Ash Wednesday Service

Quinquagesima Service

Quinquagesima-Baptism of Jesus/St. Matthew 3:13-17 

Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus was baptized, immediately he went up from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened to him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming to rest on him; and behold, a voice from heaven said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

Dear Fellow Redeemed:

God had revealed Himself on Mt. Sinai with Commandments, requirements for people—even requirements beyond their ability to fulfill. 

There was good reason for them to have the burden of these commandments staring them in the face. 

• For one thing, in addition to their conscience, they could know (now in writing) what true godliness actually looks like.

• Also, they needed to be brought to see who they really were (sinful heirs of their first parents), and to recognize that the One God was sending was necessary for them.

You know, Jesus told that parable of the tenants, in which a landowner leased His vineyard out to tenants. When he sent servants to receive payment, they were beaten and killed (the prophets are the ones the servants represented). Then, the landowner sent his own son, who they also killed (this represented what Jesus’ listeners were preparing to do to Him). 

But God gave His law that shows people their sinfulness because it was critical that they receive this Chosen of God, and trust in Him as their righteousness before Him—the one Who brings forgiveness and salvation (otherwise, how could they be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth as is God’s desire?). They needed to know that they weren’t going to be in God’s eternal kingdom without this Savior God was sending.

In our Old Testament lesson for this morning, God is reiterating through the prophet Isaiah, that He sends His chosen, Who says among other things: 

“I am the Lord; I have called you in righteousness; I will take you by the hand and keep you.” 

It’s all good that He’s saying about this One Who is coming (who wouldn’t want that kind of interaction with God—especially knowing what we really deserve from Him?). He will be humble and patient with sinners, this prophecy foretells. He will bring justice and liberty to those who are imprisoned by their sinfulness. 

Isn’t it pretty clear, also, that God’s revealing of Himself at Jesus’ Baptism is a Gospel revelation. It’s a statement to people: 

Do you want to have God’s goodness and mercy rather than His anger and punishment? Here is where it is to be found; it’s to be found in this one upon Whom the Spirit descends as if to say, “It’s this One’s righteousness that I can bestow on any sinner who desires to have it. It’s in this one about Whom the Father says, ‘I am well pleased.’” And, after all, if with this one the Father is well pleased, then so is He well pleased with anyone who is clinging to Him. 

Do you want the Father to be well-pleased with you, dear sinners? Then cling to this Jesus. 

This is made plain in Scripture: But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God (John 1:12). And a little later in that same chapter of John’s Gospel: whoever believes in Him will not perish, but have eternal life (3:16).

So, we have Jesus’ Baptism in our text on this Sunday known as Quinquagesima (or, about fifty days before Easter). Jesus comes to John, who has for some time in the Jordan River, been baptizing people who have heard his preaching about repentance, and about the Christ—God in human flesh, who comes to take them by the hand and keep them. By the work of the Spirit through this preaching, the people have come to desire God’s forgiveness for their sins, and to trust in the coming Christ. They have come to be baptized because they have sins they need to have removed from them. They need the good conscience before God (St. Peter says in our epistle that Baptism brings this—1 Peter 3:21).

But Jesus comes to John already having that good conscience. 

That’s why our text says, John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” 

It’s kind of an interesting moment, isn’t it? Jesus is doing something that we only do because we’re sinners; and yet, He has no sins that require it. 

What gives? Why is He coming to be Baptized? 

We know that He took upon Himself our human flesh, even born in the natural way (though conceived by the Spirit in righteousness; we said that in the Creed earlier). He comes to be baptized just as we do. But it’s true that the purpose of His Baptism isn’t identical to ours. He doesn’t need the forgiveness, or the deliverance from death and the devil, or the salvation that the Catechism says are the benefits we get in our baptisms. 

But, here’s the thing: on the cross the Father is going to consider every sin to be His sin. God’s perfect Son takes your burden, and my burden, and the burden of every sinner, even undergoing, therefore, their baptism. Sinners are baptized; so is this one Who not only became flesh (John 1:14), but through a great exchange with the world, by God’s grace according to an eternal plan, became the most heinous sinner ever (guilty of every person’s sin, though He has none of His own). 

When you were Baptized, you were baptized into Him. The Bible says you were baptized into His death (Rom. 6:3), meaning that the forgiveness that He earned at the cross He earned also for you. The Bible says that in your Baptism you have put on Christ (Gal. 3:27) like someone would who was putting on a garment of righteousness to cover his sinfulness. God has made a commitment to you in your Baptism. He has caused you to enter into a fellowship with Christ and to become His child. Everything is taken care of, you see.

Now, this is not pleasing to the devil, who would just as soon have you for all eternity. He would have you doubt this connection to Christ that He has established with you in your Baptism. He would have you doubt it on account of your continuing sinfulness. 

How can that Baptism be worth anything, he asks you, when after God has made you His own dear child and caused you to enter into a fellowship with Christ you have continued to 

—think those hateful thoughts about your neighbor, and 

—make His Word such a low priority in your life, and to 

—be so selfish and unappreciative of His blessings, and to 

—be so untrusting of Him in the more difficult moments of life?

You have ruined this covenant. It no longer applies. God gave you a very generous opportunity; you have destroyed it.  

Isn’t this the epitome of where guilt leads? Doesn’t it lead to our questioning of our place before God in light of our sins? 

Surely your Baptism can’t withstand this. Surely there was a responsibility on your part to hold up your end of the bargain, to succeed fully in the new life of the Spirit that was supposed to come from it. But you have failed in it over and over and over again.

Certainly, that is the case. He’s right. And if you have been reluctant to admit that to yourself up to this point, then hear the words of the Psalmist, who says: They have all turned aside; together they have become corrupt; there is none who does good, not even one (14:3), and again: Enter not into judgment with your servant, for no one living is righteous before you (143:2). If your plan is to storm the gates of heaven in your own name—insisting that God should consider you righteous on your own merits, then prepare to find there, God’s anger, and judgment, and condemnation. It surely waits for you if that is your plan.

But if it’s God’s mercy that you want, then think of what He says through the prophet Isaiah in regard to His covenant: 

For the mountains may depart
    and the hills be removed,
but my steadfast love shall not depart from you,
    and my covenant of peace shall not be removed,”
    says the Lord, who has compassion on you (54:10).

God’s clear Scriptural message to the humble who despair of their own righteousness, who recognize their guilt and helplessness, is exemplified in the prophet Jeremiah’s words: 

“‘Return, faithless Israel,
declares the Lord.
I will not look on you in anger,
    for I am merciful,
declares the Lord;
I will not be angry forever.

Only acknowledge your guilt,
    that you rebelled against the Lord your God
and scattered your favors among foreigners under every green tree,
    and that you have not obeyed my voice,
declares the Lord (Jeremiah 3:12-13).  

This is the God of Whom the Psalmist writes: 

If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,
    O Lord, who could stand?

But with you there is forgiveness,
    that you may be feared (Psalm 130:3,4).

And, again, from our Old Testament lesson this morning:

“I am the Lord; I have called you in righteousness; I will take you by the hand and keep you.” Those are the words of the one Who is baptized in our text on your account, and on account of every sinner in the world’s past, present, and future. This one proclaimed by the Father and the Spirit at His Baptism is the one into Whose death you are Baptized, into a fellowship with Him that makes you God’s child despite your sinfulness. You have God’s goodness and mercy rather than His anger and punishment. You have His forgiveness in Christ.

Receive it, then, with joy this morning at the communion rail. Christ takes your hand there, that He might keep you. You are a citizen of God’s eternal kingdom because of this One He has sent. God be praised. Amen.

