First Sunday after Christmas

First Sunday after Christmas (B)

December 31, 2023

Text: Luke 2:22-40

            When our Lord speaks to us His Gospel, the question is not, first of all, what moral we may learn from it, or what the characters teach us, by positive or negative example, about living the Christian life.  There will, indeed, be such wisdom in any given Scripture passage, but that is not the first question.  The first question, the most important question, is, what is the Lord here doing for us?  What is He doing for our deliverance from sin, death, and the devil?  What is He doing for our salvation and life? 

            This morning, He delivers 200 proof Gospel to us in the account of Mary’s purification and Jesus’ presentation in the Temple.  He piles up for us, grace upon grace, Christmas gift upon Christmas gift.  And the first thing we so easily miss in this text is perhaps the main thing: The Lord has come into His Temple.  It is the fulfillment of Malachi 3:1: “And the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple” (ESV).  And this is no minor matter.  In Ezekiel 10, the Glory of the God of Israel departs the Temple, riding on His cherubic chariot.  And there is no indication that He ever returns.  Instead, the Temple and the Holy City are left to the Babylonian invaders, consigned for destruction.  And even when, years later, the exiles return and rebuild, the Glory does not return.  This may be, in part, why, when they saw the foundation of the new Temple in Ezra 3, the old men, who remembered the previous Temple, wept with a loud voice (vv. 12-13).  Do you see what had happened?  God had withdrawn His saving presence from His people Israel.  It is doubtful the Ark of the Covenant even existed anymore.  It had probably been destroyed.  The Temple, the sacrifices, and in particular, the Torah, these still gave access to God in some way.  But He no longer dwelt with His people.  He no longer tabernacled among them.

            No one would have suspected, no one could have known apart from the revelation of the Holy Spirit, that this little Babe now entering the Temple is the return of the Glory.  The Son of God, the Word made flesh, carried inside the Ark of His mother’s womb, is now enthroned in her arms.  And He, now, is the Temple.  He is God’s saving presence, embedding Himself, tabernacling in the tent of our flesh, effecting reconciliation between God and men, restoring access to the God of Israel.  And from that point on, this access and salvation would flow forth to all nations.  Had the Lord not come into His Temple in this way, we wouldn’t be here this afternoon.  There would be no altar, no font, no Baptism, no Supper.  There would be no heralding of redemption and life from this pulpit, no Light for revelation to the Gentiles, and Glory for His people Israel.  But He did come.  And so we are here. 

            Now, only two people were given to recognize what was happening, what the Lord was doing in their midst: the aged Simeon and Anna.  The Spirit revealed this to them as prophet and prophetess.  But they didn’t keep it to themselves.  Simeon proclaimed it, and Anna confessed it to all who would listen.  That is another gift the Lord here gives us: The preaching and confession of His Church, that we may know the Gospel, and believe it, and so live. 

            What else is He doing for us here?  See how He is actively fulfilling the Law for us.  This is His active obedience, for which we get the credit.  Mary’s purification after childbirth (Lev. 12), and the redemption of the firstborn (Ex. 13).  He is not doing this for His own sake, He, whose holy birth needs no purification, and who will not, in fact, be spared by the sacrifice of another lamb.  He is the fulfillment of the ancient ceremonies, all of which pointed to Him.  He is the sacrificial Lamb.  He has come for our purification and redemption.

            As it happens, His parents offer the sacrifice of the poor: a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons.  Here, He is God-with-us, (our Immanuel) in our poverty, whether actual material destitution (which most of us here today have never known, but many have known, and many do know, and perhaps we will someday know… Here, Jesus identifies with them, and is with them in it, and you’d better believe that is extraordinarily important to those who suffer material poverty), or the greater poverty that is the condition of every one of us in and of ourselves, our spiritual destitution, our utter helplessness and hopelessness apart from Christ Jesus.  Jesus knows what it is to be poor.  Perhaps that is a non-starter among affluent people like us, but in truth, it is tremendously good news for us who, in fact, have nothing and are nothing before God, who have no resources to save ourselves.  Jesus provides for us, our righteousness before God, and all our needs of body and soul.  Having Jesus, we have all things. 

            Then, see how He is the consolation of all those who are waiting, hoping, praying for the Lord’s deliverance in the midst of their suffering.  Simeon was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel.  Waiting for deliverance from Roman tyranny.  Waiting for deliverance from the tyranny of sin and death.  Waiting for God’s Glory to return to His Temple.  It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.  So, there he was in the Temple, waiting for the Promise to be fulfilled.  And so it happened.  The Baby Jesus taken up into his expectant arms.  He identifies the earthshaking reality: The Glory has returned!  Glory to His people Israel.  And now Simeon could depart, now he could die in peace.  For here in the flesh is the Consolation of all ills.  God opens Simeon’s lips in a song of praise. 

            This is what He does for you.  As you wait for your consolation to be revealed, in the very midst of your sadness and suffering, He sustains you by the Promise.  You will not die before you see the Lord’s Christ.  The Spirit brings you here, and what does He do?  He puts Jesus in your hands, and into your mouth.  The very same Jesus held by Simeon.  The very same body embraced by Simeon’s arms.  And that opens your lips in a song of praise.  Simeon’s song, in fact.  You can depart, you can die now in peace, for your eyes have seen your salvation.

