joshua sent his messengers to find and verify Achan’s stash of stolen goods, and it was there. Then Achan received his just desserts for his sin that troubled all of Israel: he and his family were stoned with stones and burned with fire. What?! No absolution? No forgiveness? No second chance? No…? No. Should we think that Achan’s confession somehow deserved God’s response of absolution? God’s mercy is not founded on Achan’s confession – nor yours, nor mine. No, your confession is where the Achan in you must simply die. No putting the coin of your confession in the heavenly vending machine for absolution to pop out on queue. Just stark, repentant confession that says, “Truly I have sinned against the LORD God.” Then leave it there, and realize the Lord can, does, and will have His way. No cover up for us cover-ups, not even in our confessing.

When we confess, we do pray with Psalm 38(:21-22): “Do not forsake me, O LORD! O my God, be not far from me! Make haste to help me, O Lord, my salvation.” And with the Lord Jesus who suffered mock trial, unjust verdict, cruel mockery, and torturous crucifixion, our God does hasten to help. No, He did not help Achan, but He does promise to help you, to be your salvation. When you bury your sins, God will bury you. But when you expose your sins in confession, God will bury them with His Son hanging from a cross and buried in a tomb. You see, that’s where His true love for sinners is truly exposed—not in the anguish of confessing, not in suffering the just desserts of our sins, but in the glory of Christ crucified, buried and risen. And when He absolves in His mercy, he does not bring the Achan in you back to life. No, He gives you His life, His contentment, His trust in the God who is your salvation.

So we do not cover up, but we confess. And we sing with the hymn:

“O Jesus, let Thy precious blood
    Be to my soul a cleansing flood.
Turn not, O Lord, Thy guest away,
    But grant that justified I may
Go to my house at peace with Thee:
    O God, be merciful to me.” (LSB 613:3)

His blood does cover. His peace does go with you. Yes, He is merciful to you. Amen.

Homily for Lent 4 (Laetare) - 2020

"The Real Game-Changer"
Exodus 16:2-21; Acts 2:41-47; John 6:1-15

Listen here.

Let’s talk COVID-19. Everyone’s talking about it these days. Lately, it’s been just about the only topic of conversation. Okay, some did welcome the news of Tom Brady leaving the New England Patriots as a welcome diversion. But just about everything else centers on COVID-19. Social distancing. Self-quarantines and stay at home orders. The economy in general and the stock market in particular. Sports events cancelled. Certain stores and restaurants closed. You name it, we’re talking about it through the megaphone of Coronavirus. COVID-19 has even changed the way we think, talk and “meme” about toilet paper, of all things!

So let’s just do it. Let’s talk COVID-19. After all, it’s also why we’re here today in such unusual circumstances—a very small crowd allowed here in church, our first ever live-streaming service online, and receiving our Lord’s Body and Blood in shifts today and tomorrow. Everything else on the parish schedule is postponed, up in the air and otherwise uncertain. What does all of it mean? How shall we—how can we—live, survive and respond as the body of Christ? So much fear. So much anxiety. So much uncertainty.

So let’s dive right in. Let’s talk COVID-19, but let’s do so in the light of our Lord’s Word. After all, He is the light of the world. Whoever follows Him will not walk in darkness, gloom, or despair, but will have the light of life (cf. Jn. 8:12). It must be more than happenstance that we celebrate Laetare Sunday when we are suffocating with fears, anxieties, and uncertainties. That historic name for this Fourth Sunday in Lent leads us to lift up our heads and hearts for a bit of fresh air—the fresh air of rejoicing, rejoicing in our Lord Jesus, in His provision, in His refreshment.

Do we have it any worse than the people of Israel in the wilderness? The Lord’s gift of delivering them from Egyptian slavery had cut them off from their supply chains of meat pots and bread to the full. They had socially distanced themselves from their familiar homes in Egypt and were dwelling in tents out in no-man’s land. And the fear, uncertainty and grumbling began. “Would that we had died…,” they cried. No one enjoys being confronted with the unknown wilderness! It can be quite discombobulating, to be sure, but it does happen.

And yet Yahweh was gracious and merciful. It was actually His work of saving them that compelled them to confront the unknown wilderness and face their own fears. So He told Moses that He would “rain bread from heaven” for His people. With this gracious promise intended to overcome their fears, God also said He would “test them, whether they will walk in My [Word] or not.” So quail was on the menu that evening and manna would rain down day by day, and only enough for each day. Would they trust the God who loved them and had saved them? “Whoever gathered much had nothing left over, and whoever gathered little had no lack. Each of them gathered as much as he could eat.” Some, of course, did not listen to Moses or the Lord. They tried to hoard and their hoarding left them with rancid, worm-infested food.

God most certainly cares for you in both body and soul. Not only has He redeemed you from sin and death through His Son, the very Bread of Life, but He also provides for your every bodily need. The test in this unknown, fearful wilderness of our COVID-19 time is this: Will you walk in His Word of promise or not? Will you rely on Him who has loved you with a love that overcomes plagues and pestilences? Will you depend on His light in the midst of any and all darkness? He is gracious and merciful, and, yes, He does provide.

