First Sunday after Christmas

Video of Service

First Sunday after Christmas/ The Holy Innocents, Martyrs

December 28, 2025

Text: Matt. 2:13-23

            Merry Christmas! 

            Though, our Holy Gospel doesn’t seem very Christmassy, does it?  The whole thing is covered in blood!  The blood of babies, no less.

            The little Lord Jesus is marked for death from the very beginning.  The devil hates Him.  And hates all babies because of Him.  Those held captive by the devil, including the princes of this world, hate Him, too.  And so, they hate babies because of Him.  They hate Him because they know that unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given (Is. 9:6).  They know that, in the fullness of time, “God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Gal. 4:4-5; ESV).  They know they were robbed of a kingdom by the Seed of the Woman, who crushes the serpent’s head (Gen. 3:15).  Thus the war on babies, and marriage, and families, and sex.  And life.  And the Lord.  And His Church. 

            And so, the baby boys of Bethlehem shed their blood.  The Holy Innocents, we call them, cut down at such a tender age.  They are victims, but they are more than that.  They are martyrs.  They shed their blood for Jesus.  And they are prophets.  They foreshadow the blood of Another.  Jesus escapes to Egypt, for now.  But He will not always.  This is why He has come.  He was born with flesh and blood for this very purpose.  To give that flesh, and shed that blood, for these dear boys, and for us all.  To snatch us out of Satan’s claws, and death’s dread jaws.  Yes, even those precious little boys.  To live with Him in His Kingdom.  And that means resurrection and eternal life.  So… Satan and his henchmen have been after babies, and after all of us, ever since. 

            It doesn’t seem very Christmassy.  But it reminds me of the Christmas story as told by St. John.  Now, you are more familiar with Luke’s, and even Matthew’s, telling.  And, true, you know John’s theology of the Incarnation as we read it Christmas Day, that “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14).  Wonderful.  But I am talking about the Christmas story as John tells it in the Book of Revelation.  Do you remember?  I’m sure you do.  But just in case, here it is again.

            A “great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars.  She was pregnant and was crying out in birth pains and the agony of giving birth.  And another sign appeared in heaven: behold, a great red dragon, with seven heads and ten horns, and on his heads seven diadems.  His tail swept down a third of the stars of heaven and cast them to the earth.  And the dragon stood before the woman who was about to give birth, so that when she bore her child he might devour it.  She gave birth to a male child, one who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron, but her child was caught up to God and to his throne, and the woman fled into the wilderness, where she has a place prepared by God, in which she is to be nourished for 1,260 days” (Rev. 12:1-6).

            Wouldn’t that make a great Christmas pageant?  Maybe next year.  Who is the woman, clothed with the sun, with the moon as her footstool, and a crown of twelve stars?  Mary, of course.  Who else?  Well… God’s Old Testament people, Israel.  And above all, dear Mother Church.  And whether Mary, or Israel, or the Church, understand, this glory is not inherent in her, but has been given to her.  Bestowed on her, by God, by grace.  The twelve stars are the twelve Apostles, the Twelve new Patriarchs.  And, of course, we know who the Male Child is, to whom Mary, Israel, the Church gives birth.  He is our Lord Jesus.  See?  Christmas. 

            Ah, but who is the great, red dragon?  We know that, too.  The serpent.  The devil.  Who else could it be?  And there he is, dressed up to look like a mighty god.  Seven heads.  False wisdom.  Ten horns.  Strength, but far inferior to the strength of the one true God.  On his heads, seven diadems.  As though he were the rightful king.  He does have a following, though, doesn’t he?  A third of the stars of heaven, swept down and cast upon the earth.  The fallen angels.  The demons. 

            What is he doing?  This is where the account reflects our holy Gospel.  He is standing before the woman, waiting for her to give birth, so that he can devour her Child.  Now, the story moves quickly, but it is worth pausing here, and reflecting.  Is he successful?  Well, yes and no.  Yes, because… what, in fact, happens to the Child?  The dragon catches Him in his steely teeth.  The serpent crushes His heel.  The cross.  Right? 

            Okay, please grant me a little Christmas indulgence as I detour to a story within a story within a story, but… this is Aslan and the Stone Table in Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, right?  Do you remember it?  Have you read it?  If you haven’t, what are you waiting for?  The white witch (the devil figure) demands of Aslan (the Christ figure) the sacrifice of his life on the Stone Table, if he is to make atonement for Edmund’s sin of betrayal.  And the lion does it.  He willingly gives himself as sacrifice.  He submits to the ropes and taunts and swords of the witch and her wicked hordes.  They torment him.  They humiliate him.  The shave him of his glorious mane.  And then, with a cackle, the witch plunges the blade in a mortal blow. 

            She think’s she’s won.  There is great celebration among her hellish beasts.  But what happens?  (Spoiler alert!)  After a short and very sad time, all at once, the children hear a great cracking, a deafening noise.  It is the Stone Table, broken in half!  And then, what do they see, but him!  Well, they hear him first, speaking to them.  Just like us and Jesus.  See, He is risen from the dead.  And then, a romp.  And a mighty roar!  And the rescue of all Narnia, and the utter defeat of the white witch and her minions.

