Fifth Sunday in Lent

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Fifth Sunday in Lent (A)

March 22, 2026

Text: John 11:1-45

            “Jesus wept” (John 11:35; ESV).  Isn’t that beautiful?  Jesus wept, not because He didn’t know what He was about to do.  He wept, not because there was nothing He could do in the face of death, as we weep in our helplessness and uncertainty.  Jesus wept because death was never how it was supposed to be for us.  God did not create us to die.  He created us to live!  And so, He wept because of the brokenness of His creation, and the devastation death visits on the people He loves.  He wept because death has brought that devastation to His dear friend, Lazarus.  And now the grief and tears of these two dear sisters.  And those who had come to console the women, weeping and wailing.  Jesus was deeply moved in His spirit.  Greatly troubled with and for the mourners.  You know, that is true for you, too.   When you are weeping.  When death touches you.  Your sadness and tears are joined to those of Jesus.  And they are precious to God.  As king David prays, “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” (Ps. 56:8).  Jesus is not just sympathetic and compassionate in your pain.  He is with you in it.

“Jesus wept.”  Remember that.  Especially when it seems like He is not with you in your pain.  Like He is far away.  Like He does not hear.  As when He heard from Mary and Martha, “Lord, he whom you love is ill” (John 11:3), and did not immediately come to the rescue.  In fact, our Gospel says that because Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, He stayed two days longer in the place where He was (vv. 5-6).  That is almost incomprehensible.  Only faith formed by the cross can even begin to grasp that sometimes… oftentimes… Jesus delays His help… brings us to the brink, and even over the brink… so that He can rescue us when we are beyond rescue.  That is, after all, what He does for all of us, ultimately.  Beyond rescue in our sins, but He rescues us.  Beyond rescue as we rot in the grave, but He rescues us.  Beyond rescue in the devil’s grasp, but He rescues us.  And it brings glory to God, and the Son of God is glorified in it, isn’t He?  Because there is no question that He alone is our Helper.  We didn’t help ourselves.  We couldn’t.  And no one, and nothing, else could have helped us.  This salvation is from Christ alone.  And so we put our whole faith in Him.  Remember that.  Remember. 

“Jesus wept.”  Remember that, even as you lament that, if He had been here, the thing wouldn’t have happened in the first place.  Both the sisters do this, right?  “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (vv. 21, 32).  “Lord, if You had been here, I wouldn’t be in this financial mess.”  “Lord, if You had been here, the cancer would not have recurred.”  “Lord, if You had been here, my marriage would not have failed.”  “Lord, if You had been here…”  We’ve prayed that one, too.  Where is He in it?  Oh, beloved…  Not abandoning you.  Don’t think that.  Never think that.  Where is He?  Loving you… even in spite of all appearances (our sight and our knowledge are so limited!)… and doing all things for your good, in His perfect time, and in His perfect way, that God be glorified, and you be driven to Him as your only Savior, your only help in time of need.

“Jesus wept.”  But He is the Resurrection and the Life (“I AM,” He says [v. 25], another of the great “I AM” sayings in John’s Gospel).  He is the Resurrection and the Life, and He has come to do mortal battle with death.  And so, what does He do in our reading, but come right up to the tomb, get right in death’s face.  “Take away the stone” (v. 39), He says.  Lord, You don’t want to do that.  He’s been dead four days!  Now, that is important.  After four days, the body has begun to decompose.  There is a stench.  And a mess.  But that is the point.  Decomposing bodies are no match for the One who is the Resurrection and the Life.  So they roll the stone away. 

And now, Jesus speaks.  First, a Word to impart faith.  “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” (v. 40).  And then a prayer: “Father, I thank you that you have heard me” (v. 41).  Note this: It is a prayer of thanksgiving, even before delivery of the gift.  Now, that is instructive.  You can thank God even before you perceive His answer to your prayer.  Even when He delays.  Even as you pray one of those, “Lord, if You had been here” prayers.  In any case, Jesus prays it out loud for the sake of those standing around Him, and for us, who hear it in His Scripture, that we may know the Father sent Jesus for this very purpose.  And then, the command: “Lazarus, come out” (v. 43). 

What happens?  Immediately?  The dead man came out!  Still bound in the linen strips.  He came out!  Because Jesus told him to.  Because God in human flesh told him to.  Because He who is the Resurrection and the Life told Him to.  When He speaks, so it is.  His Word does what it says.  This is what He does for you when He speaks you to life in Holy Baptism, and in His lifegiving Word.  And then, another command, this time to the bystanders: “Unbind him, and let him go” (v. 44).  This is what He does for you when he commands His called and ordained servants to unbind you from sin and death in the preaching of the Gospel and the Holy Absolution.

