Homily for Lent 2-Reminiscere (2020)

"When God Ignores You"
Matthew 15:21-28

Listen here.

What do you do when God ignores you?

Last week, Satan was the enemy with his temptations. This week, Jesus Himself seems to be the enemy.

There’s a fictional story about a man who lived out in the country. On his property was a huge rock sticking out of the ground—about ten feet tall and twenty feet around. God came to this man in a dream and said, “Go out every day and push as hard as you can on that rock.” The man, always glad to know and do God’s will, did as the Lord said. Every day he went out and pushed on that rock with all of his might. After pushing on that rock for a couple of weeks the man prayed, “Lord, I don’t understand why You want me to do this, but I’ll keep pushing.” Another couple of weeks goes by. He keeps pushing on that rock with all his might. Now the man is getting frustrated. Finally, he prays with exasperation: “Lord! I can’t budge this rock! It’s just too big, too heavy, and sunk too deep in the ground! I can’t do this anymore! Why?”

What was God’s purpose for this fictional man? What was Jesus’ purpose for giving the silent treatment to the Canaanite woman, or for wrestling with Jacob? What is God’s purpose when He seems to ignore you?

God has a history of “ignoring” even His faithful people. Consider Abraham. When he was about 75 years old, God called him and promised that he would become a great nation. Just one problem: Abraham had no children and his wife Sarah was barren. Years later Abraham wanted to make the servant of Eliezer his heir. Then he tried having a child by Sarah’s servant Hagar. Each time, God ignored Abraham’s efforts and said, “No! Not that way.” Then, when Abraham was 100 years old, and Sarah was 90, they finally had a son: Isaac. Then, of all things, a few years later, God told Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son. And so Abraham learned that God builds the nation in His own way and provides the Lamb!

Or consider Jacob. He wrestled with a Man through the night. That Man dislocated Jacob’s hip, and Jacob pinned Him to the ground until he was blessed by Him. And Jacob received a new name: “He Who Wrestles with God.”

Or consider Joseph, Jacob’s favorite son. He was sold into slavery in Egypt at just 17 years old, then was unjustly accused of “sexual harassment” and wrongfully imprisoned. Sure seemed God was ignoring his plight. Then, several years later, Joseph was elevated to Pharaoh’s service after interpreting Pharaoh’s dreams about the long famine, but still in Egypt. All of this so that God would deliver His people centuries later.

Or consider David. Saul was Israel’s king, but God decided to anoint David as the next king. So jealous Saul set out to take David out, literally hunting him down to kill him. David expressed his angst in Psalm 13: “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” Sounds like words we might cry when God is ignoring us. Yet David learned to rely on God and His deliverance even while being ignored.

And what of our Lord Jesus? Did God ignore Him? Absolutely! In Gethsemane, Jesus prayed about His coming torture and death: “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done” (Mt. 26:42). The Father answered with silence that spoke volumes: “Yes, My Son, You must bear it!” And hanging on the cross, Jesus prayed, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mt. 27:46). Was God the Father ignoring His only-begotten Son? Yes, but ponder the wonderful deliverance that came by it!

So what do you do when God ignores you? You follow the lead of the Canaanite woman. She gladly receives the crumbs that fall from the Master’s Table. And so do we.

The God who ignores is also the Lord who loves. When we see Jesus acting the way He does with the Canaanite woman, either He’s being mean and cruel, or He has a greater purpose for treating the woman as He does. Is He trying to lead her to realize that she is not an Israelite and therefore has no claim on Him? Is He giving her opportunity to put her faith on display as an example for all of us? Is He endeavoring to strengthen her faith in Him? How about, “Yes, all of the above!”

You see, faith in Christ receives His gifts as a little dog receives scraps from the master’s table. The Canaanite woman was doggedly determined. Silent treatment from Jesus? No problem. Rudeness from His disciples? Just side-step it. Oh, He says He didn’t come for my kind? I’m not giving up! And now He’s comparing me to a little dog who shouldn’t receive the children’s bread? “Yes, Lord, even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” This needy, pious woman looked beyond the harsh circumstances of the moment to the boundless mercy and love of Jesus Christ.

What does “God ignoring you” look like for you? Prayers unanswered? Difficult circumstances that won’t go away? Whatever it is, the challenge is to keep calling on the Son of David and keep begging for His mercy even though life is rough. One Bible commentator said it this way: “Faith believes Jesus is good even when reason is not so sure” (Bruner, 552). Luther’s comment is even better: “You say, the woman responds, that I am a dog. Let it be, I will gladly be a dog; now give me the consideration that you give a dog. Thus she catches Christ with his own words, and he is happy to be caught” (HP 1:325).

And how does your crucified and risen Savior give you the consideration that He would a dog? Look to His “table scraps.” A small amount of water combined with His Word washes away all your sins, makes you His dear child, and gives eternal life even now. A few small words—“I forgive you all your sins”—spoken into your ears are “just as valid and certain, even in heaven, as if Christ our dear Lord dealt with us Himself.” And a bit of bread and small sip of wine—carrying Jesus’ very Body and Blood themselves—is your medicine of immortality and source of Divine nourishment. Jesus is not ignoring you, even when it seems He is. No, you have His full attention and His full mercy won on the cross and delivered by means of His Word and Sacraments.

And with those “table scraps” of Jesus’ mercy, faith in Him receives all things—including the bitter crumbs of life—from our Lord’s loving hands. Is it the personal trials? Is it the news of this new virus or a recent tornado? Keep catching Christ in His own words! Keep receiving His “table scraps.”

St. Paul says it well in Romans 5(:1-5): “Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” You have access by faith into His grace, dear saints. You may rejoice in the hope of God’s glory, even when He seems to ignore you, your needs, and your prayers. Then St. Paul adds this: “Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame.” How can that be? “Because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”

So when God (seemingly) ignores you, remember that He loves to be wrestled in faith and caught in His own words to forgive and heal.

Let’s return to that man frustrated at pushing the huge rock with no visible results. “Lord! I can’t budge this rock! It’s just too big, too heavy, and sunk too deep in the ground! Why?” God might just respond with this: “Who said I wanted you to move the rock? My goal was to make you stronger.”

What do you do when God seems to ignore you? He may have a purpose different from what you assume. That would be to lead you to repentance and strengthen your faith in Christ. After all, He is your ultimate healing through His cross-won forgiveness and resurrection life. “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Cor. 4:16-18). Amen.

Homily for Lent 1-Invocabit (2020)

"Save Us from Temptations!"
Matthew 4:1-11

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“We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph. 6:12). Is it any wonder you struggle in trusting God above all things? And if you experience little or no struggle, you’d better wonder if you’ve been tempted into slumber in the midst of the battle. We all face temptations; we cannot avoid them. The question is: how shall we deal with them?

In our 21st century mindset, we think of our selves as unique. We presume we are the first ones to experience the things we experience. This may be true of cars, computers and this new thing called “coronavirus.” But not of things that matter more—things such as identity, security and meaning, or life and death, or matters of trust and temptations. As St. Paul said: “No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man” (1 Cor. 10:13). Adam and Eve first set the pattern for temptations. Then the children of Israel—God’s own chosen people—lived in that pattern. We also toe the temptation line, trapped in the same pattern.

In the Garden of Eden, God graciously created Adam and Eve to be His perfect children, the crown of His creation. But the sly satanic foe disrupted their perfect fear, love, and trust in God. He created doubt in Eve’s heart and head. He unbuckled her from God’s Word. He promised her something seemingly better than God Himself had given. “You’ll be like God,” he claimed. Then Eve noticed the forbidden fruit. And three things about temptation jump out: 1) the fruit was good for food, 2) it was a delight to the eyes, and 3) it was desirable to make one wise. So, “she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate” (Gen. 3:6). By that eating came death!

