Lenten Midweek I

 Video of Service

Lenten Midweek I

Adventures with Elijah: Elijah and the Widow of Zarephath

February 25, 2026

Text: 1 Kings 17:8-24; Luke 7:11-17

            Your Lord cares for you.  See how this is illustrated in His loving provision for the Prophet Elijah.  And not only the Prophet, but also the widow of Zarephath, and her son.

            Even before we get to our text, see how He cares for you by sending the Prophet in the first place.  The days were evil.  An evil king, Ahab, and his evil wife, Jezebel, are leading Israel astray.  The Baals.  The Ashtaroth.  Idolatry.  And all the wickedness that goes with that.  The LORD cares for His people, Israel.  And He knows what they need.  Drought.  Famine.  Suffering.  Why?  Not as punishment, but as a call to repentance.  A call back to the one true God.  Their God.  Their LORD, who loves them.  So He sends His man to announce it.  Elijah the Tishbite, of Tishbe, in Gilead (1 Kings 17:1), this greatest of the Old Testament prophets, appears, seemingly, out of nowhere.  His entrance on the world stage is as full of mystery as his exit in the whirlwind and chariots of fire (2 Kings 2).  His name means, “My God is Yah!”  Not Baal.  Not Asherah.  Not anyone else.  Yah!  And that will be the sum and substance of his preaching, life, and ministry.

            God sends His Prophet to announce disaster to Israel, to call them back to Himself, because He loves them.  And these things are written for your learning (1 Cor. 10:11).  They are written to likewise call you to repentance, to forsake your idols, and return to the one true God.  Your God.  Your Lord.  Who cares for you.  Even suffering is an expression of His love and care.  The devil always has his own nefarious purposes in disaster, of course.  But God has His, and His will and purpose in it is what Jesus says of the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices, or those 18 on whom the tower in Siloam fell: Repent, lest you likewise perish (Luke 13:1-5).  He is chastening you.  His is disciplining you.  Because He loves you (parents who don’t discipline their children are not loving them).  That is your Lord’s care for you.  And that is why He sends the preacher to preach to you.  Law and Gospel.  Sin (and its consequences) and grace in Jesus.  Repentance and faith. 

            But to our text… See how He cares for you in the way He feeds His Prophet.  Elijah is hungry, too.  Because of the drought and famine he announced.  The preacher always suffers with his people.  Especially when the people hate him, as Elijah is hated.  But God does not leave him destitute.  First, there are ravens feeding him, and a little brook from which he drinks.  That happens just prior to our text.  But then, when the brook dries up, and all appears lost and doomed, we hear how God provides.  A widow.  Not even an Israelite.  A Gentile woman from Zarephath (incidentally, the sending of the Prophet to a Gentile is also a picture of God’s care for us, because it foreshadows the sending of Apostles and preachers to us Gentiles!)  Well, some help!  She, herself, is destitute due to the drought and the famine.  She’s gathering sticks.  Has just a handful of flour and a little oil in a jug.  What is her plan?  A little cake for herself and her son, that they may eat of it, and die!  Now the Prophet wants a cake of it first?  Who knows what ran through the woman’s mind?  Probably many conflicting thoughts.  But remember, the LORD tells Elijah that He commanded her (1 Kings 17:9).  And now, the Promise from the mouth of the Prophet: “The jar of flour shall not be spent, and the jug of oil shall not be empty” (v. 14).  So, she does it.  And what happens?  The LORD keeps His Promise.  As He always does.  He is faithful.  Elijah eats.  The woman eats.  And the boy eats.  For many days.  In devastating drought and famine.  Because the LORD cares for them.  And the LORD cares for you.  You know it.  Who has fed you up to now?  Who has given you each day your daily bread?  Here you are, and you haven’t yet starved.  See how your Lord cares for you. 

            See how He cares for you in the boy’s illness and death.  The woman thinks He does not care.  As we often think when calamity strikes.  And as also often happens, she takes it out on the preacher.  “What have you against me, O man of God?  You have come to me to bring my sin to remembrance and to cause the death of my son!” (v. 18).  Of course, that isn’t the case, and it isn’t the case for you, either.  But it sure feels like it, sometimes, doesn’t it. 

            Behold for a minute, by the way, the preacher’s love for his people.  The lament.  “O LORD my God, have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I sojourn, by killing her son?” (v. 20).  The fervent prayer.  “O LORD my God, let this child’s life come into him again” (v. 21).  Elijah, “My God is Yah,” prays his own name: “O LORD my God… Yahweh, my God!”  See, he knows, if there is to be a healing, a miracle, a resurrection from the dead, it will not come from Elijah.  It must come from the LORD.  And Elijah casts it all upon the LORD his God.  And before we get to it, the miracle that is the grand crescendo of our text, see how the LORD cares for the widow, and for you, in this time of grief.  And for the preacher, too.  He hears their cries.  He receives their lament.  “(T)he LORD listened to the voice of Elijah,” the text says (v. 22).  And see how He cares for the boy, and so for you, in death.  “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints” (Ps. 116:15).

            But then, what happens?  As he prays, the Prophet stretches himself upon the child three times…  Now, don’t miss this.  He stretches himself out.  I suppose there is no way to know exactly what that looked like, but I can’t help but think of it as arms outstretched in such a way that Prophet and corpse are incorporated into the sign of the cross.  Cruciform.  And what comes after the cross?  You know. 

