Who needs you?

Like most pastors, I am beginning to look ahead to Epiphany and its season.  While I am attempting to show the world that Christmas is not over (not for another ten days) by continuing to say “Merry Christmas” to folks and I know and friends I meet, and while the Christmas Season has become my daily routine of prayer and meditation, my administrative time is not filled with visions of sugar plumbs – if ever it was – but of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

I am familiarizing myself again with the Magi, Cana, and the mystery of the Transfiguration.  I am organizing the readings, the missallettes, and the ornaments of Epiphany.  I am tossing around the question of whether I hold the feast on Jan. 6th (Thursday) or transfer it to the following Sunday. (Probably the later since I think its too late to prepare the congregation for a adhoc (though it ought not be adhoc) service on Jan. 6th.)

In addition, I am thinking on how to resurrect among the Lutherans here the practice of the Christians having their homes blessed during the season of Epiphany.  I’ve talked about it to the adult Bible class and I’ve even blessed a few homes of new members as they joined the congregation and of a few long standing members who have moved to a new home.  But how do I introduce it to people in such a way that they know that they don’t have to have it done, but that I am willing – even eager – to do it?

As I ponder this I began to write up an explanation in Sunday’s bulletin about it.  I wrote something to the effect that we have our homes blessed annually during Epiphany (on Epiphany is even better) to pray for Christ’s blessing on our families, homes, and possessions.  We pray for peace in the house, for faith, hope, and love.  As I wrote, the question popped in my head, “Why would they want me to do this?”  Don’t they already pray for all this? Don’t they bless their homes daily with prayer and the reading of Scripture?  Yes.  So why would they bother to call pastor to make an appointment for him to come and bless their home? Especially when it’s never been done before.

No reason.  It just seemed another unneeded rite to bolster churchliness, giving pastor yet another straw to grasp at to build up his sense of indispensability.  No reason to have vested pastor show up with a book of prayers and fumble uncomfortably around the home while we stand by and think, “This is nice; unnecessary, but nice.”  The dad of the family – or the mom – could easily do this. Why should I, the pastor, bother with trying to get into people’s homes to give them a blessing they probably don’t care about anyway? Why should I go through all the angst of writing up reasons trying to cajole and encourage people to participate in something neither they nor their fathers nor their grandfathers did (though perhaps their great-grandfathers did).

Then it occurred to me: Because that’s my duty.  My duty is to bless.  For to this I was called.  For this I was sent.  I bless the people of God with His Word from birth to death and all the stops in between.  I bring them His Word – not just a sermon or a meditation or even “just” the Bible – but the Word made flesh that dwells with us.  I pray intercessory prayers for them as my Lord has taught me to do.  I stand between them and unbelief, perhaps even between them and the devil.  I cast out their demons and fill them with the Holy Spirit through my ministrations, as the Lord has decreed and ordered.

This isn’t a “high view” of the office, it’s the biblical view.  For as the Father sent the Son, so the Son sent His ministers, His stewards.

Not only so, but it occurred to me that I am not – bear with me Walther – sent or called to a congregation as such.  Congregations change. Faces appear and disappear.  People come and go. To whom am I sent?  By whom am I called?  Some remain but some are gone.  But the altar remains.  The Word remains. The font remains.  I am installed at a station, a font, pulpit, an altar.  I am sent to a place, not a finite congregation but to a place where people live.  The church/synod structure is the after-thought, not the reason or catalyst, even if it is the means.  Just as the bread and wine are not the reason or the catalyst of the Lord’s body and blood, even if they are the means.

Should all the official book-registered members of my congregation disappear tomorrow, would I pack up and leave, or would I minister daily where I have been sent to those in need of Christ and His blood?  Yes, yes, I am replaceable – infinitely so (hence the title of the post).  But my replaceability (with a better and more suited pastor) ought not, cannot not, must not impede my performance of what it is I have been sent to do: to bless with the Word made flesh.

And so, I will offer to bless the homes of Christians during Epiphany (and anytime they should want it).  Not because my blessing carries more weight than that of another, but because I have been called to give a blessing, to be a blessing.  Some of those Christians I and the world refer to as “members”; some not. But all of them are those for whom the Christ was born. All of them are those to whom the Christ is made manifest. All of them are those to whom I have been sent. Else I would not go.

