Sermon for 4/15/22: Good Friday (St Mark Passion series)

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Creation Groans in Expectation
Mark 15:33-39

 

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

 
        For three hours—from the sixth hour until the ninth hour—the sky darkened over the land while Jesus hung on the cross. The other Gospels include this detail while also mentioning that the earth shook and graves were opened. To understand why, we must consider several important prophecies found in the Old Testament. For example, Amos declares that the day of the Lord will be a day of judgment: “And it shall come to pass in that day…that I will make the sun go down at noon, and I will darken the earth in broad daylight…” Zephaniah describes it as “a day of wrath, a day of trouble and distress, a day of devastation and desolation, a day of darkness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness…” Here is what we need to understand: human sin did not only impact the relationship between God and his human creatures, and the relationship between a man and his neighbor; it impacted the whole of creation.

When God created Adam, He created man from the ground, and He provided for us from the earth. He gave us a place to live on the earth. He gave us the responsibility for the care of His other creatures and His earth. But Adam and Eve were not content to live as creatures who lived from God’s gifts and depended on His goodness. When they sinned in their attempt to become more than creatures—to become like God—God handed out the death sentence He had promised. How did He execute judgment? He cursed the earth, making it difficult for them to wrest their life from the earth. And eventually, they would return in death to the dust from which they were created.

When God executed judgment, creation comes apart at the seams. All one has to do is skim through the Old Testament to see how this happens time and time again. The flood is, of course, the best-known example: God returning the earth to a state where it was formless and empty, just as it was before God spoke the Word to create the heavens and the earth. There was also the plague of darkness which accompanied the first Passover, where Moses stretched out his hand over the land and darkness covered the land for three days as a sign of God’s judgment. But perhaps the most descriptive, the most reminiscent of the flood, is found in Hosea: “Therefore the land will mourn; and everyone who dwells there will waste away with the beasts of the field and the birds of the air; even the fish of the sea will be taken away.” When God exercises judgment, creation falls apart.

And that’s exactly what happens on this day. On Good Friday, God poured out His anger against His human creatures who ruined the harmony of His creation. But the Son of God stood in the place of the human race. He died on our behalf. The rest of creation felt it. In the presence of God’s anger, the created order turns into chaos. And so the sky darkened and the earth shuddered.

What makes this all the more devastating is that the judgment doesn’t fall upon a mere human creature, one who is only human. It falls upon the Son of God, the One through whom all things were made. The One through whom all things were made now dies as a human creature. And with His death, creation crumbles. It’s remarkable that the Son of God would be sent into His own creation by His own Father for this purpose. The Son of God became a human creature to rescue God’s prized human creatures, and with them to rescue His whole creation. Only months ago we celebrated the birth of the Son of God into the creation He Himself had made; now, as a human creature, the Son of God, the Agent of creation, now dies for His creation.

But since the death of the Son of God involved the entirety of creation, it did not end there, for Death has no claim on Jesus. And so the darkness of Good Friday would be replaced by the light of Easter morning. The unraveling of creation brought about by the wrath of God against sin would be replaced by the new creation; creation would be reconciled to God. As St. Paul wrote to the Romans, “The creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.” Just as Adam brought about death and corruption for all human creatures and, indeed, for all creation, so Jesus would bring about new life and renewal, beginning with His human creatures and extending to all creation. God would raise Christ from the dead. As the One who embodied the entire human race in bearing the Father’s righteous wrath against sin, Jesus then rose from the dead, raising the entire human race with Him. Sinful humanity has been redeemed. Corrupted creation has been restored. We are made a new creation. The darkness of the curse of sin will be shattered by the rising of the Christ, the Word made flesh, the Light of the world. 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. 