            And then, three times.  Like the three days in the tomb.  Like our blessed Triune God.  Like the Name of the Holy Trinity emblazoned on us in Holy Baptism, where we die with Christ, and are raised with Him to new life already now, spirited with His Spirit (the life, the breath comes back into us), sealed for the Day when the Lord will raise our very bodies.  See how your Lord cares for you in the resurrection of the widow’s boy.

            And we see it so clearly, don’t we, in our Holy Gospel tonight (Luke 7:11-17).  Jesus is the Lord who cares for us, now come in our flesh.   And He is the Lord who stops death in its tracks.  Who takes our uncleanness and death into Himself (He “touched the bier” [v. 14]).  Who commands, “Young man, I say to you, arise” (v. 14), and that is just what happens.  The dead man sits up and begins to speak (v. 15), and the Lord… who cares for the young man… and cares for the young man’s mother, a destitute and grief-stricken widow… gives him back to his mother.  See your Lord’s care for you in this episode.  For He will command you to arise one Day, and that very soon.  And you will sit up, and begin to speak.  And then, particularly for all you Christian parents who know the unspeakable grief of your own child’s death… look what joy and hope He gives you by what He did for the widow in Zarephath, and for this widow in our Gospel: He gave her child back to her. 

            Because He is the Son of a widow.  And He died.  And His mother saw it with her own eyes.  But after three days, what?  He rose from the dead.  And He was given back to His mother.  And to us all.  See your Lord’s care for you in the death and resurrection of this Son.  Death defeated.  Your sins forgiven.  Justification and eternal life.  That is how your Lord cares for you.  And now you are an Elijah.  You confess, and you pray, “My God is… not whatever stupid idols I’ve been harboring, but… Yah!...  The Lord who cares for me.”  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                   

First Sunday in Lent

 Video of Service

Ash Wednesday

 Video of Service

Ash Wednesday

February 18, 2026

Text: 2 Cor. 5:20b-6:10

            Preachers are essentially beggars.  That is not a commentary on my salary.  But it is to say, what does a preacher do, but stand in the pulpit and plead?  Plead with sinners?  Plead with you?  Imploring “you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God” (2 Cor. 5:20; ESV)?  That is, stop going your own way.  Stop doing your own thing, thinking your own thoughts.  Stop justifying yourself.  Turn.  Change your mind.  Repent.  “Return to the Lord, your God,” why?... “for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love” (Joel 2:13).  And that fact is embodied in the flesh of Jesus Christ, God’s Son.  Here is what He has done.  “For our sake [God] made him,” namely, our Lord Jesus Christ, “to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21).  All your rebellion… all your rejection of God, and His love, and His gracious will for you… all your turning away and running off, as far as you can, from your heavenly Father… all of it, every sin, every transgression, and all guilt, and all shame, all of it… the Lord Jesus took upon Himself, bearing it to the cross.  And for you, and upon you, He leaves His perfect righteousness (His justification), His innocence, His holiness, His life, His Sonship, His inheritance of the very Kingdom of heaven.

            So… have it, beloved.  Please, won’t you have it?  I implore you to come back to the Father who loves you, confessing your sins, covered in Jesus, and possessed by His Spirit.  Now is the time.  This is the day.  The favorable time is always Today.  Right now.  Don’t miss it.  Don’t resist it.  Do not reject it.  God is giving you Himself, and all His gifts.  Freely.  Not because you deserve it, but for the sake of Jesus, who deserves it, and who suffered and died to make it so.  Believe it, and you have it.  Repent and believe the Good News (Mark 1:15).  Confess, and be absolved.  This is the Day of Salvation.  God has listened.  And God helps (2 Cor. 6:2; Is. 49:8).     

            God sends His preachers thus to implore.  And look what Paul says about this Preaching Office.  “We put no obstacle in anyone’s way” (2 Cor. 6:3).  The preacher is to get out of the way, and ever and always and only point to Christ and His saving Word.  But he is to suffer, this preacher (vv. 4-5).  For you.  That you may believe.  As Christ suffered.  For you.  That you may be saved.  The preacher is to bear up, by great endurance, in afflictions, in hardships, in calamities, Paul says.  In beatings, imprisonments, and riots (I thank my God that Pastor Taylor and I have not yet had to suffer those things, though many of our brothers in Office have so suffered, and do so suffer, and such is our call, if it comes down to it.  And by the way, such is your call, if it comes down to it, as well).  In labors.  In sleepless nights (I’ve had plenty of those for you).  In hunger.  And then, Paul says, also in faithfulness (vv. 6-7).  Purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, the Holy Spirit (these are the character traits a preacher must aspire to have, and he can only have them by the gift of the Holy Spirit, though, to be sure, he has them in great weakness, and so must always be repenting and receiving and praying and fostering the gifts).  By genuine love… Your pastors love you, which is why we lose sleep over you, and why we so often, and so deeply, hurt for you.  By truthful speech and the power of God (pure doctrine, Sacraments rightly administered, and, I think we can add here, prayer, and a faith that expects God to do mighty things among you).  With the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and the left (these weapons aren’t guns or swords, but the whole armor of God…  And you are outfitted with that, too, and you can read about it in Ephesians 6).  Then, notice, faithfulness in whatever the circumstances (vv. 8-10).  Even in the extremes.  Honor and dishonor.  Slander and praise.  Considered imposters, but really, true.  Unknown, yet well known (known, at least, to God, and that is really all that matters).  Dying… remember, the pastor is called to suffer and die… yet behold, we live!  Ah, there’s death and resurrection, right?  The Preaching Office is a Christological Office.  Punished, but not killed.  Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing (I mean, Christ is risen, and He lives, and reigns, and He’ll raise me, so what sorrow can possibly triumph over that?).  As poor, yet making many rich.  As nothing, yet possessing everything.  Do you see, in that description, a picture of the Lord Jesus Christ Himself?  That is the point.  The preacher is not to preach himself (get out of the way, preacher).  But Christ.  Always Christ.  Only Christ.  In his words, in his life, and in his very body.  Christ.  Don’t look at me.  Look at Christ.

