St. Matthew, Apostle & Evangelist

 Video of the Service

St. Matthew, Apostle & Evangelist

September 21, 2025

Text: Matt. 9:9-13

            It was just another day at the tax booth, there on the border lands, where the toll is levied on persons and goods.  It was hard, at first, drowning out his conscience: “What’s a good, Jewish boy like me, doing here, working for, and enriching, the Romans and their local vassals?”  And the jeers of his people: “Traitor!  Thief!”  But the money was good: A few coins for the government, and a few coins for me.  The authorities don’t care.  In fact, it’s expected.  “A man’s gotta do something to keep warm.”  A man has to eat.  And, are a few luxuries, in addition, too much to ask?  Call it “an administrative fee.”  So, Levi… Matthew… and his similarly calloused colleagues, go about their business, as usual.  Another day in the office.  Another shekel in the bank.

            But then, Matthew looks up.  And He is standing there.  His dark brown eyes pierce Matthew to his very soul.  There is no hiding the conscience before His gaze.  Even if one could command the mountains to fall on it, and the hills to cover it… even if one could tie a millstone to his conscience and drown it in the depths of the sea… there could be no hiding it from Him.  And yet, the look in His eyes is not one of accusation, but compassion.  Not condemnation, but mercy.  And, as piercing as His eyes may be, even so does He open them to be pierced.  He gives them, as a window into His mind, His heart, His love for the lost ones.  His longing to gather sinners to Himself, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings.  To save them from destruction.  To save them from their own hell-bent rebellion.  To reconcile them to Himself.  To restore them.  To bring them in once again.  To give them a place, and a people, a family, a home.  To give them a new identity.  “As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew” (Matt. 9:9; ESV).  Saw him all the way.  Looked upon him.  And that’s how it all started.  Matthew would not be the last disciple upon whom the Lord would bestow His gracious gaze… look upon him, to the very core (Luke 22:61).

            And then He speaks.  Two words.  “Follow me” (Matt. 9:9).  “Ἀκολούθει μοι.”  And there is no accounting for it.  Not by any human reason, anyway.  Matthew rises…  Now, I know, this may be my own eccentricity, but I can’t help but think there is more going on with that word… He rose… than simply that Matthew got up out of his chair.  Because, by the power of those two words from Jesus, “Follow me,” Matthew turned… repented… from death to life, from sin to grace, from unbelief to faith in the One speaking.  And he leaves everything.  The money.  The booth.  The career.  And probably some very confused colleagues.  Matthew rises… and follows Jesus, whom he now knows to be the Way, and the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6).

            And the next scene is a party, a banquet, a feast at Matthew’s house, where many of those confused colleagues, and their rather disreputable companions, are gathered together, congregated.  And who is reclining in the midst of them, but Jesus!  They are all gathered about Him.  They are basking in His presence.  They are hanging on His every Word.  And though we don’t know most of the Words He spoke on that particular occasion, we do know what those Words bestowed on those thus gathered: Forgiveness.  Healing.  Life.  They’d never met anyone like Jesus before.  They’d never heard anything like the things He said.  And the things He said, did things.  Bestowed things.  Created for them a whole new reality. 

            Not everyone would have it, though.  And they wouldn’t have anyone else have it, either.  “And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, ‘Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?’” (Matt. 9:11).  We had a similar reaction from them in our Gospel last week: “This man receives sinners and eats with them” (Luke 15:2).  Well, why does He do that?  Because these are the very people for whom He came.  The well don’t need a physician… the sick do!  The righteous don’t need salvation… sinners do!  “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners” (Matt. 9:13).

            And He came, not to call sinners to follow Him at a safe distance… not to take their rightful place, licking the dust at His feet… not to sit at their own table down in the servants’ quarters, far removed from the presence and consciousness of the Master and His guests.  He came that they might be the guests…  He came to cleanse, heal, and restore sinners to the Holy Communion of His Table, where He is present, beholding them in love, continually bespeaking them righteous, bestowing His gifts, making sinners whole. 

            Well, notice once again where the Pharisees are in proximity to Jesus.  Not with Him at the Table, but standing apart in judgment and condemnation.  Jesus is looking at them, but they will not meet His gaze, except, perhaps, in defiance.  They will not be included in this company of sinners.  They have their own system of righteousness.  Ritual washings.  Sabbath regulations.  Meticulous attention to every legal detail.  The hedge about the Law.  The traditions of men.  Their own works, which are the envy of others.  And the shunning of people like… well, like Matthew.  And the others assembled at his home.

            But that’s not righteousness, dear Pharisees.  You’ve missed it.  You are willfully blind.  Tax collectors and sinners see what you don’t… and won’t…. see.  Jesus is our righteousness.  Jesus alone.  To be righteous, therefore, is to be with Jesus.  And in Jesus.  To hear Him.  To follow Him.  To eat with Him.  To live in Him.  His life.  His righteousness.  His salvation.  There is no other way. 

            And if you’d go an learn what this means, “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice” (v. 13), you might just get it.  Your own sacrifices… your works, your keeping of the Law… earn you nothing before God.  But mercy does.  His, for you, that is.  His, that gathers sinners around His Table.  His, that looks deep into the very soul of the sinner, in compassion, and calls to the sinner, “Follow me.”  So that the sinner rises, and does just that.  And then, likewise, has mercy on his neighbor.

            Though, Jesus doesn’t just have mercy.  Jesus is mercy.  And, as a matter of fact, Jesus is the Sacrifice.  The cross.  His blood.  His death.  Making atonement for the real sins of real sinners.  For Matthew.  For his beleaguered colleagues and castaway companions.  For Pharisees.  For you, beloved.  He died for you.  He is risen and lives for you.  He looks upon you.  He loves you.  And he calls to you: “Follow me.”

            Then, of course, to follow Him does entail making sacrifices.  Sacrifices for Jesus.  Sacrifices for others.  These don’t save you, but they come because you are saved.  We learned about that a couple weeks ago, too.  The cost of discipleship, the disciple being one who follows Jesus.  Jesus goes the way of the suffering and the cross, and that means those who follow Him go the way of suffering and the cross.  There will be scorn, rejection, persecution to bear.  There will be hardships and afflictions, and there is no way around them.  There is no way around the cross and death.  Only through.  But with Jesus.  With Jesus, who goes before, and blazes the trail, and is, Himself the Way.  With Jesus, who leads into the tomb, and out the other side… to life and resurrection and joy.