            Then there is poor Anna.  A widow most of her life, she essentially lives at the Temple, worshipping with fasting and prayer night and day.  Waiting.  Waiting.  Some of you know her particular pain, the pain of loss, the pain of grief, the pain of loneliness and sorrow in the wake of death.  Here, now, is her Consolation in Mary’s Boy.  She is filled with thanksgiving to God, and she can’t help it.  She speaks of the little Lord Jesus to one and all, to the rest who were awaiting the redemption of Israel, that they likewise might be consoled.  In fact, here in this Scripture, what happens?  She still speaks to us who are awaiting our final deliverance from sin and death, when the Lord Jesus comes again. 

            Do you see what the Lord is doing for us in this text?  The gifts He here gives to Simeon and Anna and the rest, He is giving to us at this very moment.  But there is also a bitterness in the whole thing.  Simeon has a sobering word, directed now at Mary.  This Child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel (faith in this Boy will be the determining factor for who is lost, and who is upheld), for a Sign that will be opposed (yes, many will reject Him), so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed (all that is hidden will be made known, and those who appear righteous may, in fact be wicked; and those who appear of no account may, in fact, be saints of God).  And a sword will pierce Mary’s own soul.  The cross.  Her Son will die.  And she will see it.  Any parent who has lost a child knows the anguish of Mary’s grief.  But it is precisely in this way that our consolation comes.  In the death of Jesus Christ for the life of the world.

            And in the life of Jesus Christ for the world.  Christ is risen from the dead.  He’ll raise your precious loved ones, too.  He’ll raise you.  Yes, for now, we wait.  But in hope, and in joy.  In the consolation of this gracious Lord. 

            Of course, Mary and Joseph, Simeon and Anna, even Jesus Himself, are all models for us of the faithful Christian life.  As parents, we should imitate Mary and Joseph in bringing our children to God’s House, teaching them the faith, participating in the Sacraments and ceremonies, Baptism, catechesis, Supper.  And we all should imitate Simeon and Anna in orienting our whole life around the gifts God gives to us in the place of His presence, waiting, hoping, praying, fasting and feasting, confessing, living by the Spirit in the Word and by the Sacrifice.  The Boy, Jesus, is our example as He grows and becomes strong in the Lord, obedient to His parents in all things (as we hear in the verses following our Gospel this morning), hearing and learning God’s Word, embedded in His community in Nazareth.  As I said, there is great wisdom for the Christian life in any given passage of Scripture, and we should take it to heart, and put it into practice. 

            But above all, there is Jesus for us.  It is New Years’ Eve.  The old year is fading.  We are on the cusp of the New.  Take what Jesus here gives you of Himself with you into the New Year and the life God gives you.  His presence, His providence, His consolation, His redemption.  His Promise.  His Spirit.  And yes, His example.  None of us knows the joys and the griefs that await us in the coming year.  We don’t even know if we’ll survive it.  But we do know Jesus.  Cling to Him.  Take Him in your arms and sing a hymn of praise.  Eat Him.  Drink Him.  And never let Him go.  One thing is certain.  He won’t let go of you.  Merry Christmas.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.    

The Nativity of Our Lord: Christmas Day

The Nativity of Our Lord: Christmas Day

December 25, 2023

Text: John 1:1-18

            In the beginning, God, who is Love, created a Temple for Communion with the object His love would fashion for itself, Communion with man, Communion with us.  That Temple had a name: Eden, which means delight.  It was a garden in which God and man could delight in one another’s presence, God giving in love, man receiving in love, responding in loving praise.  Trees for food.  A fruitful patch to tend.  Animals submitting and at peace with man, for his companionship and enjoyment.  A happy and fruitful marriage.  And in the evening, in the cool of the day, walks with God.  Time to bask in His presence.  Time to hear Him, and be heard by Him.  Time in Holy Communion.

            But we know what happened.  The slithering serpent.  An illicit bite.  Eyes opened.  Communion shattered, with God and with one another.  Hiding in fear.  Covering shame.  Blaming and self-justification.  And then, the curse.  Death.  Toil and trouble.  Thorns and thistles.  Pain in labor.  Bread by the sweat of the brow.  Cast out of the garden.  East of Eden.  An angel with a flaming sword.  No access to the Tree of Life.  Cut off from God’s gracious presence. 

            But…

            Clothed by God in the skin of animal sacrifice.  The shedding of blood.  Only this can cover your shame.  And His Promise ringing in the ears: I will put enmity between you, O serpent, and the woman; between your seed and her Seed.  He shall crush your head, and you shall crush His heel (Gen. 3:15). 

            Hope.  The Promise of restoration and life.  Gospel.  One is coming.  God will do it.  By the woman’s Son.  And all our faith must hang on that. 