            But the preacher begs.  He implores.  He pleads.  On behalf of Christ.  For some reason unknown to me, but known, apparently, to the wise men who put together the lectionary, our Epistle reading starts with the second half of 2 Cor. 5:20.  It seems to me that the first half belongs, though.  And, by the way, you probably know it by heart.  Let me read it in its entirety: “Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us.  We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.”  The preacher preached on that verse at my ordination all those years ago.  So, naturally, I brought it up at his 50^th ordination anniversary.  Because that’s what the Ministry is.  Jesus sends the preacher as His official ambassador, to speak the Words of Jesus, on Jesus’ behalf.  And the Words Jesus speaks through His preachers are Words of pleading: I have come for you.  Come, beloved, to Me.  Come back.  Come back.  Why will you die just to get away from life with Me?  Come to Me and live.  Be forgiven.  Be cleansed.  Be healed.  Be whole.  Let Me take from you all that is deadly, and dead.  Let Me fill you with Myself, and the things of life!

            That is what Lent is all about.  Beloved, lay yourself down at the foot of the cross.  Give up your idols, your greed, and your lust.  Give up your grudges.  They don’t belong to you.  Die to yourself, and so live in Jesus Christ.  In just a few moments, you will be marked on the forehead.  An ashen cross.  What is that about?  The ash of mourning, sorrow, and death.  Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.  That is price of running away from God.  But imposed on you in the shape of a cross.  Because, on the cross, God’s arms are open wide.  To call you back.  To bid you come.  To gather you to Himself.  On the cross, God Himself accomplishes the reconciliation.  His arms are outstretched to receive you into His embrace.  Because, on the cross, God’s Son becomes your sin, and puts it to death in His very body.  On the cross, Jesus sheds His blood to cover you and make you whole.  On the cross, the Lord transforms death.  For now, for those marked by His cross, death is but the portal to life.  “For our sake [God] made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”  Preachers are just beggars.  They beg you to believe that, and receive that.  So, beloved… please… have it.  Have it.  Have Him.  Here He is, for you.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

The Transfiguration of Our Lord

 Video of Service

The Transfiguration of Our Lord (A)

February 15, 2026

Text: Matt. 17:1-9

            The Transfiguration of Our Lord is this comprehensive snapshot of our holy faith in its entirety.  Here is what I mean.  There is Jesus as the center and focus of everything else.  It all orbits around the Son.  All eyes are on Him, and all eyes are enlightened by Him.  He is the source of Light.  Everything else reflects light, but the divine Light, the Light that is God, comes from within Him.  (St. Paul says this amazing thing: “God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” [2 Cor. 4:6; ESV].  So the Light of light’s Creator shines out of the face of Jesus and enlightens us!  And then we shine, just like the face of Moses, who stood in the presence of that divine Light [2 Cor. 3], and didn’t even realize his face was shining with reflected glory.  That is an incredible thought!  Anyway…)  Our Lord’s face shines like the sun, and even His clothing is white as light (Matt. 17:2), because He is the Light of the world (John 8:12).  And the point of it is, this Man, Jesus of Nazareth, is God.  God in human flesh—Incarnation.

            He is the eternally begotten Son of the Father.  And sure enough, there is the Father, just like at Jesus’ Baptism in the Jordan, saying much the same thing: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him” (Matt. 17:5).  Well-pleased with Jesus, and so well-pleased with all of us who are baptized into Jesus.  Baptism.  Justification.  In Christ alone. 

            And, the Word… Listen to Him.  And there is the Spirit.  Now, this time, not in the form of a dove, and so, perhaps, harder to spot.  But not for a good Israelite who knows about the Exodus.  Where is He?  The cloud, enveloping the whole scene.  And so, working in the hearts of His chosen people, the disciples, who are hearing the Words of the Father in the Presence of Jesus.  So, the Trinity, Israel in the wilderness, the Spirit’s enlightening and sanctifying work, and the gathering of the Church around the presence of Jesus.  All of it, right here.

            What else?  Moses and Elijah.  The Law and the Prophets, which is to say, the Hebrew Scriptures, the whole Old Testament.  It’s all about Jesus.  Luke even tells us in his version that they are discussing Jesus’ “exodus,” which is to say, His divine, saving mission, and in particular, His death and resurrection (Luke 9:31).  The whole Old Testament, in every word, by type and prophecy, by providence and preservation of God’s chosen people, is all about the Christ, the Messiah, and it all comes to its fulfillment in this one Man, now radiating God’s glory.

            There is the New Testament, too.  Peter, James, and John.  (You know, come to think of it, Paul wasn’t present at the Transfiguration, for obvious reasons, but He did see this Light, didn’t he, on the Damascus road!)  But so also, we see that these great New Testament figures are here by grace alone.  They don’t deserve this beatific vison.  Peter has just made his big blunder in forbidding the Lord to die on the cross.  Right after his great confession, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Matt. 16:16), Jesus has to rebuke him, “Get behind me, Satan,” because he’s hindering Jesus from making the great sacrifice for our sins.  That happens in the Chapter immediately before this.  And James and John, those sons of thunder?  Not much better.  Ready to call down fire from heaven on a Samaritan Village for rejecting Jesus (that’ll show ‘em!) (Luke 9:54), preachers of God’s wrath rather than preachers of the Gospel, not afraid to exploit their own dear mother as they jockey for position on Jesus’ right and left hands when He comes into His Kingdom (little did they know, those seats feature nails and wood and nakedness and shame and darkness and death) (Matt. 20:20 ff; 27:37-38).