            Matthew rose and followed Jesus.  And that means to the cross.  It’s not only that he left everything.  He died for the Savior, who died for him.  We don’t know the details (there are several traditions), but he surely died a martyr’s death, as did all the Apostles, save St. John, who was a martyr in life.  In any case, Matthew suffered.  He suffered for following Jesus.  But look what it brought us, this suffering.  It was a sacrifice of mercy that brought us the Gospel that bears Matthew’s name.  It brought us… in fact, brings us… the crucified and living Lord Jesus Christ.  So that we rise, and follow Him.  To be with Him.  And in Him.  To hear Him.  To eat with Him.  To live in Him.

            Here we are, and it’s just another Sunday afternoon at Church.  And we look up, and here He is, the Lord Jesus.  He is looking upon us.  And we don’t even try to cover over our conscience, hide our sin from His gaze.  We confess our sins.  He sees them anyway.  And it is good and right to confess that we are sinners.  Because it is for just such that He came.  It is just such whom He calls.  It is just such whom He raises, and heals, and forgives.  And it is for just such that He sets a Table, that He might receive them, and eat with them.  Don’t stand apart.  Don’t hold on to any righteousness of your own (filthy rags, anyway).  As a matter of fact, don’t hold on to anything that keeps you from Him.  Not even your job, or your money.  Give it up.  Leave it all behind.  Just be with Him.  Where He is.  Be loved by Him.  Receive from Him.  Recline at Table and feast with Him.  Hear the Words He says to you today… (to you!): “Follow me.”  By those Words, you’ll do just that.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

              

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Video of the Service

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 19C)

September 14, 2025

Text: Luke 15:1-10

            Who are these sinners Jesus scandalously receives, and with whom He eats?  They’re the kind of people with whom Pharisees and good Jewish folk wouldn’t be caught dead associating.  They’re the kind of people that make Law abiding, pious synagogue members feel unclean.  In fact, maybe the uncleanness is contagious.  Never would you speak to such a one.  At least not intimately, not on friendly terms.  Like, maybe you have to talk to the tax collector at the tax booth as he robs you of your money, enriching himself and the Romans, the traitor!  And maybe you have a rebuke for the prostitute or the backslider in your proximity.  But you wouldn’t willingly engage in conversation, ask about their welfare, or say nice things to them.  Never would you touch them, shake their hand, embrace them.  And never… not ever, under any circumstances, would you sit down for a meal with them.  Which would probably mean going to their house, or (gasp!) inviting them into yours. 

            Now, here comes Rabbi Jesus, and they’re all drawing near to Him, to hear Him.  Don’t miss that important point.  The virtue of these sinners is not in their sinfulness.  It’s not in the shock value of their publicly manifest iniquities.  It is that Jesus speaks, and His Word captures them, and draws them in.  Because they know it is a Word of mercy, and it is a Word for them.  So, here is Jesus, immersed in crowds of sinners, who flock to Him because they’ve found in Him release from their sins.  Cleansing for their uncleanness.  Healing for their brokenness.  Restoration to community, and Communion.  Jesus receives them and eats with them.  Once cast out, now brought in.  Once excluded, now belonging.  Once lost, now found.  And all heaven rejoices.

            Who are these ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance?  You do hear the holy snark in that appellation, do you not?  In reality, there is no such person (with the one exception of our Lord Jesus Christ) who is righteous and needs no repentance.  “None is righteous,” Paul says, “no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God.  All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one” (Rom. 3:10-12; ESV).  “(A)ll have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (v. 23).  But the Pharisees and scribes think they're pretty close to that glory.  As close as anyone could expect.  They are not like other men, and certainly not like these tax-collectors and sinners.  They fast twice a week.  They give tithes of all that they get.  They meticulously observe the Law of Moses and the traditions of the elders built as a hedge around the Law of Moses, to keep them safe from transgression.  Good.  Fine.  But they look upon this as their righteousness, as that which renders them righteous before God.  And one has to admit, it all looks very good.  Outwardly.  But they’re blind to the real corruption, the deep-seated wickedness of their own heart.  They’re good at seeing the sins of others.  They can’t see their own.  And so, they grumble about (among other things) God’s mercy to sinners (grumbling, which I happen to be very good at, is nevertheless a mark of self-righteousness and thanklessness).  And they don’t draw near to Jesus.  They reject Him and go far away from Him.

            You know a few Pharisees.  Actually, you know one of them quite well.  His name is old Adam.  He’s sitting with you in the pew.  No, don’t look to your right, or your left.  That’s just the sort of “I’m righteous in comparison with my neighbor” game pharisaical Adam loves to play.  Rather, look deep down into your heart.  You know, the place the world always tells you to look for inspiration and every good thing.  Instead, you’ll find old Adam there.  Get him!  Grab him by the scruff of the neck and confess the ever-lovin’ hades out of him.  Drown him in the blest baptismal waters.  Crucify him.  Repent him to death.  Say… out loud, even… I am not, in and of myself, a righteous person who needs no repentance.  I am a poor, miserable sinner.  The only good in me comes from outside of me, from Christ, my Lord, bestowed on me by grace, without any merit or worthiness in me.  I stand with the tax-collector and beat my breast, lamenting, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (Luke 18:13).  Yeah, that ought to do it.  That ought to stuff old Adam back where he belongs.  Because, that is not who you are anymore.

            Who are you, beloved?  Well, you know who you were?  You were the lost sheep, wandering off on your own, away from the Shepherd, away from the flock, away from the sheepfold, thinking you knew better than that crozier-wielding stick-in-the-mud, Jesus, anyway.  Wandering toward perils unknown.  Predators.  Robbers.  Injury.  Certain death.  But now… now you are the one for whom Christ, our Good Shepherd, leaves the ninety-nine to search out and rescue.  You are the one… just look at paintings or icons of Christ, the Good Shepherd… you are the wounded sheep He bears on His shoulders, and carries home rejoicing.  And all heaven with Him.