Now put yourselves on that grassy knoll up on the mountain with Jesus and His disciples. You’ve seen “the signs that He was doing on the sick.” It’s evident He cares, and that He can and does heal. And the holy week of Passover is just around the corner. Through the day, you’ve been listening to Jesus teach the light and life of God’s kingdom (cf. Lk. 9:11). Now it’s evening and you’re hungry. And Jesus decides to test His disciples: “Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?” We can relate to such a critical question, with news and experiences of empty store shelves.

Now put yourself in Philip’s sandals. “Lord, the need is overwhelming! Even if we did have enough money, we could only buy enough food for everyone to have just a nibble.” The huge scope of the problem will do that to you. Rising numbers of those infected and dying. Shrinking mobility. Economy tanking and 401(k)s evaporating. It’s enough to lead you to despair.

Or put yourself in Andrew’s sandals. For him it’s not the massive need; it’s the meager resources. Only five barley sandwich rolls and two small fillets of fish? “What are they for so many?” Empty store shelves? No hand sanitizer? No Lysol hand wipes? Not enough protective masks or gloves for our medical heroes? What shall we do? How shall we survive? Such meager resources! It’s enough to lead to panic or hoarding.

Now notice how Jesus does not even answer Philip or Andrew. Oh, He hears their fears—and yours too. He knows the needs of the crowd—and your needs, and the needs of our city and nation, even the needs of the whole world and everyone in it. Since “He Himself knew what He would do,” He calmly tells His twelve assistants to “have the people sit down.” Then, as only Jesus can do, He faithfully gives thanks for the meager resources and distributes them into the mouths of the massive need. Everyone—5,000-plus—has full, happy tummies. All is good once again. And left over fragments even fill twelve baskets.

So fear not! Your Lord Jesus knows your needs, as well as your fears. And He knows how best to meet those needs and squelch those fears, especially when you do not. But it’s also instructive and helpful to notice what Jesus did when the crowd tried to “take Him by force to make Him king.” He “withdrew again to the mountain by Himself.” Jesus is no mere bread king to fill empty stomachs or  remove every physical malady. No, He’s a bigger king; He’s a better king than that. He can give medical authorities and governing authorities to address pandemics and bless their efforts.

But only He can address that most infectious virus we all have from birth, that most infectious virus we will ever know—our sin, our mistrust, our rebellion against God. That’s what He came to heal. And He showed His kingship by taking the throne of a cross. There He shed the healing medicine of His innocent blood. From there He went into a tomb to sanctify the graves of His saints. On the third day He rose again to bring life and immortality to light. And then He ascended to sit at the Father’s right hand, ruling all things—even pandemics—for our eternal good.

That, dear friends, is the real game-changer. Last week, when the so-called “rule of 10” came down, I called it a game-changer for how we can carry on our worship life in this time of pandemic. Another game-changer came yesterday with the City’s “stay-at-home” order. And, who knows, certain medications recently reported on may be game-changers in dealing with COVID-19. But the truest, mightiest, absolutely everlasting game-changer is our Lord’s own sacrifice, death, and resurrection. That helps us put everything else—even Coronavirus—in perspective.

We need not fear or panic or despair. We especially need not fear death itself, however it may come. Instead, we may freely and joyously devote ourselves “to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” We may happily and readily show the world the power of being fed on our Lord’s Word and Sacrament, of banding together to care for one another, and of using our possessions and belongings for all, as any has need.

Dear ones, remember these words from St. Paul: “In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Rom. 8:37-39) Amen.

Homily for Lent 3 Evening Prayer

Sins Covered: For Even the Worst
2 Chronicles 33:1-13 & Matthew 26:57-75 (Passion Reading III)

This homily was ready to be delivered before this evening's Lent Evening Prayer had to be cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

To prepare for the homily, read the Scripture readings above.

The great Lutheran theologian Johann Gerhard once wrote that the devil has two trick mirrors.  He uses “the minimizing mirror” when he tries to lure us into sin; to make us think that the sin is “not that big, not that bad.”  Then, after he’s snared us into the sin, he whips out his “maximizing mirror.” With that mirror he makes the sin look magnified in order to make us despair of God ever being able or willing to forgive sinners as terrible and awful as we are. 

No doubt the devil tried that on Manasseh.  Manasseh’s father was the good king, Hezekiah. But as so many sadly discover: godly parents are no guarantee of godly children. As good and wise, as devout and kind as Hezekiah was, Manasseh was as stubborn and wicked – yes, downright evil. No doubt, it started little by little – toying around with idolatry, moving into the occult and practicing Satanic arts, finally fighting against the true faith and seeking to destroy everything his father had done to restore that faith in Judah. The writer of 2 Kings even says that Manasseh was so depraved that he ended up burning his own son as an offering to some demon parading as a “god.” Manasseh was responsible for filling Jerusalem with all kinds of blood shed. Get the picture of this guy? He was bad news. Surely, if ever there were a person that God would simply have given up on, washed his hands of, let go straight to hell, it was Manasseh. 