            In the meantime, Cain.  What a bitter disappointment.  Then Seth, and Noah, Moses, and David.  God’s presence mediated by the blood of bulls and goats, to cover up transgression, and priests who deliver God’s holiness to the people.  There is the Tabernacle, the place where dwells the LORD God with His people, Israel, but hidden in smoke, behind the veil in the Most Holy Place, enthroned between the cherubim.  There is the great Temple in Jerusalem, the permanent Tabernacle… or not so permanent, as the case may be.  Vacated by God’s Glory when Israel’s unfaithfulness reached its full measure.  Destroyed by the Babylonians.  God’s people cast out, exiled east of the Holy City.

            The return and rebuilding.  But still the waiting.  Hoping.  Anticipating.  Eager expectation.  Who will be the woman?  When will her Son deliver us once and for all?

            Waiting on the Word.  The Promise.  The One.  He will crush the serpent’s head.  The serpent will crush His heel.  The shedding of blood.  And once again, God will commune with man.  That will restore us.  That will cover us.  That will bring us back into the Temple of God. 

            “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1; ESV).  Now, finally… “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (v. 14).  In fact, He tabernacled among us, God in human flesh.  The woman, Mary, has given birth to a Son.  And her Son is the Son of God. 

            The Word is now fulfilled, the Promise to those east of Eden.  And in darkness on a Friday afternoon, the angels in attendance, the serpent drives his spiked fang through this Son’s heel.  But in this way, the serpent brings the weight of God down upon his own head. 

            It is the moment upon which hinges the whole history of the world.  From that moment begins the reversal of all that went wrong in Eden.  The cross, the Roman tree of death, becomes now the Tree of Life.  “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up” (John 2:19).  And so He does.  And He is only the Firstfruit.  He is the Firstborn of New Creation, our New and Greater Adam.  Even as Adam plunged us all into the curse of sin and death, so this New Man, Jesus Christ, has lifted us out, and up into blessing and righteousness and life.

            He is the Temple.  His flesh is the place where God communes with man once more.  His body is the Fruit of the Tree of Life, and in the day you eat of it, you shall surely live.  Now, in this Man, you can bask in God’s presence.  You have time with Him, to hear Him in His holy Word, and to be heard by Him as you pray in His Name.  The angel has sheathed his sword.  You are no longer cast out. 

            Though it is true, you still find yourself, as we all do here, east of Eden.  There are still troubles and there is still sin.  Nevertheless, the great glad tidings of Christmas are that the curse is breaking.  Christ has come.  There is peace to be had.  With God and with men.  Forgiveness of sins.  Healing of relationships.  Wholeness of body, mind, and spirit.  Fruitfulness.  Companionship.  And yes, delight. 

            We are still awaiting the full manifestation of Eden restored, the coming again of the Son of Man, and the resurrection of all flesh.  But in this interlude, in the meantime, as we wait… declare the joyous news.  Let heaven and nature sing of it.  Let the Church’s proclamation resound.  Let the River of Salvation flow forth from Eden far as the curse is found.  To heal creation.  To restore the beloved in God’s love. 

            One day soon, Mary’s Son will appear again in the flesh.  Salvation will come from the east.  And every eye will see Him.  And with your own eyes you will behold Him for yourself.  Then New Creation will reign eternally.  It will flood every corner with light and life.

            Until then, merry Christmas!  It is as good as done.  Delight yourself in the LORD (Ps. 37:4).  Rejoice, beloved.  Christ Jesus, Son of Mary, the Son of God, is born for you.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.               

Fourth Sunday in Advent

Fourth Sunday in Advent (B)

December 24, 2023

Text: Luke 1:26-38

            Luther, copying St. Bernard before him, says there are three miracles in our Holy Gospel: 1. “that God and man should be joined in this Child;” 2. “that a mother should remain a virgin;” and 3. “that Mary should have such faith as to believe that this mystery would be accomplished in her. The last,” he says, “is not the least of the three.”[1]  I’m taking this, by the way, from a Luther Christmas anthology, compiled in the 20^th Century by Roland Bainton, called Martin Luther’s Christmas Book.  If you are so inclined, for roughly $11, this would make a beautiful addition to your family library, an edifying source for your Advent meditations, and reading it together may become a cherished family tradition.

            It is worthy of note that Luther and Bernard do not count the appearance of the angel Gabriel as one of the miracles.  But then, of course, we are always in the presence of angels, divine messengers (the word angel means messenger) who deliver the Word of God to us.  That is what they are doing right now, having brought us to Church.  And that is what they do whenever you open your Bible, or meditate on a passage of Scripture, and in countless ways as they bring God’s Word before our eyes, into our ears, and into our minds.

            In any case, Luther deals with the second miracle first, that a mother should remain a virgin.  “The virgin birth is a mere trifle for God,” Luther says.  The fact that modern liberal theologians deny the possibility simply betrays their lack of faith.  If God is God, He created the natural process of conception.  He invented it, and if He so desires, He can circumvent it.  The first man, Adam, had neither father nor mother, and Eve, too, was brought forth from Adam’s side, apart from any natural parentage.  God is omnipotent.  He can do as He likes.  Mary is curious, how this can be.  But she does not doubt that God can do it.  “For nothing will be impossible with God,” the angel preaches (Luke 1:37; ESV).