And what is the result of all of this?  Faith!  Many of the Jews who were with Mary and Martha believed in Him (v. 45).  And joy!  Of course, joy!  And yet, don’t misunderstand.  As great as this miracle may be, it is only a foreshadowing of what is to come.  And, in fact, for Lazarus, it is only temporary.  In some ways, if you can speak of it this way, it was disservice to him.  Because Lazarus would have to die again.  I suppose, at least, we can say he could face it the second time without any fear. 

But it foreshadowed the great things of our salvation.  This miracle would lead directly to our Lord’s own death on the cross for our sins.  This raising of Lazarus really outraged the Jewish powers that be, the Chief Priests and Pharisees and members of the Sanhedrin.  We can’t have Jesus going around raising dead people, because then people will believe He is the Christ.  And if that happens, we’ll lose our power, and our comfortable position.  So, “from that day on they made plans to put him to death” (v. 53). 

But can you kill the Resurrection and the Life?  You can, if He lets you, as shown by His submission to crucifixion.  But you can’t keep Him dead.  What does the raising of Lazarus ultimately foreshadow?  Our Lord’s resurrection from the dead on the Third Day!  And that one is permanent.  Eternal.  And so is the resurrection life that spreads as a result.  What will happen for Lazarus, and his sisters, and us on the Last Day?  Jesus Christ, the Resurrection and the Life, who died, but who is risen from the dead, will speak once again.  He will come right up to our tombs… get right in death’s face.  And He will call each one of us by name, as He commands us to come out!  And, immediately, we will come out!  Because death will have no more power over us.  And so we will be forever with the Lord.

“Jesus wept.”  Even though He knew that is what He would do… what He will do for Lazarus, and every one of us, in the End.  Because life is how it should be for us.  Eternal life and communion with the Son of God, who became flesh for us, and so with the Father, and the Holy Spirit. 

By the way, you know why He had to call Lazarus by name when He commanded the dead man to come out?  (I love this, and I wish I could remember who I got it from.  I have several suspects from my Grand Rapids days.)  You know why?  Because if He hadn’t specified, every dead body in the whole cemetery would have come rolling out, bone joined to bone, dust reassembling, and it would have been utter chaos!  Just like the confused saints who thought it was Resurrection Day on Good Friday, and came out of the tombs appearing to everybody (Matt. 27:52-53).  Rest a little longer, guys.  Soon.  Soon.  The Day is coming soon. 

On that Day, Jesus will say it to all of us.  And give eternal life to us, and all believers in Christ.  What a Day that will be.  In the meantime, yes, there is weeping.  Jesus weeps with you.  He does not forsake you in sadness.  But there is also hope.  Hope that does not disappoint us.  The resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.  It’s coming!  It’s coming.  Come, Lord Jesus.  Come soon.  He will.  And He does.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                 

Lenten Midweek IV

 Video of Service

Lenten Midweek IV

Adventures with Elijah: Elijah Taken to Heaven

March 18, 2026

Text: 2 Kings 2:1-14; Luke 24:50-53

            The time had come.  Elijah knew it.  He was now to be taken into heaven.  Elisha knew it, too, and did not want to let him go.  But it must happen this way.  This is God’s plan.  “Please stay here, Elisha.  The LORD has sent me… well… on.”  Three times the Prophet tries to shake his spiritual son.  Nothing doing.  It is profoundly moving, Elisha’s loyalty to his spiritual father, Elijah.  Like that of Ruth to her mother-in-law, Naomi.  “I will not leave you” (2 Kings 2:2; ESV).  And so, together, they go on. 

            Coming to the Jordan, Elijah rolls up his mantle.  And to the sons of the prophets looking on from afar, the sight of it must have been unbelievable.  A repeat of the Jordan River miracle when Joshua and the Israelites crossed over on dry ground.  But to Elijah and Elisha… well, it seems like just another day at the office.  Elijah strikes the river with his cloak, and the waters part.  And the prophets walk on. 

            And now, the heart wrenching truth.  I’m leaving, Elisha.  Ask what I shall do for you before I am taken from you (v. 9).  Ask what you can do for me?  Don’t go!  How about that?!  But it isn’t up to Elijah, and it isn’t up to Elisha, because this belongs to the hidden, omnipotent, omniscient will of God.  The absolute, divine will.  The will of God that is good.  The will that brings about what is best for us.  The will that brings about our salvation.