Sermon for 4/14/22: Maundy Thursday (St Mark Passion series)

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Believing Is Seeing
Mark 14:12-25

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

 

           Throughout this season of Lent, we have looked upon our Lord’s Passion through the eyes of St. Mark the Evangelist. And we’ve had a recurring theme: We do not see things the way the Lord sees them. We want to believe only those things we can see. We call it the scientific method, and it works pretty well for us in our daily lives. But when it comes to the things of faith, everything is turned on its head. In fact, as we hear in Hebrews 11, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” So it is not that seeing is believing; in fact, it is only through the eyes of faith that we can see what our Lord is doing for us and for our salvation.

          The disciples ate the Passover with Jesus that night. The Passover was the great feast of Israel’s redemption, the meal that recalled Yahweh’s deliverance of Israel from the hand of the Egyptians. In eating the Lord’s food for pilgrims, the disciples recalled and gave thanks for Israel’s deliverance. They called for the Lord to rescue them from all their oppression and to establish His reign forever. But the Twelve, like the rest of God’s people, weren’t concerned so much with their past deliverance; they were more concerned with their current Roman oppressors, and they wondered if deliverance would ever come.

          The disciples had eaten the Passover with Jesus before; that night would be no different. Oh, they were aware of the building opposition to Jesus from the authorities. They had seen the strange anointing from the unnamed woman earlier that week at Bethany, when Jesus claimed that she was preparing His body for burial. But they were not going to let their Rabbi’s melancholy predictions spoil their celebration of the Passover. But the Passover is not merely an event from the past; it pointed forward to the sacrifice of Jesus as the Lamb of God. And the disciples were blind to that present reality. Jesus had told them—and we’ve heard these words already this Lent—“Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and to the scribes; and they will condemn Him to death and deliver Him to the Gentiles; and they will mock Him, and scourge Him, and spit on Him, and kill Him.” They could not see the reality Jesus revealed to them: that He was the greatest Passover Lamb and the fulfillment of the Passover. They wouldn’t believe it. They wouldn’t believe that their Master would suffer and die. Blinded by their sin, they couldn’t see it. They had missed it.

So Jesus found another way. Hear again these words: “Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them and said, ‘Take, eat; this is My body.’ Then He took the cup, and when He had given thanks He gave it to them, and they all drank from it. And He said to them, ‘This is My blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many.’” Since they disciples wouldn’t believe what was right before their eyes, Jesus place His Word in their mouths.

          What about you? Is this just another Maundy Thursday? Is this just another night for you to come to church? Another night singing those boring, stodgy old hymns? Another night to listen to that tiresome man in the pulpit, to get your snack of bread and wine, and then be on your way? Are you just receiving simple bread and wine in your mouth? Or is there something more happening here tonight? We desperately want there to be something more here, but our eyes, blinded by sin, cannot see it; our ears, attuned to the whispers of that satanic serpent, cannot hear it.

So Jesus finds another way. He invites you to eat His Word, too. Here on the altar, the Passover Lamb of God is here in tangible form, hidden in bread and wine. He invites you to know that He is the Son of God, and that He will establish God’s reign of mercy, grace, and love through the Passover of His own body and blood, present through His Word and promise. The blood of Christ is painted on the doorway of your heart, and the angel of death passes over you. Death is defeated; Satan is chained. Here is deliverance: signed, sealed, and delivered in His Word.

So come. Come: eat and drink the Word of God. Believe it. He has a plate and cup, filled with His body and blood, filled and waiting. Take it and eat; take it and drink. Believe, and you will see. 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. 

Sermon for 4/6/22: Midweek Lent V (St Mark Passion series)

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The Gospel According to God
Mark 15:15-32

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

 

          The suffering and Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ is tough to handle. We know the story, of course, and we know how it ends. But seeing the cross of Jesus and how He responds to the cross is part of the story that is not easy to take. This is not how we would write the story. You see, we like the story where the good guy comes out on top. We like the story where justice and fairness overcome villainy. We like it when people get what they deserve. A little show of divine power, some well-aimed wrath and retribution—that’s the story we would write. And it would include a glorious scene where Jesus emerges victorious with His enemies groveling at His feet.