            You were the lost coin, the drachma, woven into a crown of ten, constituting a bride’s dowry.  When one coin falls off, by the way, the whole wreath falls apart.  When one coin is lost, the whole crown suffers.  This is an intensely personal tragedy for us all, beloved.  Now, holy Mother Church, the Bride of Christ, lights a Lamp… the Word of God!  “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Psalm 119:105)… and she sweeps the house and seeks diligently until she finds it.  And when she does, she rejoices.  And all heaven with her! 

            And so does the Church on earth.  With angels and archangels and all the company of heaven.  More joy over one sinner who repents than over… Well, what about those ninety-nine supposedly righteous people?  They’re not actually righteous.  They need repentance, too.  They’re lost, too.  So, send out the undershepherds, in the Name of Christ.  Light the Lamp, dear Church of God.  Preach.  Preach the Lord Jesus Christ. 

            Who is this Man who receives sinners and eats with them?  He is the very Son of God, sent on divine mission into our flesh to gather lost sheep into His fold.  To save sinners.  To save us.  Not to save the righteous.  Sinners.  “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners” (Matt. 9:13).  We have no righteousness of our own.  But He is our righteousness.  As God says through the Prophet Jeremiah, “In [Jesus’] days Judah will be saved, and Israel will dwell securely.  And this is the name by which he will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness’” (Jer. 23:6).

            Who is this Man?  He is the One who takes the sins of sinners, the sins of the whole world, my sins and yours, upon Himself, and puts them to death in His body on Calvary.  He is the One who sheds His blood, who dies our death, who is buried in our tomb.  He is the One who is risen from the dead, lives, and reigns, and will raise us, and give eternal life to us, and to all who believe in Him. 

            And He is the One who still receives sinners and eats with them.  What is He doing for us today?  He is speaking His Words into our ears, and placing His Words upon our lips as we sing and confess.  He is absolving us: “I forgive you all your sins,” He says, through the mouth of His called and ordained servant.  He is breathing His Spirit into us, even now, as the holy wind of His Word blows through the building.  And in a few moments, what will He do, but bid you come to His Table and eat with Him. 

            And then, He’ll send you on your way… note this, this is very important… changed.  Different than you were before.  When Jesus receives sinners, just as they are, without one plea, it is a beautiful thing, but understand, He doesn’t leave them that way.  He forgives their sins, and then sends them out healed, whole, and new.  What do the tax-collectors, like Matthew, like Zacchaeus, do once they’ve drawn near to Jesus?  They do things like give half their possessions to the poor, and restore four-fold whatever they’ve stolen (Luke 19:8).  What do sinners, like the woman caught in adultery, do once they’ve fallen before Jesus’ merciful feet?  They cling to the Words, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more” (John 8:11).  The blind who receive their sight, don’t go wandering back into their blindness.  The crippled who have taken up their beds to go home, don’t lay back down on them and refuse to use their limbs.  What a squandering of the Lord’s gifts!  This is an important point to make, because some falsely believe and teach that our Lord’s receiving sinners and eating with them means we can do whatever we want, with nary a worry about offending God or falling from faith by disregarding His Word.  And then we can waltz right back to Church every Sunday for our weekly dose of forgiveness… or, more probably, what we’re seeking… justification, not from our sins, or in spite of our sins… but justification for our sins, and in our sins.  Lord, have mercy.  That is not what this text means.  That is not what Jesus does. 

            Beloved, when our Lord has had His way with you, receiving you to Himself, feeding you, and eating with you, He then sends you out with a whole new life… His life.  Not so that you can go out and sin a bunch more, knowing you have a get-out-of-hell free card.  No.  But so that you can live each day as a New Creation, as God’s own, precious, blood-bought child.  Jesus sends you out with His blessing, His Name, His presence.  A member of His Bride, the Church, shining forth the Light of His Word, sweeping and seeking other lost coins for the Kingdom.  Living always in His righteousness.  Oh, you will sin when you go out.  No denying that, this side of the veil.  Old Adam again.  Push him back down under the water.  Daily.  But also, daily emerge and arise to live before God in Christ.  As one who keeps coming back to Jesus.  Who keeps drawing near, to hear Him.  Because you know He’ll always receive you with open arms, and pierced hands.  And there will always be a place for you at His Table.

            “This man receives sinners and eats with them” (Luke 15:2).  Thank God, fellow sinners.  Thank God.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                             

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Video of Service 

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 18C)

September 7, 2025

Text: Luke 14:25-35

            The question is, what is more important to you than Jesus?  What do you fear, love, and trust more than Him?  Ah, this is a First Commandment issue.  “You shall have no other gods.  What does this mean?  We should fear, love, and trust in God”… that is, the Triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit… The Father, who sent His Son, Jesus, to whom the Spirit testifies… We should fear, love, and trust in that God “above all things.”[1]

            What is more important to you than Jesus?  You know the right answer, of course.  Nothing.  But don’t let that complicate matters.  Our Lord says some pretty serious things in our Holy Gospel that should lead us to self-examination and repentance.  He identifies some things, and some people, concerning whom it sounds respectable to hold them in the highest place.  So, again, what is more important to you than Jesus?

            Family?  Jesus says, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26; ESV).  Now, that can be confusing.  I thought we weren’t supposed to hate anyone, let alone our own family members.  That’s true.  Fourth Commandment, right?  Honor your father and your mother.  Love your neighbor as yourself.  And, I thought we weren’t supposed to hate life, our own, or anyone else’s.  Again, that’s true.  Fifth Commandment and all that.  You shall not murder, including yourself. 

            But Jesus is using the word “hate” in a different way, here, than we tend to use it.  This is a Hebraism, this expression… a Hebrew idiom, a Hebrew way of speaking.  It means that we should not love our family members… or anyone, or anything else… or even our own life, more than we love Jesus.  So, it’s a matter of priorities.  Think how this applies to us.  When family members… or friends, or co-workers, or bosses, or the government… don’t like what Jesus says about a thing, and don’t like you if you believe and confess what Jesus says about that thing, and reject you, or disown you, or persecute you over that thing, over your faith… Jesus is saying to you, here, “Love Me more that you love them.  Be true to Me, even if they insist otherwise.  No matter the consequences.  Because I am God, and they are not.  I am your Savior, and they are not.  So, keep believing in Me.  Keep confessing Me.  With gentleness and respect, of course (1 Peter 3:15), but keep speaking My Word.  Suffer for Me.  Give everything for Me.  Give even yourself for Me.  Because I have given everything, including Myself, My very life, for you.  And I will make all things right in the End.  Trust Me on that.  I gave My life for that.”