            What else?  Peter, yapping.  As usual.  Like us, in our faltering praise.  Yet saying profound things in spite of Himself.  It is good that we are here (17:4).  You bet it is.  Heaven has come down.  God Himself is present.  And so are a couple of saints.  Moses, who died on Mt. Nebo, and is buried God only knows where (literally… God buried him, and nobody else saw the location) (Deut. 34:5-6); and Elijah, taken up into heaven by chariots of fire (2 Kings 2:11).  By the way, notice how the disciples know who these guys are.  I don’t know, maybe introductions were made, but it seems to me we simply recognize one another in heaven.  And, of course, in Jesus, Peter, James, and John, and we are seeing an image of our own future, heavenly, resurrection glory.  Let us make three tents, Peter says.  Let’s celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles, the yearly remembrance of, and participation in, YHWH leading His people (by a cloud!) through the wilderness, and into the Promised Land.  On some level it dawns on Peter, “This is it!  This moment is what all of that was about!  It is all fulfilled, here, in Jesus!”  Well, he’s right. 

            It’s just that he’s ahead of himself.  What is this grand vision of the Transfiguration, but a glimpse of the Lord’s divine glory, to prepare these three disciples… and us, who believe in Jesus on account of their Word… for the descent down the mountain, and into Jerusalem… and into our Lord’s Passion, His suffering and death, for us (that is why we have this reading just prior to Lent).  This is preparing us for Calvary.  Preparing us for the cross.  See, it’s undeniable, now, after what has happened on this mountain… This Man is God.  And so, if He dies, that means God dies.  And that is what it takes to rescue us from our sins, from death, and from the power of Satan.  And so, also, it is foreshadowing of what is to come, a picture of the glory Jesus will take up again when He rises from the dead.

            The disciples need this for what they’re about to face.  Betrayal.  At the hands of their own dear friend.  The arrest of their Teacher and Lord.  Their own defection.  Injustice.  Torture.  Crucifixion.  Locked up in the prison of their own paralyzing fear.  In the heat of the moment, they’ll forget what they saw and heard on the holy mountain.  But this is how our God works.  He often gives a gift at one point in your life, that carries and preserves you, imperceptibly, through some deep, dark valley, so that you come out the other side—with wounds and scars, to be sure—but alive and on the way to healing in Christ.  That is what the Transfiguration did for Peter, James, and John as they descended into the darkness of Good Friday.  It kept them… the Lord kept them by means of it… into the Light of Easter morning, and the empty tomb, and the risen Jesus, who said to them, “Peace be with you” (John 20:19).

            You know, it does that for us, too.  Okay, the divine Light doesn’t shine on our optic nerve the way it did for those three, and the booming Voice of the Father doesn’t beat unmeditated upon our ear drums, nor are we enveloped by the Glory Cloud.  You get the difference.  It doesn’t happen to us, visibly, and audibly, the way it happened to them.  But it does happen to us.  Peter, himself, tells us how (2 Peter 1:16-21).  Look, he says… we were eyewitnesses of His majesty when Jesus received honor from the Father, the voice being borne to Him by the Majestic Glory.  We were with Him.  We heard the Voice.  We saw it all happen.  But there is something better… more sure, even… than this spectacular experience, and it is available, not only to us, but you: “the prophetic word, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts” (v. 19).  You want to see the Light of the Transfiguration?  The divine Light of the light’s Creator, shining from the face of Jesus, enlightening you, and illuminating your path through the wilderness to the Promised Land of eternal life with God?  Go to the Word.  To the Scriptures.  To the preaching.  Go where Jesus Christ is present for you.  Where the Spirit gathers you together, with all His chosen people, your brothers and sisters in Christ, with angels, and archangels, and even the whole company of heaven.  Go where Jesus is at the center of everything.  Listen.  Hear.  See.  Taste.  Because, what Peter, James, and John witnessed in the Transfiguration, is given to you here and now.  Here is the Light.  Here is the Voice.  Here is the Cloud.  And here you are.  And what happens, but Jesus touches you (quite literally), and bids you “Rise, and have no fear” (Matt. 8).  And that is when you lift up your eyes and see no one, and nothing else, but Jesus only.  And when you see Jesus only, then you see all things aright.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.             

Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany

Video of Service 

Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany (A)

February 8, 2026

Text: Matt. 5:13-20

            Righteousness imputed brings forth righteousness enacted.  That is to say, the righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ, and His atoning death for your unrighteousness, and His resurrection, by which the Father declares the whole world, including you, righteous… justified… objective justification, we call it; that which is subjectively received by the individual by faith… that righteousness, credited to your account, given to you by God as a free gift… now works in you, so that you begin to do righteous things.  You begin to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength.  You begin to love your neighbor as yourself.  You exterminate your idols.  You hold God’s Word and Name sacred.  You pray.  You worship.  You receive the gifts in the Divine Service.  You submit to authority.  You are obedient.  You seek your neighbor’s welfare and prosperity.  You are generous.  You are merciful.  You are forgiving.  You are humble, patient, and kind. 