Bread temptations are common to God’s people. The Israelites had been rescued from Egyptian slavery. Out in the barren wilderness they needed food. God graciously provided them with daily, nourishing, honey-tasting manna. But somehow that was not good enough. They moaned and groaned, griped and complained. “We want something different, something tastier!” they cried. The bread of God’s freedom wasn’t good enough. They longed for the spicy food of slavery again. Longing for something different and tastier, they showed how they despised God and His Word of promise. They too had become unbuckled from God’s Word.

We also have our bread temptations. We may not be hungry; in fact, we may be too full—too full on the daily bread of physical life. Our food, our possessions, our bank accounts, our retirement funds, our physical comfort, and our momentary happiness tend to get in the way of life with God. All too often we fear, love, and trust these things more than God. In our hearts and heads God must make us happy and keep us happy with a certain standard of living and ease of life. But we’re only showing how we too are unbuckled from God and His Word—not trusting God when He says He will provide.

Temptations are also delightful to the eyes. Whatever fruit it was in the Garden, its plumpness cried out, “Pick me!” But what really looked good to Adam and Eve was the glory of being “like God.” Why settle for being under God and His care when you can be like Him and on His level? How blind they were! Weren’t they already created in God’s image and likeness?

Such eye-delighting temptations also blinded the Israelites. They did not like what they saw in the wilderness, so they rebelled against God and His servant Moses. They feared the size and strength of the people they would conquer for the Promised Land. So they whined and griped some more. And spent 40 years wandering in the wilderness for their rebellion. God’s wrath is severe when you give into temptations, when you want to live by sight, not by faith.

We too want to live by sight, not by faith in the Son of God. We lust to see measurable proof and progress in our faith life—that we’re better people for all our efforts. We long to see the Church be successful and welcomed by worldly standards. We want to put God on the spot and make sure He will really do what Scripture promises, at least the way we think it should happen. We want Him to take care of coronavirus right here and right now. And until then, we’ll join in the hand-wringing. Actually, what we’re doing is lusting to see ourselves in control, in authority, and being “like God.” But God doesn’t much like it when we make a run for His throne.

Back in the Garden, Eve also thought, in her religious mind, that the piece of fruit would be good for gaining wisdom. No longer was God the source of wisdom for her; the created fruit was. No longer was her total trust and devotion directed to God; it was instead pointed to a piece of fruit. It was a wisdom-worship temptation.

The people of Israel also failed to worship only the one, true Triune God. Instead, they put Him to the test. “Prove Yourself, God,” was their constant cry. Instead of enduring the wilderness and gladly receiving the manna and trusting God’s promises, they were trying to make God bow to them and their demands. Remember the golden calf?

We also seek to gain wisdom by seeking glory apart from God. We seek it by means of worldly honor, power, and glory. “God, if you love me, take away my sickness, pain or suffering. God, why is my life so topsy-turvy? It should be easier and better than this.” Such pleas sound faithful and wise. Too often, though, we do try to control God. “Lord, look how good I’ve been this week. Look how well I’ve tended to my family. Look how well I worked at my job.” We want the glory and we expect God to work according to our wishes. But we surely deserve nothing but punishment.

So today’s Gospel comes as pure comfort and sheer joy. Jesus is tempted just as you are—with bread temptations, delight-to-the-eye temptations, and wisdom-worship temptations. Satan tries putting doubt in Jesus’ head, but Satan loses and Jesus wins the battle. He is the only Person who overcomes temptations. He is the only One to overcome your temptations!

Jesus overcomes the bread temptations. He sees the need for food, clothing, and so on. But He does not let bread consume God. You see, your identity and meaning in life come not from diet, possessions or lifestyle, but as a gift from God. Jesus Himself is the bread of life from heaven. He bakes and breaks Himself on the cross and feeds you, His people, on Himself. His Body and His Blood are the real food of heaven, the manna that sustains you to face your temptations. By this eating comes real life!

Jesus overcomes the delight-to-the-eye temptations. He doesn’t let the glittery traps of worldly kingdoms distract Him. In Jesus’ kingdom, glory comes after suffering. Jesus’ horrible suffering and bloody death on the cross bring you the true and genuine glory in God’s eyes. His gift of glory is the glory of forgiveness for you. His gift of authority is the authority to speak and live that forgiveness with one another. That’s what Jesus’ Church is all about—relying on and living in Jesus’ spoken Word of forgiveness. Jesus’ forgiveness overcomes all your temptations.

And Jesus overcomes the worldly-wisdom temptations. He does not need to test God and look for a way around suffering. He goes right through the middle of it. He absorbs the pain and the shame, the punishment and the disgrace. Most of all, Jesus absorbs God’s wrath for you. He is obedient to God even to the point of death. That’s what makes Jesus the solution, the help, the medicine, and the victor to your temptations. Jesus knows that wisdom comes in trusting God, not in testing Him. Jesus’ perfect trust makes up for your faltering trust.

So Jesus reverses and overcomes the pattern of temptations. Even as you are tempted and distressed, battered, bruised and beaten by the satanic foe, you may hold on to your Lord. Even as you seek to resist temptations, don’t look to your own feeble efforts to save yourself. Instead, look to Christ. “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. 4:15). Yes, our temptations are common to all people. But “God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (1 Cor. 10:13). That way of escape is your Lord Jesus Himself. Amen.

Homily for Quinquagesima (2020)

"Seeing True Love"
1 Corinthians 13:1-13 & Luke 18:31-43

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In our second reading, St. Paul extols the virtues of love. But this love is a lot different from the love that the world pursues, a lot different from the love we know or experience. The love that we long for is the feeling that satisfies every desire and craving we have. It’s a love that indulges every need we believe we have. That kind of love is aimed at the heart. It zeroes in on and plays on the emotions. Its beginning and ending is in ourselves. So the words, “love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast…love never ends,”—well, they’re a foreign language. These words are hard to live up to.

But when St. Paul speaks of love, he’s not talking about a verb, but a noun. He’s not talking about what it means to be loving, but what love is. It’s not a feeling. Instead, it’s a Person. And St. Paul does not intend to accuse you or to give you ammunition to use against someone else. No, he  proclaims the Love that came down from heaven. This is not the Love that comes from you; it’s the love that comes to you. It’s not the Love that you must live up to, but the Love who lives for you and in you. And so St. Paul is not focusing on right behavior or a good feeling. No, he’s focusing on the Love of God who is Jesus Christ our Lord.

You see, our view of love is so distorted and muddled. It’s so centered on what meets our needs and pleases our flesh. Is it any wonder that we are puzzled—even offended—to hear that the Love of God is tied to suffering and death? We admire a love that sacrifices one life for another, sure. But what about the Love who immerses us in His self-sacrifice? We think highly of love that is loyal in sickness and in death. But why do we pull back from the Love who says, “Take up your cross”? And what’s our response when He says, “Forsake house, parents, spouse, children—everything and everyone you love—all for the kingdom of God”?

Yes, our love is so interwoven with everything we want and to everyone who does something for us. Is it any wonder, then, that we quickly glance over the “we” in today’s Gospel? Love-in-the-flesh says, “We are going up to Jerusalem.” And going we are—starting Wednesday and for forty days, not counting the Sundays. We are going up to Jerusalem with Love Himself and to be joined to Love Himself. We do not go up just to see what it takes to be Love. We go up to be with Love and in Love as He is delivered, as He is mocked, shamefully treated and spit upon, as He is flogged, as He is killed, and then as He rises again on the third day. Love calls us to come and die with Him, to be immersed in His suffering and death, to dwell in His dying as He dwells in our life and living. Yes, Love calls us to come and die with Him and in Him.

This is not about some kind of death with dignity. This is about rising with Him. His death puts to death the sin that kills us. His death gives live where we can see only death and the fear of death.