Septuagesima Service

Septuagesima/St. Matthew 20:1-16 

[Jesus said], “The kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for a denarius a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And going out about the third hour he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and to them he said, ‘You go into the vineyard too, and whatever is right I will give you.’ So they went. Going out again about the sixth hour and the ninth hour, he did the 

same. And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing. And he said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You go into the vineyard too.’ 

And when evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Call the laborers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last, up to the first.’ And when those hired about the eleventh hour came, each of them received a denarius. Now when those hired first came, they thought they would receive more, but each of them also received a denarius. And on receiving it they grumbled at the master of the house, saying, 

‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ 

But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what belongs to you and go. I choose to give to this last worker as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?’ So the last will be first, and the first last.”

Just prior to our text, Peter had said to Jesus, “…we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?” Jesus had asked for this level of devotion, that they leave their things behind and follow Him. 

You are asked for that sort of devotion, too. You are asked to avoid this world’s wickedness (that it often insists is actually righteousness, and scorns you for avoiding it)—but also to avoid the things about this world that are good and wholesome—if they should encroach upon your devotion to God’s kingdom (even father or mother…son or daughter Jesus said one time—Matthew 10:37). It can be a difficult thing to have this devotion, can’t it?

Jesus had been talking about how difficult it is for certain people to get into the kingdom of heaven. That thought of some being excluded seems to be what got Peter thinking about his question. 

Think about this for a second: some won’t make it into God’s eternal kingdom. The word equal comes up in this text. We’re so used to thinking of everything being equal. To many that means (even concerning eternity), that everyone will go to heaven (except maybe the worst people). Equal means something else entirely according to Jesus in His Parable of the Vineyard.

The real issue in our text is summed up in this statement: each of them also received a denarius. But when we think back on what happens in the story, the equally paid workers had not worked an equal number of hours, not done an equal amount of work. In fact, between the ones hired first and last there was an eleven hour difference. Yet the pay was the same.

And our first thought is: that’s not fair! 

The earliest-hired workers in the parable certainly thought so. When they’d seen the ones last-hired making also the denarius that was promised to them, they’d presumed something. 

• Boss must have had a change of heart about the deal he’d made with them. Perhaps he’d been out enough during the day to realize just how hot it was, and how difficult the work had been. That must have been it; he must have reconsidered paying them only a denarius for such hard work.

• In fact, he must have decided that to be the right wage for the those he’d found late in the day and brought in to work only about an hour.

• From there, presumably, he’d adjusted everything so that those last hired would get the denarius, those in the ninth hour a little more, those in the sixth hour a little more, going all the way back to themselves.

• They would make significantly more than those hired last; that’s only fair (those last ones had barely done anything, after all!).

• That must be what’s gonna to happen, they thought to themselves.

Of course, Jesus’ parable is a story that uses something about life in this world to illustrate what the kingdom of heaven is like. The purpose of it is to shock us in a certain way. It’s demonstrating to us that God is more gracious than we even would have thought. 

With that in mind, think about Peter’s question: “…we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?” 

This might be the latest in sort of a thread of conversation Jesus and the disciples had been having. Recently, they’d asked, 

“Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 

“Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest,” He’d answered (surprisingly).

Jesus’ parable is skillful in that it initially leads the listener to focus on the workers’ contribution. Through the dispute about payment, and all of the hiring talk and everything, it at first appears that what’s important is how much work the first hired did compared to the last hired (“Who is the greatest” —in other words). In this story, it’s a red herring, though. While we’re busy comparing ourselves to those tireless workers and thinking of how important we are and how deserving we are of good things from God (after all, we were baptized in the church as children—many of us, and have always been the good church people; we might even say (like Peter), we have left everything and followed Jesus)—while we’re busy thinking this, the real point is escaping us. The whole thing’s been about God, and what He’s done.

What’s really important is the vineyard master’s relentless pursuit of anyone He can find throughout every hour of the day to bring with him to His place. The way Luther describes the Lord’s manner in the fourth verse of his hymn, Dear Christians, One and All, Rejoice reminds us of what this man does in the parable:

But God beheld my wretched state 

Before the world’s foundation,

And, mindful of His mercies great, 

He planned my soul’s salvation.

A father’s heart He turned to me,

Sought my redemption fervently;

He gave His dearest Treasure.

The vineyard master’s bringing of the men to work in his vineyard isn’t even about their work. That’s why in the end, what they all get from it is the same. He didn’t really need them; it was they who needed Him. They needed him to be mindful of his mercies great, and to turn to them with a father’s heart, and to seek their redemption fervently, and to give his dearest treasure. 

Jesus’ answer about the greatest being the one humbling himself like a child is reflective of what happens in the parable too. A little child’s work wouldn’t compare to what was done all day long by the ones first hired. But again, what they did wasn’t the important thing; it was the generosity of the one who put them there. 

We tend to think that how we are and what we do makes God obligated to us—to give us good things in life, to give us the kingdom. Going to that same hymn, Luther’s, Dear Christians, One and All, Rejoice—the third verse, we’re reminded of our real situation before God:

My good works so imperfect were,

They had no pow’r to aid me;

My will God’s judgments could not bear,

Yea, prone to evil made me;

Grief drove me to despair, and I

Had nothing left me but to die;

To hell I fast was sinking.

The tragedy that’s brought out in the parable’s grumbling workers is in not seeing themselves like Luther portrays in that verse. They think (like we do naturally) they have done something that obligates the master to them; but if we're thinking of what they represent in God’s kingdom, it’s only they who owe a debt (like in the hymn verse), one they could never work enough to repay. 

They are you and me in that sense. 

But even though this was the case, the master went to find them (like the previous hymn verse says: having beheld their wretched state before the world’s foundation, and having been mindful of His mercies great, He planned [their] soul’s salvation. With a father’s heart, He sought their redemption fervently, giving them His dearest treasure). He went to find them so that He could give them a gift they could never deserve (like God did for us when He gave us faith through the Spirit’s work in Baptism or though the Word). 

They think they’ve been diminished in being made equal with all the others. But there isn’t anything better than what the master is offering; and he wants everyone to have it.

We have left everything and followed you. What then will we have? You have been asked to devote yourselves to Christ and His kingdom. You have been faithful in this sometimes—entirely by the Spirit’s leading. On account of your Baptism (or your coming to faith through the Word) you have been like someone who was found in a marketplace by a generous master who took you to be in his vineyard (there isn’t any greater situation that could have been offered to you). He has even made you useful among his things, and promised you whatever is right. But he isn’t obligated to give it, and nothing you do there will obligate him. 

My good works so imperfect were, They had no pow’r to aid me—Luther’s words in the hymn do such a good job of describing your situation before God as a sinner. If you were to think that because of how you are or what you’ve done, you are earning His kingdom, He would be forced because of that presumption to say to you, take what belongs to you and go. And that would amount to the wages of sin, which is eternal death (Romans 6:23).

Instead, consider yourselves to be like those workers who were hired at the last hour of the day—not having any illusions of the master owing them anything; but appreciative of anything he would give. Luther was right in describing yours as a wretched state in need of salvation. To see oneself like this is in accord with Jesus’ declaration that the greatest in the kingdom is the one humbling himself like a little child. 

When the master says to the grumblers, I choose to give to this last worker as I give to you—think of what that represents when it comes to the kingdom of heaven. It means forgiveness. That’s what God has chosen to give to every sinner, though not one could ever deserve it. As Luther wrote in the hymn, He gave His dearest treasure. He gave His only-begotten Son to take the place of sinners. That was His dearest treasure. 