            Now, you know it is only a beginning.  Imperfect, to be sure.  Plenty of faults and falls along the way.  But it is a beginning.  You don’t trust in it.  Least of all for salvation, or as your righteous standing before God.  That would never work.  For that, you trust in the righteousness of Christ alone.  But you do foster it, this beginning of enacted righteousness.  You do seek to do it.  And that, itself, is a gift of the Holy Spirit.  As long as you have the righteousness from outside of you, from Christ, you ever seek to have righteousness within, manifested in good works.  This is all just another way of saying that justification results in sanctification.  That, though we are saved by faith alone, faith is never alone.  Our Confessions put it this way: “after man has been justified through faith, then a true living faith works by love (Galatians 5:6). Good works always follow justifying faith and are surely found with it—if it is true and living faith [James 2:26]. Faith is never alone, but always has love and hope with it [1 Corinthians 13:13].”[1]

            This is the key to understanding our Holy Gospel.  Jesus says, “unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 5:20; ESV).  Well, how are you going to accomplish that, a righteousness exceeding that of those meticulous keepers of the Law, the scribes and Pharisees?  It isn’t by your outward keeping of the Commandments.  That comes later down the line.  Your righteousness is Christ’s perfect and complete keeping of the Law, for you and in your place, credited to your account, imputed to you.  That is your justification, your righteousness (justification and righteousness are synonyms).  And that infinitely exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, who don’t trust in Christ at all.  They reject Him completely, and hold to their own righteous works as sufficient.  See, they don’t believe Isaiah, who tells them that that kind of righteousness is only filthy rags (Is. 64:6).  The only righteousness that avails before God is the righteousness of Jesus Christ, received by faith in Him alone. 

            But if that is the case (and this is the age-old question)… if it is true that works have no place in justification, then… what?  Why do good works?  This is the charge Martin Luther and the Lutherans faced at every turn.  No one will do good works if you preach faith alone.  This is the charge St. Paul himself had to endure.  You Lutherans… You Pauline Christians… teach that nobody has to do any good works, period.  Not true.  Not true.  Paul says, “Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound?  By no means!  How can we who died to sin still live in it?” (Rom. 6:2).  Saved apart from works, yes.  But then, works.  They will follow.  And, again, our Confessions clearly teach that, while good works are not necessary for salvation, they are necessary.  They are the fruits of faith.  Living faith will always produce the fruit of good works.

            But again, why do them?  Jesus tells us here.  To be salt and light in the world.  Salt, which preserves and flavors.  Light, which obliterates darkness wherever it shines, exposing danger and evil, showing the way, and revealing all that is good and true and beautiful, which is to say, all that is from God.  “You are the salt of the earth,” Jesus says (Matt. 5:13).  God preserves the world for the sake of His Christians, including future Christians yet to be born or converted.  And His Christians act as a preserving and purifying agent in what would otherwise be the rotting carcass of the world (it’s like salting a side of beef before refrigeration).  Furthermore, Christians flavor the world with the goodness of God, speaking His truth, doing His works, loving with His love. 

            Again, “You are the light of the world,” Jesus says (v. 14).  Like the moon reflecting the light of the sun, Christians reflect the true Light, Jesus Christ.  He is the Source of their light, and they reflect Him as they speak Him forth in His Word, and live in Him by their works.  Why do good works, if you aren’t saved by them?  Because those works are a witness to the world of God’s love for them.  They are the tangible enacting of God’s love for the world.  Beloved, God loves the world through you.  And God loves your neighbor, including your fellow Christians, through you.  God loves you through your neighbor.  This all happens as you live your Christian life in your vocations, your callings.  The old cliché, I think, still holds true: God doesn’t need your good works, but your neighbor does.  And so, what does Jesus say?  “In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (v. 16).  Let Christ’s righteousness, imputed to you, shine through in righteousness enacted.

            Now, be warned.  Though your works do not, in any way, contribute to your salvation, they are the evidence of living faith.  And that means the absence of works is evidence of a dead faith.  Do you remember what St. James says?  “(F)aith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead” (James 2:17).  So, “if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored?  It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet” (Matt. 5:13).  And no one lights a lamp, only to put it under a basket (v. 15).  What would be the good of that?  These are warnings not to become secure and neglect works.  You should never confuse them with your justification.  But you should always look for them as a fruit of your justification.

            And if you have justification in Christ, you have the fruit.  Where there is justification, there, necessarily, is sanctification.  So, do you want more sanctification?  Do you want to do more good works?  Love more truly, and purely?  Forsake your sins?  Live for God?  Do all things for His glory?  Wonderful.  Thank God for those desires.  God grant them all.  What do you do, if that is what you want?  You stay close to Christ and His grace.  You bury yourself in His gifts.  You won’t do it by more Law.  Though it is good and wise, not only does the Law not justify you, it has no power to sanctify you.  More Gospel.  More Jesus for you.  More forgiveness of sins.  More grace.  More mercy.  Because when you have Jesus, you have it all.  And apart from Jesus, you have nothing.  Jesus is everything.  And faith receives Jesus.

            And then faith gets to work.  Here is what Luther says: “O, it is a living, busy, active, mighty thing, this faith.  It is impossible for it not to be doing good works incessantly.  It does not ask whether good works are to be done, but before the question is asked, it has already done them, and is constantly doing them.”[2]  Why?  How?  Faith receives the righteousness of Christ.  And that righteousness imputed brings forth righteousness enacted.  Salt made salty.  Light reflected.  God glorified in all things.  That is how it is.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

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[1] FC Epitome III:11, https://bookofconcord.cph.org.