So it’s much more than simply Jesus dying for us. It’s more than the good Person being sacrificed to save the evil people. It’s us dying in Him and with Him. It’s the rebellious, sinful you being killed in the holy, innocent suffering and death of Jesus the Christ.

When Jesus first spoke these things, the disciples “understood none of these things. This saying was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.” They could not see how this could be. They could not see the need or the benefit. They could not see how this suffering and death would be good for them, how it would give them any good. They could not see the love of God in the Love who would be crucified on the cross.

But what the disciples could not see, a blind man does see. And he sums it up in one word: “mercy.” That’s what the Love of God is all about. Not behavior. Not emotions. Not random acts of kindness. But mercy. The Righteous One becomes the sin of the unrighteous. The Life of the world undergoes our death so that we may live in Him. God-in-the-flesh dies for the ungodly, so that the ungodly may be called the children of God.

“Have mercy on me!” That’s what the blind man cries out. Even though he is blind, he sees who Christ is—the undeserved, unconditional, self-sacrificing Love of God. What the blind man believes allows him to see what those with perfect vision cannot see. You see, the blind man relies on what he hears; and then his sight is restored. “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Rom. 10:17).

What you have heard—and what you continue to hear—is that the Lord God has mercy on you. No, not because you are loving, but in spite of your refusal to live in love for God and for your neighbor. God has mercy on you in spite of your living as if God does not matter. He has mercy on you in spite of your constant chasing after what you love, making that matter most. In spite of you, the Lord God gives you His Love and then He also puts you in that Love.

Now you no longer need to live for the self-centered love that you crave. Instead, now you get to join in the chorus of the blind man, the saints, the angels, all the company of heaven. Now you get to join with all those unloving and unloveable ones who cry out: “Lord, have mercy upon us. Christ, have mercy upon us. Lord, have mercy upon us.”

Now you see. Now you are confident. Now you trust and believe. Not only does your Lord hear this cry and answer your need; He especially has mercy on you. Now you may see, believe and be confident that the Lord God, in His mercy, has put you in His Love—that same Love who came to take on our flesh and blood, that same Love who came to live our life and die our death, that same Love who gives you His life now and into eternity, that same Love who even now comes to feed you on Himself. Now you see true Love—our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Homily for Transfiguration (2020)

"A Glimpse of Glory"
Matthew 17:1-9

We really don’t know what Jesus looked like when He walked the earth. The Bible itself does not give us specific details about Jesus’ appearance. Of course there were no photographs or selfies, and no one ever painted a portrait of Jesus before He ascended. Images we have are really just artist’s renderings.

But we do know this. When He walked the face of this earth, the Son of God humbled Himself and became a man. He did not fully use His divine powers and prerogatives. He lived just like any other human being. And His appearance was probably nothing special, just like any other Middle Eastern young man from Galilee. As Isaiah said, “He had no form or majesty that we should look at Him, and no beauty that we should desire Him” (53:2).

Today, though, we get a glimpse of Jesus in glory. Today we celebrate the Transfiguration of Our Lord—when Jesus took Peter, James, and John up on a high mountain. There His appearance was changed; He was transfigured, had a metamorphosis, before them. Matthew says, “His face shone like the sun, and His clothes became white as light” (17:2). Mark says, “His clothes became radiant, intensely white, as no one on earth could bleach them” (9:3). And Luke says, “The appearance of His face was altered, and His clothing became dazzling white” (9:29).

For those moments on that mountain, Jesus radiated in all of His divine splendor and glory. On the Mount of Transfiguration, Jesus gave us a sample of the glory we share with Him both now and into eternity. In the Transfiguration of Our Lord, we have a glimpse of the glory that our Lord graciously shares with us. Four things come out of our text.

First, we see and learn that there’s only one way to share in the glory of heaven. We do not share in the glory of heaven because we are good persons. We know we’re not! St. Paul writes in Romans: “None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one…. [T]here is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:10-12, 22). No, we don’t and won’t share in heaven’s glory because we’ve earned it, been obedient, or done the right things through life. We cannot earn it, our obedience ever falters, and we certainly do not deserve it.

When we listen to our Gospel reading, we hear the one way—the only way—we will share in the glory of heaven: “Jesus TOOK with him Peter and James, and John.”  Jesus also tells us, “I am the way.” He is the way to heaven. Jesus is your way to heaven. Just as Jesus took Peter, James, and John to share some moments of glory on the mountain, He will take you to share an eternity of never-ending glory with Him. Jesus promises, “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me. In my Father’s house are many rooms…. I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also” (John 14:1-3). Jesus will take you to be with Him in heaven. Why? Because He loves you, because He forgives you, because He gave Himself for you to atone for your sins, because He revealed His love for you most supremely on the cross.

Here’s the second thing. In the Transfiguration of Jesus we also see the glorified bodies we will have. Jesus was transfigured. For a brief time He was shining with heavenly glory, not as a reflection, not with a giant light shining on Him, but as the very source—He Himself—of that brilliant glory. So it will be for all who trust in Jesus. All who trust Him and all who rest in Him will be raised again on the Last Day. Your physical bodies will be made alive again and transfigured into glorious, heavenly bodies. St. Paul writes in Philippians (3:21): “[He] will transform our lowly body to be like His glorious body.” In 1 Corinthians, he says: “I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed” (15:51-52).

But our Lord does not wait until the Last Day to transfigure us. He also transforms us now through His forgiveness and mercy. When we hear the Gospel of Jesus proclaimed, “we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor. 3:18). Even today in the Sacrament of His Body and Blood our Lord works to transform our bodies to be like His glorious body. And this transformation from sinner to saint, from rebel to redeemed, is intended to show forth in the world. As St. Paul writes, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Rom. 12:2).

Here’s a third thing we take from our Lord’s Transfiguration: all the faithful from all the ages will join us. Just as Moses and Elijah appeared with Jesus and spoke with Him, so also in heaven a great, countless multitude of believers will gather around the throne of God, and you will gather there too. Put yourself in that scene of the great multitude gathered around Jesus on His throne. You will be there with Moses, Elijah, and all the other believers of the Old Testament, with Peter, James, John and all the New Testament saints, as well as all believers in Christ through the ages of the Church.

And it’s a motley bunch really. I mean look what we have before us today: murdering Moses, whining Elijah, impetuous, foot-in-his-mouth Peter, and power-hungry, photo-op-seeking James and John, who wanted their self-chosen brand of glory at Jesus’ right and left hands. But it’s a motley bunch that lives by the glorious grace of God in Christ Jesus. Let’s also look at ourselves in the mirror. We are the worry-wart-Wandas, the hand-wringing-Harries. We are the complaining Cathies, the grousing Guses, the slandering Sams and Sallies. We seek our brand of glory without suffering, especially without suffering the loss of our self-serving. But we’re still the motley bunch that’s saved by Jesus’ suffering, delivered by His death on a cross, and glorified by His glorious resurrection. Moses and Elijah spoke with Jesus about His “exodus,” that is, His journey into the suffering, onto the cross and out from the empty tomb. His exodus is our exodus. He leads us through suffering and death and, especially on the Last Day, He brings us to glory, glory shared with all the faithful from all ages.

Finally, we learn from our Lord’s Transfiguration that heaven with Him will be a wonderful place. Sometimes people joke that heaven might get a bit boring, or that eternity might grow tiresome. But for a few short moments on the Mount of Transfiguration Peter, James, and John got a small sample of heaven, a glimpse of glory. And they did not want it to end! “Lord, it is good that we are here,” Peter exclaimed.

How could it possibly be boring to gather with all the saints around the throne of our Savior God? How could we possibly grow tired of worshiping and receiving from our Savior who loves us enough to suffer and die for us? And besides that, who says it will be stagnant or static? We will have a whole eternity to keep growing as God’s children, to keep enjoying His boundless, infinite gifts of love and life in His new creation. We will proclaim, like Peter, “Lord, it is good that we are here.” We will get to revel and rejoice in the glorious bliss of our heavenly home, replete with unending joy and perfect peace. As Isaiah says, “The ransomed of the LORD shall return and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away” (35:10).