The Five Fools

The point of the parable of the Ten Virgins is to stay vigilant, to wait for the coming of the Bridegroom.  I wonder if the foolishness of the five foolish virgins wasn’t that they had no oil, but that the lack of oil became for them a stumbling block in their waiting.

The wise virgins had flasks of oil, the foolish virgins did not.  But when the Bridegroom comes our Lord does not put in His mouth the praise of the wise for having extra and enough oil.  The oil didn’t get them into the marriage feast; the fact that they waited for the Bridegroom gave them entrance.

The foolish virgins wouldn’t have known if they had enough oil.  The cry went out at midnight, “The Bridegroom comes!” but was it an hour, two hours, at dawn? Why go then and buy oil?  Why not stick it out in the darkness, trusting in the mercy of the One for whom they wait?  Why ask for oil from another?  Why not be content that the Lord has given what He has given, and that is enough?

The wise virgins were not Christ-like.  They did not give until it killed them.  They did not give their oil to the fools.  Why?  We say it is because we cannot believe for another, and we equate the oil with faith.  But the oil is not faith.  The oil is a stumbling block.  It caused the wise to be greedy and the fools to give up their wait. What do we care if we have oil?  Does our Lord not say to us that tomorrow is not our worry, that today has sufficient trouble?

The foolish virgins were fools because they let what they lacked keep them from greeting the Bridegroom when He came.  And so they were kept from the marriage feast.  The wise were not wise because they had extra oil, but because they waited.

If we lack faith, from whom will be buy it?  No one, it is given.  If we lack faith, we wait for the Merciful One.  If we lack integrity, we wait for the righteous One.  If we lack good works, we wait for the One who fulfills the Law for us.  If we lack peace, we wait for the Prince of Peace.  If we fall asleep, we wait for the One who shall wake us.  Our Lord is greater than us and our lack of oil.  He renews the strength of those who wait upon Him.  When He comes and finds us waiting, He will not say to us, “Yes, you wait; but you doubted now and again, you lived always with the question of whether I would return. You should’ve gotten rid of your doubt first; where is your oil?”  Neither will He say, “Here you are waiting for me, but look at your rags!  Where are your good works?  Where is your oil?  You should have had good works waiting for me.”  When our Lord returns and finds us waiting for Him He will say to us, “Come, blessed by my Father, into the joys of my banquet.”

The expectant waiting is the chief thing. The oil is good, and those who wait for the Lord have enough.  For here is the mystery of it all: The more you wait on the Lord, the more you eagerly expect Him, gathering with His Body and eating the same, drinking His Blood, and hearing and believing His promises, the more oil He gives you and the more you realize that nothing but waiting on Him really matters.  That is what faith is, to wait for the Lord who has purchased you, who has redeemed you, who gives you His mysteries as proofs and signs of His will for you, and who comes again.

Come, Lord Jesus, come. Amen.

The Son of Man Cometh

In Matthew 10, the evangelist records Jesus sending out the Twelve.  With no money, no extra tunic, no extra clothing they are to go out and proclaim the kingdom of heaven is near, healing diseases, casting out demons, and even raising the dead; sure and certain signs that the Lord is with them.
As sheep in the midst of wolves are the Sent Ones, the Apostles of the Lord.  Yet there is promise. For most truly they will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes.
Now one can take this as a future event; that the Apostles are still going from town to town in their writings and preaching office – and so they are! fulfilling the Apostolic Commission given in Matt. 28 – that the Son of Man will come at the close of the age – and so He will!  But it may very also comfort the poor preacher as he preaches and is devoured by wolves and sees little or no fruit for all his labor.  For here he has the promise of the One who sent him that he will indeed see the Son of Man coming on clouds in great power.  The Son of Man comes when and where the Father sends Him, healing and saving those the Father draws to the Son, breathing out His Spirit through Baptism and ordination, establishing His kingdom and rule.  Of this the apostle and preacher is forerunner and herald.
So take heart, preachers, those who sit in the apostles’ seat.  You will not have preached in vain but you will see the Son of Man coming before you have been exhausted beyond yourself.  Truly, truly, the Son of Man will come before you have preached to the last soul you see.  And when He comes, He will come with great power and great might, healing every dread disease, bringing cool water to the desert’s burning sand, casting out demons, and feeding you with the very Bread of Peace.