            The dragon thought he’d won, devouring the Child, and now he’d make short work of the woman and her children (believers, us).  But what happened?  (Spoiler alert!)  A great cracking.  The crushing of the serpent’s head.  Death itself, broken in half.  The stone rolled away from the tomb.  And then, they see Him.  The women.  And the Apostles.  And we will, too.  Though, first, we’ll hear Him speaking to us, as we do this day.  See, He is risen from the dead.  And ascended to the right hand of God, to rescue, and to rule.  The story in Revelation sums it all up with the words, “her child was caught up to God and to his throne” (v. 5).  And as for the woman (here, particularly, the Church)?  Given a safe place in the wilderness, prepared for her by God (v. 6).  Now, it is the wilderness.  That is, there is danger and suffering and want to be endured.  It is the wilderness of life in this world, this side of the veil.  But God keeps us.  And nourishes us.  Throughout the whole time appointed, represented by the 1,260 days.  Don’t take that number literally, by the way.  It is only meant to teach us that the time is short, that the days of grief are limited. 

            The Male Child is coming back soon.  The Day is known to God.  But in the meantime, there is blood to be shed for the Kingdom, martyrdom to be borne.  And it has everything to do with Christmas.  The whole thing is covered in blood.  Bethlehem’s boys are the first, and they are prophets.  But they are not the last.  Their blood proclaims the death of Christ for us, and the bloody witness of those yet to come.  Stephen next takes up the task (his Feast Day was Friday).  Then James.  Then the Apostles.  Then countless Christians, to this very day, shedding their blood for the Savior who shed His blood for them.  We don’t know… perhaps some of us will be in that number.  God grant us, in the moment of decision, to be ready.  And willing. 

            And we can be ready and willing, because, though the dragon did, in a sense, get the Child… he lost Him!  And lost us, in Him.  It is true, the wages of sin is death.  But there is a deeper Truth… a Truth the devil cannot comprehend.  In Christ, born of Mary, death is now the portal to Life!  Jesus died, but He is risen.  The dragon may kill us, but he cannot keep us.  Because we are in Christ, who lives.  And rules.  And romps.  And roars.  The eternal Gospel roars forth from His mouth, and the mouths of His martyrs and confessors… you. 

            Not very Christmassy, the slaughter of Bethlehem’s boys?  Oh, quite the contrary.  The Christmas surprise is that they live, because Jesus lives.  And so do we.  Let the world and its prince rage and hate.  They can slay our bodies, but they cannot take our Life.  And so, merry Christmas!  Merry Christmas, indeed!  Jesus has come, and we are sons of God.  Rachel is comforted.  The devil be damned.  The blood of the babies preaches the blood of the Baby.  He was born to die your death.  He was born that you might live.  Rejoice this day, dear Christian friends.  Christ, the Lord, is born for you.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                        

Christmas Day

Video of Service

The Nativity of Our Lord: Christmas Day

December 25, 2025

Text: John 1:1-18

            “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14; ESV).

            The Word.  That is our Lord’s divine nature.  He is God, the Son of God.  In the beginning, He was with God, and was God, and is God, ever shall be God.  Begotten of the Father from all eternity.  He is the Speaking Forth of God, the And God Said, and so it was.  In fact, “All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made” (v. 3).  The Word.  In Greek, Logos.  He is God’s Logic, His Reason.  That is, this Son, this Word of our Father, is the Designer of the design that is the wonder of this created universe.  Next time you marvel at a sunset, or behold a towering and majestic mountain, or stand before the crashing waves of the sea, give thanks to God the Word.  That is His work.  That is the Father’s work through Him.  And if ever you consider the sublime complexities of creation’s mechanics and structure, of some particular life form, of a living cell, or an atom… that is the fingerprint of the Word, the Son.  He created the world (Heb. 1:2).  And He upholds the universe by the Word of His power (v. 3).  God’s Speaking Forth (again, the Son) holds everything together.  And He reveals the Father.  “He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature” (v. 3).  If you know the Son, you know the Father.  “Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us” (John 14:8).  “Have I been with you so long, and you still do not know me…?  Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (v. 9).  And so, He is the Light.  He shines the radiance of God wherever the darkness overtakes us.  Upon our sins, to eradicate them.  Upon the demons, so that they flee.  Upon the grave, so it must give us up.  Into every fallen corner of creation.  “Far as the curse is found,” as we sing (LSB 387:3).  He is the Light of men, the Light the Spirit turns on for us, and therefore our true Life (John 1:4).  And that “light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not,” and cannot, “overcome it” (v. 5).  The Word, God, the Son of God.

            Became flesh.  That is our Lord’s human nature.  The Incarnation, a God with body and blood.  That is the miracle of Christmas.  Or, actually, nine months before that, at the Annunciation, when our Lord was conceived in the womb of Mary (cf. Luke 1:26-38).  But Christmas is His birth.  And don’t let the familiarity of that stifle your wonder.  The birth of a baby is always precious, and wondrous.  We heard the story of this birth again last night, and knelt with shepherds and beasts before the bundle of joy in the feeding trough.  This birth, though, is different than other births.  More precious.  More wonderful.  I’m sure, as they held Him, like other parents, Mary and Joseph counted… ten fingers, ten toes. His tiny hands and beautiful little feet.  But these have a purpose infinitely beyond your average newborn’s.  Or any newborn’s.  Those little hands will grow to clasp piercing nail and wood.  Those beautiful feet, to be marred by serpent’s fang and iron spike.  How about that sacred little head?  Formed to sweat drops of blood in a garden, and be crowned with thorns.  Thorns and thistles.  That was the curse in another Garden, was it not (Gen. 3:18)?  And, “By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread” (v. 19).  Well, by the sweat of His face, we shall eat the Bread of Life. 

