Sunday, February 22, 2026
Wednesday, February 18, 2026
Ash Wednesday
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 50th
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.
Sunday, February 15, 2026
The Transfiguration of Our Lord
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.
Sunday, February 8, 2026
Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
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.
[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.
Sunday, February 1, 2026
Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany
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.
Sunday, January 25, 2026
The Conversion of St. Paul
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.
Sunday, January 18, 2026
Confession of St. Peter
The Confession of St. Peter
January 18, 2026
Text:
Mark 8:27-9:1
“For whoever would save his life
will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save
it” (Mark 8:35; ESV).
Peter had to die. There were no two ways about it. He knew it, and so he wrote, “I think it
right, as long as I am in this body, to stir you up by way of reminder, since I
know that the putting off of my body will be soon, as our Lord Jesus Christ
made clear to me” (2 Peter 1:13-14; ESV).
Our Lord Jesus Christ made it clear to him, of course, at the end of St.
John’s Gospel: “‘when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and
another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.’ (This he said to show by what kind of death
he was to glorify God.) And after saying
this he said to him, ‘Follow me’” (John 21:18-19).
Peter had to die. Because he confessed of Jesus, “You are the Christ” (Mark 8:29). Satan doesn’t like that confession. And, therefore, the world doesn’t like
that confession, either. And frankly, our
own sinful flesh doesn’t like that confession, as Peter himself proves in
this very episode. Because that
confession means the downfall of the devil, the world, and our own
sinful flesh. It means that Jesus is
King, and Jesus is God, and that God, the Son of God,
has come into the flesh to snatch us away from the devil’s kingdom, claim
our allegiance over against the unbelieving world, and do Old Adam to
death, raising us to new life in Himself.
Peter had to die. Because the Christ Peter follows had to die. Jesus teaches Peter and the disciples what
it means that He is the Christ. “And
he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and
be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed,
and after three days rise again” (v. 31; emphasis added). He must. The Greek word (δεῖ) indicates divine
necessity. This is why God
sent Him.
Peter had to die. Because martyrdom is the ultimate confession. Martyr means witness. In Christian terms, it can simply mean the testimony
we bear to the Lord Jesus, our confession of faith. But it has come to mean dying as a
consequence of maintaining that confession.
The disciple is called upon to lose his life for Jesus and for
the Gospel, and so find it. And
sometimes that means bodily suffering and death. But there is a Promise attached to that. Whoever loses his life for Jesus will save
it. The one who is not ashamed… who does
not deny Jesus and His Words under threat of persecution, but persists in this
confession, no matter the consequences…
of him, Jesus will not be ashamed when He comes into the glory of His
Father. But let us be warned: The
opposite is true, as well, as our Lord here explicitly states: “whoever is
ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him
will the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father
with the holy angels” (v. 38). Peter
was such a one, ashamed of Jesus in the hour of trial, denying Him three
times. Thank God, the Lord looked at
Peter (Luke 22:61), and bid His rooster preach a sunrise sermon (v. 60),
and so brought Peter back to Himself in repentance (he wept bitterly),
and then restoration and faith (Do you love Me, Peter? Feed My lambs. Tend My sheep. Feed My sheep. Follow Me [John 21:15-19]).
We see the seeds of this denial
already in our text. After Jesus teaches
the disciples that the Christ must suffer and die at the hands of
sinners, and for sinners, Peter takes him aside and rebukes Him. Peter doesn’t want that kind of
Christ. Peter has in mind the things of
men… power, might, glory… not the things of God… weakness, suffering,
humiliation… the cross… We
know the blistering words this elicits from Jesus. “Get behind me, Satan!” (Mark
8:33). It kills Peter to hear
it. But then, that’s right, isn’t
it. Peter has to die.
The same is true of you and me. When we have in mind the things of men,
rather than the things of God, Jesus must speak us to death with His
Law. That He may raise us to life…
His life… by His Gospel. When we
want a Christ other than the Christ of the cross… a Christ who
obliterates His (and our) enemies in a blaze of power, might, and
glory, not One who accomplishes His mission in weakness, suffering, and
humiliation… Jesus says to us, “Get behind me, Satan!” It kills us to hear it. But then, that’s right, isn’t it. We have to die.
To ourselves, first of
all. That we may live in Christ alone. Jesus does that to us in Baptism. Old Adam, drowned in the water. New Creation emerging and arising to live
before God in righteousness and purity forever.
He does it in Scripture, and preaching.
Law and Gospel. Repentance and
faith. Daily life, planted in the blest
baptismal water. Possessed by the
Spirit. Nourished by the body and the
blood that was given and shed for us on the cross.
And then, who knows? We may have to die, bodily, for Jesus’ sake,
and for the Gospel. Well… it’s a scary
thought, but then, is it really so bad?
We all have to die, anyway, unless Jesus returns first. If our death is for Jesus, all the
better. God grant us His Spirit, and
courage, that if we are called upon to shed our blood for the One who shed His
blood for us, we do so, with confidence and joy, maintaining our confession to
the end. But in any case, we are
called to be martyrs, witnesses, confessors, no matter the consequence. Whether simple rejection (the worst most of
us have ever had to suffer), or imprisonment, torture, and execution. Let it be so.
Beloved… you and I, we have to die.
Because we confess of Jesus, “You
are the Christ.” Because the Christ
we follow had to die. Following Him necessarily
(and divinely so) means our journey to eternal life goes by way of
the cross. So be it. Deny yourself. Take it up, the cross Jesus gives. And follow Him. In weakness, and suffering, and
humiliation. Because you know where this
all ends up. After three days, He
must… (what?)… rise again.
And so you. He will raise you. Bodily, in the End. And eternally. The only way to that life is the death
of Christ. And your death with
Christ, and in Christ. Your life
being, as Paul says, “hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:3).
Peter had to die. And he did.
First, to himself, in repentance.
And then, quite literally, in fulfillment of the Lord’s Word: He
stretched out his hands, and others dressed him, and led him where he did not
want to go. Crucified in Rome, it is
believed. Upside down, believing himself
unworthy to die in the same manner as Jesus (thus his symbol is an upside down
cross). This happened, apparently, on
the same day Paul was beheaded, both by order of Emperor Nero, who blamed the
Christians for the Great Fire in the imperial city.
Peter died. But Peter lives. He joins us, by the way, at the altar, every
time we gather, “with angels and archangels and all the company of
heaven.” Jesus will raise him up on the
Last Day.
You have died with
Christ. But you live. In Christ.
And you will die, whether a martyr’s death, or some other
way. But you will live. Eternally.
Jesus will raise you up on the Last Day.
Because Jesus died. But Jesus lives. He is risen from the dead. And so, you confess Him, your Savior,
your God. You’ve already lost your life
in Him, and so found it (Baptism, faith).
In light of that, what could the devil or the world possibly do to you,
that it would be worth giving that up? Lose
your life? Die? Okay.
Because Christ is risen, and so, for you who are in Christ, the final
word is Life. You live. And that, forevermore. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X,
and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.