Preaching on Credit

I am no different than most pastors.  I want to be a good preacher.  Now certainly we (myself and other pastors) differ on what that means, to be a good preacher, but I think it nigh impossible to find a preacher who would say that he wishes to be a worse preacher than he already is, though many a preachers’ habits and ways might suggests such to the casual observer.  Be that as it may, certainly the vast majority of all preachers would quickly and quite truthfully say that they want to become better preachers.  But after some soul searching (yes, soul searching; perhaps with even the theme music from a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie) I have found that I don’t really want to become a better preacher.  If I did I would do the work.  I’d read books on preaching. I’d listen to good sermons (whatever “good” might be to me); not to copy them – though that’s a start – but to be inspired by them, to mimic them in their goodness.  If I really wanted to be a better preacher I’d spend a great time on, well, preaching!  But I don’t.  And I’d wager most others don’t either.

No, what I really want is to not have to work at being a good or even decent preacher.  What I want is to stand up in the pulpit tomorrow and with little or no effort deliver the most powerful, awe-inspiring, soul-changing, life-altering homily that the ears of men have ever been blessed to hear.  What I want is to be so endowed with the ability to inspire and impress the audience (those who hear) that I cannot help but be the most marvelous orator since the Greek orators of ancient renown.

In essence: I want to win the lottery of good preaching.

We have succumb to the society around us, we want our best … NOW!  Joel Olsteen is such a success – as we all know – because he preaches to itching ears.  And we’ve been listening.  You don’t have to work at good preaching, just meditate a bit, really want to do it, and be earnest, truly believe you can achieve it and *PRESTO* you’ll have it!  Every week we play the lottery.  (1) We drive to the local gas station/read the texts; (2) Pick our numbers/do a little exegetical, mostly isogogical work; (3) Pay the $1/write a few ideas down; (4) go home hoping and praying that our number is the winner/wait until Saturday night or Sunday morning to frantically make some sense of nothing.  Sometimes we get $10 or $15 dollars, but mostly we will just have wasted our time and our hearers’ time.

Now don’t get me wrong. We all know the joke that since God once spoke out of the mouth of an ass, he can speak out of my mouth.  That’s true.  But that doesn’t free us from doing the work of an evangelist and so fulfilling our ministry. It simply means that God will have His way with or without us.  But we are still accountable.

Usually we buy the lie.  We act like we’re rich when we’re not.  We preach on credit.  That is, we depend on past study, past inspiration, past victories to settle accounts on Sunday morning.  We have our favorite catch phrases and prose, so we bank on those.  But it’s like paying the $100 minimum payment on your $4,000 maxed out card so you can use it a little each month. You don’t really have the money, but nobody but you knows it.  Of course, the only reason you got the card in the first place is because you didn’t have any money, so you borrowed.  Eventually, though, you don’t have the $100 to pay the minimum payment and the creditor calls and you loose your TV and everybody knows it: you’re poor and in massive debt!

So it goes with preaching.  We don’t have the money to begin with so we borrow from our past or from other pulpits, not doing the work ourselves because it’s too hard or we’re afraid of failure.  We’re afraid of not being as good as or with keeping up with the Jones’.  Eventually, though, our past becomes too far past and our “creditors” become too foreign to our place in life, and we are faced with the reality that we are poor preachers.

And as there is only one way out of debt, so there is only one way out of being a poor preacher: work.  What does that work look like?  It looks like prayer, not “lottery-like” prayer, but meditative prayer in the psalms and the breviaries of the Church catholic.  It looks like studying the Greek and Hebrew, not only with Bible Works or Libronics (as good as a tool as they are), but struggling to internalize the meanings and endings and all that good stuff.  It looks like not using filler in our sermons.  Get to the point.  If that means you begin to preach 10 minute sermons, then preach them!  If the point needs building up to, then build up to it. But if it doesn’t, then don’t.  But even here we are tempted to play the Preaching Lottery. We want the work to come naturally, without great effort.  We need to repent and do the work of an evangelist.