            Imagine the holy parents, tracing the spine of their newborn Babe, not knowing… not even beginning to imagine… that this back is given to be torn by whip and scourge.  His mother listening to the beat of His tiny heart, blissfully unaware that that heart will be stilled by the fire of God’s wrath.  That little rib cage, filling with breath, exhaling with infant coos and cries… to be torn by Roman spear.  So that out pours blood and water.  Making all things new.  A New Adam, birthing a New Eve from His riven side.  Filling font and chalice.  Sanctifying for Himself, a Bride, the Church.  Washing her by water and the Word, the living water flowing forth from His belly.  That He might present her to Himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing… holy, and without blemish (Eph. 5:25-27). 

            As Mary cradled Him in her arms, she probably wondered, as mothers do, “Will He ever be married?”  Well, we know the answer to that.  Yes!  To His people.  His redeemed.  To us.  The Word became flesh, why?  To dwell among us.  To make His home with us.  (In both His natures, by the way, divine and human.  You can’t separate them, now, since His Incarnation.)  As a Bridegroom with His Bride.  To pitch His tent among us.  To Tabernacle with us.  To be, in the fullest sense of the word, our Immanuel, our God-with-Us.  He does it by virtue of His death on the cross.  He was born for that.  But not only for that.  Not only for death.  For life.  With us.  For resurrection.  Those ten fingers, ten toes, pulsing with life once again, and on the move for our salvation.  Hands and feet bearing His wounds as trophies of our redemption.  Crown of thorns exchanged for a crown of glory.  His riven side, still birthing and nourishing children for God.  You and me, and all believers in Christ.  He was born for that. 

            Now, we are often deceived into thinking we must wait for heaven, or for the resurrection on the Last Day, to experience His dwelling with us.  But then, we’ve been catechized better than that.  You know that every time you make the sign of the cross, or dip your fingers into the water of the font… every time you wake up in the morning and remember your Baptism into Christ… every time you hear the living voice of the Word made flesh in the proclamation of the Gospel… every time you kneel before this feeding trough to eat the Bread of Life, and drink His cleansing and healing blood… you know that that is Christmas!  Because that is the Word, God’s Son, in the flesh born of Mary, dwelling with you.  And so, you see His glory.  By faith now, and one day soon, with your own eyes.  Glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth (John 1:14).  You receive of His fullness, gift upon gift, grace upon grace upon grace upon grace (v. 16).  And you know and see a grace and truth beyond imagination: Jesus’ Father is your Father.  You are His beloved child.  God, the only God, who is at the Father’s side (and that is to say, the Son), has made Him known to you.  And so, you know what so many in our world do not know.  All the rejoicing, and singing, and feasting… all the giving and receiving… all the joy of this day… comes from this, the Christmas Gospel: The Word became flesh, and He dwells among us.  Christ is born for 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 Eve

Video of Service

The Nativity of Our Lord: Christmas Eve

December 24, 2025

Text: Luke 2:1-20

            When the children of Israel were enslaved in Egypt, oppressed, weighed down, sighing and crying to God above, Moses reports that “God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abrham, with Isaac, and with Jacob.  God saw the people of Israel—and” then, simply – and beautifully – “God knew” (Ex. 2:24-25; ESV; emphasis added). 

            When all the earth was enslaved by sin, by death and the devil, oppressed, weighed down, sighing and crying to God above… when you, yourself, who know the tyranny of the ponderous chains of your own making, oppressed by guilt, weighed down by shame… when you sigh and cry to God above over the grief and fallenness and brokenness of it all… well… the same is true for you, is it not?  That is the Good News we hear this night. 

            God hears your groaning.  He remembers His Covenant with you and all the earth.  God sees.  And then, simply – and beautifully – God knows.  And so, He comes.  In the fulness of time, God sent His Son.  Born of woman.  Born under the Law, to redeem those under the Law.  That we might receive adoption as sons (Gal. 4:4-5)… daughters and sons, children of God.  “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11; KJV).

            Beloved, take great comfort in this.  God knows.  He knows you.  He knows everything about you.  Everything you are.  Everything you’ve done.  Everything done to you.  Everywhere you’ve been.  Your sins.  Your fears.  Your heartbreak.  Your tears.  He knows, and He comes.  For all of that.  For you.

            He knows what it is to suffer under tyranny.  A decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed (v. 1).  He knows poverty.  He knows hardship.  He knows what it is to be left out in the cold.  She wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn (v. 7).

            He knows, because God is born of Mary in our flesh and blood.  Clothed in us, to be God-with-Us, our Lord, Emmanuel.  He knows what it is to be a Baby, a Child.  To develop in the womb, and pass through the birth canal.  Mary’s God, nursing at her breast.  Incredible!  He fills His diaper, like any other infant (God does that.  Just think of it!).  He spits up, and He has to be burped (God has to be burped!).  In spite of the carol, I am certain He cries.  Because we cry.  And He grows, with all the attendant pains.  And He suffers sickness.  He learns to walk.  He learns to talk, though He is the Word of God made flesh.  He skins His knees.  He cries for His mother in the darkness of night.  Other kids make fun of Him, and probably bully Him.  The Bible doesn’t say that part, but we know that He knows.

            The hormones and changes of a teen-aged boy.  The thorns and thistles of learning a trade.  The carpenter’s Son, He knows hard work.  He knows disappointment.  And He knows about grief.  Let’s not forget… At some point, He buried St. Joseph, His dad.  He ached at the sorrow of His dear mother.  He wept at the tomb of Lazarus, His friend.  He knows the burning of bitter tears.  Just like you.  He knows.  He knows. 