            And this is how the thing comes about in the case of this Child.  The angel speaks the Word of God into Mary’s ear.  “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy—the Son of God” (v. 35).  And so it is.  For the Word of God does what it says.  But even more, the Word spoken to Mary is received by her, becomes flesh of her flesh (the new human life of the Savior begins, as does all human life, at conception), and takes up residence in her womb.  He must not have a human father, for He must not inherit original sin.  He is to be our New Adam, the Father of a New Humanity, the Firstborn of a New Creation.  And He is not the Son of Joseph.  He is the Son of God.  “Conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary.”   

            And that leads us to the next great miracle, “that God and man should be joined in this Child.”  This is a greater miracle than the virgin birth.  This Child, in His Person, has two natures, divine and human.  He is the eternally begotten Son of God, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity.  As God, there was never a time when He was not.  But now, in time, He is conceived and born a Man.  Fully Man.  One with us.  Like us in every way, yet without sin (Heb. 4:15).  It must be so.  Why?  That He may be the sole Mediator between God and men, the Man, Christ Jesus (1 Tim. 2:5).  That He might reconcile us poor sinners to God.

            He had to be Man so that He could be born under the Law… under the very Law He gave… to fulfill it for us, who have transgressed it.  He had to be Man to bear our griefs and carry our sorrows, to be stricken, smitten by God His Father, and afflicted.  He had to be Man to die for our sins.  And His resurrection and ascension would do us no good if it were not the flesh born of Mary that emerged from the grave alive, and that now sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.

            He had to be God, though, that His ransom be sufficient for all humanity, and that His sacrifice of atonement take away the sins of the whole world.  And He must be God to fulfill His Promise that, in His flesh, He is nevertheless with us (Immanuel) to the end of the age (Matt. 28:20); that even as He reigns in heaven, He is with each one of us here on earth; with us, in fact, on a thousand altars where He gives us to feast on His body and blood.  The miracle touches us every time we gather around His gifts. 

            But, Luther says (echoing Bernard), this is not the greatest miracle yet.  The greatest miracle of the three, the most amazing of all, is that this maiden should believe the angel’s word that she should be the mother of God. 

            Think about that statement.  God born?  And not to the High Priest’s daughter, or the daughter of a king.  But to this poor teenage girl from Nazareth?  Born in poverty.  God, poor.  God, the Creator of all, who holds the universe in His hands, helpless and utterly dependent on this Israelite young woman.  God, a crying infant (never mind the Christmas carol we’ll sing this evening).  God, soiling His diapers.  Wrapped in swaddling cloths.  Laid in a manger among the beasts.  Nursing at His mother’s breast.

            And if all of this is too scandalous for you… If your inclination is to save God from being too human, from getting His hands dirty with our filth, and to save yourself from God being all-too-real, all-too concrete, all-too-tangible… remember this: He is born to die for your sins.  On a real cross, at a real place and time in history, at the hands of real, flesh and blood people.  The Son of God, who knew no sin, becomes sin for you, that you might become the righteousness of God (2 Cor. 5:21).  God, crucified.  God, dead and buried.  And God, risen from the dead.  This Man, Jesus, is our God.  Our God is a flesh and blood Man.

            The mystery is unbelievably profound.  And the miracle is that Mary believes it.  And that you believe it.  That even as God is now Mary’s Son, so God is your Brother and Savior. 

            Luther says that if Mary had not believed the angel’s preaching, she could not have conceived.  And so, if the Lord Christ is to be conceived and born in you, the Word must enter your ears, and make you fertile in faith.  This is pure gift from God.  It is the Holy Spirit who comes upon you in the preaching of the Gospel.

            “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).  That is how Mary received the gift of the Christ Child.  So may it be among you and me.  Hearing God’s Word, faith receives, and speaks its hearty “Amen.”  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

           

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[1] Martin Luther, Martin Luther’s Christmas Book, Roland H. Bainton, Ed. (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1948) Kindle.

Advent Midweek III

Rescue and Redemption in Daniel

Advent Midweek III: “Christ, Who Shuts the Mouths of Lions”

December 20, 2023

Text: Dan. 6; Matt. 28:1-10

            We have to give our leaders and those who govern us this benefit of the doubt at least: Often their worst decisions are the result of bad advice and deceitful counsel on the part of their cabinet members.  Darius is no fool.  He is a mighty king.  But even mighty kings fall prey to flattery.  And anyway, what is never spoken aloud, but tacitly believed by our politicians, is stated explicitly in most ancient nations: The ruler is divine.  The king is a god.  And in Darius’ case, a rather successful one.  So, why not?  Establish the injunction and sign the decree, which cannot be changed, according to the law of the Medes and Persians: For the next thirty days, anyone who makes petition… anyone who prays… to any god or man, except to the god-man Darius, shall be cast into the den of lions.

            Now, when Daniel knew of the decree, he simply did what Christians do in the face of idolatry.  In his upper chamber, windows open toward Jerusalem, in full view all the people, including those conspiring for his blood, he knelt down and prayed, and gave thanks to his God, the one true God, three times a day.  He worshiped.  He confessed.  Whatever the consequences.  Daniel remained faithful.