Mostly we need to pay attention to the Scriptures and to what we preach.  Pay attention to your sermons, your words. For by them you will save both yourself and your hearers.  The actually delivery of the homily may be easy – maybe not – but the process is work, hard work.  It is our work. Let us do it with fervor and spirit, not neglecting to pay careful attention to ourselves and the flock of God over which the Spirit has made us bishops.

Peach the Word.

“Science Satire” (like “Lutheran Satire”)

Okay, not exactly like “Lutheran Satire”. Still, funny.

Sermon on Trinity XVII

(Click here to listen to Pr. Lovett.)

+ Luke 14:1-11 +

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord Jesus Christ.

The Pharisees were watching Jesus carefully.  They wanted to catch Him in a sin.  They put this man with dropsy before Him to see if He would heal Him.  Jesus knew this.

Our Lord isn’t fooled by us.  He knows why we do what we do.  We can paint up our sins to make them look like sincere and genuine works and concerns, but He knows.  He knows when you lie to make yourself look better.  He knows when you ignore your conscience and silence the Word within you.  He knows when you ignore a part of the Bible so as not to be condemned in your sin and unbelief.  He knows when you cover your tracks by blaming others.  He’s not fooled by our petty complaints that we wouldn’t have had to sin if He’d helped us more in our finances, in our marriages, in our jobs, in our lives.  But He’s not having any of it.  He doesn’t fall for the Pharisee’s trick and He isn’t tricked by your dressed up sin.

Our Lord does not play well with others.  The Pharisees want to test Him; to catch Him in a compromising position.  They try their best.  But Jesus never lets them win.  He never takes it easy on them.  He never softens His blows or holds back a little.  He’s not that kind of friend.  That would be a lie.  He is the Truth.  We let others wins.  We lose to our children on purpose.  We even teach them to let others win every once in a while.  Let little Sally have the ball.  Run a little slower and let your brother win.  And we do this in some measure to build self-esteem and to teach our kids how to be kind.  And in so far as that goes, it’s okay, even useful.  But we also do it just so there’s no fighting, no arguing about who’s ball it is and how he never lets me win.  We force winners to lose and losers to win to keep the peace.  But you can’t live life that way.  Consider the thief that breaks into your home and steals your goods.  Do you let him go with your stuff because he says, “Awww! I never get away with it! I never win!”

Jesus never lets His opponents win.  He never lets sin have its way.  He never lets us have our way.  He never stomachs a lousy theologian just to build but the theologian’s self-worth or self-esteem.  He doesn’t want to build up your self-esteem.  He wants to destroy your self-esteem, your self-worth.  So that He can build up your esteem in Him; so that He can show you His worth, which is keeping you out of hell and in His Father’s house.  If He let the Pharisees have one, if He lets them win just one debate, just one tussle, if He says to Himself, “They’ve tried so hard, they’re so beaten. And they’re actually pretty good at this testing stuff.  I’ll let ‘em have this one.”  If He did that, then He would let their hope remain in themselves, in their abilities, in their goodness.  But that is a false hope.

So our Lord doesn’t let them win.  “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?”  He knows they don’t care about the man’s healing or about the Sabbath.  They’re not interested in the answer to this question.  If they were, they would have said something.  They would have tried to warn Jesus not to break the Law.  They wouldn’t have put the man with dropsy there in the first place, trying to lead Jesus into temptation.  But they don’t care about Jesus’ question or the answer.  They only want to catch Him in a compromising position so they can be rid of Him.

If they beat Him at their little game, their little test, then they can ignore His piercing eyes and His pointed words.  If He falls for their trap then they can say to themselves, “See there, He doesn’t have all the answers.  He’s no better than us.”  They’re only interested in knocking Him down a peg or two and establishing themselves as viable players in this game of righteousness.  They don’t care about the Sabbath or about this man’s healing, or even really what is and isn’t lawful.  If they did they’d have rid themselves of all their invented customs and rules and just stuck to Moses.  But they don’t care about that stuff.  They only care about keeping themselves in their privileged positions.  They’re only concerned with doing what they want to do.