            He knows hunger.  He knows thirst.  He knows the betrayal of a trusted friend.  He knows how weariness can overcome a man.  And anger over injustice.  And displeasure.  And distress.

            He knows what it is to be targeted for death.  His whole life, He is pursued by the rulers of this world: Herod, the Chief Priests, the Scribes, and bloodthirsty masses.  The devil.  Satan thought that he could kill God.  And as it happens, that is precisely what he did. 

            But see… It was not enough for Jesus to be tempted in every way as we are, yet without sin, as the writer to the Hebrews preaches (4:15).  Knowing what He knows, He would know it all the way.  The worst we could do to Him, that death and hell could throw at him.  The old snake must have cackled, sinking fang into that sacred heel, while the soldiers drove the nails, and gambled for His garments.  Naked, He hangs, bridging heaven and earth, while bystanders point, and laugh, and scoff. 

            What nobody sees, except for a thief, and a Roman centurion, when all is said and done, is that this is all according to plan.  Jesus knew it all along.  He came for this, made man, our flesh.  To suffer, to die, in the cosmic battle.  The battle for you, for your rescue and release.  The answer to your groaning, your crying and sighing, is lying in a manger, and hanging on a cross.  Jesus is born, your Paschal Lamb.  It is His blood that marks your door, so that Death passes over.  He leads you in Exodus, from oppression and slavery, to liberty and life-eternal with Him.  Through the Red Sea waters of your Baptism into Him.  Pharaoh is drowned.  The serpent’s head is crushed.  He knows, and He leads you.  In the wilderness of this world.  In sorrow and in joy.  In weariness and wonder.  In rest and refreshment.  In labor and love.  He knows it all, the full range of human experience.  And He knows you.  Knows you complete.  And He loves you.  And lives for you.  And He calls you His own. 

            But so also, Jesus knows what we do not know.  He knows what it is to be raised from the dead.  That we may know it one Day, very soon.  He knows what He is doing to bring you over Jordan.  To give you a place in His Promised Land.  New Creation.  New heavens.  New earth.  New life.  A glorious inheritance.  He knows.  He knows.

            That you may know, the Lord has given you a sign: You will find Him, right where He has promised to be for you: Wrapped up in the swaddling clothes of the Scriptures, and laid upon the altar under bread and wine.  Releasing you from bondage.  Forgiving your sins.  Assuaging your sorrows.  Wiping away your tears.  Jesus Christ.  God in human flesh.  He knows.  So He comes.  And here He is, beloved.  Here He is.  For you.

            “O holy child of Bethlehem, Descend to us, we pray; Cast out our sin, and enter in, Be born in us today.  We hear the Christmas angels The great glad tidings tell; O come to us, abide with us, Our Lord Immanuel!” (LSB 361:4).  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.        

 

 

Fourth Sunday in Advent

Video of Service

Fourth Sunday in Advent (A)

December 21, 2025

Text: Matt. 1:18-25

            Joseph was a just man.  Righteous.  Not, first, in the way of works, but in the way of Abraham.  As it is written, “Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness” (Rom. 4:3; ESV; quoting Gen. 15:6).  And in the way of Simeon, a man who was  “righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him” (Luke 2:25).  “(T)he righteous shall live by his faith” says the Prophet Habakkuk (2:4), and St. Paul bases the whole Gospel on that verse (Rom. 1:17; Gal. 3:11).   Joseph was a just man.  That is, justified by faith.  And then he lives that righteousness by his resulting works, as one already justified prior to those works.  Mary is pregnant, and Joseph knows the Child isn’t his.  He kept his flesh in check.  She, apparently, had not.  Or so it seemed.  But being a just man, he did not want to put her to shame.  Which, as it happens, would have led to her death by stoning (cf. Deut. 22:22-24).  He doesn’t want that.  He loves her.  And he has compassion on her.  As righteous men are wont to do.  So he resolves to divorce her quietly, lest this dear woman, who has made mistakes (haven’t we all?... even the just!), be ruined, disgraced, perhaps even condemned to death, temporal and eternal. 

            But Joesph was also a reasonable man, and a dreamer, if you can reconcile these things.  And you can, in the person of Joseph.  Reasonable, for the text says, “he considered these things” (Matt. 1:20).  He thought about them.  Deeply.  You can bet he prayed for wisdom and discretion and the guidance of God’s Spirit, as we all should.  But then, like his type and eponym, the Patriarch Joseph, a dreamer.  That is, God revealed things to Joseph in dreams.  In our Gospel, the angel appeared to him, preaching the Gospel as it happens in real time: Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife.  She is still a virgin.  That which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.  This is the fulfillment of Isaiah Chapter 7 (v. 14): “the virgin shall conceive and bear a son.”  He is Immanuel, God with us.  You shall call His Name “Jesus,” for He will save His people from their sins (Matt. 1:20-23).  Being a just and reasonable man, Joseph did as the angel commanded.

