Coming
Grace to you and
peace from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Even if the spirit
is willing, the flesh is weak. The flesh is terribly difficult to subdue. The
things we would not do, the things we hate—those we do. Our flesh betrays us over
and over. Our flesh is the seedbed of lust, gluttony, and avarice, and all our
deepest sorrows come from our own sins.
The years sweep by,
and looking back only shows a list of crimes: a catalog of lies we’ve told, of
promises we’ve forgotten, of slander that has risen up out of our hearts. Is it
any wonder that our families are so broken; that our lives are so complicated;
that the prisons are so full? And as we look back, we also see the signs of
God’s wrath and the temporary character of this earth. Terrorists, earthquakes,
divorce, and war all serve as warnings of the judgment to come. Nothing on
earth is the same today as it was a year ago. All things are in decay; all
things are dying. We are in constant turmoil and change. Death is having its
way. Only the Word of God never changes.
This should fill
us with fear and reform our behavior, but instead we hatch plans. We can build
bigger barns to store our crops. We can delay paying our debts. We can kill our
enemies—or at least, destroy their reputations. These plans are vain. Our
pretending at wisdom is a mockery of the Wisdom which comes down from above.
Repent.
If you have ever
eaten so much that you had to loosen your belt, you have proven that the flesh
is weak. Overeating is not necessarily the desire of your body, which gives you
signs that you should stop, but of your fallen mind, which seeks ongoing
pleasure, ignoring the clear warnings of fullness, eating even though it hurt. Our
will craves such pleasure and vice. We are broken and sick, rotten and dying.
It is for this that
our Lord has come. He has taken up the weakness of our flesh. He has become one
of us—body, mind, and spirit—in order to redeem our fallen flesh and corrupted
wills. He did not leave you alone to suffer in your weaknesses. He has come to
rescue you. He is one of us in every way, but He is not weak. He does not sin; the
Law is His will. Yes, He is humble and lowly, but He is not weak. He takes up
the same human flesh which is prone to alcoholism, homosexuality, cancer,
weariness, and, most significantly, death. He comes in the cursed flesh of
Adam’s inheritance. He enters into the chaos of our dying lives, to endure our
hatred and betrayal, our violence and our phoniness. He is tempted in every way
that we are, but He does not succumb or fail. His flesh is as willing as His spirit.
He endures all that we do to Him without a desire for vengeance or reputation
or even success. He endures in perfect love. He is at one with His Father’s
will. He comes to serve as the fulfillment of His own unbending Law. Our Lord,
who knows no sin, became sin to free sinners from sin and death.
Jesus rides the
donkey into Jerusalem.
He comes to be a sacrifice. That crowd of sinners which adores Him is inspired
by the Spirit—sinners shouting, “Hosanna! Save us!” They carpet His path to the
cross with palms and garments. Soon we will shout as He goes to His death. But
we are not ashamed; we do not feel sorry for Him, for we sinners need Him to do
it. We are the sinners who shout for the Messiah to be Himself: to save us, to
keep His promises. And He does what He says. Shouting sinners are transformed
with a Word. By grace He makes them praying saints: saints whom the Lord loves;
saints with whom He is well-pleased; saints whose weakness has been washed
away, forgiven. The Lord, who came to be born in Bethlehem,
who came to Jerusalem
to die in payment for our sins, comes now as God in the flesh, present in His
Word and Sacraments. Soon He shall come again in glory. Even so, Lord Jesus, come
quickly. In the name of the Father and of the Son (†) and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
The
peace of God which passes all understanding will keep your hearts and minds in
Christ Jesus always. Amen.
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