It’s the same thing as when teenagers say to their parents, “Oh, like you never drank when you were my age?”  It knocks their parent down a peg.  Their not interested in their parent’s drinking or even in being reasonable.  They’re only interested in doing what they want to do.   So they exalt themselves by humbling their parents.  It’s the reason we ever remind anyone of their foible: to knock ‘em down a peg.  It’s why we point out when police officer speed and when our goodie-two-shoes neighbor falls from grace.  It’s why we find fault with pastors. We think that if we knock ‘em down a peg, if we show that they’re no better than us, then we’ll have them. Then we can ignore their words and rebukes and they can’t hold us accountable since they themselves have been unaccountable.

So we put the Lord to the test.  Here are your options Lord: either you let me skip your Service, ridicule your Church, ignore your commandments, and otherwise live like I want to live, keeping and hindering my children from coming to you by telling them that God doesn’t mind if they skip your Service every now and again for the world’s pleasures, and I’ll make sure I tell everyone how great and wonderful you are, and I’ll make your Service as often as is reasonable; or, option two, you can correct me, chastise me, rebuke my sin and my living, tell me to give up my live-in boyfriend or my Saturday night partying or my Sunday morning golf, you can bring me hardship so that I will repent and conform to your ways, you can denounce my hobbies as temptations and you can call me to account for the what I teach my children by my words and actions, and I will make sure that everyone knows that you’re too demanding, too strict, too fanatical, too much a slave driver. I’ll make sure that everyone knows that you can’t be the real God because the real God is love and it isn’t loving to be so demanding.  Real love would let me enjoy life.  Real love would let me do what I want, at least every once in a while.  After all, if you never let anyone win, if you never let them have their cake and eat it too, you’ll never get anyone to come to your Church or listen to a word you say.  Be reasonable, Lord.

But we’re not really interested in being reasonable.  We only want to do what we want to do.  And our Lord isn’t interested in being reasonable either.   He knocks the Pharisees down.  He doesn’t let them win.  He humbles them.  “Is it Lawful to heal on the Sabbath?” If you were sincere, Pharisee, you wouldn’t put me to the test, you’d obey.  But you’re not sincere about keeping my Word; you’re only sincere about saving face, about keeping your position.  So now you will lose your position as teachers and men of honor.  For which one of you if you had a sheep or a donkey fall into a pit on the Sabbath, wouldn’t save it?  How much more should this man be healed on the Sabbath.  You have failed your own test.

He doesn’t let you win either.  You fail your tests too. You know that just because your friends lived together before marriage or the police officer speeds or your pastor sins or so-and-so doesn’t go to church, that doesn’t justify or condone your sin.  But you are full of pride.  We like who we are and where we are.  If we didn’t, we’d seek to change.  But our sins are comfortable and convenient.  So instead of letting the Lord have His way with us, instead of repenting and being humbled by His Word, we exalt ourselves and hide behind the sins of others, even pitting Scripture against Scripture to get our way.

Repent.  Let the Lord humble you.  Take His yoke upon you and learn from Him.  He is gentle and humble and you will find rest for your souls.  For His yoke is easy and His burden is light.  He’s not going to destroy you or make you squirm.  He’s not going to make you stand naked before the multitude.  He won’t even make you explain yourself.  He will set you free to be His children, to be His people.  He isn’t here to punish you or to mock you or make fun of you. He is here to save you, to rescue you, to redeem you.  Let the Lord humble you because those He humbles He also exalts.

He doesn’t leave you in your sin, to answer for your sins, but gathers you to Himself to be your God and your Lord.  He gives you His righteousness and keeps no record of your wrongs.  He lifts you up and gives you the seat of honor; a seat at His Father’s banquet where He calls you His friends and shares with you His Bread and His Cup.

In Nomine Iesu. Amen.

Sometimes it takes being Spit on by Jesus.

+ Mark 7:31-37 + (A sermon preached on Trinity XII)

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord Jesus Christ.