            So, now Joesph was a husband.  And a model husband, at that.  For he was a just man by faith, and he acted accordingly, as one who believed God.  “When Joseph woke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him” (v. 24; emphasis added).  That is, he took Mary to wife.  And though I don’t doubt that there was tremendous joy in that, as I pray there is among all husbands and wives, we also know that there was for Joseph (not to speak of Mary!) tremendous sacrifice.  The shadow of the cross loomed large.  Joseph was to know her not… he was not to violate her virginity… he was not to insist on his conjugal rights… until she had given birth to a Son.  He bore the cross of celibacy.  That is a sacrifice for anyone, but particularly for a man.  But he bore it in faith.  Now, does that include after Jesus’ birth?  Was Mary a virgin ever after, and Jospeh simply out of luck?  Maybe.  We’ll allow the Church Fathers to speculate on that, but the rest of us ought to knock it off.  If God wanted us to know, He would have told us explicitly in the Bible.  But there is a modesty, here, that most of us lack: In the same way you don’t, or shouldn’t, ask your parents about their sex life, let’s just give Mary and Joseph a little privacy.  But we do know this: If Joseph was given the cross of lifelong celibacy, he bore that, too.  In faith.  Believing that God can give him unimaginably better things.  And here he is the model for single men and women, and for all of us as we bear our own appointed crosses.  And, in any case, crosses aplenty he bore.  As a husband.  And as a father.

            Joseph was a father.  Perhaps to other children, known in Scripture as Jesus’ brothers and sisters.  But certainly to Jesus Himself.  Well, we know Joseph is not our Lord’s biological father.  Jesus has no human father, biologically speaking.  God is His Father, and He is conceived by the Holy Spirit, who came upon His mother, Mary, in the preaching of Gabriel.  Thus He received His humanity from His mother alone.  But Joseph was Jesus’ father in every other sense.  Sometimes called His foster father, or adopted father, he was Jesus’ guardian.  He provided for Jesus, securing a place for Him in the stable.  Food, drink, clothing, shelter.  He protected Jesus… the flight into Egypt, lest this Child die with the boys of Bethlehem.  Another dream.  The return to Nazareth.  The desperate search for adolescent Jesus in Jerusalem.  Finding Him in the Temple, sitting among the teachers.  He trained Jesus for a trade.  “Is not this the carpenter’s son?” (Matt. 13:55).  As a just man by faith, Jospeh was a faithful father.  A sacrificing father.  Under the shadow of the cross.  A model for us all.  By the way, we assume Joseph died sometime between the infamous trip to Jerusalem when Jesus was twelve years old, and our Lord’s coming into adulthood, because Joseph simply disappears from the Gospel narrative.  God has His reasons, and we trust that He knows what He is doing.  But among those reasons, undoubtedly?  Jospeph’s vocation was to protect Jesus.  But there came a day when he must not protect Him.  Imagine Joseph at Jesus’ trial (who could hold him back?), or standing with Mary under Calvary’s cross.  What might he have done?  How might he have gotten in the way of our Lord’s saving work?  What crisis of faith might he, himself, have experienced?  See, it was a great mercy to Joseph… and to us… that God took him to heaven when he did.  Let that be some comfort to you when you must grieve an untimely death.  God knows the whys and the wherefores.  You do not, but God does. 

            In any case, it would fall to another Joseph, from Arimathea… yet another just man, “a good and righteous man” Luke says of him (23:50), “himself looking for the kingdom of God,” Mark tells us (15:43), “a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews,” says John (19:38)… i.e. a just man by faith… it would fall to that Joseph to provide for Jesus now.  A shelter, a tomb, a place for God’s dead body.  A place for God’s dead body to rise!  For all the Jospehs.  And for you.  And for me. 

            Joseph of Nazareth, though… he died.  Yet he lives.  Because of his Boy, Jesus.  You know, one day, we’ll meet Joseph.  That’ll be a trip!  But then, I suppose, in some way, we’ve met him already, here in the Scriptures.  Well, and at the altar, around the body of his Son.  And we give thanks for him, this just, reasonable, dreamer of a husband and father.  And for Mary.  And most of all, for Jesus.  In fact, we give thanks for Joseph and Mary because of Jesus.  The Holy Family.  Our family.  We belong to them.  With them.  The family of God.  The family of Christ, our dear Lord.

            Joseph was a just man.  And we are just men and women, too.  In the same way as he.  By faith.  In Jesus Christ.  Who loves us, and gave Himself for us.  Joseph can be a father, of sorts, to us, too.  As we follow his example.  Imitate him.  Be encouraged and inspired by his life of faith, and faithfulness.  Know that he prays for us, and for the whole Church of God.  He is one among those in the great cloud of witnesses that surrounds us (Heb. 12:1), supporting us, and rooting us on.  And that is to say, he is our spiritual father.  Chiefly in this: The angel preached to Joseph, “the virgin…” his wife, Mary… “shall conceive and bear a son”… “you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matt. 1:23, 21).  Joseph believed that preaching.  And when you believe it (as, indeed, you do), you are children of Jospeh.  And even better, you are children of God.  The just who live by faith.  Merry Advent, beloved.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.        

                                           

Advent Midweek III

Video of Service

Advent Midweek III: The Nicene Creed

“The Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life”[1]

December 17, 2025

Text: Third Article of the Nicene Creed

            The Lord and Giver of Life.  The Holy Spirit is the Lord.  That is to say, He is God, with the Father and the Son.  Hear again an echo of the previous article.  Just as we heard the word “One” echoed from First to Second Article, “one God, the Father Almighty,” “one Lord Jesus Christ,” so now we hear the word “Lord” echoed, “one Lord Jesus Christ,” “the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life.”  See the golden thread the fathers have woven into the tapestry of our Creed.  Why did they do this?  That we may know and believe (to borrow a line from the Athanasian Creed) “one God in Trinity and Trinity in Unity, neither confusing the persons nor dividing the substance.”  In other words, these echoes were no accident.  “Lord.”  That is, YHWH.  Just like Jesus, the Son.  Who is one God with the Father.