            What else?  What else is more important to you than Jesus?  Your own comfort and safety?  Security?  Freedom?  Health?  Honor?  Prosperity?  Property?  Now, be honest about these things.  Do the hard works of self-examination, here.  Jesus says, “Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:27).  That is, the Christian should not expect an easy time of it if he is to follow Jesus.  Jesus goes the way of the cross.  Following Him necessarily entails going the way He goes.  That is, suffering and the cross.  A disciple, after all, is one who follows.  You can’t be a disciple of Jesus if you don’t follow Jesus.  That means a readiness to give up everything, including your life, for Jesus’ sake, as He gave up everything, including His life, for your sake.  When our Lord says to the rich young man, “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (18:22), we’re always relieved to find out He’s giving that command specifically to that man, and not to us.  But here He is speaking to us.  And what does He say?  “(A)ny one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple” (14:33).

            What would be hard to give up for Jesus’ sake?  That is the thing your Lord is warning you against this day.  Because that is how the Christian loses his Christianity.  Loyalty to some person or thing above faithfulness to Christ.  That is how the salt loses its saltiness.  (That can happen, by the way.  When the salt is dried from seawater, it can leech out the sodium chloride from its other compounds, and become worthless.)  What is salt for?  Seasoning.  Purifying.  Preserving.  You see how Christians are like salt in the world?  Christians give flavor to the world by their Christian confession.  Christian witness purifies the world by leading sinners to repentance and faith in Jesus.  God preserves the world for the sake of His Christians, because of their prayers, and for the sake of those who will become Christians as they hear the witness of His Christians, and take that witness to heart.  But what happens when a Christian loves something, or someone, more than Jesus… when a Christian, therefore, hates Jesus, in the sense of this Hebrew idiom (and that shocking manner of speaking is worth thinking about)… when a Christian holds something or someone as more important to them than Jesus… is that they lose their Christianity.  The salt loses its saltiness.  They lose Jesus.

            You can lose your faith.  Be warned about that.  We do not believe in once saved, always saved… or once baptized, always saved, which is a false doctrine apparently espoused by some Lutherans these days.  That is not taught in the Scriptures, and it is dangerous, because it leads to carnal security.  What is taught in the Scriptures, is that you can apostatize.  That is, you can walk away from Jesus, away from your Baptism, away from salvation.  As Jesus teaches in the Parable of the Sower.  The Sower sows His Seed liberally and recklessly.  That is, God sows His Word through the preaching of His Christians.  And some believe only for a time.  For example, those represented by the rocky soil, who receive the Word with joy, but never develop any root.  So, in time of testing… when their family, or friends, or the powers that be, reject them, or threaten persecution… when there is a cost to following Jesus… What happens?  They fall away. 

            Beloved, don’t let that be you.  It happens.  I’ve seen it.  It breaks my heart.  It breaks yours, too.  And we all walk in danger of this.  So, the question is imperative: What is more important to you than Jesus?  What keeps you from His House, and His gifts?  What makes you blush to be associated with Him, and with His Church?  What silences your confession of Him, and of His Word?

            Whatever that thing is… or that person, or that place, or that idea, or that state of being…  Repent of it.  You must hate it, in the sense Jesus uses the word “hate” in our Gospel today.  Because you’ve put that thing, or that person, place, idea, or state of being, in the place of God.  And that’s not where they belong.  You’re not loving them if you put them there.  Imagine putting a person, like your spouse, or parent, or child, or friend, in the place of God, and by definition therefore, expecting and demanding that person to be the source of all good in your life, and give you all things needful!  Well, they’d fail miserably.  And then you’d hate them for it, in the full sense of the way we use that word.  That’s not fair to them.  That’s not loving them. 

            See, only when you put Jesus in His proper place… and that is the number one spot, the spot for God… only then does everything else fall into its proper place.  And so, you love it properly.  Then, your love is rightly ordered.  And only rightly ordered love is, in fact, love.

            That’s hard.  This is what it means that being a Christian comes with a cost.  Count the cost, Jesus says (vv. 28-32).  Now, wait a second.  I thought salvation was God’s free gift to me!  That is true.  You don’t pay for it.  Jesus does.  And you receive it freely, by faith alone.  But then, in terms of the world’s goods, and this earthly life, it will cost you everything.  The world will make sure of that.  And, actually, God will make sure of that, because whatever the thing you count as too precious to lose for Jesus’ sake is an idol, and God doesn’t want you to have idols, because they’re bad for you.  They will kill you.  He wants you to have Jesus only, so He often strips you of the things that are not Jesus.  It hurts at the time, but He does it out of love for you, because that is what is good for you. 

            And anyway, while salvation may be free to you, it is not cheap.  You know who counted the cost of your salvation, and paid it in full, to the very last drop of blood?  Yes, you do know.  Jesus.  And now, think of this question: What is more important to Jesus than you?  Nothing.  Not His equality with God the Father, which He did not consider a thing to be grasped (Phil. 2:6).  Not His honor or glory or safety or security.  Not His health.  Not His freedom.  Not His property or prosperity.  Not even His own family (they rejected Him as insane!).  Not His own life.  He gave it all into death on the cross for you, to make you His own.  To bring you into His Family.  To make you a child of God.  To give you His Kingdom, and with that Kingdom… all things.  All things!  Think of that!  Whatever you lose in this life, you have more abundantly in Jesus.

            So, back to the question, and this time, go ahead, give the right answer.  What is more important to you than Jesus?  Nothing.  You know that, now.  Repent of ever thinking it could be anything.  Or anyone.  Jesus Christ is your life and salvation.  Jesus Christ, and Him alone.  And when He is in His proper place in your life, everyone and everything else is right where they belong.  Your love is rightly ordered.  And you are ready to take up your cross, and follow the Savior.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

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[1] Catechism quotes from Luther’s Small Catechism (St. Louis: Concordia, 1986).  