Here our Lord opens the ears of a deaf man and makes his unintelligible speech easily understood.  Here our Lord does what He came to do: the Father’s will.  The will of the Father is to reconcile His creation to Himself.  Jesus is the embodiment of the Father’s will and so reconciles creation to the Father, the world having been created through the Son in the first place.  So the Son re-orders, re-creates, restores, and creates anew the creation that is fallen and is out of communion with the Father.

Jesus does the will of the Father.  Jesus does all things well.  Jesus creates communion with the Father where there was no communion.  He gives hearing were there was no hearing.  He gives speech where there was no speech.  Not to just a few obscure Bible figures, but the Lord Jesus gives you hearing and speech as well.  The Lord heals you.

He heals you.  Not just metaphorically – what we often call “spiritually” – but actually.  He heals your body.  He restores it.  Makes it new.  What ails you?  Cancer? Alzheimer’s?  Blindess?  Deaf ears?  A mute tongue?  Intestinal bleeding?  Weakness?  MS?  Death?  The Lord heals you.

Born in your trespasses, you were at enmity with God.  You were His enemy.  And while you were His enemy – before you were even born – the Will of God, the Word of God, the Son of God, came born of woman, born under the Law, to redeem you who were under the curse of the Law; came to bring the Father’s presence to you and to bring you into the presence of the Father.  And He has taken you away from the multitude of unbelievers and has sighed, has breathed out His Spirit upon you.  He has commanded your ears, “Be open,” so that you have ears to hear.  That you would hear plainly the will of the Father, “Be reconciled.”  He has touched your tongue with His body and blood; loosing your tongue so that your speech becomes intelligible, understood in the presence of the Holy One of Israel, that you may tell of His wondrous deeds and how He has worked salvation for the children of men.  Zealously proclaiming what Jesus has done for you: reconciled you to God by the cross.

Jesus does the will of the Father. Jesus does all things well.

But this is really only an afterthought.  Surely the crowds that day – not to mention the deaf/mute – didn’t think it so well done when Jesus stuck His fingers in this man’s ears.  Surely having your tongue spat upon is not such a pleasant experience that would cause one to think that this man does all things well.  Quite disgusting, really.  Dirty fingers into dirty ears.  Slimy saliva mixed with slimy saliva.  First century saliva.  No toothpaste.  No mouthwash.  No q-tips for his ears.  Not too mention Jesus’ character.

No respecter of persons, this man.  Doesn’t care what others think of Him.  Just does what He sees the Father doing without asking anyone’s permission.  No kind words, just fingers in the ear and spit on the tongue.  Seems to be put off by people, this man, Jesus, always asking His disciples why they are still so dull, and the leaders of the people – respected leaders – why they have led so stupidly.  Constantly sending the crowds away and seeking to be alone.  Far from the gentle Jesus that is thrust upon us by a culture that screams, “Just love me,” and “Don’t judge me,” Jesus seems quite unloving and judges harshly.  Diving out money-changers with a whip of cords, ending a father’s way to put bread on the table.  Calling well-intentioned men liars and those that seem good sons of the devil; demanding absolute allegiance of His would-be followers.  This man rebuked His mother as well as His enemies.  This man is not soft.  He is not weak.  He was despised and rejected by men, yet would not give in. He would not break. A man of sorrows, well-known to grief, as one from whom men hide their faces out of fear and shame, even as Peter cried out, “Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

This man, this Galilean, stuck his dirty fingers in this man’s ears and spat on his tongue.  He healed Him.  He does all things well.  He does the Father’s will.

Knowing the outcome, that Jesus does all things well, it is easy to be jealous of this once deaf-mute.  He got healed today, that is, while he lived on this mortal coil.  That’s what we want.  We want to be healed now.  We want our pains and sufferings to disappear.  And rightly so.  Sickness and disease, poverty and want, such things are unnatural.  They were not meant to be.  All creation moans with eager longing, eagerly awaiting the revelation of the sons of God when it will be healed of all its disease and sickness, its poverty and destitution.  It is good to desire to be rid of what ails us, what attacks our bodies and lives, for such things are the nothing more than the minions of death, which is always the enemy.