And there isn’t any sinner who isn’t included in what Christ earned with His suffering and death on the cross. The Father chose to give the same mercy to every sinner. That’s the kind of equality that happens in God’s kingdom.

Seeing what the master has for you, will you, now, knock it out of his hand insisting that your deeds deserved more? Your leaving of everything to follow Him can never be seen as earning that requires payment for services rendered; instead it is your receiving of a blessed invitation to escape the worst in return for the absolute best. It is the opportunity for the last to be made first entirely by God’s grace. You are the recipient of God’s dearest treasure: forgiveness in the blood of Christ. God be praised. Amen.

Other Lessons for Today:

Jeremiah 1:4-10 

The word of the LORD came to me, saying “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.” Then I said, “Ah, LORD GOD! Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth.” 

But the LORD said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am only a youth’; for to all to whom I send you, you shall go, and whatever I command you, you shall speak. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, declares the Lord.” 

Then the LORD put out his hand and touched my mouth. And the LORD said to me, “Behold, I have put my words in your mouth. See, I have set you this day over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to break down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.” 

1 Corinthians 9:24-10:5

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.

For I do not want you to be unaware, brothers, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea, and all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, and all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual Rock that followed them, and the Rock was Christ. Nevertheless, with most of them God was not pleased, for they were overthrown in the wilderness.

Fifth Sunday After Epiphany Service (Transfiguration)

Transfiguration/St. Matthew 17:1-9

And after six days Jesus took with him Peter and James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became white as light. And behold, there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. And Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents here, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah.” He was still speaking when, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” When the disciples heard this, they fell on their faces and were terrified. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Rise, and have no fear.” And when they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only. And as they were coming down the mountain, Jesus commanded them, “Tell no one the vision, until the Son of Man is raised from the dead.”

Recently, Jesus had asked his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter had replied in words that he believed: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” That was the gold star answer. Only the Holy Spirit could have revealed it to Him. In fact, Jesus had told him that He was going to build His church on that particular answer. 

And He started from that point to tell to the disciples that Him being the Christ was going to mean Him suffering and dying (and rising from death). This hadn’t gone over real well with them. And on top of it, whoever wanted to be His followers would be putting their lives in this world on the line, too, Jesus had said. 

What a crazy thought (especially that first part) must have been: the one whose coming they’d been anticipating—not powerfully overcoming, not overwhelming the enemies of God’s people—but, dying in the cause! 

How could that be the story?  

We know from Matthew’s account that it was troubling for the disciples. Peter had rebuked Jesus. He had said, “Far be it from you, Lord! This shall never happen to you.” And it wasn’t that he was refusing to believe Jesus so much as just not being able to comprehend it. 

Jesus had reacted sternly to him in that moment. This kind of thinking was only going to lead in a bad direction. Jesus knew His mission, and had made it clear to them.

When He’d first begun His ministry, Jesus had told John’s disciples (after listing the things He had been doing in fulfillment of prophecies, demonstrating Himself to be the Messiah), “…blessed is the one who is not offended by me.” 

He was talking about just the sort of reaction that Peter and the other disciples had had when learning about the Christ’s real mission. We tend to want there to be a glorious turn of events in the story—not the hero shamefully, helplessly dying at the hands of his enemies. 

Many in Jerusalem couldn’t handle that as the Messiah’s story, and shouted for the crucifixion of the one who was trying to tell it (ironic).

With Jesus’ recent prediction of his death as the backdrop, then, we look at the events in our text for today. The star of the text is Jesus, of course. See that it’s the case by looking into the face of Peter as he ascends the mountain in the small band accompanying Him. As he climbs, he considers Jesus’ rebuke of him and the implications of what Jesus has revealed to them. 

Is it so hard to imagine him even dealing with doubts about the plausibility of it all? He’d put down his fishing nets and begun following this teacher around. It had already gone a different way that he was expecting. What from here?

And then it happens. We’ve just sung about it in our hymn: 

Wrapped in blissful ecstasy, 

they saw the vision splendid

Their Lord arrayed in living light,

And on His left and on His right,

By glorious saints attended.

Now, see the bright light reflected off Peter’s face. See him contorting his body and raising his arm to cover his eyes like we do when we’re looking into the sun. There’s this surreal moment: Jesus shining and glowing. Old covenant representatives Moses and Elijah there, with it being clear who they are, no less (though they haven’t been in this world for hundreds of years before this). Luke says in his account, that they were talking with Jesus about His death that was going to happen at Jerusalem (the mediating of a new covenant—it has all been prepared in eternity).

Peter had said the words, “you are the Christ, the son of the living God.“ Now he was looking at it. He was seeing that in Jesus (as St. Paul writes), the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily (Colossians 2:9). God is in this man—that means! 

When Peter had said the words of his confession he’d believed them. He’d believed without seeing (remember, Jesus would scold Thomas for believing only after seeing). How powerfully, now, Peter could write in his second epistle about having been a witness to Christ’s majesty. What an impact it would have on those to whom he was first writing, but also, by God’s grace, to everyone who would read the letter in the Holy Scriptures afterward—including you this morning! Peter and his fellow disciples had seen this Transfiguration, and had heard the Father’s voice saying, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” 

This is the point at which Peter and the others were terrified. In fact, St. Matthew writes that they fell on their faces in this terror. It wasn’t the first time sinners had trembled in the presence of God’s glory. 

It had also been the case at Mt. Sinai. God’s people, recently embarking on an exodus from bondage in Egypt, having just received the Ten Commands as handed down by Moses, heard heavenly thunder and trumpets as they stood at Sinai’s base. They saw smoke. Humbly, they cried to Moses from a distance (contorting their bodies, no doubt, and shielding themselves from the majesty), “You speak to us, [they said], and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, lest we die.” 

There are certain moments like this in Scripture, in which sinners really have a strong sense of being in the presence of God; and often it isn’t a comforting feeling. It’s because their sins are jumping up before them, and making them aware that according to their corrupted nature, they have only angered God and earned His condemnation and punishment. 

Were you to be next to the disciples in our text hearing God’s voice, what of your sins would jump up before you? Would they be things you did long ago that still bother you today (there are things from long ago that I think about). Or, maybe more recent things come to mind (maybe even ongoing ones that you struggle with). 

I asked the students in chapel the other day whether or not it’s reasonable for a sinner to be terrified in God’s presence like this. It’s one of those questions that could be answered in a couple of different ways depending on the perspective. One of the ways it can be answered is to say, yes, it is reasonable. One of the students got to the answer by talking about the Ten Commandments we mentioned earlier. God has required us to be flawless according to those commandments. But we can’t be. None of us has been. So, from that perspective it is reasonable for sinners to be terrified in the presence of the perfect God. It’s according to that perspective that Jesus told His disciples to be afraid of the One Who can destroy both soul and body in hell (Matthew 10:28). We might think also of the writer to the Hebrew’s words: It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God (10:31).

What can calm that fear? What can cause the three disciples face down in the dirt in our text (and every other sinner) to be at peace in God’s presence? The answer is the next thing that happens in our text. Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Rise, and have no fear.”

Do you agonize over your sins that make you ashamed? You should, as we’ve said earlier. Do you want to be free of the burden that makes you cower in terror before God’s presence? The answer is the One Whose majesty is on display in our text. The answer is the one Whose coming death being discussed with Him by prophets makes satisfaction for your sins. His righteousness is made your own righteousness. Whatever God has had against you has been made His burden and His penalty. There isn’t anything more on the account. He has purchased your forgiveness with His blood. You are forgiven of your sins in Jesus. There isn’t question of His ability to do so; it has been shown in the Transfiguration. He is God Himself—God’s Son, with Whom the Father is well pleased, we’ve heard in this text. Jesus said it Himself one time: If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed (John 8:36).