            Now, Darius, as so often happens when rulers make impulsive and imprudent decisions, finds himself caught in his own trap.  Or, perhaps more accurately, the trap set by his advisors.  Note the tremendous irony of the situation.  Darius is supposedly a god, but he is impotent to help his favored servant, Daniel.  The law cannot be changed!  Not even by the king.  Try as he might, he cannot deliver the innocent man.  So it is commanded, and so it is done.  Daniel is cast into the den of lions.  “And a stone was brought and laid on the mouth of the den” (Dan. 6:17; ESV). 

            Daniel is, for all practical purposes, dead and buried.  And as happens when we bury someone, our hearts are troubled, and often sleep eludes us, and we don’t eat, and no diversions can cheer us or hold our attention.  So it was with King Darius; really, mourning his trusted servant, Daniel. 

            But the morning light reveals what has been, until that moment, an unseen reality.  Daniel, servant of the living God, was safe in his tomb.  God sent His Angel to shut the lions’ mouths.  They could not harm Daniel, because he was found blameless before God, without sin, justified in the presence of the Angel.  And we know this is no mere angel.  It is He, who will be for us, the true God-Man, the Father’s only-begotten Son.  He is the preincarnate Christ.  God sent Him to be with Daniel, and with him all the way. 

            With him in the pit.  With him in suffering and in the face of death.  With him before the lions.  Shutting their mouths.  Bringing him through, without harm.  See how God turns everything on its head?  The law of Darius is overturned by the Law of God.  Wickedness is overturned by righteousness.  Death is overturned by life.  Daniel is brought up out of death.  No harm is found on him, because he trusted in his God (v. 23).  But those who maliciously accused him were cast into the pit.  And before they reached the bottom, the lions overpowered them, and broke all their bones. 

            It is a foreshadowing.  This would happen again, on a much grander scale.  Pilate is no fool.  But he is operating on bad advice from the chief priests and teachers of the Law.  He is caught in the trap of his own law, Roman law.  And in the name, and on behalf of an Emperor claiming to be divine, he condemns an innocent man, THE Innocent Man, to death.  He throws Jesus to the lions, to the beastly crowd.  They shred Him.  They murder Him.  They cast Him into the pit.  They lay a stone over the mouth of the tomb.  But on the Third Day, the morning light reveals the unseen reality.  God has turned everything upside down.  Jesus was, indeed, dead.  But now He is alive.  Risen from the dead.  It is the lions who have now been consumed.  Death has been swallowed up by Life.  That is why the Angel could deliver Daniel.  That is why the Angel delivers us.

            Yes, we live as Daniel in the midst of lions.  Our adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8).  The demons are hungry for human flesh.  Never mind the world; governments that see themselves, not as servants of God, but as gods in their own right, who would usurp the place of God in your life, mind, and heart.  Never mind your own sinful nature, enthralled, as it is, by the enemies’ fangs.  Never mind the yawning jaws of death even now closing in on you. 

            Life is perilous in this fallen world.  We think today of Katie Luther, Katharina von Bora, pledged to the convent while still a child, smuggled to Wittenberg with several others in herring barrels, seeking the freedom of the Gospel.  Her world was one of constant danger.  Now, she lived her life in faith, as a faithful Christian.  Married to Dr. Luther, the mother of six children, able manager of the ever-busy Luther household, and brewmistress of Wittenberg’s most famous beer.  She was the very picture of a Proverbs 31 woman.  But her husband was a marked man, under constant threat of martyrdom, and presumably, she was, too.  Eventually widowed, she suffered in poverty, lived through plagues, and the horrors of the Schmalkaldic War.  In 1552, when the Black Plague once again stole through Wittenberg, as Katie and her family fled from the city to Torgau, there was a cart accident.  Katie was thrown into a watery ditch.  Though she held on for three months, coming in and out of consciousness, she eventually succumbed to her injuries. 

            None of us makes it out of here alive, do we?  Even faithful Christian lives are hard lives, marked by suffering and death.  Again, we live as Daneil in the midst of lions.  But ever and always in the confidence of the risen Christ.  The Angel, the Lord Jesus, is with us in all suffering, trial, and temptation.  He is with us in death, and all the way into the tomb.  And He, who conquered death, will lead us out again.  The stone of death has been rolled away.  And soon enough, our own headstones will topple and crack, as the risen Lord takes us up out of the tomb.  And no harm will be found on us, because we trusted in our God.  

            On that Day, our enemies will be devoured by hell.  Like Darius’ advisors, they will have to lie in the bed they made for themselves, and be crushed by it.  But we will live, and we will see every knee bow, in heaven, and on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue confess (including Darius and his counselors) that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father (Phil. 2:10-11).  Or, as Darius himself once wrote: “he is the living God… his kingdom shall never be destroyed… his dominion shall be to the end… he who has saved Daniel,” and us, “from the power of the lions” (Dan. 6:26-27).  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

 

Third Sunday in Advent

Third Sunday in Advent (B)

December 17, 2023

Text: John 1:6-8, 19-28

            What do you look for in a sermon?  What makes a sermon good in your estimation?

            St. John the Baptist doesn’t care.  And neither do I. 