          Of course, that’s not the story we get. Good Friday’s showdown does not end with deafening cheers and a blaze of glory descending upon the hero. It seems that what Jesus shows Pilate, Herod, the Sanhedrin, the soldiers, the crowd, and us is defeat: resignation, weakness, humiliation, and surrender. This is not the image we want for our hero. But this is what Jesus seems to display. This is the portrait of the crucified Christ: naked, bloody, suspended with nails hammered through His wrists and feet, struggling for breath. It left the eyewitnesses in a state of disbelief. The soldiers stationed in Jerusalem saw a compliant, silent Jesus; their mockery and scorn were violent and blasphemous.

          The religious leaders of the Jews did no better, though they should have known better. They had no sympathy for their countryman who was enduring the worst Rome could hand out. In fact, the Sanhedrin and the priests were the ones who sought the death of their promised Messiah. After all, what kind of Messiah could Jesus be? He seemed powerless before the might of Rome, when He was supposed to be the mighty King to deliver Israel from her bondage. He was unwilling to live according to the statutes of the Pharisees, and He opposed the religious leaders of the Jews—those men who thought they would be the closest allies of what they would consider a real Messiah. No, this Jesus couldn’t be the fulfillment of the promise. They would only believe what they wanted to believe. And when it came down to it, they couldn’t help but wonder what kind of Messiah would allow Himself to be nailed to the cross and die.

          It was a fair question. Not even the disciples could answer that question. The men who had heard the truth right from the mouth of Jesus Himself could not comprehend what Jesus was doing. It took little more than the arrest of their Rabbi for them to be thrown into terror and driven into hiding. The Christ of the cross was an image they did not want to see; it was a story they did not want to witness. What Jesus revealed at Golgotha did not seem to be the sort of thing that would create faith or encourage devout worship. All these witnesses of Golgotha saw, but they did not believe.

          But Jesus was showing them—and us—exactly what it means to be the Messiah. He revealed Himself as God in flesh. Golgotha on Good Friday is resplendent with the glory of God, but it does not come in the way that sinful man expects. We can appreciate how the cross displays love and compassion—after all, it was love and compassion for His creation that drove Jesus to endure the cross and the shame and agony and suffering. But the full reality is that it is precisely on the cross and by the cross that Jesus shows the world exactly who the Son of God is. He is the Lord, the One by whom all things were made, the supreme Lover and Savior of creation. The cross is His throne. Jesus takes His place as the Lord over His kingdom. He is crowned as the God who redeems His creatures. Only God can love like this. Only God can give Himself so absolutely to those who despise and reject Him. And it’s ironic that it is only the centurion who sees and knows the truth. He confesses, “Truly this was the Son of God,”

          So the glory is there on the cross, but it’s not the kind of glory we’re used to seeing. The power and strength and victory we long to see on display from our Lord actually are on display, but they are taking a form no man could have imagined. At Calvary, on the cross, Jesus shows us God. He shows us the reality of what God is. He shows us the core of our faith: trust in the God who gives His all for His creation, even His own life. This is not the God who writes the story the way we would write it. And it is so much the better than the story we would tell, because this is the story where the victorious Lord is displayed in the glory of the cross, suffering and dying for the sake of the love He bears for His creation, winning the victory by the power of His blood. And we are the ones who bow at His feet—not in terror, but in humble thanksgiving. 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. 

Sermon for 3/30/22: Midweek Lent IV (St Mark Passion series)

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Confession and Denial
Mark 14:53-72

 

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

 

          When Jesus reveals Himself as the Christ, the Messiah, the Son of God, the Savior of the world, there are only two possible responses. One can either deny the truth, or one can confess the truth. When the Father reveals who Jesus is at His Baptism and the Transfiguration, saying, “This is my beloved Son,” one can either refuse to believe what God says, or one can confess, “I believe.” The Greek word for confession, homologeo, literally means “the same word:” in other words, it means to repeat what was originally said. So to confess the Christian faith means to say about God what He has revealed to you about Himself. And to confess your sins means to say about yourself what God has revealed about you.