But the Lord’s ways are not our ways and His thoughts are not our thoughts. As the Psalmist sang: “The LORD is good to all, and His mercy is over all that He has made” (Ps. 145:9). All? Yes, all. In mercy and unspeakable love, the Lord let Manasseh experience some unspeakably hard times. His enemy at the gates, he was captured and carried away with hooks and shackles into a foreign land, to Babylon. 

As his own life had come crashing down all around him, a remarkable thing happened to the evil king. He remembered everything his father had taught him about Yahweh—how He is gracious and merciful, and how He delights in forgiveness and steadfast love. Did he dare to hope? 

No doubt, Satan pulled out that maximizing mirror and pointed it directly at old Manasseh. “No way! There’s no way that someone as evil as you can have hope! You’ve murdered people left and right. You’ve been down on our face worshipping other gods. You’ve consulted necromancers and mediums and done every abomination that the Lord says he hates. You’ve even killed your very own child! You’re toast. You’re going to roast with me forever. Hang it up!”

But through a miracle of God’s grace, Manasseh did not believe Satan’s accusations. Oh, he knew he was sinful, bad to the bone, evil to the core. He knew he deserved absolutely nothing. But with hope against hope, he prayed to the Lord. His prayer is actually a book of the Apocrypha. Listen in to part of it: 

“O Lord Almighty, God of our ancestors, of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and of their righteous offspring,… your glorious splendor cannot be borne, and the wrath of your threat to sinners is unendurable; yet immeasurable and unsearchable is your promised mercy, for you are the Lord Most High, of great compassion, long-suffering, and very merciful, and you relent at human suffering. O Lord, according to your great goodness you have promised repentance and forgiveness to those who have sinned against you, and in the multitude of your mercies you have appointed repentance for sinners, so that they may be saved.  …You have appointed repentance for me, who am a sinner. For the sins I have committed are more in number than the sand of the sea; my transgressions are multiplied, O Lord, they are multiplied! I am not worthy to look up and see the height of heaven because of the multitude of my iniquities. I am weighted down with many an iron fetter, so that I am rejected because of my sins, and I have no relief; for I have provoked your wrath and have done what is evil in your sight, setting up abominations and multiplying offenses. And now I bend the knee of my heart, imploring you for your kindness. I have sinned, O Lord, I have sinned, and I acknowledge my transgressions. I earnestly implore you, forgive me, O Lord, forgive me! Do not destroy me with my transgressions! Do not be angry with me forever or store up evil for me; do not condemn me to the depths of the earth. For you, O Lord, are the God of those who repent, and in me you will manifest your goodness; for, unworthy as I am, you will save me according to your great mercy, and I will praise you continually all the days of my life. For all the host of heaven sings your praise, and yours is the glory forever. Amen.” (Prayer of Manasseh 1, 5-15)

Now isn’t that an amazing prayer? We heard in our reading today that Manasseh in his distress humbled himself greatly before the Lord and prayed. We also heard that God was moved, heard his prayer, and restored him. “Then Manasseh knew that the Lord was God.”

He experienced first hand that the greatest filth of human wickedness is but a spark that is soon extinguished in the vast ocean of divine mercy and love. Then He knew that the Lord was God. Satan’s mirrors are tricky, but when we lift our eyes from our sin to God’s vast ocean of mercy, we soon see the truth.

I’m sure Peter had his experience with the mirrors too. No big deal, right? Just say: “I don’t know him.” And then when the rooster crowed, Peter remembered. He remembered exactly what our Lord had said would happen. Suddenly Satan was holding up the magnifying mirror: “You think he could possibly forgive a man who swore that he’d stand by Him even if he had to die with Him, and who then caved at the question of a little servant girl? Your sin is too big, Peter. Despair and die.” Peter’s bitter tears bear witness how the sight in the mirror terrified and saddened him—just like Manasseh. But also like Manasseh, Peter would find in the Man whom he denied a forgiveness deeper than all his sin, a love wider than all his denials.

You can find that too. “Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.” Dear friends, the mercy that awaits you in your Lord is simply and unbelievably huge – far bigger than your sin, far mightier than your betrayals and denials of Him – immeasurably and unspeakably firm and steady and unshakable. 

So when Satan would use his “maximizing mirror” on you, when he would suggest to you that YOUR sin is just way too big, too bad, too awful, too ugly, too hopeless, remember Manasseh, remember Peter. Most of all, though, remember Him who came into the world to save precisely such honest-to-God, real down-and-dirty sinners:  Jesus Christ, whose blood has indeed blotted out the sin of the whole world. No sin is the match for His grace. No sinner is so far gone that His love cannot reclaim and restore. Confess to Him, and you will see!  Amen.