            John has a Word to proclaim.  A Word from God.  He is to cry out in the wilderness, whether anyone approves, or not; whether anyone cares to hear him, or not.  He is sent to prepare the way of the Lord, to go before Him, and herald His arrival, that the people may receive Him.  How?  We heard it last week.  Repentance.  John is to call you out for your sins.  He is to preach God’s Law in its full severity, drawing you into the baptismal waters, driving you to confess your sins.  And then, the Gospel in all its sweetness.  The forgiveness of sins.  John is to point you to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, the One coming after John, the greater One, the One in anticipation of whom John baptizes with water, the One who baptizes you with the Holy Spirit. 

            When the priests and Levites, sent by the Pharisees, come to question John, clearly unhappy with his sermons and his ministry… Who are you to say such things?  Who are you to do such things?  Who authorized you to preach this message?  Who authorized you to baptize in this way?... John does not play their game.  He keeps on saying what he’s been given to say.  He keeps on doing what he’s been given to do.  All of which is unswervingly focused on the coming Messiah.  He is to point away from himself, and to the Savior.  When questioned concerning himself, he mostly says who he is not.  “I am not the Christ.  I am not Elijah.  I am not the Prophet.  And I am not worthy.  But here is what I am… I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness.”

            The voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare.  Make straight.  Because the true Light, which enlightens everyone, is coming into the world, to shine in the darkness, and the darkness will not, and cannot overcome it.  John is not the Light, but he is sent from God to bear witness to the Light, to preach the Light, to shine the Light into the darkness by his preaching.

            And that is what you should look for in a sermon.  That is the criteria by which you should deem a sermon good.  A sermon that shines the Light into all the dark places of your life, your mind, your heart.  Exposing the darkness.  Defeating the darkness.  And every dark misdeed.  That necessarily means preaching you don’t like.  Preaching that makes you uncomfortable.  Preaching that calls a thing what it is, calls evil “evil,” and good “good.”  Preaching that calls you to repentance for sins you like to do, and that you justify in your mind.  Preaching that rips you out of yourself, crucifies your sinful flesh, changes your mind, turns you from self and every self-obsession, to the God who created you and loves you, the God who became incarnate to suffer and redeem you, the God who would possess you whole, body and soul, sanctifying you to be His own.

            John is entirely caught up into that.  With single-minded devotion, he is obsessed with Christ.  Well, that’s what you should want in a preacher.  That’s what you should want in preaching.  But what do people think they want in a preacher and his preaching?  First of all, nobody wants to be made to feel bad about anything they think, say, or do.  They don’t want their preconceptions challenged.  They don’t want to have to change their minds.  They don’t ever want to be told they are wrong.  That’s what they don’t want.  What they do want, I suppose, may differ with every individual.  There are as many opinions as there are people.  Some want a good-looking preacher with a charismatic personality to inspire them with excitement for God.  Some want to be entertained, others educated, others to receive practical tips dressed up as biblical principles for living healthy, wealthy, and wise.  Just about everybody wants their own opinions confirmed as true, and one and all would like to hear that their own behavior is righteous after all.  Some would like clever sermon illustrations, others flashy Power-Point on a screen.  Some want poetic prose and eloquent rhetoric, while others want homespun and folksy familiarity.  And some (and perhaps they are the majority) just want the sermon over with already.  Perhaps you could add some other criteria to the list.  Because the “they” and “them” in these examples, should really read “you” and “me.” 

            John doesn’t care about any of that.  And as your preacher here in this place, neither do I.

            Christ.  It’s all about Christ.  The voice cries in this wilderness to prepare you to receive Christ, who comes to you.  And not just to prepare you.  We may be in the Season of Advent, but we are Christmas people, and Christ is here, now, on the scene.  The voice not only cries to prepare you to receive Him, but to give Him to you.  And to bring you into Him.

            His death for your sins.  His resurrection for your life.  His washing away of your iniquities.  His righteousness as your own.  His Spirit, now upon you and in you.  His Father, your Father, and you a beloved child of God.  His body.  His blood.  Given and shed for you, now given to you to eat and to drink.  A Feast of salvation.  A Repast of joy. 

            And see, when He is in you in that way, and you are in Him, caught up in the River of Life flowing from His pierced side, carried along by His living and life-giving Spirit... when you are brought into such single-minded devotion to Him, obsession with Christ and the things that come from Christ… you don’t mind finding out you’re wrong and that you’ve sinned in thought, word, and deed, because Christ is now your right-ness, your righteousness, and your mind is now captivated by Him.  Never mind entertainment, education, and practical tips for worldly prosperity.  Your attention is fixed on Him, as He fills you with all wisdom and knowledge, forming and informing every facet of your life, and prospering you eternally.  You want your opinions, now, to be conformed to His judgments, and your behavior, to His righteousness. 

            This newness of attitude, this newness of life, is given to you in the preaching.  Whether the words flow forth with high and lofty elegance, or in weakness and simplicity.  Whether the preacher is clever and good-looking, or the man now standing before you.  Because the Word preached is not the preacher’s word, and the power of that Word has nothing to do with the preacher’s personality.  And, by the way, the Word preached is not your word, to do what you demand with it.  And the power of that Word has nothing to do with your personality or personal felt needs.