          Confession only pertains to the truth. One cannot confess an un-truth; by its very nature, an un-truth is no longer confession. Think about what St. John writes. “If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. …If we say that we have not sinned, we make Him a liar, and His word is not in us.” Notice that John uses the word “say.” When we claim we have no sin, we are not making a confession, because we are denying what God has told us about ourselves. God has made the diagnosis: we are corrupted throughout by sin. We can either deny reality, or we can confess, “We are by nature sinful and unclean.” In fact, when we make this confession during the Divine Service, it is not because we have come to that conclusion after spending two months of profound introspection and navel-gazing; God has revealed the Old Adam within us, and we can only agree with His verdict: “I [am] a poor miserable sinner…”

          The same thing is true when we confess the Creed. Look at where the Creed appears in the Divine Service: either after the Gospel text or after the sermon. Because we have now heard the Word of God, we reply together with what we have heard in that Word as a summary of the Bible’s teaching. It becomes an “amen” to God’s Word—“I hear what You’re saying, God, and I believe it.” We follow the example of Peter, who listened to what Jesus taught and then confessed, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

          But to confess Jesus as Lord involves more than just saying some words. To confess that “Jesus is Lord” is to confess that He rules over the universe, which means He rules over us—over our entire lives. It means that you follow Him. And so, when Peter confesses Jesus as the Christ, and Jesus then predicts His own suffering and death, Jesus tells the disciples, “Whoever desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.” That’s why Peter’s denial is so devastating. If you believe that Jesus is the Christ, then let your life repeat the confession of your mouth. If you are not prepared to forsake your father and mother; if you are not prepared to give up all your possessions; if you are not prepared to suffer and die with your Lord Jesus—then you are not worthy to be called a Christian, not worthy of the kingdom of heaven. You can see what is at stake; this has real life implications.

          And that’s why the Rite of Holy Baptism progresses the way it does. First the pastor asks, “Do you reject the devil? Do you reject all his works? Do you reject all his ways?” And then we confess our faith in the Triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. First we reject the lordship of Satan, and then we confess that Jesus is Lord. Why? Because He “has redeemed me, a lost and condemned person, purchased and won me from all sins, from death, and from the power of the devil…” For what purpose did He do this? “…That I may be His own and live under Him in His kingdom and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness…” In this way we become attached to this One we confess as the Son of God. The water combined with the Word of God marks us with the name of God which we confess. Marked by His name, we belong to Him.

          In doing so, we confess what Jesus first revealed about Himself. The high priest asked Jesus, “Are You the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?” Declaring Himself to be the Christ would mean being accused of blasphemy, a crime worthy of death. Denying that He was the Christ would be a lie. And so Jesus confessed of Himself, “I am.” In doing so, He confesses that He is God. He confesses that He is Lord. He confesses that He has come to fulfill the promises God made to His Old Testament people to send a Savior: the Seed promised to Adam and Eve who would win forgiveness of their sins by the power of His innocent suffering and death and His glorious resurrection. And hearing this Word, we confess it back to Him in thanksgiving for all He has done for us. 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. 

Sermon for 3/23/22: Midweek Lent III (St Mark Passion series)

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Power in Weakness
Mark 14:43-52

 

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

  

          One of the most important things God reveals to us about Himself comes from Isaiah 55: “‘My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways,’ says the Lord. ‘For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts.’” Look at how God interacts with His people throughout Scripture, and you know this to be true. We think God should do something in a certain way, but He does it in another way. In our own lives, we think God should be at work the way we want Him to work; what He actually does is something completely different.

As we look the Passion account in Mark, we see how God is at work; how strange it looks in our sight. We see people who are powerful in the eyes of the world, and we see people whom the world views as weak and helpless. This text shows this in striking contrast. You see Judas Iscariot, the money man for the disciples, leading a crowd of soldiers wielding weapons. He has a plan to hand Jesus over to the religious authorities, and that plan works to perfection. Judas betrays his Rabbi with a kiss, and the soldiers move in and arrest Jesus.