Jesus’ Transfiguration gives us a glimpse of our glory in Him. As He took the disciples up the mountain, He’ll take us to eternity with Him. As He was transformed, so He also transforms us, both now and on the Last Day. We will get to spend eternity with motley but forgiven sinners like us. Yes, it will be good to be with our Lord Jesus for all eternity. Amen.

Homily for Epiphany 2 (2020)

"Restoring Joy and Gladness"
John 2:1-11

Another Sunday after Epiphany, another piece of our new liturgical art to behold. Take a look, either on the wall—the first one on the lectern side—or on your bulletin. Six stone water jars sit on the ground. A servant kneels, holding another water jar. As the servant pours from his jar into one of the six, you can see ordinary, clear water turning into joyous red wine. Liturgical art may not paint the whole picture with every detail of the story, but it does evoke the story and its meaning for us to ponder.

Today we hear Jesus bringing joy back to the wedding at Cana. When they ran out of wine, the bride and groom almost committed social suicide. After all, once the wine runs out, the party’s over. The bride and groom would be the laughingstock of the town for years to come. Not even the joy of being happily married could save them from the ongoing disgrace.

Jesus’ Mother takes the first step to help this young couple in need. She approaches her Son and tells Him the need. While she doesn’t really ask anything, she does intercede to her Savior Son on behalf of the couple in dire straits. “They have no wine,” she simply states. Nothing in the story suggests Mary doubted or had little faith. Quite the opposite! She certainly trusted her Son and asked Him, the only true Savior, to rescue the couple and restore their gladness and joy.

Then Jesus gives what sounds like a brusque response. In most of our English translations, it sounds like a rebuke. How many sons who honor their mothers can actually get away with calling their mothers, “Woman”? But let’s not impose our cultural sensitivities on Jesus and this story. When Jesus answers His Mother’s request, He literally says, “What is it to Me and to you?” Jesus is still showing the greatest respect to His Mother; He’s including her with Him when He talks about His “hour.” What is His “hour”? It’s His time of dying and rising to bring the greatest joy and gladness to the whole world. And the term, “Woman”? It’s actually a term of great respect in Jesus’ day. When Jesus responds to His Mother, He’s saying, “What is it to me and to you, Mother, that they have no wine?” We could loosely translate: “Eh, no big deal, Mom!” Their lack of wine will not deter Jesus from bringing true joy and gladness.

Jesus does not reject His Mother’s request. No, He’s about to grant it so that He can reveal Himself. His “hour” of suffering, dying and rising for the world has not yet come, but He will use this wedding crisis to give a foretaste of what His “hour” will do in greater measure. His “hour” will bring great gladness and joy, just as weddings and wine do. And notice how Mary tells the servants to do what the Lord says. It sounds like the Church, doesn’t it: telling the servants—all followers of Jesus—to pay attention to and “do whatever He tells you.” You see, Jesus brings great gladness and joy in what He says and does. Weddings and wine are but a foretaste.

Jesus tells the banquet servants to fill the six stone jars to the brim with water. After they filled the pots with water, somehow the water turned into wine. And not just any wine; the best wine! The head caterer—who did not know where the wine came from—told the bridegroom: “Everyone serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poor wine. But you have kept the good wine until now.” No cheap wine for Jesus! He gives only the best. And notice how He used an element of His own creation—ordinary water—to deliver this best wine and all the gladness it would bring. And how about that amount? Anywhere from 120 to 180 gallons of heavenly wine and its earthly gladness! Jesus is not stingy with His gifts; He’s not cheap with His gladness and joy.

Now for those Jews who paid attention in synagogue school, they would have realized what just happened. In Jeremiah 31 God had promised to save His people from exile in a foreign land. The day would come when they would leave their exile and return to their homeland. And they would rejoice greatly. As Jeremiah proclaimed: “They shall come and sing aloud on the height of Zion, and they shall be radiant over the goodness of the Lord, over the grain, the wine, and the oil, and over the young of the flock and the herd; their life shall be like a watered garden, and they shall languish no more.” (31:12). The prophet Amos said something similar. When God rescues His people, Amos said, “the mountains shall drip sweet wine, and all the hills shall flow with it.” God’s rescued people would return to their cities, they would “plant vineyards and drink their wine” (Amos 9:13-14). The abundance of wine would send a message: God had rescued His people.

So, when Jesus blesses the wedding at Cana with an abundance of wine, He is manifesting His glory. He is announcing that He has come to rescue us, His people, from our exile in sin and death.

It’s no coincidence that wine shows up only twice in John’s Gospel—here at Cana and then at the end of the Gospel, at the cross. Here Jesus gives the sweet wine of joy and gladness, but on the cross He consumes the bitter wine of our sin, suffering and death. Same thing with Jesus’ Mother, Mary. She shows up here at the wedding, and then at the end of the story at the foot of the cross. Here she gladly intercedes for the couple in distress and instructs the servants to follow her Son’s bidding. At the cross, her tears flow and her own heart is pierced with grief. Yet there Mother Mary receives the tender care of her crucified Son as He gives her into the care and keeping of the Apostle John.

What’s the point of all this, as we continue celebrating Epiphany? When God reveals Himself in His incarnate Son, we see the source of true joy and gladness—our Lord Jesus Christ. Weddings may give joy, but Jesus gives even greater joy in rescuing you from sin and death. Wine may gladden the heart for a time, but the wine that Jesus gives—His blood shed for you for the forgiveness of sins—provides eternal gladness.

Everyone loves the joy and festivities of a good wedding. So let this story of Jesus at the wedding at Cana give you the joy and festivity of enjoying life with God and with one another, now and forever. As Isaiah said, “As the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you” (62:5). The Lord of weddings has made you His bride. In fact, every time we gather here in this place, we enjoy the eternal nuptials that come only from Christ crucified and risen. You see, King Jesus loves you, His Church, and has given Himself for you. He sanctifies and cleanses you with the washing of water by the word, so that He might have a glorious Church, without spot or wrinkle or blemish. That’s your true joy and gladness.

Wine at the dinner table gladdens the heart. How about the wine that Jesus gives at His Supper table? With the eternal wine and the eternal gladness of His holy Meal,  His very Body and Blood actually present here, Jesus nourishes you and cherishes you from now into eternity. A foretaste of the feast now; the full feast to come when Jesus returns. Now you may also ponder another piece of our liturgical art—the one closest to the altar on the lectern side. Now you may anticipate the Wedding Banquet of the Lamb and His Bride, the Church. Amen.

Homily for The Baptism of Our Lord (2020)

"Standing in the Water"
Joshua 3:1-3, 7-8, 13-17; Matthew 3:13-17

One purpose of liturgical art is to give us a glimpse of God’s truth and beauty. God has created and placed us in a beautiful world and He does have something to say about what’s good and true. Liturgical art also gives us a glimpse of where and how we fit into God’s truth and beauty. Not only does He give us a beautiful creation; He also makes us beautiful. Now that’s an amazing truth, especially after our fall into sin and death. Beginning with Adam and Eve and ever since, we humans have taken God’s truth and beauty and trashed it, spit on it, rejected it. Very ugly! Somehow, we thought we could come up with something better—something more true and more beautiful than God Himself did. But God still “desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim. 2:4). God still wants to tell you: “You shall be a crown of beauty in the hand of the LORD” (Is. 62:3).

This is the message that flows out of Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River. When King Jesus is baptized in the Jordan, He also purifies you, His bride, the Church.

Take a look at our liturgical art that evokes our first reading—the Crossing of the Jordan. (If you can’t see it on the wall, it’s also on your bulletin.) Put yourself in the scene, standing in the bottom corner, watching the event first-hand. It’s forty years after leaving slavery in Egypt and marching into freedom. It’s forty years after crossing the Red Sea on dry ground. It’s also been forty years full of ugliness—full of fear, of whining and complaining, of doubting God’s goodness.