            The Word is the speaking of God.  He sends the preacher.  To speak it to you.  “Who are you to say such things to me,” you may say.  The preacher is nobody, and no one should be under any illusions about that, least of all the preacher himself.  “Who authorized you to say and do such things,” you may further enquire, and the question, actually, is not wrong.  God did.  God authorizes this preaching and ministry.  God sent the Prophets, including St. John.  God sent the Apostles.  And God sends the called and ordained servants of His Word, to preach what He tells them, and to preach it faithfully.  Whether people will hear, or refuse to hear.  God has given the Office of the Holy Ministry for this purpose.

            I pray that you will hear and heed the preaching.  Repent and believe the Good News.  But I pray for even more for you.  I pray that you would fall into a deep and enduring and all-encompassing love for your Savior, who loves you and gave Himself for you.  That you would receive Him in all His fullness, with all His gifts.  I pray that you would hang on His every Word, enthralled by His Scriptures, yearning for ever deeper understanding, that it would form all you think, say, and do.  I pray that the Spirit would stir your heart and mind, always, and in everything, with the faith, and hope, and love, and JOY of Christ Jesus, as a blood-bought child of your heavenly Father.  And that such stirrings then would flow outward, spill over, in love for one another, and for the world that God so loves.  That is what preaching can accomplish in you.  The Word and the Sacraments.  Nothing else can do it.  It is all God’s work.  The Spirit is in the Word.  He makes it a powerful Word, to accomplish what He says.

            And now, I have preached it to you, which is to say, the gift is yours, if you will have it.  Beloved, have it.  Do not refuse it.  Lean into it.  Embrace it.  Cling to it.  Live in it.  Be obsessed.  Let it form you.  Let it permeate you.  Let it infuse all your relationships.  Let it prepare you by making the way straight.  Let it give you Christ.  Christ is yours.  You are Christ’s.  That is your life.  And that is all St. John cares about.  And me, too.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.   

Advent Midweek II

Rescue and Redemption in Daniel

Advent Midweek II: “Christ In the Fire”

December 13, 2023

Text: Dan. 3; Matt. 27:45-54

            No sooner do we read (as we did last week), King Nebuchadnezzar’s confession (in the wake of his troubling dream about the image), that Daniel’s God is God of gods and Lord of kings (Dan. 2:47), then we find in the very next chapter that Nebuchadnezzar sets up an image of his own, to be worshiped!  So much for learning his lesson!  Now he commands that at the sound of any kind of music, all people everywhere are to fall down immediately in homage toward the idol. 

            Needless to say, this was unacceptable to faithful Jews, and in particular, to Daniel’s three friends, the young men, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  They refused to worship the image.  They knew and believed the First Commandment, “You shall have no other gods before me.  You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything… You shall not bow down to [such images] or serve them” (Ex. 20:3-5; ESV).

            Note the fury of idolatrous governmental powers when one refuses to worship the state-approved gods.  In a furious rage, Nebuchadnezzar ordered the men to come before him.  And he gave them a choice.  It is a choice faced by countless Christian martyrs throughout history: Fall down and worship these idols, or suffer and die as an enemy of the state.  “Listen here, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego: Fall down and worship my idol, or you will be cast into the burning fiery furnace.”  “And who is the god who will deliver you out of my hands” (Dan. 3:15). 

            What is a Christian to do?  What should you do when faced with that alternative (as well you may one day!)?  You know the answer, but it is not an easy one.  Many throughout history made the (spiritually) deadly decision to deny Christ, fall down before the idol, burn the incense, and save their necks in this life.  God preserve us from apostasy in the moment of decision.  Undoubtedly, the thinking went something like this: “I can deny Him, and then repent later.  He will forgive.”  But we must remember, with trembling, our Lord’s warning: “everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven, but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven” (Matt. 10:32-33).  God grant us His Holy Spirit, to answer faithfully and courageously when the moment comes upon us, entrusting ourselves to Him who is mightier than any world power; indeed, than Satan himself… As the three men answered: “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you in this matter.  If this be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king.  But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up” (Dan. 3:16-18).

            What gave them the courage to answer that way?  Faith.  Trust.  They trusted that their God could deliver them from the fire, and that He would.  And even if He didn’t… that is, even if, in His wisdom, He let them perish in the fire, they would faithfully suffer it, endure it, as confessors of the one true God, who would deliver them even through death. 

            Well, you know what happened next.  Nebuchadnezzar, burning up in his own fury, ordered the furnace heated seven times hotter than normal, and the mighty men of his army to bind the three young men in their cloaks, tunics, hats, and garments (probably to prolong the burning), and cast them into the furnace.  And the furnace was so hot that the mighty men were killed by the flames in the process.  Notice how the burning rage of those who hate and persecute God’s people ends up burning the persecutors themselves.  That is a warning to them.  And in the end, it will be true even of the devil. 

            Now, here, a little musical interlude (no, I’m not gonna sing).  But in the apocryphal chapters of Daniel, at this point in the story, the three men sing a Psalm of praise!  In the midst of the flames! …  By the way, apocryphal doesn’t mean untrue.  While we should not read the Apocrypha as inerrant and inspired Holy Scripture, Lutherans have always maintained that it may be beneficial devotional material, and that much of it is true.  So they may actually have sung this.  It’s possible.  And we have it in our hymnal, Hymn 931.  You should read it this week, or even sing it.  It begins, “All you works of the Lord, bless the Lord—praise Him and magnify Him forever” (v. 1). 