At His Table this morning, He reaches out His hand to you. Through the meal that unites this world with His kingdom, He gives you the food of ordinary bread and wine that has been mysteriously joined with His true body and blood for the remission of your sins. His own words say it. Hear Him saying to you like to Peter and the others, “Rise, and have no fear.” The Son has set you free; so you are free indeed. Amen.

Other Lessons for Today:

Isaiah 61:10–11

I will greatly rejoice in the LORD; my soul shall exult in my God, for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. For as the earth brings forth its sprouts, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to sprout up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to sprout up before all the nations.

2 Peter 1:16–21

For we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty. For when he received honor and glory from God the Father, and the voice was borne to him by the Majestic Glory, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased,” we ourselves heard this very voice borne from heaven, for we were with him on the holy mountain. And we have the prophetic word more fully confirmed, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts, knowing this first of all, that no prophecy of Scripture comes from someone's own interpretation. For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.

Fourth Sunday After Epiphany Service

Sermon—Epiphany 4/St. Matthew 8:23-27 

And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?”

There’s a hymn in our book entitled, Why Should Cross and Trial Grieve Me. That hymn’s third verse is the one I keep thinking about. The verse says, 

God oft gives me days of gladness;

Shall I grieve If He give Seasons too, of sadness?

God is good and tempers ever All my ill [meaning: He doesn’t let it overwhelm me],

And He will Wholly leave me never.

That verse reminds us that even “being in the boat with Jesus”—even being His followers doesn’t mean we only experience peace and joy in this world. We do have those things too—God oft gives [us] days of gladness (as the hymn writer says); but many of the Bible’s passages note the suffering of believers. “A disciple is not above his teacher,” Jesus once said to His followers. “If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul [the devil, that is], how much more will they malign [speak evil about] those of his household (Matt.10:24,25).” He also said, Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple (Luke 14:27). This world is a corrupted and troubled world (we along with it, as we confessed earlier); and someone who wants to be with Jesus is signing up for many different kinds of additional trouble that might come from being His follower. 

Jesus’ disciples, out in a boat with Him on the occasion of our text, certainly felt themselves to be in what the hymn writer describes as a season of sadness (though it takes place in minutes). They had felt secure; now—the next moment, in absolute distress. The way the text says it reminds us how quickly troubles come, right?—And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea. Sometimes these things come upon us so quickly that we find ourselves wondering, how did I get here? We have felt relaxed, in control. And then, suddenly we wonder how (and if) we will ever get back those feelings.

The disciples were feeling very desperate. And on top of it all, we’re told, [Jesus] was asleep. Matthew’s account of the incident continues like this: And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” 

Who could blame them, right? I don’t even like to imagine what that felt like; the spray of rain in their faces—blown by the heavy wind, waves throwing the boat around and even coming over the side, that feeling of being tossed up and down (did they feel like on a roller coaster when you’re being dropped down and your stomach has that really turbulent sensation?—most likely). When we’re in a situation like the disciples were in, we might be inclined to say something to God, similar to what they said: Save me! It might even be something more accusatory, like: Aren’t you there?! Don’t you know what I’m going through? Don’t you care? That’s kind of what the disciples were saying to Jesus. How can you sleep at a time like this? And, of course, Jesus just gets up and calms the seas.

And it’s interesting; that opens up a whole ‘nother can of worms, right? Because, then it occurs to us: He was in control of this the whole time. He’s the God-man. He isn’t helpless in the face of these things like we are (that’s a big part of the point of this whole account; in the Epiphany Season this text is an example of Jesus demonstrating His Divinity—that He’s God as well as man). And then we might be inclined to wonder: why, then? Why does He let these things happen? Why does He let me go through this [think about things you’ve gone through]? Why does He let me agonize, and wonder, and despair when He has the ability to just get up and calm the seas? Why?!

And His response to the disciples demonstrates that He wanted better from them. He wanted them to exhibit an awareness of who they were in the boat with. They’d seen Him turn water to wine, heal people with diseases and paralysis, cast out evil spirits. They’d heard His authoritative preaching in the Sermon on the Mount. You of little faith, He says to them. He says that they shouldn’t have been afraid. But isn’t their little faith understandable in such a difficult situation? After all, their very lives felt like they were on the line. Doesn’t seem like Jesus sees it that way, though, does it? He would like to have talked about them like He talked about the centurion in last week’s text. Remember, about that man He said, Not even in Israel have I found such faith (Luke 7:9). On the contrary, You of little faith, He says. 

You’re thinking of yourself, now: would I have done any different? Would Jesus have had occasion to say any different about me? I have had my moments. I’ve seen some of life’s circumstances as merely that: meaninglessly tragic, apparently without anyone able to be in control of the situation (and if we step back to think about it, that even means…God). I have been of little faith. It could even be said I’ve been of no faith. We leave that for a moment.

So, again, why does God let these things happen to us? Why does He let us suffer so much? Has to be a reason for it, doesn’t there? The hymn writer is implying it in that verse. God gives us seasons of sadness (difficulty, danger, struggle, even fears and terrors) for our good. We will never cease in this life to need to put our trust in Him; and we need to be exercised in doing that. We’re trusting Him for an awful lot, after all. It isn’t just to save us when we get into tough situations in this life, into seasons of sadness. We’re trusting Him as the One Who brings us safely from this life into the next life in His kingdom. We’re trusting Him as the one Who makes the corrupted, fallen thing that we are into what is renewed and acceptable in His kingdom. That’s serious business. St. Peter is addressing it in this verse: 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. 13 But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed (1 Peter 4:12,13).

The disciples were undergoing a severe trial in the boat that day. And if we apply the words of the hymn we see an interesting perspective. 

God is good and tempers ever All my ill,

And He will Wholly leave me never.

The disciples were imagining that everything had gone haywire, that no-one could be in control of what was happening (Who could control the wind and the sea? This was just something that happens. How could anyone be in charge of that?). And now they were out in it [think about their experience out there, and about experiences you’ve had that it reminds you of]. Certainly, they must be going to perish. And that’s what they said to Jesus. And in the end, what they say to one another indicates that they had no expectation that Jesus had that kind of power either. “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?” So, what did they think they were waking Jesus to do? Maybe He would pitch in as an extra hand in steering the apparently doomed vessel. That was their instinct; if they’d had half a minute to think about it they might have thought it was pointless, and let Him go on sleeping.

But the point of our text is that they weren’t in the boat with just anyone here. This one “sawing logs” in the stern of the ship was in control of the winds and sea. Nothing could happen to them apart from His will. That was kind of important information for them to know. They needed to know through experience that He was the one to put their trust in. They needed to know from being brought to the edge, overlooking the cliff and being dangled off of it, that Jesus is the One Who can save them. The difficult experience was necessary, you see. They wouldn’t learn this lesson in calm seas. They wouldn’t learn it if they had hope that they themselves could solve it. No, it had to be unsolvable. That’s where Jesus can reach out His hand to us and bring us to Himself.

That’s how you should see these things when they appear in your life as well. Does it feel like you’re at the edge of a cliff, that you’re overlooking it and being dangled off of it? What hope do you have? Can you remedy it yourself? No reason to be terrified if you can; but, you’re terrified. In those moments, you’re with the disciples in the raging sea, aren’t you? You’re in the midst of a turbulent horror that seems solution-less. But it isn’t just something that happens. Someone is in control of it. Someone is in charge. Jesus is God as well as man. There isn’t anything He can’t do to help you in any situation. He trains you through trials to trust Him in life’s things so that you will especially trust Him in the matter of eternal life. And why shouldn’t you trust Him in that? His trust in the Father never wavered in the most distressing trials like yours has. He’s the man Whose faith was never little. His perfect faith stands in the place of yours that has failed. And this one Who calms the wind and seas has calmed God’s anger at your sins with His perfect sacrifice on the cross. In Him, you’re forgiven of faithlessness and of every other sin. He’s the one to put your trust in.