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Video of Service 

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 17C)

August 31, 2025

Text: Luke 14:1-14

            What is the Sabbath for?  Why did God give it?  Sanctify it?  Command it?

            The word, “Sabbath” (Hebrew: שַׁבָּת), means, “rest.”  As you know, God Himself set the pattern on the final day of Creation week: “on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done” (Gen. 2:2; ESV).  God didn’t rest because He was tired out from all that labor.  He rested so as to claim the day for rest in Himself.  He sanctified it… consecrated it.  “So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work that he had done in creation” (v. 3).  And now, the pinnacle of God’s creation, man, was to follow God’s example.  In fact, God commanded it for His people, Israel.  The Third Commandment: “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.  Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God.  On it you shall not do any work, you, or your son, or your daughter, your male servant, or your female servant, or your livestock, or the sojourner who is within your gates” (Ex. 20:8-10). 

            In the Old Testament, the Sabbath rule was to cease from work.  Why?  First of all, so everybody could have a break.  We all need times of rest and renewal.  Give your kids a break from the chores.  Give your servants (we might say, employees) a break from their duties.  Give your animals, your beasts of burden, a break from their labor.  Second, so you have time for God’s gifts and meditation on His Word.  Everyone gathers for the Sabbath Seder, and we talk about the great things God has done.  And third, as an exercise of faith.  I’m confessing that, even if I don’t go out and work today, God will still bless me, and provide for me my daily bread, all the things I need for this body and life.  So, we might sum it all up and say, the Sabbath was given as an opportunity to rest in God’s gracious gifts.  To recognize that God is our sufficiency.  Everything we need, we have in God.

            Of course, all of this pointed to something even greater.  That is, seventh day Sabbath was a shadow of its fulfillment in our Lord Jesus Christ.  In the week of New Creation, Holy Week, where did God finish all His work?  On the cross.  Good Friday.  The sixth day.  “It is finished,” Jesus said, and then bowed His head and gave up His spirit (John 19:30).  And then, what did He do on the seventh day, the Sabbath?  He rested.  Where?  In the tomb.  Thus fulfilling the Third Commandment for us, transforming the Sabbath from a mere day of the week into our whole reality.  See, in the New Testament, in the aftermath of our Lord’s death and resurrection, our Sabbath is no longer a day, but a Man: Our Lord Jesus Christ.

            Jesus is our Sabbath rest.  We rest in Him, now, every day, all day, always.  How so?  By faith.  By faith, we know and trust that He has conquered our enemies, sin, death, the devil, the world, and our own sinful nature.  He gives us rest from these.  AND, He gives us rest from this constant striving to be righteous, to justify ourselves… before God, before others, and in our own sight.  You know how this goes.  I am forever excusing and justifying my words and actions before others.  I tell my stories so that I look good, and others, not so much.  I want everyone to admire me, and think that I am the smartest, most able, most put-together person in the room.  I fret over how I look to others.  I fret over how I look to myself.  I avoid looking at my faults and blemishes in the mirror.  I make sure my social media posts, and the photos I share, are flashy, and lead others to think my life is great.  I regularly think of others… well, frankly, as jerks or idiots.  Especially in comparison with me.  I tear others down in my own mind, to make me feel better about myself.  And so on, and so forth.  You do it, too.  It is the never ending, ever accelerating treadmill of pharisaism, isn’t it?  Self-justification.  Self-righteousness.  And it’s exhausting.  You know, it’ll kill you, in the end. 

            Jesus gives you rest from all that.  Jesus scoops you up off the treadmill of self-justification, and holds you fast in His justification… the forgiveness of all your sins (He paid for them all on the cross!), His declaration that you are righteous with an alien righteousness (that is, an outside-of-you righteousness, His righteousness, given to you as a gift), and then, the reward of that justification… eternal life, the resurrection of your body, wholeness, health, peace, joy… Shalom… because He is risen from the dead.  And you are baptized into Him.  Into His death, and so, into His life.

            To observe the Sabbath, then, in the New Testament, is to rest in that.  It is to receive Jesus and all His gifts.  So Dr. Luther teaches us in the Small Catechism: “Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy.  What does this mean?  We should fear and love God so that we do not despise preaching and His Word, but hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it.”[1]  Whenever we have opportunity.  Especially when the Church gathers on the Lord’s Day.  But really, every day.  Every day in His Word.  Every day, commending all things to Him in prayer, knowing that He cares for us, and will answer.  Every day, walking in our Baptism, putting to death self-justifying Adam, emerging and arising as those whose justification is in Christ alone.  Every day in Jesus. 

            Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath day?  You’d better believe it!  That’s what the Sabbath is all about.  Healing and wholeness, salvation and life, forgiveness of sins and justification in Jesus Christ alone, who is, Himself, our Sabbath.  When Jesus healed the man with dropsy (painful swelling, edema, probably caused by all sorts of other nasty problems), He’s giving the man Sabbath.  He’s relieving the burden.  Pulling a child… or even an ox… out of a pit (who of us would not do that on the Sabbath?), gives that child, or that ox, Sabbath.  And, note this: Inviting the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind… those who can’t pay you back… to receive of your hospitality, gives them Sabbath.  By the way, Jesus is not forbidding you from having your friends and family, or rich people, over for dinner.  In fact, such may even be Sabbath for them, especially if you give them Jesus by talking about Him, living in Him, saying a Table prayer, decorating your home with Christian artifacts, like Bibles, crucifixes, biblical paintings, and such.  Jesus is not forbidding that.  He’s just saying that the spirit of Sabbath is relieving burdens, and the heavier the burden, the greater the Sabbath.  You, who have received unimaginable Sabbath in Jesus Christ, now radiate that Sabbath to others as you relieve their burdens, and bestow grace and generosity in the Name of Christ.