But though we may be jealous of the deaf/mute’s healing – because we know that Jesus does all things well – I strongly doubt that we are jealous of how he was healed.  One can image that the deaf/mute, unable to hear, was quite a bit apprehensive of what was happening as this larger than life Rabbi separated him from the crowd – the safety-in-numbers crowd.  Quite apprehensive as this rather rough Rabbi who seems afraid of nothing and puts the fear of God into powerful men and lets no man make excuses before Him, took him aside, away from the comfort of friends.  He couldn’t object, he was mute.  And once aside He stuck His fingers into his ears and put his spit on his tongue.  Nasty business, this healing.  Nasty business, your salvation.

It takes blood.  It takes death.  It takes being rejected by men and scorned by the world.  It takes sleepless nights of tearful prayer.  It separates a father from his son; but also a husband from his wife and a mother-in-law from her daughter-in-law.  Not of Jesus, but of you.  Nasty business, your salvation.  Your Lord does all things well.  He is going about His Father’s business, doing what He sees His Father doing, reconciling you and keeping you in the true faith until you die.  This is His good and gracious will.  He doesn’t ask you.  He doesn’t consider not doing the Father’s will.

Sometimes it takes pulling you aside, separating you from those that brought you to Jesus, from your friends and family, removing your false and fleeting comforts so that He can heal you and keep you.  Sometimes it takes terrorist attacks like those  the Twin Towers 10 years ago; or a devastating tornado like the one this last May in Joplin, or the one in April of 2001.  Who knows how many of His sheep He found in those catastrophes, as He stuck uncomfortable fingers in dead ears.  How many people’s safety did He violate in order to open their ears and unstop their tongues?  The Lord does all things well.  The Lord does all things for your salvation.

Sometimes it takes painful probes into your life, words of Law that condemn you and chastise you, or else devastating and life-altering events so that you become uncomfortable and afraid, worried about what this man, Jesus, is doing to you.  Surely the deaf/mute would’ve rather had Jesus wave His hand over him and thus heal him, but that is not what he needed.  Surely you would rather Jesus leave you alone and stop sending bill collectors and gossipy neighbors and unfriendly friends and incessant illnesses, and lonely nights and just make everything better, but that is not what you need.  You need His invasiveness into your life, into your soul. He does all things well.

Sometimes it takes violating your sensibilities and doing things to shock you, even to hurt you it seems.  Sometimes it takes being spit on by Jesus; being astonished by His work.  He is the Good Shepherd. He knows His sheep. He knows you.  He knows what you need for your salvation and preservation. He knows what you need to be healed that your ears would hear your heavenly Father’s words, and your tongue loosed to sing the praises of Him who heals the nations and raises men from the dead.

Make haste, O God, to deliver me!  Make haste, O Lord, to help me!  Behold, the Lord does all things well.

In Nomine Iesu. Amen.

Above My Desk

Above my desk in my study hangs a crucifix, a picture of my Lord and my God obeying the Father’s will on my behalf, for my blessing and benefit. An icon.  No, not an official Eastern icon, but an icon none the less; a picture into heavenly places where my Lord stands before the Father making His case for me by the stigmata he bears.

Whether I do good or evil, right or wrong; whether I obey or disobey, do my duty or neglect my calling; whether I pray with diligence or forget my prayers; there hangs my Lord for me.  Independent of my wants or my thoughts, free from my sins and not motivated by my love.  There He is, for me, hanging above my desk in my study, always more ready to give than I to receive, always more willing to do than I am to ask, always praying on my behalf.

In the Sight of all

The psalmist writes, “How great is your goodness [O Lord] which you have stored up for those who fear you and worked for those who take refuge in you, in the sight of the children of mankind” (Ps. 31:19).

The great goodness of the Lord is stored up for those who fear Him, for all who trust in Him.  But what is the goodness?  Eternal life, of course. And truly this will be before the sight of all mankind on Judgement Day.  But that’s not all of it.  His goodness is also the cross, which was done in the sight of many.  The resurrection, too, was attested to by over 500.  His ascension was done in the sight of the children of man – at least Twelve of them.  But even now the goodness of the Lord, which He has done for those who trust in Him, is done in the sight of the children of men.