Prayer: Lord God, heavenly Father, who in Your good and fatherly wisdom subject Your children here on earth to the cross, sending various tempests upon us to curb our sin and train us in faith, hope, and prayer: we beseech You to have mercy on us, hear our prayer in every trial and need, and provide Your gracious help, that we may acknowledge Your grace and fatherly assistance, and with all the saints forever praise and bless You, who with the Son and the Holy Spirit are the only everlasting and almighty God. Amen.

Third Sunday After Epiphany Service

Sermon/Epiphany 3—St. Matthew 8:1-13

When he came down from the mountain, great crowds followed him. And behold, a leper came to him and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” And Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, “I will; be clean.” And immediately his leprosy was cleansed. And Jesus said to him, “See that you say nothing to anyone, but go, show yourself to the priest and offer the gift that Moses commanded, for a proof to them.” 

When he had entered Capernaum, a centurion came forward to him, appealing to him, “Lord, my servant is lying paralyzed at home, suffering terribly.” And he said to him, “I will come and heal him.” But the centurion replied, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” When Jesus heard this, he marveled and said to those who followed him, “Truly, I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith. I tell you, many will come from east and west and recline at table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, while the sons of the kingdom will be thrown into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” And to the centurion Jesus said, “Go; let it be done for you as you have believed.” And the servant was healed at that very moment.

Jesus has just preached His Sermon on the Mount in which He has said among many other things: Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven (Matt.5:2) —meaning, blessed are those who recognize their need of God’s grace; they’re the ones who’ll have it by faith. It wouldn’t be surprising if we learned that the two people Jesus meets in our text had heard Him say those words. Certainly they have come to understand them, and to exhibit the truth of those words in their own lives. One man has leprosy, and the other is a centurion. These two have in common that both demonstrate great faith in prayer (or in their asking things of Jesus in our text). We want to note from this message that we pray believing in Jesus, and entrusting ourselves to Him.

“Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” No question: those words from the leper are the words of a believer. 

• For him to even be saying them to Jesus is a demonstration of his belief. He doesn’t say a lot of things to lot of other people, because he has a condition that people are scared of (there are laws against him getting too close to people, even). But even though he has that obstacle he comes to Jesus and asks Him for help.

• And He comes humbly. He doesn’t come with a resume’ of qualifications that he thinks makes him worthy of Jesus’ help. He doesn’t talk like the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable, about his frequent fasting or his tithing or anything like that. He doesn’t even insist that Jesus heal him as if he were deserving of it. He sees himself as the poor in spirit that Jesus talked about in His sermon, as someone whose sin precludes him from demanding anything from God. And he knows that seeing himself that way, he too can be among the blessed whom Jesus talks about in that statement.

• Perhaps on this occasion, he’s thinking: maybe this one who has brought God’s grace to me, Who gives me a clear conscience before God will even see fit to relieve me of this burden I carry, of leprosy.

• He puts it entirely in Jesus’ hands. Do you notice that? “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” He’s open to the possibility that it might not be Jesus’ will. We don’t know the mind of God. The man lets his request just sit out there like that. If you will, you can make me clean. He’s saying it; so he hopes it’s Jesus’ will. He certainly knows it’s within Jesus’ power to heal him. He knows Jesus is gracious and kind (otherwise he wouldn’t even have come). And Jesus responds, “I will; be clean.”

Another man comes to Jesus. He’s a centurion; so he’s a Roman soldier—the commander of maybe as many as a hundred soldiers. He’s a Gentile. So he’s another guy who comes to Jesus having transcended obstacles (he wouldn’t have been welcome among many of the Jews, for one thing). But he comes demonstrating that Jesus is someone he knows. Again, he had either heard Jesus’ sermon or heard others speak the good word about Jesus. 

• And the way he presents his request to Jesus is similar to the way Jesus’ mother Mary presented her request about the wine in last week’s text. He doesn’t even make a request in the usual way; he just declares that there’s this problem that needs solving. The problem is that his servant is paralyzed. He’s suffering terribly. Like Mary in last week’s text, he isn’t just passing along some information. He’s putting a prayer before the all-powerful God. And Jesus immediately responds: “I will come and heal him.”

• But then the man says something kind of confusing. He says, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed. [Here’s the confusing part:] For I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” You might wonder what he’s talking about with all of this, right? What do all these soldiers and commands and all of it have to do with him wanting Jesus to heal his servant’s paralysis?

• It’s like he hears Jesus start to say He will come there and do what the man has asked; and the man very modestly, almost embarrassed at the thought that Jesus would go out of His way like that, says, No, no, no, no, no. You clearly have authority in these matters. Please, only do like what I do when I’m dealing with the men under my authority. Just say the word and it will be done. I don’t have any business having you come to my house. There isn’t any need for you to trouble yourself any more than simply saying the word, if indeed you would be so willing as to help me in this matter. This is very pronounced humility. It’s humility demonstrative of the poor in spirit. And to Jesus it is a demonstration of great faith. He even says, with no one in Israel have I found such faith.

Remember what we said this message was going to be about. We pray believing in Jesus, and entrusting ourselves to Him. The men in our text certainly believe in Jesus. The first gets down on his knees before Him and declares that Jesus is the one who can meet his need. If his need will be met it will be upon the word of Jesus. The centurion also simply states his need. When Jesus offers to go with him he too, declares that it’s only Jesus’ word that he needs, nothing more.

Maybe it’s surprising to us that Jesus is so impressed with this, especially as it transpires with the centurion, with Jesus declaring that He hasn’t even seen such faith in Israel. Of course this means that He often sees something…else. He sees people coming to Him who aren’t willing to just entrust themselves to Him, to desire to have His help in whatever way He chooses, in whatever timeframe He determines, to whatever extent, whether or not they might agree with Him about what help He offers and how quickly He does so. 

Do you find yourself thinking, Oh, how nice it would be to think that I’ve always thought of myself as the poor in spirit, coming humbly before Jesus without presumptuousness or insistence that He bend to my will and whim? But the truth is, I have approached Him in arrogance, unwilling to tolerate any suffering or sacrifice that might be His will for my good. I have thought of myself as deserving of His evident response in prompt agreement with what I have determined is best for me. I am among the ones Jesus refers to when He talks about the lack of faith in Israel. If you’ve thought like that, then confess this sin and put yourself among the poor in spirit. To you, then, also comes the blessing of forgiveness in the One Who in the Garden of Gethsemane, while sweating what appeared to be drops of blood over the anticipation of dying and being forsaken by the Father, said, Not as I will, but as you will. He has done perfectly what you’ve failed to do. His flawless humility is the remedy for your arrogance, His sacrifice the remedy for your insistence on being relieved of the same. He has done it for you. 

He declares it to you this morning at His Table: “This is My body which is given for you…this is My blood which is shed for you.” With those words He puts away your sins and puts His arms around you as His own. He is your solution just like for the leper and for the centurion. 

Prayer: Lord God, heavenly Father, who of great love and mercy gave us Your Son to be made man and die on the cross for us: put Your Holy Spirit into our hearts, that we may confide wholly in Your Son alone, and by Him believe as firmly in the forgiveness of our sins and eternal life as the centurion believed that He would save his sick servant with a word. We have His word that whoever believes in Him will not perish. Grant therefore, dear Father in heaven, that we may believe it with a resolute heart and remain steadfast in it until our final end. Amen.