            Now, note this, too.  That takes humility.  The opposite of Sabbath is pride.  Pride is a return to the old treadmill of self-justification.  Humility, though, claims nothing for itself.  It doesn’t play that game anymore.  Humility has no problem taking its place among the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.  Even tax collectors and sinners.  Because humility says of itself, “I’m one of them.”  Pride takes the seat of honor at the feast, and sets itself up for a fall.  But humility goes and takes the lowest place, confessing… what?... “I, a poor, miserable sinner.”  And then, the Host, Jesus, comes and says, “Friend, move up higher” (Luke 14:10).  That is, “I forgive you all your sins!  Come and take your place at my Table for the Feast of feasts!”  “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you,” Peter tells us (1 Peter 5:6).  That is what happens when we confess that we are nothing, and have nothing.  And then, Christ comes to us to be our Everything!

            That is Sabbath!  And, once again, our God sets the pattern.  Who is the One who took the lowest place, and was, therefore, told by God to move up higher?  Oh… you know.  Jesus Christ.  He took His seat with us, in our flesh, in our sin, and misery, and death.  Took our place on the cross, and in the tomb.  And now He is risen from the dead, exalted by God, seated at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.  Beloved, He did all this for you.  That you, being humbled, might thus be exalted.  So here you are, resting in Him, holding His Word sacred, and gladly hearing and learning it… at His bidding, seated in the place of honor, at the Marriage Feast of the Lamb in His Kingdom, which has no end.  Because, in fact… that’s what the Sabbath is for.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                             

 

 

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[1] Catechism quotes from Luther’s Small Catechism (St. Louis: Concordia, 1986).

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

 Watch Service Video

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 16C)

August 24, 2025

Text: Luke 13:22-30

            The Door to salvation and eternal life is narrow.  And it opens in the shape of a cross.  That is to say, Christ is the Door.  Christ crucified for sinners.  Christ risen from the dead.  Christ alone.  Christ only.  What makes the Door narrow, is not that it is available only to a privileged few.  It is, rather, the exclusivity of it that makes it narrow.  That is, Christ is the only way to salvation.  All roads do NOT lead to the same place.  All doors do NOT open to life.  Not even many roads, and many doors.  All religions do NOT lead to God.  Only Christ.  Only Christianity.  Jesus says it this way in Matthew Chapter 7 (13-14; ESV): “Enter by the narrow gate.  For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.   For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.”

            We kick against this, because we know any number of (humanly speaking) very fine people, who are not Christians.  They’re nice.  They give to charity.  They do good deeds and lead good lives.  And we know any number of Christians who are (humanly speaking) not very fine people.  They wear their sins on their sleeve.  That is a scandal, to be sure.  But see what we’ve done?  We’ve made salvation dependent on human behavior.  Human disposition.  Works.  We want the way to be wide, in such a way that whoever is sincere, a basically good and decent fellow, regardless of the god he worships, gets in.  It’s politically incorrect to say that Jesus is the only way.  It’s tempting to say it doesn’t matter.  Just go the wide way.  Beloved, repent.

            To say that Jesus is the only way is not arrogant.  It doesn’t make those of us who know the way any better than those who don’t.  Actually, we confess quite the contrary, don’t we?  “I, a poor, miserable sinner.”  It just means we’ve found the Door.  And, as Lutherans, how is it, we confess, that we found it?  By grace.  By grace alone.  By the Holy Spirit, bringing us to the Door by His Word.  By someone telling us about the Door.  By the preaching.  (In this way, perhaps, it would be more accurate to say, “The Door found us!”)  And now, because we’ve located the Door, it is incumbent upon us to tell others, “Here is the Door.  The only One that leads to Life.  This is the Way.  Jesus.  The cross.  Christ alone.  There is no other Name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved (Acts 4:12).  Every other door leads to death.”

            Of course, that kind of pleading with others to enter through the Door comes with its own frustrations and heartaches.  That is, so many reject our pleading.  So many of those we dearly love reject our pointing them to the Door that is Christ.  Why?  “That Door is small,” they might say.  “Insignificant.  Most people are traveling the broad way.  Safety in numbers.  Consensus must equal wisdom.  And, it’s easier to go the broad way.  And more attractive.  That narrow Door, shaped, as it is, in the form of a cross, necessarily means it is difficult.  It is ugly.  It entails suffering.  I don’t want that.  So, no thank you.”  Endless are the reasons people give for passing by the narrow Door.  The plain fact is, that Door appears foolish to fallen human reason.  Thus St. Paul to the Corinthians: “The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned” (1 Cor. 2:14).  It takes a gift of the Spirit to be caught by the preaching of the Door, and so enter through it, enter through Christ and the blessed and holy cross.

            But this leads to a question, doesn’t it?  If the Holy Spirit gives faith to some who hear the preaching, and not to others… and if the Spirit wants everyone to be saved, as He says He does in His Word (for example, 1 Timothy 2:4: God “desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth”)… and if there is nothing in man that makes him worthy of coming to faith (finding the Door), but God alone gives faith as an unmerited gift (again, St. Paul, Eph. 2:8-9: “For by grace you have been saved through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast”)… then… what’s the question?  Why are some saved, and not others?  Or, as some well-intentioned disciple asks in our Holy Gospel this day, “Lord, will those who are saved be few?” (Luke 13:23).  That question is a variation on a theme, isn’t it?  The mystery why some enter through the Door, and others do not. 

            How does Jesus answer?  He doesn’t!  Why some, and not others?  After wrestling with this question (the Doctrine of Election, we call it in theology) in Romans 8-11, St. Paul essentially puts a finger to his lips and says, enough with the question!  The answer is not for you to know!  It’s up to God to do as He knows best.  Instead, here’s what you should do.  Follow Paul’s example, and simply praise God’s incomprehensible wisdom: “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!” he says, as he silences all questions.  “How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!” (Rom. 11:33).  Instead of trying to figure out how and why God elects people, (and, frankly, judging Him as unjust, because you don’t understand the mechanics of His choice) just rejoice that you are one of the elect, take comfort in that, and give God all the praise.  Well, similar answer to the question, “will those who are saved be few?”  Worry about you, Jesus says, essentially.  You, “Strive to enter through the narrow door” (Luke 13:24).  “Strive to enter through Me, and remain in Me.”