"Crossing the Jordan" in the sanctuary of Hope Ev. Lutheran Church, St. Louis, Missouri, USA, by Max Autenrieb Church Interior Decorating, Inc.

Now, as you stand in your little place in the picture, God has brought His people to the edge of the Promised Land. When you see the Ark of the Covenant being carried by the priests, you know that is God present with His people. He is the one stepping into the water first so that the waters upstream stand in a heap. He is the one leading them through the Jordan River on dry ground. He is the one ushering them into the land of milk and honey that is completely His gift and always will be.

You can do more than merely imagine yourself standing on the dry river bed of the Jordan. The artwork does proclaim what actually happens in your Baptism. So put yourself at the font. That’s your reality. There your God brings you out of the slavery of your sin into the freedom of life with Him. There He washes you clean even as you wander in the filthy wilderness of this world. And there you stand, eager and ready for the eternal Promised Land—that land of milk and honey that always was, always is, and ever shall be His gift to you.

The problem is, you’re not in that Promised Land just yet. You still walk and live in the wilderness of this filthy, fallen world. And the temptations abound to wallow in the muck of sin. Actually, that muck infects and flows out of your heart and mine. Like our Israelite forebears, we too give in to the filth of fear, of whining and complaining, and of doubting God’s goodness. We need a good cleansing. We need a purification that comes from outside of us.

That’s why our God steps into the Jordan a second time. This time He is not merely represented by a golden box being carried by priests. This time He’s in the flesh. If Christmas proclaims that God, the Son of God, became a man, Epiphany proclaims that this man is God—true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, and also true Man, born of the Virgin Mary. He’s the One who steps into the water to purify you.

Now John objects. “That’s not right,” he claims. “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” The One who comes to purify does not need to be purified! After all, He’s like us in every respect, yet without sin. And John was right. We should say the same thing. “Jesus, we need to be baptized by You, and do You step into the water for us?” Listen again to Jesus’ reply: “Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” No, the all-righteous One did not need to be made righteous; the all-pure One did not need to be purified. But He still stands in the water for you and for your salvation.

How does that work? Consider what you hear every time someone is baptized. When your Lord stepped into the Jordan’s water, He “sanctified and instituted all waters to be a blessed flood and a lavish washing away of sin.” (LSB, 269). We might even say that when Jesus steps into the water, He, the pure One, soaks up all of the impurities—all of your impurities and all impurities of every human being—like a sponge. He will carry all those impurities all the way to the cross. There He will nail all that filth—including your filth—to the wood with Himself. There your sin—your fears, your doubts, your whining and complaining—will die with Him. This is how Jesus’ Baptism fulfills all righteousness. God “made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21).

What does it mean for you that your Lord stands in the water in your place? Jesus’ Baptism expresses itself in your life at three big events: your Baptism, your communing, and your death.

In your Baptism, you were immersed with Christ. With Him, you died and were buried; and with Him, you were raised. “So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 6:11). Heaven has opened up for you. The Holy Spirit has come upon you. Now the Father says, “You are My beloved child.”

So why do you fear? Why do you doubt? Why do you whine and complain? Why do you fear such things as supposed climate change or recent news of international hostilities? Why do you doubt that your Father is still in charge in His beautiful world? You have been through “the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit” (Tit. 3:5). By Jesus’ washing of death and resurrection you have become “heirs according to the hope of eternal life” (Tit. 3:7). You may leave behind the ugliness of your sin and stand with your Lord in His purifying water.

Jesus’ Baptism also works for you when you commune at His Table. In His Body and Blood truly present under bread and wine you receive all the benefits of His sacrificial death. Heaven opens. The Holy Spirit descends. And the Father renews and enriches you as His own beloved children. So why fear? Why doubt? Why whine and complain? When you eat and drink at this Table, you are filled with Him in whom “the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily” (Col. 2:9). After all, you have also been “buried with Him in baptism, in which you were raised with Him through faith in the powerful working of God” (Col. 2:12).

Finally, Jesus’ Baptism takes place in you at your death. When your heart stops beating and your brain activity ceases, you plunge into the darkest depths. But in Christ you will arise from those depths. Your Baptism has already taken care of the big death—the separation from God for all eternity that you deserve. So when you arise from bodily death, you will be on the other side of the Jordan, in our Lord’s pure gift of the eternal Promised Land. “Death’s flood has lost its chill / Since Jesus crossed the river” (LSB 482:2). You will get to see the Blessed Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—no longer in a mirror dimly, but finally and clearly face-to-face.

So ponder all these things in your heart as you put yourself in the Jordan River in that picture. Rejoice in them every time you pass the font into Your Lord’s presence. Jesus stands in the water for you, and you stand there with Him for life. That’s God’s truth and beauty—for you, for your family, for your friends, and for every neighbor He puts in your path. Amen.

Homily for Second Sunday after Christmas (2020)

"Freedom Fulfilled"
Matthew 2:13-23

Today our Infant Lord shows us how He fulfills our freedom. In His flight to Egypt our Lord Jesus reenacts and fulfills God’s exodus salvation for us sinners.

First, we see Joseph, Mary, and our Infant Savior fleeing to Egypt as a safe haven. This happened repeatedly in the Old Testament. In Genesis 12, Abram fled to Egypt during a time of famine. That was also when Abram tried to pass his wife Sarai off as his sister. It seems even faithful Abram had some difficulties trusting in God’s protection. But God still took care of His servant Abram by sending him to Egypt.

In Genesis 37, one of Abram’s great-grandsons, Joseph, son of Jacob, was sold as a slave and taken to Egypt. Later he was imprisoned on a trumped up charge of sexual misconduct. As God’s providence would have it, Joseph was later released from prison and became second in command of all Egypt. That’s when he prepared the land for a severe famine and managed the resources through the famine. All of it revealed how God was with him.

Then, in Genesis 46—our first reading—God tells Jacob, “Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt.” Now this was a big deal! About 30 years earlier, God had told Isaac, Jacob’s father, “Don’t go to Egypt; don’t leave the land I’m giving you” (Genesis 26). But now it’s another time of famine. And here in Genesis 46, God wants to protect and provide for Jacob and his family by sending them to Egypt. God also wants to reunite Jacob with his long-lost son, Joseph. So He gives Jacob a mighty promise: “there I will make you into a great nation.” For our Old Testament fathers in the faith, fleeing to Egypt often meant going to a safe haven.

So Infant Jesus also flees to Egypt as a safe haven—for refuge from wicked King Herod. Jesus is born, but even for Him life is no bed of roses. He quickly becomes a refugee. He is hated and hunted down. The Magi had come to visit and worship the new-born King Jesus. Then they left by another route and did not go back to Herod. Herod was furious! You see, Herod had a history of brutally eliminating any and all perceived threats to his throne. So he especially wanted to destroy this Newborn King. And God instructs Joseph—Jesus’ guardian—to take Mary and the Child and flee to Egypt. They would find refuge there, but it would not be their home.

What can we take away from all of this? We Christians are in the world, but not of it. Outside of the Divine Service, there’s no such thing as heaven on earth. Remember what Jesus said before Pontius Pilate: “My kingdom is not of this world” (Jn. 18:36). And St. Paul insisted on boasting “in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Gal. 6:14). Let’s remember this in the “culture battles” we face year in and year out. It’s what we face in keeping Christ in Christmas. It’s what we face when many voices reject our Christ-confessing Christmas hymns and decorations. It’s what we face in speaking up for and defending the unborn. It’s what Christians face on university campuses. It’s what Christian business owners face as the culture tries to “redefine marriage” and penalize them for standing on God’s Word and will. The Egypt of this world is not so welcoming of us Christians!