Second Sunday After Epiphany Service

Sermon/Epiphany 2 — St. John 2:1-11

On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus also was invited to the wedding with his disciples. When the wine ran out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Now there were six stone water jars there for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. And he said to them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the feast.” So they took it. When the master of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom and said to him, “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.” This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory. And his disciples believed in him.

You remember that last week we observed the account of Jesus’ family traveling to Jerusalem for the Passover when He was twelve years old, 

—and Him remaining there as His parents began to travel back home (though they 

thought He had come along in their group), 

—and Jesus signaling to His mother that His being a child in their home was only 

a part of His purpose in this world, and that a time was coming when His identity as Mary’s earthly son would recede behind His identity as the obedient eternal Son of the heavenly Father Who makes atonement for the world’s sins.

In our text for today, we have another account of Jesus with His mother. And in this additional account we have another enlightening exchange between them. Their dialogue is rich with meaning: 

“They have no wine.”

“Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.”

(Mary to the servants) “Do whatever he tells you.”

They have no wine

Mary mentioning to her son, that they have no wine has the feeling of casual conversation, doesn’t it? It feels like the conversation I've had with my daughter when we have stopped into McDonalds to get sundaes, and I’ve seen a sign on the soft serve machine that says, “not working” (which we’ve determined is about 50% of the time at least; but I digress), and I have leaned back to her and said, “They have no ice cream.” Now, when I’ve said those words I haven’t meant anything more than what I’ve said. I haven’t said them with any expectation that anything’s going to happen (except maybe us going down the road to Dairy Queen to see if we can get a sundae). I haven’t been implying anything. I haven’t been hoping that somehow we will yet get sundaes at McDonald’s. It’s a dead issue. I’ve just passed along some information when I’ve said what I said.

I’m reminded of that from Mary’s comment. But this isn’t that. Mary’s comment isn’t informational like that; it’s supplication. She’s asking Him to do something. She doesn’t want it to be the case that this family will be embarrassed at this failure in their hosting. She’s hoping that somehow there will be additional wine at this wedding.

It’s interesting in that John tells us that Jesus’ miracle in this text is the first of his signs that manifested His glory. We have to assume there hasn’t been any history to demonstrate that Jesus would suddenly use godly power like this. 

Think about that. 

Mary had known who her son would be since before He was born. The angel had said, the child to be born will be called holy—the Son of God (Luke 1:35). The same angel had said to her husband, (speaking of the child): he will save his people from their sins (Matt. 1:21).” Now, Jesus was thirty. For thirty years his mother (we have to presume) had wondered when she might start to see some indication of this happening, right? Now, we’re in that mysterious territory, wondering what Jesus was up to all those years. We know He was perfectly obedient; that’s about it.

But whatever it was, things had started to happen now. Jesus had been baptized by John in the Jordan. He had spent the 40 days and nights in the wilderness, fasting, and being tempted by Satan. He had gathered His disciples (in fact, they had been invited along with Him to this wedding). Might Jesus choose to do something in this situation? Mary was apparently hoping so.

My hour has not yet come

But then we have this surprising response from Jesus: “Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” Of course, this is interesting for a couple of reasons: 1) He addresses her as woman and not mother, and 2) If by His hour he means the manifesting of His glory, we know that shortly after he says this, He performs the miracle. So, why this strange response? 

We might look at this as a sort of part 2 of His putting some distance between His identity as Mary’s son and His identity as God’s eternal Son Who now embarks on His ministry in this world that will lead to the cross and grave and empty tomb and ascension to God’s right hand. Throughout the thirty years up to this point, Jesus’ mother has had all of the influence over her son that a mother usually has. He has respectfully done what she has asked of Him in keeping with His duty as a son under His parent (a perfect one in this case). 

It ends here, though. She doesn’t set His agenda when it comes to His calling. It seems like Him calling her woman rather than mother emphasizes this point. It isn’t disrespectful; it just makes the point. She has asked something of her son that crosses over into territory that is beyond their parent/child relationship. Luther writes: “Christ here refuses absolutely to do God’s work when his own mother wants it.”

Do whatever he tells you

That said: if she has crossed the line as the mother of a son, also, she has demonstrated great faith in the one she knows her son to be. Having just been put in her place in this way, she has immediately turned to the servants, and has alerted them to stand by for instructions for the solving of their problem. The instructions won’t come from her; they will come from the One Who for the next few years will demonstrate His bringing of God’s grace by relieving the various burdens of needy people (including especially, the burden of their consciences).

Imagine the strain Jesus’ words might have put on His poor mother’s faith. She has been involved in a crisis in a person’s life—not life or death, but a crisis nonetheless. You have real crises in your life that aren’t life or death, don’t you? I know, when I think back to my grandmother, how troubling it was to her to think her relatives might think of her as a poor hostess. It wasn’t the stuff of Shakespearian drama, but to that one person it was enough to bring tears to the eyes. There were all sorts of reasons it was important to her. You have your own things in life that you just hope beyond all hope will turn out one way or the other. Mary (on behalf of someone) has presented just such a scenario to Jesus, and asked for His help.

And what does He do? It’s as if He shows her the face of someone who’s wearing a mask. The mask is of someone who doesn’t care, doesn’t have time, doesn’t have any interest in helping her in her little crisis. The whole thing takes place in a moment. 

And here’s the thing: her great faith is demonstrated in the fact that she’s not buying it. In this moment when He hasn’t given her anything to rely on, when He has given her no reason to see Him as kind and caring and loving, when it makes no reasonable sense for her to tell the servants to stand by for His helpful instructions, she does just that; and she does it immediately—as if He never said what He said. It’s because she knows Him. Her trust in Him isn’t based in how she feels from moment to moment; it’s in what she knows. It’s based in the promises of Scripture pertaining to this one who brings God’s grace to this sinful world, to sinners like Mary, and like you and me. 

When you have times in your life when it seems like God is million miles away, like He isn’t listening, like He doesn’t care, think about this text. Think about how it is that you know that God loves you. It isn’t because you feel that way at all times. Sometimes God will allow you to struggle for a time. He’ll allow you to endure an illness, or an unkindness from someone, or a financial setback, or some other painful experience. And it might be that He will allow this struggle to remain with you for so long that you would be tempted to think He doesn’t love you, doesn’t care about you, that He isn’t your friend. Maybe you’ve even thought sinful thoughts about Him when you’ve had moments like this. Mary knew that Jesus loved her because she knew the Scriptures. She knew Who Jesus is, and that even if He is exercising her faith like this, asking her to push past the urge to trust her feelings instead of what she knows, He is Who He is; He can’t be anything else. When you have feelings like this, think about that question: How do I know that God loves me? Answer it like one of the young school children did in chapel the other day when I asked: How do you know that God’s loves you? Her answer was: “The Bible tells me so.”

Yes, the Bible tells you that Jesus is the One Who has brought God’s grace—His forgiveness to you. He’s the one about Whom Paul writes: God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). Let those words about Jesus ring in your ears when you find yourself in Mary’s place in our text, when you’re wondering, Does Jesus care about my little crisis in this life? Does He care about the bigger crisis of my sins; will He really forgive them? Does He care about me? He does. You already know it because you know what the Bible says about Him. Put your faith in the one you know Mary’s son to be. Having seen Jesus’ mask, His challenge that Luther says, entices and allures [you] to believe confidently in him, though he delay, say to yourself and to the world in Mary’s words about this Savior Whom you know, do whatever He tells you. Say it because you know that in Him, everything for your good has already been done. Amen.