[2] Preface to St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, quoted in FC SD IV:10-11, https://bookofconcord.cph.org.

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany

Video unavailable.

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany (A)

February 1, 2026

Text: Matt. 5:1-12

            What kind of life would the world call blessed?  Certainly not what Jesus says here.  Blessed are the poor in spirit?  No, no… blessed, rather, are the rich in spirit.  Those who mourn?  The meek?  Those hungering and thirsting for righteousness?  How about, rather, those who are disgustingly happy (you know the type), the bold and assertive, and those full to the brim of the admiration of the masses for their public virtue and pious respectability?  Merciful?  Sure, to a point.  But only to the deserving.  Or, to those who, if I help them, I’ll feel good about myself.  Pure in heart?  Okay, whatever that means.  Peacemakers?  Absolutely.  We like peace.  As long as the peacemaker maintains the advantage.  But, persecuted?  No way.  That is the opposite of blessed.  If the world composed the Beatitudes (the “blesseds”), those Beatitudes would have nothing to do with weakness or sadness or suffering.  They would have everything to do with strength and exaltation, glory and triumph.

            “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” Jesus says (Matt. 5:3; ESV).  Sounds like utter foolishness to the world.  But isn’t that exactly what St. Paul says in our Epistle?  “The word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God” (1 Cor. 1:18).  The cross.  Weakness.  Suffering.  Poverty of spirit.  That is to say, having no rightful claim on the blessings of God by your own merit.  Just a beggar before Him, with an empty sack.  Mourning.  Mourning what?  Your own sin.  Unrighteousness.  Injustice.  The state of things in the world.  The brokenness of it all.  Death, the great destroyer.  Meek.  Unpretentious.  Patient.  Humble.  Again, making no claim for yourself, whether before God, or before other people.  Putting yourself after God, and after others.  Hungering and thirsting for righteousness.  Within others, yes.  But above all, within yourself.  You are yearning for it, longing to be filled by it.  And you know that it doesn’t come from you.  It can only come from God.  The righteousness of God that comes through faith for all who believe (Rom. 3:22). 

            Jesus calls this blessed.  Why?  How so?  Well, it is not because there is some inherent righteousness in suffering and lack.  Poverty is not a virtue, any more than wealth; sadness, any more than happiness.  What makes these things blessed, then? 

            It is only when you come before God with an empty sack, that He can fill it.  And He does.  With all His gifts in Jesus Christ.  He empties your sack of all that is worthless in repentance, which He often brings about by sufferings.  He fills your sack to overflowing in Christ, who suffered for you, and is risen for you.  He fills it, such that then you can go and pour out His gifts on others.  And then what?  Come back, and God will fill your sack again.  So now, you can go and be merciful.  Even to those who don’t deserve it.  That is, you can forgive their sins.  Not hold their trespasses against them.  Not despise them, even when they are despicable (you realize, that is exactly what God does for you, right?!).  You can help them in their time of need.  Give them what you have, and what they lack.  Pure in heart.  Cleansed of your own filth by the Absolution of Christ.  He’s your only source of purity.  And now, like Him, not only can you have mercy, but you can make peace.  Between yourself and others.  And between others.  You can make peace.  Even to your own disadvantage.  (How did Jesus make peace with you?  He died on the cross, that’s how.  See how He made peace with you by His own, unspeakable, disadvantage?)  Love your enemies, He tells you (Matt. 5:44)… and shows you (the cross)!  Pray for them.  Bless those who persecute you.  Bless, and do not curse (Rom. 12:14).  And there is that word, “persecute.”  “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake” (Matt. 5:10).  “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account” (v. 11).  He tells you to “rejoice and be glad” in that (v. 12), because it puts you right up there with the prophets.  It is blessed, He says.  Because you are pouring yourself out for your persecutors, like Jesus, who poured Himself out for you.  And you know what God did for the dead Jesus after three days.  Resurrection.  Vindication.  And so you.  Sack empty, you come before God in death, and what does God do, but fill you up again, to the brim and beyond, with resurrection life, and all good things. 

            That is what the second part of each Beatitude is about.  Here is the Gospel for all those who are poor in spirit, and know it!  Theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.  Comfort for the mourning.  The meek receive the earth as their heritage, and that is to say, the New Creation, the Resurrection world.  Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness?  What else could satisfy them like the perfect righteousness of Jesus, God’s Son, credited to their account, given to them as a gift, covering them and dumped in their sack, by grace alone?  And then, enacted in them.  And so… mercy for the merciful.  The beatific vision (that is, the blessed seeing of God Himself) for the pure in heart.  And the peacemakers?  Sons of God, they are called, because they do what the Son of God, Jesus, did and does by His self-sacrifice on the cross… they make peace.  And, the persecuted…  We come full circle.  Again, theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.  Not because they’ve earned it by suffering persecution.  Nobody earns, here.  Remember, this is all by grace.  But it’s just a statement of fact.  What can they actually take from you by persecuting you, when the Kingdom of heaven belongs to you?  Your life?  Nope, you have that, eternally, in Jesus Christ, who is risen from the dead.  So that, dying, you live.  And Jesus will raise you up on the Last Day.  Your freedom?  Nah, if the Son sets you free, you will be free, indeed (John 8:36).  The reality is, it is precisely because of your freedom in Christ, in whom you live eternally, that you can suffer persecution without loss.  Your possessions?  Well, let’s face it, you could stand to get rid of some stuff, anyway.  And, you know, as it is, everything they take from you will only break or rot away.  But your lasting possessions are eternal in the heavens (cf. 2 Cor. 5:1), and those they cannot take away. 