            There have been some in history who have denied that the Spirit is God, much as the Arians denied this of the Son.  There have even been some who have denied the Spirit as a distinct Person of the Trinity, a distinct Personality.  They have described the Spirit as an impersonal energy between Father and Son… I suppose like when we say of a person, “he is rather spirited,” or, as we may say of some group of people this time of year, “they really have the Christmas spirit.”  The name of this heresy (that the Spirit is a force, or energy, and not, therefore, God, or at least not fully) is “Pneumatomachianism,” in case you are keeping track.  But the Scriptures, over against this, describe the Spirit in divine and personal terms.  For example, St. Paul says to the Ephesians, “do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption” (Eph. 4:30; ESV).  He is the Spirit of God, which is to say, He is God, just as your spirit is you.  And He can be grieved, so He is a Person, because only persons can be grieved (what kind of energy can be grieved?  Have you ever grieved electricity?  Have you ever seen sad ionization, or depressed gravitational pull?).  And He does what only God can do, which is to seal you for the Day of Redemption.  We could go on with other passages, but you get the point.  So we worship and confess the Holy Spirit as God, and we even confess this explicitly: “who with the Father and the Son together is worshiped and glorified.”  We dare never worship and glorify an impersonal force as though it were God.  That would be idolatry.  But we do worship the Spirit, because He is the Lord.

            And Giver of Life.  Behold the Spirit as He broods over the waters of Creation (Gen. 1:2).  You know that in the languages of the Bible, Hebrew and Greek, the same word may be rendered spirit, wind, or breath.  When God breathes into Adam the breath of life, it is the Spirit who is enlivening Adam, and bestowing upon Adam a spirit of his own (Gen. 2:7).  Behold, the Prophet Ezekiel in the Valley of Dry Bones.  “Son of man, can these bones live?” (Ez. 37:3).  Yes, when the prophet prophesies to the wind, the Spirit, the breath of God, to breathe on these slain.  Behold, the Lord Jesus, raised from the dead by the Spirit of God (Rom. 8:11), standing in the midst of His disciples, breathing on them and saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit” (John 20:22).  It is the Spirit enlivening them with the life of Christ.  And what He does for them, He then does for the whole Church on the Day of Pentecost… the sound of a mighty, rushing wind filling the house where they were, and the Spirit filling each one, giving them utterance, that they may breathe with His breath, and speak Him forth (Acts 2:1-4). 

            So, He is not an impersonal force.  But He is a Force.  And He is not created (just as the Son is not created), nor is He begotten (as the Son is begotten), but He proceeds from the Father and the Son.  Now, you may know that the “and the Son” part of that phrase is a matter of some controversy between the Churches of East and West.  The filioque, as it is called, Latin for “and the Son.”  We will not solve that theological gordian knot for the Church universal tonight.  But for our purposes, suffice it to say, we are a Church of the West, and we have no problem confessing the filioque, because the Scriptures are clear that the Father does nothing apart from the Son, and the Spirit comes from the Father, through the Son.  In our Holy Gospel this evening, Jesus says, “when the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness about me” (John 15:26; emphasis added).  It is clear that the Spirit proceeds from the Father, and yet it is the Son who gives Him, so… proceeds from the Father and the Son.  That is a profound and wonderful confession.

            Okay… Proceeds from them to do what?  To give life.  How?  He spoke (and still speaks!) by the Prophets.  The Holy Spirit of God speaks to us in Holy Scripture, doing precisely what Jesus said He would do: Testifying of Jesus (John 15:26); convicting the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment (16:8); guiding believers in Christ into all the truth (v. 13); taking what Jesus has received from the Father and declaring it to us (vv. 14-15).  Spoke by the prophets.  That is a confession of the inspiration of the Scriptures (do you hear the word Spirit in inspiration?).  This is why we believe the Scriptures are infallible and inerrant.  Because they are the Spirit’s own words, His own speaking.  We can trust them.  Wholly and completely.  And they give us Christ, who reconciles us to the Father. 

            By the way, don’t miss the direction in all of this.  The Father sends the Son through whom the Spirit is bestowed.  The Spirit delivers the saving work of the Son that reconciles us to the Father.  From Father to Son to Spirit to Son to Father.  Thus our salvation and life in Christ is a Trinitarian work.

            And the Spirit makes all of this a reality for us in the one holy Christian and apostolic Church.  The Church is the Spirit’s creation.  Now, the Church itself is an article of faith, not sight.  Oh, we can see the trappings, can’t we?  A gathering of people in a building called a Church, doing churchy things.  But the Church is not a building.  Nor is it a denomination, by the way.  We call those things “churches” only by derivation.  The Church is holy believers in Christ.  It is the gathering of those to whom the Spirit has given faith.  And we can’t see who believes and who doesn’t, so the Church is invisible.  But we believe it exists.  We know her by her marks, the Word and Sacraments, prayer, the bearing of the holy cross, and the mutual conversation and consolation of the brethren.  She is one, this Church.  That is definitely an article of faith.  Just look at the number of Christian denominations.  In fact, never mind that.  Just see the disunity that often manifests in our own denomination, and even in our own congregation.  Lord, have mercy on us.  (He does.).  Still, one Church.  United around the One Lord Jesus Christ (there are the echoes again).  Holy.  Can’t always see that, can we?  In fact, most often not.  The Church is full of sinners, and sinners only.  But here is the Holy Spirit, doing His sanctifying work, His making holy work.  Christian, or catholic.  Same difference, by the way.  We are not speaking of Rome.  We are speaking of the Church beyond denominational boundaries, the Church that confesses this faith of the Nicene Creed.  And apostolic.  The Church founded by the Apostles.  And we’re back to the Scriptures.  The Church gathered around the Scriptures written by the Apostles as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit (2 Peter 1:21).  The Church is a mouth house, Luther said, where these Scriptures are proclaimed.  And in them, the Spirit still breathes life into dead men’s bones, raising us from the dead. 