In sharp contrast, we see the supposedly stouthearted, loyal disciples. Peter tries to play the power game. The best he can do is mutilate the ear of the servant of the high priest—a servant named Malchus, the Apostle John tells us. How feeble must his blow have been: Peter is trying to save Jesus with the sword, and the most he can do is slice off Malchus’s ear—hardly the critical blow he must have meant to strike. And with Peter’s failure, the disciples run off in fear. So much for their insistence that they would stand with Jesus no matter what would come. The power play has ended; it seems Judas has won. It seems Satan has won.

          And in the middle of all this, there stands Jesus. It seems He’s doing nothing. He knew exactly what was coming. He told the disciples what was about to happen: “The hour has come; behold, the Son of Man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners. …See, My betrayer is at hand.” Judas does the dirty deed, and Jesus lets it happen. Mark portrays Jesus as silent and passive. Again, in the power game, it seems as if Jesus has lost.

          But the ways of God are not out ways; He carries out His work in ways we cannot even begin to imagine. Jesus does speak in our text; He explains to His seemingly powerful enemies exactly what is happening. They think they are in control, that their weapons and superior numbers give them the advantage over Him. “Have you come out, as against a robber, with swords and clubs to take Me? …But the Scriptures must be fulfilled.” Scripture promised that the day would come when God would come to deliver His people Israel from their sins and bring them back to Himself. Scripture promised that God would come as King.

And now, right before their very eyes, in the seeming weakness of Jesus, the promises of Scripture were being fulfilled. God will save Israel—not as the leader of a mighty army, but as the Sacrifice, the blood Price for sin. God will use the seeming weakness despised by the world to save His people. God will bring His kingdom—but, again, not a mighty kingdom to conquer. This was the King whose first throne was a manger in Bethlehem; this King rode into His holy city on a donkey and was hailed with the waving of palm branches; this King was soon to be crowned with thorns, worshipped with snap of the scourge, enthroned and victorious on the cross at Golgotha. The King is crucified. But as we’ve heard before, God’s ways are not our ways.

          So what truly is power? What is strength as God views it? What are God’s ways? And what does it mean for our lives today? Hear what God said to St. Paul about the way God works: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” In answer, St. Paul wrote, “I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” What is it that makes you strong? It begins in weakness. It begins in repentance and faith. It begins by confessing that you are “a poor, miserable sinner” in need or forgiveness. It begins in placing your trust in the One who became helpless in the eyes of the world, becoming sin for you. In Christ, God sees your weakness, and He forgives your sins. He lifts you up when you are burdened under the heavy load of guilt. He restores you, filling you up with life and salvation in the body and blood of Jesus. It is not flashy. It is not strong, not as the world measures strength. But it is God’s way.

          God’s plan comes to fruition in the seeming weakness of Jesus. We fix our eyes on Him as the seemingly powerful betrayer and powerful soldiers take Him away. But when we look upon Him as the Father sees Him, we see that the weakness of Christ is the power of God for the salvation of the world. We learn to trust that our lives as children of God grow and mature as we confess our weakness. For God’s ways are higher than our ways; His power is “made perfect in weakness.” 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.

Sermon for 3/16/22: Midweek Lent II (St Mark Passion series)

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Light in the Darkness
Mark 14:32-42

 

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

 

          When Jesus and His disciples sang their psalms and made their way into the night on that Passover Thursday, it would have been dark; and once they found their way into the garden known as Gethsemane, as they traveled through the olive trees and the shadows they cast, the darkness would have been more intense. But Gethsemane was familiar to them, and the light from the stars and maybe from the moon would have been sufficient for them to find their way. But the lack of sunlight was not the only form of darkness to descend on the garden that night. It was a dark night, full of dark characters and dark deeds. Gethsemane was shrouded in a heavy pall of darkness.