            What it comes down to, beloved, is that your blessedness is Christ.  Blessed are you who are in Christ.  No matter the circumstances.  By virtue of His Baptism into you in the Jordan River (Matt. 3:13-17), and your Baptism into Him at the font, you are united with Him in such a way that He takes all the emptiness and lack and weakness and suffering and death that you deserve by your sins, upon Himself, and puts it to death on the cross… so that you get all the blessedness… the Kingdom, the fulness, the joy, the righteousness, the life that belongs to Him.  Everything is transformed in the death and resurrection of Christ, and by your Baptism into Christ.  Turned upside down (or really, right side up).  Made new.  “Behold,” Jesus says, “I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5). 

            And here is why it matters, to you, personally, here and now.  Every time you suffer some kind of grief or setback… every time you shed a tear… every time you are weary, or heavy laden, as you come to realize that things are not as they should be in the world, in you, in those around you… every time you come to realize that you need saving, and everybody else needs saving, and you can’t save, them or you, because you don’t make a very good savior… Every time you experience pain, or loss, or rejection, or any other sadness… and especially when that is for the Name of Jesus… you know that there is a hidden beatitude in it.  Hidden, but assuredly present.  And if you doubt it, just come read this Gospel text again.  Things are not as they appear.  There is always hope.  Hope, sure and certain.  Because Jesus Christ, who was crucified, is risen from the dead.  That is the power of God for the salvation of all who believe.  And He is coming back, this Jesus.  For you.  He is coming soon.  To pull back the veil, and bring the blessedness, the beatitude, to light.  You cannot see it now.  But you will.  And, in the meantime, what does He do?  He brings you to His Table, and feeds you with Himself.  The Bread of Life, the Blessed One.  His body, His blood, given and shed for you, for your forgiveness, life, and salvation.  Filled to the brim, with every good and perfect gift. 

            That is the kind of life Jesus calls blessed.  Emptied of all that is not Him.  Filled with all that is Him and His.  That’s you.  Blessed are you.  And yours is the Kingdom of heaven.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                          

The Conversion of St. Paul

Video of Service

The Conversion of St. Paul

January 25, 2026

Text: Acts 9:1-22

            The Lord Jesus stops Saul of Tarsus in his tracks.  Saul is going his own way, and it is the wrong way.  Jesus is the Way (and the Truth, and the Life – John 14:6), but Saul’s way is to persecute the Way, to find those belonging to the Way (men and women), and bring them bound to Jerusalem (Acts 9:2).  And so, the light, suddenly flashing from heaven (v. 3).  And the voice: “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” (v. 4; ESV).  That is the accusing finger of God’s Law, convicting, condemning.  “Who are you, Lord?” … “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting” (v. 5).  For, in persecuting those who belong to Jesus, you persecute Jesus Himself.  And now what?  Blindness (v. 8).  His physical condition exposing his true spiritual condition.  And really, it’s a death, isn’t it?  Three days (a time stamp which should not be insignificant to us) he is without sight, and neither eats nor drinks (v. 9).

            But then?  A Divine Promise: You will be told what you are to do (v. 6).  And God sends a preacher… Ananias, by name.  And Ananias preaches (v. 17), and Saul hears, and the Spirit comes on the wings of the Word.  Therefore Saul believes, and is healed (“something like scales fell from his eyes” [v. 18]), and he rises (a word which should not be insignificant to us, especially after three days), and is baptized.  After which he takes food and is strengthened (v. 19).  He is converted.  Saul to Paul, we sometimes say… although, don’t make too much of that.  Saul is his Hebrew name, after the first King of Israel, coming, as he does, from the Tribe of Benjamin.  Paul is his Greek name, particularly fitting as he will now be sent to the Gentiles.  Converted, though, from denier of Christ to believer in, and preacher of, Christ… from vigorous persecutor of the Church to one “now preaching the faith he once tried to destroy” (Gal. 1:23)… one who confesses… one who will learn how much he must suffer for the Name of Jesus (Acts 9:16)… an Apostle (which is, one sent by Jesus to speak in His Name, so that what he says is as good as if Jesus said it Himself, because Jesus does say it Himself through the voice and pen of Paul)… one who will carry the Name of Jesus before Gentiles and Kings and the children of Israel (v. 15)… one who will die for that Name, beheaded in Rome, we believe, on the same day Peter was crucified upside down, under Emperor Nero, who was insane, first of all, and who, as we know, blamed the Christians for the Great Fire in AD 64.  But dying, he lives.  In Christ, who died, and who lives.  His conversion is nothing less than a resurrection from the dead.  Indeed, his Baptism into Christ was to die with Christ, and so he lives in Christ, as Paul himself teaches us in Romans 6.  And one day soon the risen Christ will raise Paul, bodily, from the dead, along with Peter and all people, and give eternal life, bodily, in the New Creation, to Paul, and us, and all believers in Christ.