            Here, the Lutherans have another problem, they think.  Strive.  Sounds like works.  Here’s the problem with you.  You always fall for the old sleight-of-hand trick of the adversaries in the Lutheran Reformation.  That is, slipping in the idea that the striving itself is what justifies, what saves.  That’s not what Jesus says.  He’s already brought you to the Door.  He is giving you, even now, at this very moment, by grace, to enter through it.  But you know it’s a striving.  That is to say, it’s hard, now, in this life, to remain in Christ.  Because the old, easier, comfortable, broad way is calling you to come back out the Door and join the world.  And your sinful nature wants you to do just that.  Because it appeals to your flesh.  And you look at the cross shaped Door of Christ, and you don’t want to have to go through that, because that means suffering.  The broad way means all kinds of pleasure and ease and comfort, now, heedless of any suffering that may await you at the end (plus, you won’t have to worry about all those other people who won’t come through the Door).  The narrow Door means suffering now, in anticipation of the great joy of the Kingdom and resurrection in the End.  See what it means to strive?  Not salvation by works.  Salvation is in Christ alone.  But mortification of the flesh.  Patience.  Discipline.  Resisting the temptation to apostatize (forsake the faith).  Suffering for the sake and Name of Christ. 

            Some Christians think they can have their cake, and eat it, too (you understand that phrase?  If you eat your cake, you don’t have it anymore.  It’s gone).  That is, they keep one foot… or maybe just a toe… maybe just the little toe… near the Doorway, or so they think, by maintaining their outward Christian bona fides.  Whatever that is, in their minds.  They come to Church however much they think they should.  They do good things.  Live good lives.  According to their own definition of “good.”  But they’ve actually left the Door, little toe and all.  By trusting in those bona fides instead of Christ alone.  Like the Pharisees, who trusted their own righteousness.  Or, they thought they would leave the Door, but stay close enough that they could rush back to it when the moment of crisis comes.  Like somebody who doesn’t really participate in Christianity on any regular basis, but they plan to get to it, someday, near the end of their life.  And what happens is, death will come… or maybe even the End, when Christ comes again… and the Door will be shut... before they have a chance to repent.  Before they can run back to the Door.  That is the warning of this text.  They will have lost out on the Time of Grace (the time of this earthly life).  It’s this great mystery why not everybody feels the urgency.  Why they don’t seem to want the comfort, and peace, and joy we have as Christians.  “Lord, why?  Why do some reject You?”  What is Jesus’ answer?  Don’t let that be you.  Don’t be one of those banging on the Door on the Last Day, shouting that you should be let in, because you deserve it, somehow… even though you wanted nothing to do with the Door when it was open to you.  Don’t be one of those who are shocked when Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and the Prophets enter in, with this great multitude from east and west, north and south, but you yourself are shut out. 

            How do you avoid that?  Be in the Door now.  Be in Christ now.  Be receiving His death, and therefore His life, now.  How?  You know it, because you’re here.  Be in His Church.  Be in His Word.  Be at His Table.  Often.  Always.  These are the means He gives you, by which you remain in Him.  Will those who are saved be few?  We worry about that, because we want everyone to be saved, and especially those we love.   But you can’t believe for another.  And you can’t be in Christ for another.  But you can be in Christ for you.  And you are.  God has given you to be here (called you by the Gospel, enlightened you with His gifts).  Stay here.  No matter how hard it gets.  Because only here, in Christ, is there Life and salvation.  And call out to others: “Here it is!  The Door!  Come on in… to Christ alone.”  Some won’t listen.  But some will.  Some will even surprise you.  And that will be a joy to you for all eternity.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.    

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

Video

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 15C)

August 17, 2025

Text: Luke 12:49-56

            Fire from heaven.  The wrath of God.  “I came to cast fire on the earth” says Jesus, “and would that it were already kindled!” (Luke 12:49; ESV).

            The fire that rained down upon Sodom and Gomorrah (Gen. 19:24).  The fire and hail of the Egyptian plague (Ex. 9:23-24).  The fire of the LORD that fell and consumed Elijah’s burnt offering, with the wood and the stones and the very water in the trenches around the altar… divine judgment on the prophets of Baal, resulting in their humiliation and slaughter (1 Kings 18:38-40).  How about the fire from heaven that, not once, but twice, and nearly three times, consumed the captain and his fifty men sent by Israel’s king to capture Elijah?  And the third was only spared because he feared the LORD and begged the prophet for mercy (2 Kings 1:11-16).

            Fire from heaven.  The wrath of God.  “For the LORD your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God,” Moses preaches (Duet. 4:24).

            The Lord Jesus Christ is God in human flesh.  That is to say, He is a consuming fire.  Yet He does not consume His own human nature.  Isn’t that a mystery!?  God in our weak flesh, yet our weak flesh still lives?  Nor does He consume His mother Mary when He is conceived in her womb.  Like the flame of fire in the bush on Horeb.  The bush was burning, yet it was not consumed (Ex. 3:2).  What was that flame?  What was that fire?  The presence of the LORD God Himself.  Never mind the bush… the flame should rightly have consumed Moses.  A sinner on holy ground.  But it didn’t.  And this is the key to understanding what our Lord means when He says to us this day, “I came to cast fire on the earth.”  The fire of God’s wrath and judgment?  Absolutely.  The fire that is the very presence of God on earth?  Yes.  Fire that will burn us to smithereens?  Hellfire that will torment us for all eternity?  Well, that is the question, isn’t it.  Is that all the fire does?  Destroy?  Why does the fire obliterate Sodom, but leave the bush, Moses, Mary… the flesh of God’s Son… unharmed? 

            What would Jesus accomplish with His fire?  James and John, those Sons of Thunder, wanted to tell fire to come down from heaven and consume the Samaritans who did not receive Jesus (Luke 9:54).  But what was Jesus’ response?  He rebuked them (v. 55).  They didn’t understand what Jesus would accomplish with His fire.  We, too, as we look around us in this dying and degenerate world, can be tempted to wish God would blast those sinners to hell with His fire.  It’s this longing for justice within us.  But then, if we’re honest, we’d have to recognize that God blasting sinners to hell would necessarily include His blasting each and every one of us.  So, do we understand what Jesus would accomplish with His fire?