Deuteronomy 18:15-19

The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your brothers—it is to him you shall listen— just as you desired of the Lord your God at Horeb on the day of the assembly, when you said, ‘Let me not hear again the voice of the Lord my God or see this great fire any more, lest I die.’ And the Lord said to me, ‘They are right in what they have spoken. I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their brothers. And I will put my words in his mouth, and he shall speak to them all that I command him. And whoever will not listen to my words that he shall speak in my name, I myself will require it of him.

Romans 12:6-16

Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness. Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight.

First Sunday After Epiphany Service

1/9/22

Sermon Text:

Epiphany 1/St. Luke 2:41-52

Now his parents went to Jerusalem every year at the Feast of the Passover. And when he was twelve years old, they went up according to custom. And when the feast was ended, as they were returning, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem. His parents did not know it, but supposing him to be in the group they went a day's journey, but then they began to search for him among their relatives and acquaintances, and when they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, searching for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. And when his parents saw him, they were astonished. And his mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been searching for you in great distress.” And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?” And they did not understand the saying that he spoke to them. And he went down with them and came to Nazareth and was submissive to them. And his mother treasured up all these things in her heart. And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.

Why have you treated us so? —Jesus’ mother’s question of the twelve-year-old Him in our text. Might strike you as something you’ve said, or thought in your life, huh? Why have you treated us so? It’s the statement of someone who’d expected better. Couldn’t that other person have been more thoughtful, or more generous, or more encouraging, or more loving (whatever the situation may be)? 

It isn’t hard to imagine scenarios wherein other people might make us feel this way. After all, people are people. We say that, don’t we? —people are people. And when we say it, we mean they’re flawed, like us. 

• The most devoted husband or wife isn’t that 100% of the time. Those of us who are husbands and wives know this of ourselves.

• The parent most attentive to her child’s needs nevertheless has shortcomings.

• A child particularly thoughtful when it comes to cooperating with parents isn’t always that way.

There is enough evidence of sin in our own lives. It isn’t hard to see. So, Mary expresses something familiar to all of us when she asks, Why have you treated us so? (I know, there’s an implication there that makes us uncomfortable in this particular situation. We’re going to get to that.)

The sentence in the text that comes just before: Why have you treated us so? —is this: And when his parents saw him, they were astonished. We examine this text today in this Epiphany Season so that we might see Him (so that we might see Jesus). We’re meant to see Him as the One Who rights our wrongs with God and puts us under His grace.

There is a lot we don’t see about Jesus’ early life from what’s written in the Bible. We don’t see

• the seven-year-old Who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin (Hebrews 4:15), or the four-year-old. We don’t see

• the child who never pushes his mother’s buttons so that she loses her cool (she may have done that, but not on His account).

You might have a lot of questions about Jesus’ childhood; and that’s okay - something to anticipate knowing when you’ve left this world and attained the kingdom.

But with all that we are not seeing of the child-Jesus, think about what we are seeing as we look at this text. Jesus’ parents have traveled to Jerusalem for the Passover, Jesus with them (about a confirmation-aged young man by now). With the feast ended, Mary and Joseph head back. Supposing [Jesus] to be in the group they go a day’s journey. But they begin to try to locate Him among the relatives with whom they have presumed He’s been traveling.

They can’t find Him. He isn’t there.

And it’s quite concerning for them, needless to say. It gets to a point at which it has been three days since they began to panic at not finding Him. And, of course, when they find Him, it is the case that He has been safe and sound, among the teachers at the Temple, listening to them and asking them questions. 

That reminds us of Mary’s question that we highlighted in the beginning: “Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been searching for you in great distress.” Remember, we said that why have you treated us so? —might strike you as something you’ve said or thought of someone from whom you’d expected better. And when we’re asking why have you treated us so? —of ordinary people we don’t think twice about it because, after all, they’re flawed. They’re sinful, like us. Quite possibly, they have wronged us in some way. 

But it can’t be the case with Jesus. Even this twelve-year-old isn’t flawed like that, like we are. So, whereas ordinarily the answer to Mary’s question: why have you treated us so? —could very reasonably be that the person was insensitive, or uncaring, or unkind, or unloving, it can’t be in this case. Jesus can’t be any of those things - even though He’s twelve. Though Mary has felt that Jesus has been one or all of those things toward her and her husband in this moment, something else has to explain it. She’s going to be growing as she learns the answer.

The three days are interesting, aren’t they? You know, if this was something that had happened over the course of a few hours, we might think differently about it. Three days is a long time when a child is missing. It occurs to us that Jesus has been making all kinds of conscious decisions during this time. He has been deciding, when it got toward evening, to sleep somewhere apart from His family, for one thing. Apparently He has been eating. They don’t find Him in any kind of distress after the three days. Quite matter of factly, He says to His mother: “Why were you looking for me? (as if this sort of thing had happened hundreds of times before).

That brings us back to her question, doesn’t it? Why have you treated us so? When we think about it, their astonishment at seeing Him under those circumstances has at least something to do with seeing Him looking so comfortable, right? They’ve imagined Him to have been suffering in any number of ways. He needs them, doesn’t He? They’re His parents! And then, maybe it occurs to them: He could have prevented their suffering by just keeping in touch with them, and going along with them when they headed back for home. Instead, here He has been - not seeming like their suffering matters to Him in the least!

We’ve talked about us asking that question, why have you treated us so? —of other sinners like ourselves. 

What about when we’re inclined to ask it of God? Why have you treated…[me] so? Mary doesn’t say it; but she’s kind of implying: don’t you care? Haven’t you been kind of cruel to let us sweat it out for all these days, like this?! At a certain point this twelve-year-old boy kind of disappears, and God is standing there. Yes, why would God do this to them? Why would He let them struggle like this? Why would He let them go on in this agony? 

Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house? —He says. Jesus has been the dutiful son of these parents for twelve years. He has never failed to be obedient in every single thing. That’s what the Catechism calls His active obedience. We see His perfection, His divinity, also in His being submissive to the teachers in the Temple, under whose instruction He puts Himself out of obedience to the Father. We see it in what it says about Him at the end of the text, that He went down with them and came to Nazareth and was submissive to them. 

On the occasion of our text, the time has come, also, for Him to emphasize His duty toward the heavenly Father and His House. It is the Father to Whom He will submit in what the Catechism calls His passive obedience, His dying to make atonement for the world’s sins. In putting an exclamation point on His identity as God’s eternal Son, and as the world’s redeemer, Jesus directs His mother to the end of all struggle and all distress. The relief to her suffering is to be found in seeing Jesus as the one Who rights her wrongs with God and puts her under His grace. He has hidden Himself from her for the moment, causing her great suffering in order to show her the ultimate relief.

When you find yourself distant from God, grieving over your failures as a parent, or as a child to your parents, as someone from whom others could have expected better, someone who could have been more thoughtful, more encouraging, more generous, more loving - when you recognize these failures as the characteristics of a sinner who falls short before God; and when you feel as though your prayers have gone unheard and uncared-about, look to the One to Whom the Spirit has directed you in this text this morning. Look to the One Who rights your wrongs with God and puts you under His grace. This One Who died in your place to make atonement for sins isn’t absent. He’s before you in His Word at this very moment. He’s before you on the Altar in the true presence of His body and blood in, with, and under bread and wine given for your forgiveness and assurance as you continue in this life - struggling sometimes, experiencing Christ’s difficult discipline. He prepares you for His eternal kingdom in which all struggle will be safely in the past.