            One Baptism… you never need repeat it.  You just live in it.  It is your new birth from above (John 3:5).  For the remission of sins.  Yes, Baptism cleanses and saves.  “Baptism,” Peter says, “now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 3:21).

            And what is the result of it all?  The resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.  Even as the Spirit raised Christ, so He will raise you. 

            So we come to the end of another series of Advent meditations in this 1700^th Anniversary of Year of the Nicene Creed.  As I’ve said over and again, the Creed is our story as we live our life in God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Beloved, tell this story… to yourself, and to one another, and to the world.  Immerse yourself in it.  Pray it, meditate upon it, and live in it.  You are living in it as you say it.  These are the things to never forget.  This is the speaking of what is true and real in a world full of lies and deception.  This is what grounds you.  This is what protects you and keeps you in the holy faith.  It is a little sermon every time.  And what happens as you speak the words?  Life flows into you.  And through you, into others.  From the Spirit, for He is the Lord and Life-Giver.  The Life of Jesus, crucified and risen.  The Life of a baptized Child of God the Father Almighty.  It is good be Nicene Christians.  God keep us ever in this confession and faith.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                                     

             

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[1] Advent Series loosely based on Timothy J. Winterstein, Worshiped and Glorified: A Study of the Nicene Creed (St. Louis: Concordia, 2025).

Third Sunday in Advent

Video of Service

Third Sunday in Advent (A)

December 14, 2025

Text: Matt. 11:2-15

            Rejoice!  Rejoice!  Gaudete!  We have come to the third week in Advent.  The white joy of Christmas is piercing through the penitential violet, thus the rose color of the day.  Anticipation.  Expectation.  Hope.  And an eager longing for Christ to arrive and make all things right again.  Each year, on this day, St. Paul sounds forth the Gaudete call: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice” (Antiphon for Gaudete: Phil. 4:4; ESV).

            But that is often easier said than done.  For we live on the waiting side of Advent.  Oh, we do have something St. John the Baptist did not.  That is our Lord’s first coming in the flesh, and His accomplished work of redemption on the cross, and in the empty tomb.  But we are still waiting for Him to come again in glory, and manifest His setting of all things right.  Banish death, and sin, and grief, and pain.  And though He comes to us now, in His holy Word, and in our Baptism into Him, and in the Supper of His body and blood, still… we don’t always feel it.  We often do not feel it.  Or see it.  Or otherwise perceive it with our five senses.  And sometimes… like St. John, languishing in Herod’s dungeon, awaiting the executioner’s sword, the wages of faithfulness to Christ in this cold, dark world… we doubt.  “Jesus… are You the One?  Or should we look for another?”  It’s not that we don’t believe.  It is that the waiting gets long, and the darkness can be so thick, and sometimes the rose fades back into violet, and even into black.  The problem isn’t Jesus.  The problem is our own eyes, and our own minds, our own lives, our own hearts.  Some of you know that acutely during the holiday season, and we all know it in some way, and at some point.  An empty seat at the table.  A broken body.  An aching mind and heart.  A broken relationship.  The brokenness of your own sin.  So… doubt.  “Are You sure, Jesus?  Are You sure You are the One, and that Your coming is the antidote to the chains and the darkness and the gloom?  Because, I’m looking around me, and it sure doesn’t seem like this is how it’s supposed to be.”

            How does Jesus answer John’s question?  And yours?  “Go and tell John what you hear and see” (Matt. 11:4).  Okay, so ears and eyes on Jesus.  Emphasis on the ears.  Hearing comes first, that the eyes of faith may see.  And what do John’s disciples hear and see?  “(T)he blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them” (v. 5).  Do you see what Jesus… the Son of God come down from heaven into our flesh, and our sinful and broken and dying mess of a life… is doing?  He is unbreaking the brokenness.  Un-falling the fall.  Undoing death, and all that comes with it.  Releasing, restoring, creating anew.  Because He is taking away our sin.  And freeing us from bondage to Satan and the condemnation our sins deserve.  Don’t misunderstand the healing miracles.  They are wonderful for those who receive them, but they are only temporal.  These people still have to die.  Instead, these miracles point to something else, something more.  This that Jesus is doing here… this is the very thing He came to do, on a cosmically grander scale, for every single one of us.  Spiritually, first, as He takes possession of us by His Holy Spirit.  Now, the spiritual things, we can only see by faith.  That is the rub, isn’t it?  Our bodily eyes have not yet been healed, so we can’t see this healing yet, physically.  But that doesn’t make it any less real.  But then, these are the things He will do for us, completely and eternally, manifested in our bodies, when He raises us from the dead on the Last Day.  That is why we wait so eagerly for that Day to come.  “Come, Lord Jesus.  Come quickly.” 

            Waiting.  That is the hard part.  Waiting for our fallen perception, and creation itself, and our very bodies, to catch up to this reality.  Ears and eyes on Jesus.  That is the only way.  When our ears and our eyes are on Jesus, we can wait with hope.  And peace.  And even, yes… Joy!  Gaudete!  Rejoice!