          The disciples were bewildered. This was nothing new. As we heard last week, the disciples often completely missed the point of what Jesus was saying and what was going on around them. Even in the light of day, when Jesus was standing right in front of them, spelling out what He wanted them to know, the disciples seemed to linger in the dark. They have their moments, but for the most part, they thoroughly miss the point. In Gethsemane, the darkness was extreme. They didn’t grasp the scope of the events going on around them—the impending betrayal by their brother, the arrest, the agony that was taking hold of Jesus. Oblivious, they yielded to the darkness of the night, to their full bellies, to their wine-dimmed thoughts. They fell asleep, entirely too comfortable in the dark.

          The darkness surrounding Jesus was much worse. Of course the betrayal by Judas would be a blow, as would be the desertion of the other disciples as they fled for their lives. But the heaviest darkness around Him was the weight of sin. Jesus was about to enter the great Passion. He was about to fulfill what St. Paul described to the Corinthians: “God made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us…” Jesus was about to come face-to-face with the reality of that sin. He would be mocked. He would face false accusations. He would suffer the death of the cross. But more than the physical suffering, He would be separated from the Father; He would be forsaken by His Father for the sake of the people He had come to save. He would be condemned by the Father, bearing all of the wrath of the righteous God against the sin of the world. It was not only the agony of the humanity of Jesus that was on display; the full deity of Jesus made His agony all the greater. This was the real trial, far beyond anything He faced before the Sanhedrin or Herod or Pilate. He pleaded with His Father for some other way. This was the night of great darkness; after He prayed to His Father, everything else was settled. He would go to the cross. He would die as the Sin-bearer. He would rest in the tomb. He would descend into Hell. He would obey the Father’s will.

          The disciples understood none of this. They saw Jesus praying, but they didn’t see with understanding. Instead of looking on with faith, the disciples—even the inner three—were still trying to put Jesus into the box of their expectations of who the Messiah would be and what He would do. These expectations blinded them to what God revealed through the darkness of Gethsemane. They could not see the weight of sin bearing down on their Teacher and Lord. Jesus, submitting Himself to the will of the Father, was triumphant in His obedience. But the disciples would face trials, and they would fail miserably. Blinded by what they wanted to see, they could not see the truth God was placing before them.

          We have the same sort of mistaken expectations of Jesus. We don’t trust the ideals of Judaism or their false messianic dreams. But we rely on human ingenuity, technology, and reasoning. We desire empirically verifiable scientific truth. We seek justice by our own definitions. These things have their place. But when we trust them to help us comprehend the reality of the world around us, they blind us to the truth God places before us. They keep us from seeing the spiritual truths that can only be seen with the eyes of faith. They keep us from seeing the dangers of the devil, the world, and our own sinful flesh. Seeing with the eyes of faith sheds true light on all these things. Because we still bear the Old Adam which loves darkness better than light, we will not see perfectly. But as we allow ourselves to be guided by God’s Word, we will see more than we do when we rely on human wisdom and understanding.

          The disciples missed the full importance of Gethsemane. Hiding in fear, they missed Good Friday as well. Only after the resurrection and ascension would they see with the eyes of faith. You don’t have to wait. The Holy Spirit is here, now, with His gifts. You can see the reality of our Lord’s agony and rejoice to know what He endured in obedience to His Father out of love for you. You can see His sacrifice and the life it brings. You can see how the light of God’s Word shines on every aspect of life. God’s Word impacts us all. Don’t miss it. Don’t let your reason blind you to what God reveals to you. Trust what He shows you, even if you don’t see it with full clarity just yet. You will see what you need to see, not what the Old Adam wants you to see. You will see your Savior, your Sin-bearer, your Jesus. 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.  

Sermon for 3/9/22: Midweek Lent I (St Mark Passion series)

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Stumbling and Saved
Mark 14:26-31

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

 

          The disciples—and especially Peter—show an incredible stubbornness and foolishness. Over and over again, the disciples do not understand what Jesus is saying or doing. Mere moments after confessing that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God,” Peter all but calls Jesus an idiot for telling the disciples that the Son of Man must suffer and die. When they’re on the boat in the midst of the sea and the storm hits, the disciples accuse Jesus of not caring that they’re all about to die. When they’re on the mountain and Jesus is transfigured before Peter, James, and John, Peter doesn’t really care what God is trying to show him; he only thinks they should stay on the mountaintop and never come down. That way, he—and maybe James and John, since they’re present, too—can share in the glory of Jesus and the exalted position of the Old Testament prophets.