            You know, this account of the conversion of St. Paul illustrates for us how conversion works for all of us.  Young and old, men and women, infant and adult, this is how it happens.  Oh, usually not with the spectacular flash of light and voice from heaven and scales covering eyes and such.  Artist that He is, God usually paints with much more subtle tones.  But sometimes He has to get the attention of the Lutherans, and that demands a more obvious demonstration!  In all seriousness, it is not unlike the way the Baptism of Jesus shows us visibly and audibly what takes place in a hidden way in our own Baptism into Christ.  What happens here to Paul in his conversion, happens in a hidden way to us in ours.  The ordo salutis, we call it; the order of salvation.  Now, understand, this order is not a chronological process, but rather a theological sequence.  Like Saul, God finds a person going his own way.  That person stands condemned under God’s Law.  That is all of us in Adam.  We are sinners.  Our nature is so corrupted by the inherited disease of original sin, that before we even have a chance to commit sin, we are sinners (remember, it is not that we are sinners because we sin; it is rather that we sin because we are sinners): conceived and born spiritually blind (thus the scales), dead (three days), and an enemy of God (like Saul, the enemy of Jesus and persecutor of the Church).  So, we go our own way.  Off to sin and unbelief.  Off to hurt Jesus, and kill Jesus.  But, in His grace, the Lord stops us in our tracks.  And there we stand, naked, like Adam and Eve in the Garden.  Our corruption is exposed.  And the Law terrifies us.  God is rightly angered over our rebellious state.  But now we enter upon the ordo salutis proper.  What happens?  God sends a preacher.  Or a Christian confessor.  Or a Bible passage.  Or Christian parents who bring us to Baptism.  The Gospel, in other words.  And the Spirit comes on the wings of that Gospel and turns us.  He picks us up out of our corrupt way, and puts on His Way, the Way of Jesus, who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  He speaks the faith into us, breathes the life of Jesus into us.  So that we live in Jesus.  And salvation now having been apprehended by faith, thereupon (and after the ordo salutis) follow sanctification, love, and good works.  And sufferings for the Name of Jesus.

            Notice, though, how God does it all.  Conversion is totally and completely God’s work in us, by grace alone.  We don’t make our decision for Jesus.  We don’t decide to follow Him.  Not before the Spirit does His work in us.  How could we?  Not only were we blind, and hating God, we were dead.  Have you ever asked a dead man to make a decision about anything?  How did that go for you?  “Hey, why don’t you decide to just get up out of that coffin and rejoin the living?”  Well, he probably would, if he could make that choice, but he can’t, why?  Because he’s dead.  And if anything is going to change that, it has to come from outside of the dead man.  It has to come from God.  Only God can raise the dead.  That is how it is with conversion.  Conversion is nothing less than a resurrection from the dead.  And that is what God does for us when He gives us faith in Christ.  Now, He doesn’t do it by randomly zapping us from heaven (He didn’t do that with Paul, either.  Read the text carefully.)  He does it by means of the Gospel, which is to say, the Word and the Sacraments.  These are the Spirit’s divinely appointed means.  They aren’t our works, but His.  Thank God, it all depends upon Him.  Isn’t that good news?  Because He’ll never screw it up.  I will, every time.  But He won’t.  Ever.  He is ever faithful.  And not only does He bring us to faith in the first place, it is He who keeps us in that faith.  Now, we can walk away from the faith.  That is true.  We should always be aware of that, and receive it as a warning, and so stay ever near Him in His Means of Grace.  But what else can separate us from the love of Christ?  Paul tells us in Romans 8.  Nothing.  Nothing else in all creation.  Not death or life or angels or rulers or things present or things to come or powers or height or depth or anything (Rom. 8:38-39)… God is faithful, and He keeps us by His Spirit in the one true faith.  You can count on Him, and rest in Him.

            Also, think what a comfort this is when we are anxiously concerned about the conversion of others.  Especially loved ones.  Right?  If conversion is all God’s work, what a relief!  Realize this: You can’t convert anyone.  Now, you can and should pray for a person’s conversion (your tears are particularly precious prayers).  And you can and should speak to the Gospel to that person (remember, that is the means the Spirit uses to bring about conversion).  And invite them to Church.  Or, if they’re your kids, bring them to Church.  Always.  Bring them to Holy Baptism.  And Sunday School.  And Catechism class.  And pray and read the Bible with them at home.  Teach them.  But you can’t convert them, or keep them converted.  That isn’t your job.  That is God’s job.  And that takes the pressure off of you, doesn’t it?  It’s His responsibility.  You just get to be His instrument in it.  And for that, you can rejoice and thank God. 

            Beloved, let this make you bold to confess Christ.  Speak Jesus to the world.  Live a Christian life.  Unapologetically.  And then… suffer for it, if called to do so.  What’s the worst that can happen to you?  Don’t fear those who can kill the body, but cannot kill the soul.  Fear only Him who can destroy both soul and body in hell (Matt. 10:28), and that is God.  For, dying… what?  You live.  They can’t, actually, take your life.  They can’t, actually, take anything from you.  Because, whatever you lose in following Jesus, never forget this: You’ll receive it back a hundredfold, in this life, and in the life to come.  And in the end, eternal life.  And the whole world.

            By the way, let this fill you with compassion, too, for people like Saul of Tarsus.  Remember what the Lord can do with a guy like that.  And maybe… just maybe, like God did with the martyrdom of Stephen (remember, they laid their cloaks at the feet of a young man named Saul (Acts 7:58)?)… maybe God will use your suffering in the conversion story of your persecutors.  I only say that in case an angry mob comes and interrupts us one of these days.  It’s been known to happen.  Don’t be scared of them, and don’t get angry at them.  Pity them.  Pray for them.  Paul himself once said, “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them” (Rom. 12:14).  Love them.  Preach to them.  And then die for them.

            Because Christ is risen.  And He’ll raise you.  And by your suffering, He might just pick them up (your persecutors) and set them on the Way.  God grant it.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.