            They are praising because they believe, and now even see the Lord’s deliverance, His Angel, present with them in the flames, protecting them from harm.  Nebuchadnezzar sees it, too.  “Did we not cast three men bound into the fire?... But I see four men unbound, walking in the midst of the fire, and they are not hurt; and the appearance of the fourth is like a son of the gods” (Dan. 3:24-25).  We know this is no mere angel.  It is the preincarnate Christ, the Second Person of the Trinity, the Son, not of the gods, but of the one true God!  Christ is in the fire with the three young men.

            To save them.  Not from the fire, but through it.  This is so instructive for our Christian faith and life.  The Lord does not spare the three young men from being cast into the fire.  But He is with them in it.  And so it is with us and our suffering.  Of course, we can’t even begin to imagine how much suffering the Lord spares us in the first place.  We can never know all that doesn’t happen to us by the grace of God.  But sometimes God gives us to be cast right into the thick of it.  And when He does, the comfort is, we are never alone.  There is the Angel of the LORD, the Son of God, with us (Immanuel) in our suffering.  Only in our case, not preincarnate… incarnate, in the flesh born of Mary, our flesh.  He is not just with us in our suffering, in spirit.  He is with us all the way, bodily.  And we know that most profoundly in the Holy Supper.

            And not just with us in our suffering.  For us in His suffering and death on the cross.  Our Lord Jesus Christ bore the fire of God’s wrath for our sins.  The Innocent was cast into the burning fiery furnace of God’s fury, by, and for, the guilty.  The arrogant.  The tyrants.  Idolaters.  Even apostates.  Us.  For us, and in our place.  “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matt. 27:25).  And beholding Him in the fire… like Nebuchadnezzar… the centurion (the representative of the Roman Emperor) acknowledged the truth: “Truly this was the Son of God!” (v. 54).  And His suffering is our deliverance.

            In the case of the three young men, the Lord delivered them before death could overtake them, before the flames could begin to harm them.  That happens to us sometimes.  You’re in a car accident that should have killed you, but you walk away without a scratch, or with only minor injuries.  You are sick unto death, but your recover.  The cancer disappears without a trace.  It happens, and that is from God.  We should acknowledge it, and give thanks.

            But often the Lord delivers us, not from death, but through death itself.  To go the way He, Himself, has gone before.  To follow Him through the grave, into resurrection and life.  Tonight, we commemorate just such a deliverance in St. Lucia, St. Lucy, Santa Lucia.  Her name means light, and, indeed, from an early age, her Christian confession and charity shone the light of Christ upon all who knew her.  That is why, in Christian art, she is often pictured in her bright white baptismal gown, with a wreath of candles on her head.  She was a bright light in a very dark time.  These were the days of Emperor Diocletian’s persecution of Christians.  When Lucia refused to marry a pagan noble, the jilted suitor turned her in as a Christian to the governor of Syracuse.  Now, the governor gave Lucia an ultimatum (and this will sound familiar after hearing the account of the three young men this evening): Worship my gods, or suffer the punishment.  When Lucia refused to commit idolatry, remaining steadfast in the faith, well… some of this may be legendary, but who knows?  Who knows?... the governor ordered her to be taken to a house of prostitution and publicly defiled.  But the soldiers could not move her from the floor.  The Holy Spirit held her fast.  So, instead, she was tied to a stake to be burned, but the fire would not light.  Who knows?  Who knows?  It isn’t your Christianity that objects to the miracle.  It is your rationalism.  By some accounts, Lucia’s eyes were also gouged out, which is why she is sometimes portrayed as blind (and St. Lucia buns are baked to look like eyes).  But regardless, the idea was to torture her into denying the faith.  Finally… and mercifully… she met her death by sword, confessing her Lord to the end.

            But understand, she was not abandoned.  She was rescued by the Lord through death, through her martyrdom, even as He rescued Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  And as He will rescue, and is even now rescuing, you.  That is the very meaning of Advent.  Jesus comes to us in the very midst of the fire, the suffering, the fallenness of our lives, to suffer for us, to be with us in it, to rescue us and redeem us. 

            And note this: Even as He who died for us is now risen from the dead, He will raise us.  He will call us out of the grave, as Nebuchadnezzar called the young men out of the furnace, as the Lord Himself called forth Lazarus: “Come out, and come here” (Dan. 3:26; John 11:43).  And we will come out before the Lord.  And just as Jesus now stands in His risen and glorified body; and as the three young men came out with no harm to their bodies, or even their garments, no singed hairs, and no smell of fire upon them; so we will come out and stand before the Lord, healed and whole, no harm to our bodies, no singe or stain or stench of death. 

            Our Lord Jesus is able to deliver us from the fire of God’s wrath, and from every trial.  And, in fact, He does.  So we fall down before Him alone to worship.  For it is as Nebuchadnezzar says: “there is no other god who is able to rescue in this way” (Dan. 3:29).  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.