          And then, finally, when they reach the Mount of Olives, Jesus tells the disciples plainly, “All of you will be made to stumble because of Me this night, for it is written: ‘I will strike the Shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.’” And the disciples lose their minds. Peter, always the self-assured ringleader, proclaims his fidelity: “Even if all are made to stumble, yet I will not be.” And the other disciples, not to be outdone, quickly agreed that they would remain faithful. They’ve forgotten how many times they have already failed to believe. They don’t know what it will mean for them if they display loyalty to Jesus when the soldiers come for Him. And they’ve forgotten that Jesus has not come merely to be a teacher to twelve foolish men; He has come to die so that He could save them and all people.

“How could they be so dense?” we might be tempted to think. How could they fail to understand what Jesus means? Of course Jesus must die; no one else can pay the price for the sins of the whole world. How can Peter not see that he’s been faithless and selfish in his interactions with Jesus? Even when he first met Jesus, Peter himself said, “I am a sinful man.” How can the disciples think they would be willing to stand with Jesus when they don’t understand that they will have to suffer with Him?

We see with all the certainty of hindsight. But if we are honest with ourselves, we must admit we exhibit the same foolishness. How often do we fail our Lord? How often do we see the suffering around us and question the goodness of our Father’s will? How often do we receive blessings from the Lord and believe that we somehow have earned or deserve what we have received? And then, how often we stand with Peter and claim to be better than the person across the aisle, more faithful, more constant in our worship and obedience and devotion? Like the disciples, we have put our trust in our own reason and strength. We are proud of our faith, as if our faith is something we give to God and not the other way around. “Even if everyone else in this congregation fails you, Lord, I will not fail you.”

          The disciples don’t know what’s going on; and, although He has already told them, they don’t know where Jesus is going. In their lack of understanding, they can only see themselves. We may have the advantage of their witness, but even our hindsight doesn’t keep us from thinking only of ourselves. Like the disciples, we are in the dark: not seeing, not understanding. We struggle against the will of our heavenly Father in every aspect of our lives.

          Only one Man sees and understands; only one Man is perfectly obedient to the will of the Father, and that is Jesus, the Son of God. He understands that it is not Pilate, nor Herod, nor the High Priest, nor the religious leaders of the day, nor the soldiers, nor the crowd who is leading Him to the cross. Hear again the words Jesus speaks: “…It is written: ‘I will strike the Shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.’” This is God speaking through the prophet Zechariah. The Father Himself is responsible. He has chosen Jesus as the Sacrifice appointed to pay the price for the sins of sinful man. As much as we deserve to suffer for our sins, the Father reserves the greatest blow for His Son. Only Jesus understands. Only Jesus is faithful. Only Jesus pays the debt with His own lifeblood.

          Thanks be to God that receiving His forgiveness does not depend on our understanding, on our worthiness, on our obedience. Our forgiveness depends upon His grace, on Jesus giving us His worthiness and obedience. He alone has borne the full weight of the cross and has died for you. He alone has drawn you into His Church, His family. Do not be discouraged or disheartened by your disobedience, by your lack of understanding, by your sin. For Jesus, and He alone, has saved you. 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. 