            “But how do I do that, Pastor?  What are the practical things I can do?”  Good question.  God tells us in His Word.

            First, repent.  Hear and heed the preaching of St. John.  Repent of your sins.  Examine yourself according to the Ten Commandments, and your vocation, your station in life.  What are your sins?  Where do you fall short?  Where are you curved in on yourself?  Where do you fail to love God above all things, and your neighbor as yourself?  Confess those things.  Face up to those things.  Be honest about them, with yourself, and with God.  And with your neighbor where you’ve sinned against them.  Now, this is counterintuitive, because we mistakenly think repentance is an exercise in feeling bad about ourselves.  Far from it.  The point of this repentance is to turn… from sin, and to Jesus.  To return to God.  To change your mind from what is evil to the things that are from your gracious Father.  It is to get you out of yourself… from gazing at your own navel… so that you look up to God, and out toward your neighbor.  And, also, sweep, scrub, and mop the detritus, the filmy residue of sin, out of your daily life. 

            Which presupposes the second thing: Believe the Good News John preaches, the Gospel!  The Kingdom of God is at hand.  Follow John’s bony finger as he points and proclaims: “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29).  That means your sin, and mine.  Hear that.  Believe that.  And you will run into the waiting arms of your Father, who loves you so much, He gave His Son into death to make you His own.  Be absolved.  Your sins are forgiven.  That ought to cause some rejoicing, I think. 

            And third, hear the preaching of your pastor.  Be always in the Divine Service, and in Bible study as often as possible.  Be always at the Supper for the visible, tangible Word.  You know, in our Old Testament reading, God bids… all Christians, in general, I suppose, but pastors in particular… “Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees” (Is. 35:3).  We often take that as some kind of admonition to do this for ourselves… strengthen our own hands, make firm our own knees.  No.  That’s Old Adam again, trying horn in on the work of salvation, as usual.  No, God isn’t telling us what to do for ourselves.  He’s telling the preachers what to do.  How are the preachers to strengthen and make firm what is weak and wobbly?  By speaking the Word of the LORD: “Say to those who have an anxious heart, ‘Be strong; fear not!  Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God.  He will come and save you.’”  (v. 4; emphasis added).  The preachers are to preach that strength and firmness into you.  Whereupon follows the prophecy of the very things our Lord points to in our Gospel: Eyes of the blind opened.  Ears of the deaf unstopped.  Lame men leaping like deer!  Mute men singing for joy!  Like you.  Eyes of faith opened to behold Jesus.  Ears hanging on His every Word.  An extra spring in your step because your salvation has come.  Singing praise, full-throated, to Jesus, your King.  Gaudete!  Rejoice!

            Fourth, patience.  Now, that is a gift of God, and it is a matter of perspective, now that you’ve turned to God in repentance.  James tells us, “Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord” (James 5:7).  That is not a moralistic lecture.  It is the bestowal of the gift, as God’s Word does in you what it says.  And then James gives you that divine perspective.  Think about rain.  It is often discouraging to us (Thursday was rough!).  But not to the farmer, patiently waiting for that rain to do what it is given to do, watering the earth, so that the crops grow, and the earth bears fruit.  And when you think about it that way, that rain is the difference between life and death to you, between hunger and full belly.  So, wait it out.  Whether the actual rain, or the things that rain on our parade as we live and wait in a fallen world.  Wait it out.  And give thanks for it.  Our Lord knows what we need, and He will give it.  It is His care for us.  It will bear fruit, in His time, and as He wills.  Therefore, Gaudete!  Rejoice.  No matter what.  Commend everything to God in prayer.  Trust Him.  God is in His heaven.  Jesus reigns.  He will turn this all for good. 

            Fifth, look to your neighbor.  Not to grumble about him.  Stop that.  James calls us on that one, doesn’t he?  Back to repentance for that.  But, look to him to care for him.  To love him.  What does he need?  Forgiveness?  Give it to him.  From God (tell him the Gospel).  From you (let go of your grudges… you have no right to hang on to them, and they’re poisoning you).  What else?  Generosity?  Let the giving flow.  I’m a big proponent of Giving Tuesday, not because I think our generosity should be confined to one day a year, but because it helps us just do it.  And what a joy!  If you missed it this year, the good news is, there is another Tuesday coming up this week, and every week until the Lord comes back, and every other day of the week works just as well.  The point is, whether it’s forgiveness, or money, or food, or clothing, or hospitality, or whatever… rejoice and revel in God’s great generosity to you, and go pour it out on others, knowing God will never forsake you.  See, that’s Gaudete!  That is concrete joy! 

            Finally, don’t forget hope.  Hope in the Lord.  That isn’t an uncertain hope.  Christian hope is the knowledge and certainty of what is to come.  And what is that?  Complete healing.  Complete release.  The dead raised.  John freed from prison, and with his head on straight.  You too.  Consolation for every sorrow.  Every tear brushed aside by the finger of God.  Every wrong made right.  What is lost, restored.  The broken made whole.  The fallen strong to stand.  Satan judged.  And perfect peace.  Gaudete!  Rejoice.  It is coming.  It is as good as done.  For Christ is born of Mary.  He died, but He is risen from the dead.  He loves you.  And He is coming soon.  Look up.  Lift your head in eager anticipation.  Jesus is the One.  Do not look for any other.  Keep your ears and your eyes on Him, beloved.  And you will hear.  And you will see.  Therefore, rejoice in the Lord always.  Gaudete!  Again I will say… Rejoice!  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.