            Where is it, specifically, that Jesus casts this fire upon the earth?  Golgotha.  The cross.  Do you see what happens there?  Jesus directs the fire of God’s wrath away from sinners, away from us… upon Himself, suspended between heaven and earth.  “I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished” (12:50).  He is talking about His Baptism by fire, His Baptism in blood, His suffering and death.  That is the fulfillment of His Baptism in the Jordan.  He is talking about the blessed and holy cross.  There, He drains the cup of God’s wrath to the very dregs (Ps. 75:8).  There, He makes atonement for all our sins, and the sins of the whole world.  With burning lips, He pleads for our forgiveness (Luke 23:34).  Parched, He thirsts for our salvation (John 19:28).  Forsaken of God, He suffers our damnation (Matt. 27:46).  And in His death, what happens to the fire?  It is quenched.  God’s justice is satisfied.  His wrath is spent.  And you are saved. 

            This is why you want, always, to be found in Christ.  This is why you must ever and always abide in Christ.  Because, in Christ, the Judgment is done.  Your debt is paid in full.  There is no more wrath to suffer.  “It is finished” (John 19:30).

            Now they lay our Lord into a tomb, like so many scattered ashes and smothered coals.  But what happens on the Third Day?  You know it.  As the first rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, the tomb is revealed to be empty.  The fire once again blazes forth.  The stone is rolled away.  Light overcomes the darkness.  Death itself has been consumed by the flesh and blood of God.  Christ is risen.  Jesus lives. 

            And now, a conflagration.  The fire spreads as the Gospel is proclaimed.  First by the angels.  Then by the women (oh, the blessed, faithful women who first visited the tomb).  Then by Peter and thunderous John (this is the fire God wants you to spread, John).  The risen Lord Himself appearing to Mary.  Igniting hearts on the road to Emmaus as He opens the Scriptures to those buried in grief.  Then, the Day of Pentecost, and a mighty, rushing wind.  Fire from heaven on the heads of the disciples.  The Holy Spirit, opening lips.  And the fire spreads as the Word of the Lord grows, to this day, casting its heat and light into every corner of the world.

            Now, it is not a tame fire, understand.  It is still fire… the same fire that destroyed Sodom.  But it is also the pillar of fire leading Israel safely through the barren wilderness.  It is the same fire that consumed Elijah’s sacrifice, consigning false prophets to the slaughter.  And it is the same fire that consumed the Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, for the sins of the world.  What does fire do?  It destroys, to be sure.  We’re well aware of that, here, in the hot, dry Idaho summer.  But it doesn’t only destroy.  What else does it do?  It warms.  It enlightens.  It purifies. 

            Oh, it does destroy.  That is the warning for all those outside of Christ, as well as for us, who walk in danger all the way… danger of falling into temptation… danger of forsaking our faith… danger of denying Christ and the Gospel.  Fire destroys.  It hurts, and even kills, when we don’t hold it in reverence.  When we pretend it doesn’t exist, or that it can’t harm us, in any case.  The fool says in his heart, “There is no God!” (Ps. 14:1), and it is the fool, likewise, who plays with the divine fire, or ignores it to his own peril.  The Day is coming when those outside of Christ will be winnowed and burned like chaff (Luke 3:17), cast out where their worm does not die and the fire is not quenched (Mark 9:48).

            But, so also, fire warms and enlightens.  Again, the Emmaus disciples’ hearts were burning within them as Jesus opened up the Scriptures to them along the way.  That is an admonition to us to be constantly with Jesus in His Word, warmed and enlightened next to the holy fire.  St. Paul reminds Pastor Timothy to “fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands” (2 Tim. 1:6).  That is, to busy himself with the ministry of the Word bestowed upon him at his ordination.  “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path,” we pray with the Psalmist, King David (Ps. 119:105).  So we should always shine the light of God’s Word before us, as we go on our way in this world, toward the next. 

            And it purifies, this fire.  By the preaching of God’s Law and Gospel, it destroys the old Adam in us, and brings us to new life.  It shatters our hearts of stone, and gives us new, beating hearts of flesh.  As God tells us through the Prophet Jeremiah: “Is not my word like fire, declares the LORD, and like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces?” (Jer.23:29).  Likewise, St. Peter tells us that our very faith… the faith bestowed on us by the Spirit in God’s Word…  the faith that receives Christ and His righteousness… our very faith is like gold refined in the fire.  How so?  The various trials we have to suffer now, for a little while… like family members and friends rejecting us on account of Christ and the Gospel, as many of you know all too well… like the heat of persecution suffered by so many of our brothers and sisters throughout the world… like the attacks of Satan in body and soul… these various trials melt us down, why?  So that all that is not faith, all that is not Christ, can be skimmed away (1 Peter 1:6-9).  Our fallen flesh.  Our sin.  Our impurities.  Our idolatries.  All of these are purged in fire… not in such a way that we make atonement for them (only Christ can do that, and He has!), but so that Christ is all that remains to us.  And He is all we need, for He is our life and salvation. 

            Christ.  Man only needs Jesus Christ.  When we are in Christ, we are safe from the fire of God’s wrath, because He took it for us (the cross!).  And now the fire is transformed into that which warms us, enlightens us, and purifies us.  So, we want ever and always to be found in Christ.  We, too, have a Baptism to be baptized with, don’t we?  Baptized into Christ.  Baptized in His blood.  Baptized into His death, and so into His life.  Baptized with the Holy Spirit and with fire. 

            And now, we’re like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, engulfed in the midst of the burning, fiery furnace, but unharmed, and unbound… alive… safe in the sheltering presence of the very Son of God. 

            Our Lord Jesus came to cast fire on the earth.  What would He accomplish by it?  The end of God’s righteous wrath over sin.  The redemption and purification of the whole world.  Our eternal life and salvation.  The flashpoint of divine fire is the cross of Jesus Christ.  Our God is a consuming fire.  By His coming into our flesh, He consumes our sin and death.  Now, let us, therefore… engulfed in His Baptism, hearts aglow with His Word, returning from the altar like lions breathing fire, terrible to the devil (as St. John Chrysostom said)… be wholly consumed with Him.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.