St. Paul would remind us to rely on our Savior, not the state of our culture: “Our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself” (Phil. 3:20-21).

For the Old Testament saints and for our Infant Savior, fleeing to Egypt did mean going to a safe haven. But Egypt was also a place to flee from. And fleeing from Egypt means freedom from slavery.

In Exodus, Moses led the children of Israel out of slavery in Egypt. Israel had been there for over 400 years and enslaved for much of that time. We even read of baby boys being slaughtered in Egypt to keep the Hebrews from becoming too strong. So God raised up Moses and protected him from the widespread slaughter of innocent baby boys. Moses grew up as an Egyptian in the household of Pharaoh’s daughter. Then he fled from Egypt. Then he returned to lead God’s people out of slavery and oppression. Of course, Moses delivered God’s Ten Commandments, and then he led the children of Israel through the wilderness for 40 years.

So when Infant Jesus returns out of Egypt, He is reenacting everything the children of Israel went through. The prophet Hosea had proclaimed, “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son” (Hos. 11:1). Jesus doesn’t just reenact the exodus from Egypt, though; He fulfills it. In fact, He gives it a whole new meaning. Coming out of Egypt means freedom from slavery—especially freedom from slavery to sin.

You and I may not be freed from our Egypt of this world until the Last Day, but we are freed from our slavery to sin even as we journey through this wilderness. We Christians get to flee the Egypt of our sin and death. We are freed to live all of life with our Suffering Savior. How so?

When the children of Israel were delivered from Egypt,  they were set free by the death of the first-born of all of Egypt. They were baptized as they crossed through the Red Sea on dry ground. They were freed to live with God. As they wandered through the wilderness, God fed and sustained them with the food called “manna.” We Christians are set free from sin and death by the death of Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God. We are baptized into Christ’s death and resurrection. In that Baptism, we are freed to live with God—with our Suffering Savior—for all of life. This Little Savior who fled to and from Egypt makes us His people. We confess our sins, and He forgives us. He also feeds and sustains us with the food of His very Body and Blood right here on earth under the bread and wine.

You see, from His earliest days as God in man made manifest, our Lord Jesus was the Suffering Savior who comes for us suffering people. We need Him to fulfill the freedom first revealed in the Old Testament.

Have you ever noticed that the Apostles’ Creed does not say much about the earthly life of our Lord Jesus? Only one verb is used between His Birth and His Crucifixion—the verb “suffered.” He was “born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried.” Our Lord Jesus came to live our life, the way we live it—in suffering. And He came to rescue us from it. And He has freed you from it.

But, pastor, we still suffer! We suffer from illnesses of various kinds. We suffer from economic uncertainties, family discord, violence in the streets, even shootings in churches. We suffer scorn just for being Christians. How can you say that Jesus has freed us from our suffering?

St. Peter is most helpful for us this morning: “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you…. If anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name [of Christ]…. Let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good.” (1 Pet. 4:12-19).

When Jesus flees to and returns from Egypt, He is showing you that He is your true Deliverer. He comes to fulfill your freedom—freedom from sin and death, even if and when you do suffer. “Because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted” (Heb. 2:18). Our Savior came to take the place of Israel, and now He still comes to take our place and walk with us. That’s how He fulfills our freedom from sin and death. Amen.

Homily for First Sunday after Christmas (2019)

"Holy Child and Holy Families"
Luke 2:22-40

Today we see the Infant Jesus when He is only 40 days old. Long before He can walk or talk, He is brought to His proper home—the Temple of God. Since He opened His mother’s womb, He is holy—set apart—to the Lord. And Joseph and Mary faithfully keep the Old Testament law of offering a humble sacrifice to God. Holy Child and holy family. Blessed by God. Set apart by God for His purpose of bringing salvation to all people—for all children and all families.

If we left Christmas behind on December 25, we would only have some well-loved poetry, a heart-warming picture of mother and Child beside a lowly manger, and some sentimental memories of worship services. But that’s not enough to get you to life with God. By themselves those things don’t get to the real heart of the matter—your heart of sin and God’s heart of forgiveness. On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day we can finally locate God—He’s in the flesh, lying in a manger. But that’s just the beginning of the picture. We need the picture to be filled out; we need the vibrant colors added. This little, holy Child is God’s salvation before your very eyes. This little, holy Child is destined for the fall and rising of many people. This little, holy Child is the very source of holiness for you, no matter what your age or family situation may be.

Today we move from the stable to the Temple of God, the place where God’s glory dwells on earth. And notice how worship life and family life go hand in hand in this account.

Mary and Joseph bring Baby Jesus to God’s house—holy mother, holy father and holy Child. They make a sacrifice according to God’s Word. Simeon is waiting in God’s house for God-in-the-Flesh to reveal Himself. A devout, holy man focused on God’s salvation. The Holy Spirit gave him faith. And that faith kept him in constant vigil in the Lord’s House. That faith prompted him to sing a marvelous song of God’s salvation. And aged Anna, a devout, holy widow, lived her life in constant attendance in God’s house. She lived a life of Temple prayers, she gave thanks to God for sending His Son, and she spoke of the Christ Child to all who looked for redemption. Christ-centered, liturgical worship always gives birth to confessing Christ in daily witnessing.

In our ongoing celebration of Christmas, we see how this holy Child comes not just to be born, but to redeem and make holy. Jesus’ conception in Mary’s womb makes all conceived children sacred. Jesus’ birth makes all births sacred miracles from God. And Jesus’ infancy—complete with nursing, spitting up and dirty diapers—makes infancy pure and holy for us and our children and grandchildren. When the Word becomes flesh, He revels in taking ordinary, fleshly things and making them sacred. And this also applies to families.

We can see from our Lord Himself that God’s design for a family is mom, dad, and children. Family is a holy and precious thing in God’s eyes. It’s not just some traditional invention of society that we can throw in the trash dumpster because we think we have better, more modern, alternative lifestyles. You see, in God’s design the family is the very foundation for society. All the centuries of history prove this. When the family—mom, dad, and children together—is revered, honored and protected, society does well. When the family is scorned or dishonored, used and abused, society crumbles.

In our society the family is under assault. And we Christians seem to be tripping and falling under the pressure rather than standing up to the assault. Instead of holding on to the life-long, one-flesh union and commitment of one man and one woman in marriage, we give in to the world’s disposable marriages, successive marriages, even same-sex marriages. Instead of parents treasuring their children and taking the responsibility to raise and teach their children, parents go off pursuing their own interests and viewing their children as inconveniences or nuisances. Instead of children respecting their parents as gifts from God, pop culture and progressive education teach our children either to ignore parents or despise them.

This is exactly what Jesus comes to purify and make holy: the family broken by sinful self-seeking. He comes to purify and restore us in our family relationships. How does He do this? By being God’s very life and salvation in the flesh. By living in a family Himself. By keeping the very law of God in our place. By being spoken against by people who did not want Him. And, ultimately, by being rejected, nailed to a cross, and killed in our place. That’s the destiny of this holy Child. But that dark destiny of death for Him means pure, life-giving forgiveness for you in your family.

Is any family perfect? No, not this side of heaven. Even Christian marriages have their flaws. Perhaps you suffer from a past indiscretion as a spouse or as a parent. Perhaps you look at yourself in the mirror of God’s law and see only sin and failure—as a child, as a spouse, or as a parent. Let today’s story of the holy Child in His holy Temple be your comfort. This holy Child came to die for you. As Simeon said, “My eyes have seen Your salvation.” Look to the Christ Child for God’s rescue from your sin and failure. Look to the Christ Child who lived a perfect family life for you.