Let us Pray:

Lord God, heavenly Father, You know our frailty; as we search for you where you are found, in Your Father’s House, in Word and Sacrament, let us find You that we might see you as you are, as the perfect Son of Mary and of God, Who stands in our place under the Law, Who dies our death, righting our wrongs, putting us under God’s grace, securing for us eternal life. Amen. 

Other Lessons for the day":

Isaiah 61:1-3

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
    because the Lord has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor;
    he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
    and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;

to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor,
    and the day of vengeance of our God;
    to comfort all who mourn;

to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
    to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
    the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
    the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.

Romans 12:1-5

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. 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. For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.

Fourth Sunday in Advent Service

St. Matthew 1:18-25

Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. And her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly. But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with us). When Joseph woke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him: he took his wife, but knew her not until she had given birth to a son. And he called his name Jesus.

The theme that’s printed on the cover of our bulletin on this Fourth Sunday of Advent is, Our Lord Comes to Save. 

This had been foretold in prophecies like the one in our Old Testament lesson from Isaiah, Chapter 40 (1-8): “Comfort, comfort my people,” says your God. “Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins.” This means that sinners have received from Him a double portion of His blessing, though they deserved the opposite. That is a declaration of God’s mercy. It is a prophecy of a coming Savior, really (because no comfort, no tenderness from God toward people would be possible otherwise). It wouldn’t be possible for sinners to be comforted before God if a Savior weren’t coming. Iniquity can’t just be pardoned without a Savior. A perfect God can’t accept imperfection. The imperfection must be removed so that He is receiving to Himself perfection like He created. It can only be removed with a Savior.

And a Savior can’t be just anybody. Our epistle lesson from the book of Hebrews is included in our program for this morning because it discusses this person who is qualified to save sinners. This Savior is qualified as that because He is God’s Son, for one thing, and the one through Whom God created the world (we say these things in the Creed, don’t we, about the only-begotten Son of God…very God of very God…by Whom all things were made). 

And, in fact, the writer says of Him that He isn’t only God’s Son, but that He is God Himself. Calling Him the radiance of the glory of God, the writer means that to see Him in His fullness is the same as it is to see God in His fullness (because He is God). The writer says the same sort of thing in another way: that this person is the exact imprint of [God’s] nature. In fact, Jesus said one time, Whoever has seen me has seen the Father (John 14:9). And He didn’t mean by that that He is the Father; they’re two different persons. But He definitely meant that He is God.

So, in our text for today, it’s important business when the angel who appears to Joseph to explain Mary’s surprise pregnancy by the Holy Spirit says, you shall call his name Jesus, and, they shall call His Name Immanuel. 

Joseph is to call the child Jesus, [because] He will save His people from their sins (the angel says). Comfort, comfort My people. They need comfort because guilt brings us the opposite. We even can get to a point at which we doubt God’s love for us when we have become caught up in sinfulness. We get to where we can’t even believe that it would be possible. The fact that God would have to instruct someone to comfort His people demonstrates that they don’t know where they stand with Him anymore. They don’t know if they have in Him friend or a foe. The people Isaiah was originally writing to with those words had gone so far astray from God and had experienced so much of His resulting anger, that they really were in a vulnerable state. They needed this encouragement from Him. 

The devil can even come to a person in that situation and make things worse. You might have experienced this sort of feeling. He accuses, saying, “Who do you think you are, expecting God to be merciful to you when you have so willfully opposed Him like this? You really have some nerve, don’t you, thinking you still have access to Him? You think He still thinks of you as His dear child? You think He can just get past this? You knew what you were doing; and you still did it. Comfort, comfort My people, God says.

He will save His people from their sins. Joseph in our text, was one of His people, who was anticipating the coming of the Savior (though it’s very evident that he had no idea he would play a role, like this, in its story). He was an ordinary man who had found what he knew to be an ordinary young woman to be his wife. They were betrothed; so, as good as married (a divorce would be necessary if they wished to end it). Clearly, he had great affection for her considering that even apparent infidelity didn’t quell his desire to protect her like a husband. She hadn’t done anything wrong; but as far Joseph and the rest of the world would be concerned she had. What other explanation could there be?

In the Catechism, in the discussion of the Eighth Commandment: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor, it says that, in that commandment God requires that we excuse [our neighbor] as far as the truth will permit. In other words, we don’t pretend like something that’s happened hasn’t happened. It’s important that we not speak ill of our neighbor; but we don’t make up stuff that isn’t true in order to falsely preserve our neighbor’s reputation. 

Of course, what happens in our text represents a real pickle. God knows that this solitary exception to this particular law of nature has occurred. He has done it. The Holy Spirit has brought about conception in Mary’s womb. But it’s completely beyond reason. It would have been unreasonable for Joseph or anyone else to try to explain a pregnancy by some other means than what we know. Still, we might imagine him wishing something (anything) else could explain it.

Joseph’s conclusion was that he would shield her from the worst of what could come to her as a result of this. He would act lovingly toward her. He would avoid publicly charging her with something that would ruin her - certainly, and maybe even end her life. 

It’s interesting that his evident love for her reflected the child she carried. What that child represents is God rescuing those who have done wrong, so that they are protected and preserved. It’s representative of Him loving those who have made themselves unlovable (I know that Mary didn’t do anything wrong; the illustration limps, as one seminary professor used to say. We leave the comparison at Joseph mercifully putting away her apparent sin as much as it was possible for him to do so). 

We said it’s important business that the angel directed Joseph to name the child Jesus because He would save His people from their sins. Also it was important that the angel said this child would be called Immanuel, which means God with us. We talked earlier about guilty sinners not knowing whether they have in God, friend or foe. Immanuel says friend, doesn’t it? Immanuel - God with us says God is not someone we must be afraid of, Who holds our sins against us, and Who desires our condemnation. Immanuel says God loves the unlovable. It says He puts away our sin by sending to us the One Who bears it in our place. It says He protects and preserves us like the ultimate husband whose love for His betrothed endures even her guilt and shame. 

The child conceived in Mary by a miracle of the Holy Spirit is God with you as well. He is your Lord Who has come to save. Not just anyone could be your Savior; but this one can, because He is uniquely qualified as the perfect God. He doesn’t have any guilt of His own, and can bear yours and mine so that it is put away and no longer condemns us. In Him, your iniquity is pardoned because He has made you perfect, so as to be accepted by God, received by Him like what He created.

Let us pray: Lord God, heavenly Father, the prophet foretold this child that would be called Immanuel, God with us. He is Jesus, your eternal Son through Whom all things are made. He saves us from our sins. Draw us to Him in this season, that we might cling to this One Who makes us perfect in His atoning blood. From every foe deliver them that trust Thy mighty power to save, and give them vict’ry o’er the grave. Amen.

Other Lessons for this Week:

Isaiah 40:1–8

“Comfort, comfort my people,” says your God.

“Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins.”

A voice cries: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD; make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together; for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”

A voice says, “Cry!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of our God will stand forever.

Hebrews 1:1–12 

Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high, having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.

For to which of the angels did God ever say, “You are my Son, today I have begotten you”? Or again, “I will be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son”? And again, when he brings the firstborn into the world, he says, “Let all God’s angels worship him.” Of the angels he says, “He makes his angels winds, and his ministers a flame of fire.” But of the Son he says, “Your throne, O God, is forever and ever, the scepter of uprightness is the scepter of your kingdom. You have loved righteousness and hated wickedness; therefore God, your God, has anointed you with the oil of gladness beyond your companions.” And, “You, Lord, laid the foundation of the earth in the begin-ning, and the heavens are the work of your hands; they will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment, like a robe you will roll them up, like a garment they will be changed. But you are the same, and your years will have no end.”

Third Sunday in Advent Service