Sermon for 3/2/22: Ash Wednesday (St Mark Passion series)

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Anointed for Death
Mark 14:1-9

 

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen. Our text is written in the 14^th chapter of the Holy Gospel according to St. Mark. We consider these verses: After two days it was the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread. And the chief priests and the scribes sought how they might take Him by trickery and put Him to death. ² But they said, “Not during the feast, lest there be an uproar of the people.” ³ And being in Bethany at the house of Simon the leper, as He sat at the table, a woman came having an alabaster flask of very costly oil of spikenard. Then she broke the flask and poured it on His head. ⁴ But there were some who were indignant among themselves, and said, “Why was this fragrant oil wasted? ⁵ For it might have been sold for more than three hundred denarii and given to the poor.” And they criticized her sharply. ⁶ But Jesus said, “Let her alone. Why do you trouble her? She has done a good work for Me. ⁷ For you have the poor with you always, and whenever you wish you may do them good; but Me you do not have always. ⁸ She has done what she could. She has come beforehand to anoint My body for burial. ⁹ Assuredly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her.” Thus far our text.

 

           This unknown woman in the Gospel broke an alabaster flask and poured perfumed ointment over the head of Jesus on the day before Maundy Thursday. This oil imported from India would have been hard to acquire and dreadfully expensive; the grumbling disciples complained that this could have been sold for three hundred denarii—nearly a year’s wages, and approximately five times what Judas received for betraying Jesus—and the profits given to those in need. What was she doing? What was she thinking?

          This anointing not meant to show that Jesus was the Messiah, the King promised throughout the Old Testament; that anointing had another word in the Greek. As Jesus says in verse 8: “She has come beforehand to anoint My body for burial.” Unlike the disciples, this woman had heard and understood what Jesus was saying when He predicted His own death: “Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and to the scribes; and they will condemn Him to death and deliver Him to the Gentiles; and they will mock Him, and scourge Him, and spit on Him, and kill Him.” She heard the Word and believed, and she acted accordingly. She understood that Jesus would die like a common criminal, not like the King He was—and common criminals were not anointed before their burial, according to the custom of the Jews. More than that, she understood that He would not be there to be anointed later on, after the Sabbath, because He would rise from the dead as He promised. And so Jesus praises her faith, proclaiming, “Assuredly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her.” And so it is tonight.

          Today we enter upon the season of Lent. We have begun our journey with our Lord to His cross at Golgotha, the Place of a Skull. We have begun our focus on the Passion of our Lord, upon our sin and need for repentance, upon His suffering and death to pay the price for our sin. So what is it that enables us to experience His humility and ours—the ashes of Ash Wednesday and the sackcloth of Good Friday? After all, unlike the woman in the Gospel, we do not see our Lord in His flesh. We are not eyewitnesses to His crucifixion, nor do we behold with our eyes His resurrected body.

But like this woman, we hear the Word of the Lord. We hear the promise that He will suffer at the hands of sinners and then die, bearing the sins of the whole world upon that cross. We hear the eyewitness testimony of the disciples, proclaiming the suffering, death, and resurrection of Our Lord. We hear our Lord proclaiming us dead to sin and alive to eternal life in baptismal waters. We hear these words and promises…and like the woman, we believe.

We believe the Word of our Lord Jesus Christ. We have all experienced the death of loved ones; as we looked upon them, we could see suffering and death. But we hear Jesus promise that sin in not the final word, that suffering is not the final word, that death is not the final word, that the grave is not the final word. He has promised that resurrection is the final word, and that word is sure and certain. We know that those who have gone before us, who cling by faith to the Word and promises of God, rest from their labors, awaiting that Day when that last word, resurrection, will become the eternal reality. And we know with all the certainty of faith that the resurrection will be our eternal reality, as well.

My brothers and sisters in Christ, this Word of Jesus can be trusted with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. We can trust this Word in the same way as this unknown woman with an alabaster jar of expensive ointment trusted it. This is the Word of the One who is the King of Israel, the promised Messiah, the Son of God and Son of Man, the One who has come to be the Salvation of us all. We have heard His Word and promises, and He has perfectly fulfilled them.

          So come. Come forward with the expensive oil of faith which He himself has given you. Come forward and rejoice that you have been drowned and have died in the waters of Holy Baptism. Come forward to receive the body and blood of our Lord, given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins. These gifts will prepare you for your own death and burial. Come, for in these gifts, He has come to give you eternal life. 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.