So, whether you wrestle with infidelity or divorce, whether you suffer pain from abuse or guilt over abortion, or whether you endure the daily bickering and hassles of family life, Christ Jesus the holy Child is for you. His falling in death and His rising in resurrection is yours. Now you may die in your sins by confessing them and you may rise again in Jesus’ forgiveness. And your Baptism ushers you into a lifetime of such dying and rising. “What does such baptizing with water indicate? It indicates that that Old Adam in us should by daily contrition and repentance be drowned and die with all sins and evil desires, and that a new man should daily emerge and arise to live before God in righteousness and purity forever.” All of that just for you; all of that just for your family; all of that courtesy of the Holy Child.

And by the way, no matter what your family situation is, this whole story of Christ in His Temple is for you. It’s for the married, the single, and the divorced. It’s for the young and the old, the tot, the teenager, the thirty-somethings, the middle-agers, and the senior citizens. No need to divide ourselves up by group or class or age. Holy Jesus wants to keep us together. Notice what everyone in our story today is focusing on: the Holy Christ Child. Mary and Joseph go to the Temple because of Him. Simeon is waiting for Him, and when he sees the Holy Child, his life is complete. And Anna sees the Child, thanks God for Him, and confesses Him. Here’s the medicine and the hope for today’s troubled family, for today’s weary senior citizens, and for today’s singles: the holy Christ Child, God in the flesh, salvation in God’s house.

So, when you need help and strength in family matters, here it is: Holy Jesus in His holy house. After all, the Church is our true family and this holy place is our true home. Here we learn Jesus’ forgiveness so that we can forgive in our families. Here we are made holy, so that we can live as holy people in our homes, set apart for God’s own special use. Here we not only see the Christ Child with eyes of faith, as did Simeon, but we also get to taste Him in His Body and Blood. And pay close attention to what you get to sing right after Communion. It becomes your song for all of life: “Lord, now You let Your servant go in peace; Your word has been fulfilled. My own eyes have seen the salvation which You have prepared in the sight of every people.” (LSB, p. 165) Amen.

Homily for the Nativity of Our Lord-Christmas Day (2019)

"Free Grace Supplying"
John 1:1-14

With complete credit and much appreciation to Rev. Kevin Golden and Concordia Publishing House's "Behold the Child" Advent series, and with slight revisions for my proclamation.

I’ll be home for Christmas. Just mention the words and you can hear Bing Crosby crooning away. It’s part of today’s delight. Children home from college for Christmas. A reprieve from business travels lets you be home. The overstretched schedule with sports practices, music lessons, and social engagements is suddenly empty. It’s not just you; it’s the whole family home for Christmas.

As much joy as that brings, it gets better. How long will the tranquility last? It’s only a matter of time before an argument erupts between siblings. And, at some point, that holiday tradition you wish would just die will come to life again—the comments on the attire of others, the rolling eyes when a certain family member enters the room. Being home means you need grace to forgive one another. And that grace is yours because Someone else has made His home with you. God has pitched His tent with you so that you may behold His grace.

When something is important, we attach a lofty word to it. So it is today. Christmas rejoices, not just in a birth, but in the incarnation. That’s from the Latin for “in the flesh.” Today we rejoice that the Son of God is in the flesh. It’s a chief mystery of the Christian faith—the eternal God takes on human flesh.

St. Augustine marveled at the incarnation: the Creator of all things enters His creation; He enters a womb that He had formed. It transcends our minds, because God transcends our minds.

Still we confess the incarnation; we believe it; we rejoice in it, because we receive unending blessings from it. God in human flesh brings all of God’s blessings to humans. The chief blessing is His grace. John speaks of the incarnation, saying that the Word became flesh. And then he tells us the divine purpose for the incarnation. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).

As we heard it sung last evening:
“There they found the wonder child, in lowly swaddling clothes lying,
Yet all the world with His free grace supplying.”

Today we rejoice. The Word has become flesh so that He dwells among us. It’s the great news for us today. The Word—the eternal, divine Son of God—has become flesh. He has taken on a human nature, flesh and blood, in the womb of Mary and has been born in the flesh. That’s why we celebrate today. But there’s more to this verse, more reason to celebrate. A more precise translation says, “The Word became flesh and tabernacled among us.”

In the incarnate Word, Jesus Christ, God tabernacles among us. The tabernacle was a tent designed by God Himself so that He would have a place to dwell among His people. That design was given to Moses shortly after the exodus from Egypt. “Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle” (Ex. 40:34). The tabernacle would serve for nearly five hundred years before it would be replaced by the temple, which had the same design but was a permanent structure rather than a tent.

Jesus tabernacles among us. Everything that God promised about the tabernacle now stands fulfilled in Jesus. He is the place where God dwells among us. No more need for a tabernacle or a temple. Jesus is where it’s at. And that is saying a lot.

The tabernacle was a place of awe. It was apparent that God was present in the tabernacle, because there you beheld His glory. It was a cloud that rested in the innermost part of the tabernacle, the Most Holy Place. While only the high priest would enter the Most Holy Place, and only once a year, the glory of the Lord went out the top of the tent into the sky. It could be seen by all, no matter where they were standing or sitting. It was an awe-inspiring sight.

And now that awe is bound up in Jesus. He is born and appears as any other child. There is nothing in His appearance to make Him more glorious than any other person. Yet you can still marvel at Him. In this man, the eternal God dwells. This child lying in His mother’s arms is the one who created the whole universe and even the motherly arms that hold Him. Marvel at the majesty of that. How great is your God that He can humble Himself to be born of Mary yet remain the source of all things.

Just as the tabernacle inspired awe, it also produced fear. The glory of the Lord that could be seen coming out of the tabernacle is the same glory that the people of Israel had seen on Mount Sinai when the Lord descended to speak to Moses. It looked as if the mountain were on fire. A boundary was set around the mountain so that no person or animal would step on it, lest they die.

That same fear should be ours as the Word tabernacles among us. It’s no small thing to be in the presence of God. The Most Holy Place was the precise location of God’s presence in the tabernacle. Only one day a year would the high priest entered it, and that only after certain sacrifices had been made to cleanse him. To walk into the Most Holy Place outside of that protocol would mean death. Sinners do not just waltz into the presence of the holy God.

That has not changed. Don’t be fooled by Christ’s humility. Yes, He comes as a baby, but He is still the holy God. He is still the Creator of all things. When I honestly assess my sin, it leaves me shuddering in fear when I think of approaching the One in whom we behold of the glory of God.

Yet the faithful kept coming to the tabernacle, and for good reason. Yes, it is an awe-inspiring place as you behold the glory of the Lord. Yes, it is fearful to know you cannot hide your sin or explain it away as you behold the glory of the Lord. But you also have His Word and promise. The Lord commanded Moses and the people of Israel to construct the tabernacle, and He told them why. He promised that it’s the place where He would dwell among us, His people, with grace.

God desires to dwell with His people. But He also knows they are sinners who cannot live to tell the tale if they behold His unfettered holiness. So He puts on a mask. He desires to be truly present with His people, and He wants them to live to tell the tale. That is grace. That is the tabernacle.

And it’s all bound up in Jesus. Here in the child born of Mary God is dwelling among His people with grace. He will not be apart from you, so He puts on human flesh as a mask. That is grace. All of that grace is in Jesus, and that explains why He took on our human nature. Grace comes at a price—a price that you and I cannot pay. So Jesus pays the price in His flesh. The glory of God will be revealed in its fullness at the cross. On the night when He is betrayed, Jesus prays, “The hour has come; glorify Your Son” (John 17:1). At other times, Jesus says it is not yet His hour (John 2:4). His hour is at the cross; that is the time of glory, glory that abounds in grace.

With His unending grace, you have just the place to dwell—in the tabernacle, in Jesus. His presence, His glory, and His grace is no less available for you today than it was when He was lying in Mary’s arms. He still wears a mask today so that He can dwell with you. His glory was manifest to you in your Baptism, a glory that remains with you. His glory is ever present with you in Scripture and in hearing the Word of Christ, a glory that remains with you. His glory is truly present under bread and wine. Right there, He comes to you with the very same body and blood that Mary held in her arms, the very same body and blood that was crucified for your salvation, the very same body and blood that rose from the dead, the very same body and blood that will come again for you on the Last Day, the very same body and blood in which you behold His glory, the glory of the one and only from the Father, full of grace and truth.