How great is your goodness, O Lord … which you have done in the sight of all for those who trust in you!  For you have prepared a place for me, a dwelling place in your Temple.  You have built a city around me and hemmed me in on every side so that I cannot be removed. You have surrounded me with your armies and commanded them to watch over me.  You give me the Bread of Heaven and the Cup of Salvation.  You, O Lord, have opened my lips that my mouth should declare your praise.  How great is your goodness, O Lord, which you have done in the sight of all.

Our Lord gathers us together in the sight of all, saving us from sin, death, and the power of the evil one.  Even in places where His people must meet in secret, the children of men still know we meet.  The gathering – more commonly referred to as “church” – is the goodness of the Lord as much as anything, more so for me.  For what advantage is to me if the Son of God bled and died and rose again but I do not believe and so do not gather to Him? But His words, “For you,” require me to believe.  And in believing, I am gathered and the goodness of the Lord stored up for me and is given to me at the time and place appointed for me.  And this before the sight of the children of men.

Now boasting in the Lord makes sense.  Now I will boast that my Lord and my God does great things for me, He gathers me to Himself.  Not in the spirit only, neither in hyperbole, but body and soul in real time and real space.  He gathers all His saints in His Temple, and they all cry, “Glory!”

 

 

 

Obedience is the way of Faith

Now that my good friend and brother, Jim Wagner, is back in the States, I must begin again to write; hopefully he will begin again to read.

“You are saved by grace through faith, and that not of yourselves lest any man should boast.” (Eph. 2:8) These words of the apostle Paul to the Christians in Ephesus are foundational to the Christian Church. They unequivocally and undeniably proclaim justification by grace alone through faith alone. You are not saved – rescued from sin, death, and the power of the devil – by anything you do, but by the pure, unmerited mercy of God who chose you in Christ Jesus before the foundations of the world were laid.

Neither the grace of God nor our faith in Christ is earned or wrought of us in any way. We didn’t choose to believe in Jesus any more than we chose for God to send His Son to save us from our sins and the power of death. God elected us in Christ. That’s good news! That’s gospel!

But the devil comes to kill our faith, steal our hope, and destroy our assurance. So the ancient serpentine foe hisses his objection: “But how do you know God elected you? You still sin. You still lust. You still gossip and defame your neighbor. Sometimes you even enjoy your pet sins. Not only that, but you have a hard life. You can’t pay your bills. You can’t keep a job. Your children have left you. Your parents disowned you. You suffer disease, accidents, and misfortune. Is this what an elect child of the Almighty should look like?”

And the devil’s right; if salvation depended upon you. But it doesn’t. It depends upon God’s mercy (Ro. 9:16). How do you know God elected you? Because you are baptized into the name of Jesus; because the good news of the kingdom is preached to you; because you participate in Christ (1 Cor. 10:16) and eagerly await His return. God is not waiting for you to clean up your act before He blesses you with His gift of mercy and faith, He is pouring His gift on you even while yet you are weak and undeserving. That’s what makes it mercy!

And as for a difficult life of unpaid bills, doctor visits, misfortune and grief, these are evidences that you need a Savior, not evidences that you are not saved. These are reminders – even as Jesus’ own hunger reminded Him – that you do not live by bread alone, but by the word that proceeds from the mouth of God, which is mercy. Life is hard and often unfortunate. But just as bullets whizzing by a soldier’s head are not evidence that the battle is lost but that he is at war, so these trials and tribulations are not evidence that you are lost, but that you are at war.

Stand firm, St. Paul writes to the churches in Thessalonica, and hold to the traditions that you were taught by the apostles. These traditions are the apostolic injunctions to pray, fast, sing hymns and psalms and spiritual songs, participate in the altar of the Lord, and otherwise attach yourself to Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. We do not do these thing in order to receive God’s mercy in Christ, but because we have received God’s mercy in Christ.

We are Christians; disciples of Jesus of Nazareth who overcame the tempter by His obedience to the Father. Having been washed, sanctified by Christ Jesus, we too are counted as obedient. Let us not disappoint.