Jesus tabernacles with you. So welcome home! You are home right here because here is where Jesus is present through His Gospel, His Baptism, and His Supper. That means God is at home with you because of Christ. “God’s own Son is born a child . . . ; God the Father is reconciled.”

“O sing of Christ, whose birth made known
The kindness of the Lord,
Eternal Word made flesh and bone
So we could be restored.
Upon our frail humanity
God’s finger chose to trace
The fullness of His deity,
The icon of His grace.” (LSB 362:1)

Amen.

Homily for the Nativity of Our Lord-Christmas Eve (2019)

"Excitingly Ordinary"
Luke 2:1-20

Christmas time has so much ceremony, family tradition, and glittery attention. But if you think about it, all the attention given to Christmas is out of proportion with its humble, ordinary beginning. The Scriptural account of Christmas is very brief and oh, so ordinary. And there’s great joy in that ordinary, humble birth of Christ. What’s extraordinary about Christmas is that it’s NOT extraordinary! It’s full of ordinary things—a government decree, a journey home, an ordinary husband and mother, ordinary labor and delivery, ordinary strips of cloth, and even humble mangers and shepherds.

In 1697 a twenty-five year old Peter Mikhailov left his homeland in Russia to travel abroad. He wanted to learn and experience the culture and technological advances of Western Europe. While such a journey may be ordinary for many young students, both in Peter’s day and in ours, Peter was anything but ordinary. You see, “Peter Mikhailov” was the alias for none other than Tsar Peter I of Russia. He took on the alias and appearance of a commoner to achieve the goals of “The Grand Embassy.” He wanted to obtain ideas to turn Russia into a modern European nation at the time. Most Europeans did not even notice that the leader of the Russian Empire was walking their streets as a commoner.

This is the very point St. Luke makes in telling the story of Jesus’ Birth: Christ our Savior enters the world in very ordinary, unnoticed fashion. He comes without royal fanfare. How excitingly ordinary is the birth of our King!

At first hearing, you might think Caesar Augustus is the king that heaven and earth must notice. He’s one of the most powerful rulers the world has ever known, ruling the mighty Roman Empire. At the time of Christ’s birth, the empire was at its high point. It’s Caesar’s decree from on high that forces Joseph and the Virgin Mary to make a journey to Bethlehem. But it’s an ordinary decree—similar to the one we’ll have this coming year for a nationwide census. It appears the Roman emperor is in control.

If he’s not in control, then we might focus on another ruler—King David. Why must Joseph and Mary travel to Bethlehem? It was a small town of only about 200-300 people. Very humble and ordinary. But it was the hometown of Israel’s greatest king. David had established Israel as the superpower of his day. He had located the nation’s capital in Jerusalem. He had put the Israelites on the world map. And both Joseph and Mary were his descendants. So, by decree of the current king, Caesar, the Holy Family travels to the town of its former king, David.

But notice how ordinary, how humble, our royal Savior is. He enters the world without the attention of Caesar or David. He comes without pomp or circumstance, without grand proclamation or fanfare, without visits from royal dignitaries. He is born without the silky comforts of royalty, without the posh pampering of a palace. Our God and Lord enters the world in very ordinary, even poverty-stricken fashion.

That’s exactly how it should be. Our God and Lord comes down from His royal, heavenly throne and is enfleshed in the womb of Virgin Mary. He is born of Mary not to rule in the power and might of a Caesar Augustus or a King David. He does not come to lay down the law or force Himself on anyone. He does not earn respect by show of force. He does not win people over by lavish government spending. The peace and goodwill He brings do not need to be enforced by might. This infant King is not like the other two kings at all. He does not become king by overwhelming His enemies. He does not retain His power by efficient government or political posturing.

Instead, our God and Lord comes in poverty on purpose. He comes knowing that He is unknown. He comes to skirt the glitz, the ceremony, and the power. He comes to submerge Himself into our manner of life. He comes not just to bring peace and good will, but to BE our peace, to live His goodwill in us. Our divine King comes not just to know about our heartaches and pain, but to take them all into Himself. When He takes on our ordinary flesh and blood, He also takes into Himself the anxieties that trouble us, the sicknesses that weaken us, the uncontrollable desires that dominate us, the grief that overwhelms us, the hardships that threaten to undo us, and the dying that mortifies us.

So our Lord comes not necessarily to bless you with money, possessions, power or glory. No, He comes to give you His peace and good will. Not only that, but He IS your peace and goodwill from God. What more can we troubled, sorrowful, anxious souls desire than the good news that God is gracious and compassionate? This is the peace and goodwill our Jesus is born to be. He does not come to earth to shove you into hell. He does not come to place extra demands and burdens on you. He does not come to demand your obedience. That’s not why He was crucified, died and buried. Instead, your Lord Jesus comes so that you may have peace and joy in Him. He is the great joy that is for you and all people.

Our Lord Jesus comes to live an ordinary life like yours. He comes to die in your place. Make no mistake—He is still King, and He uses all of His royal wisdom and might to conquer His enemies and yours. He conquers not by torturing, but by being tortured; not by killing but by being killed. So it’s only fitting that King Jesus enters the world not with a big splash, but with a lowly, ordinary birth—born of an ordinary teen-aged Virgin, wrapped in ordinary strips of cloth, and placed in an ordinary feedbox.

Exciting, isn’t it? All this ordinary stuff from the King who comes to help and save you. And His kingdom is like no other on earth. Jesus is King who rules with compassion and loving-kindness, with mercy and forgiveness. Who are His subjects and citizens? You commoners—you with troubled hearts and broken spirits, you who are completely unable to make yourselves be at peace with God. He is born not to bring fear and trembling, but to comfort you who live in fear and trembling. He brings you into His kingdom simply by helping you see your sin and death and then by speaking His forgiveness and life into you. As He took on your flesh and blood when He was born, He also puts His Body and Blood into you when you eat and drink at His royal Supper table. Ordinary elements for us ordinary people, but they bestow His divine, royal, heavenly forgiveness. Most exciting!

How fitting, then, that poor, ordinary shepherds are the first to greet the Savior King. The high and mighty—those who want to spend great riches on themselves, those who pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, those who think they matter most—they despise this King and ignore Him. But the unskilled laborers, the field hands, the coal miner types—the shepherds—they receive the angelic message. They hear it and take it to heart. They thrive on the preaching they hear. Regardless of position or wealth or birth or education, King Jesus comes for you who are brought low before God, for you who are on the lowest rung, unable to climb to God.

Those shepherds are the first to receive King Jesus. They are also the first to proclaim His excitingly ordinary birth and what it means. They praise God for sending a King who comes down to common, ordinary people. He comes to tend, nourish and feed them like a flock, to shelter them from harm, to lay down His life and rise again for His sheep. Jesus the Shepherd-King is the very food and sustenance of His people. The Good Shepherd whom the shepherds proclaimed is also the Lamb of God laid in a feedbox to be our Food and Life in His very Body and Blood.

What’s your joyous task this Christmas Eve? It’s very ordinary, and it’s very exciting. Receive King Jesus as He comes to you—hidden in the ordinary things of strips of cloth and manger hay. But don’t stop there. King Jesus still comes down to and among us commoners. Now it’s in ordinary Gospel preaching, ordinary washing with water, and the ordinary Supper of His Body and Blood. Our kingly Savior no longer makes His bed in a feedbox, but now in your ears, hearts, and minds, now in your flesh and blood as He lives His risen life in you. He is lowly and gentle of heart. He is your peace and goodwill. He is your great joy and comfort. Amen.