            So… “Please let there be a double portion of your spirit on me” (v. 9).  That is, give me the inheritance of the firstborn son.  Only let it not be earthly property, but a spiritual inheritance.  Ah, that’s a hard one.  It isn’t up to me, Elisha.  And it isn’t up to you, either.  The LORD will do what He will do.  But “if you see me as I am being taken from you, it shall be so for you, but if you do not see me, it shall not be so” (v. 10).

            Then, all at once, the horses and chariots of fire, dividing the two prophets, one from another.  And Elijah, caught up in the whirlwind.  Taken up to heaven.  Alive.  Such a thing had only happened once before, when Enoch walked with God and was no more, for God took him (Gen. 5:24).  “My father, my father!” Elisha cried, and then, this strange saying, “The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!”  Which seems to be a reference, not to the fiery angelic beings transporting Elijah, but to Elijah himself, who in his life and ministry had been the strength of God’s people, and their great hope.  But now he was taken away.

            Elisha tore his garments in grief.  But then something fell from heaven.  What was it?  Elijah’s mantle.  His yoke of office.  Like the yokes of oxen we heard about last week (1 Kings 19:21).  Like the stole and chasuble of the pastor.  The burden borne by the LORD’s beast, His man.  What does it mean?  Elisha was an eyewitness of Eljah’s ascension.  He’d seen it after all, hadn’t he?  And now, he… Elisha… is to take up the mantle, the prophetic office.  He will now lead the sons of the prophets.  He will speak the LORD’s testimonies before kings and will not be put to shame (Ps. 119:46).  He will say the things Elijah said.  He will do the things Elijah did.  And as Elijah’s firstborn spiritual son, a double portion of the prophetic spirit will rest upon him.

            Lest there be any doubt, behold the grief-stricken Prophet as he cries out once more: “Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah?” (2 Kings 2:14).  And as Elijah had done, Elisha strikes the Jordan with the rolled-up mantle.  It is like the staff of Moses, with which he struck the Red Sea.  And the waters are parted, and the ground is dry, and God’s Prophet reenters the Land.  To preach.

            We see in this episode, a profound foreshadowing.  Of the ongoing prophetic office, certainly, right up until John in the midst of the Jordan, who dressed like Elijah, and preached like him, too.  Jesus said of John, that “he is Elijah who is to come” (Matt. 11:14).  That is, John, too, bore the mantle and prophetic spirit of Elijah. 

            But even more, this episode of Elijah being taken into heaven foreshadows the ascension of our crucified and risen Lord Jesus.  Look at the parallels.  The Lord had accomplished His saving mission.  Born into our flesh.  Under the Law, fulfilling the Law, for us.  Bearing our sins on the cross of Calvary.  Suffering our death.  Buried in our tomb.  Now risen from the dead, and appearing to the disciples.  The time had come, and Jesus knew it.  And so, He gathers them, His Apostles, His men. 

            They behold Him, this band, this school of the prophets (so to speak).  They want to cling to Him.  They don’t want to see Him go.  Why not stay, Jesus, and rule the world right here, in Jerusalem?  Restore the Kingdom to Israel, and bring all nations under Your reign?  That sounds pretty good to us, too, doesn’t it?  But it isn’t up to us, and it isn’t up to them.  This belongs to the hidden, omnipotent, omniscient will of God.  The absolute, divine will, that is good, and in love for us, always brings about what is best for us, the things that accomplish our salvation.

            So, He lifts His hands in blessing.  And while He blesses them… and us (He never puts down His hands)… He is carried up into heaven.  He is taken from our sight.  And we may be tempted to tear our clothes, and cry out with Elisha, Where is the Lord, our God in human flesh?

            But as He ascends, the disciples see Him go.  They are eyewitnesses.  And, once again, something falls from heaven.  Though, in this case, it is not visible.  Nevertheless, what is it, but the mantle?!  The mantle of the Lord.  And it isn’t given only to one, but to Twelve!  The Eleven faithful, and Matthias to come.  And then, as to one untimely born, the Apostle Paul.  And to the Church.  To us.  The Apostles will carry on the work of the Lord.  They will say what He says, and do what He does.  What is the book of Acts, but the continuation of our Lord’s earthly ministry, only now through the ministry of the Lord’s disciples?  And the preaching goes on, to this very day.  In this very place.  At this very hour. 

            And the Spirit…  Not just a double portion, but the Holy Spirit of God, proceeding from Father and Son, poured out on the Church at Pentecost.  The mighty, rushing wind.  The tongues of fire.  The miraculous preaching of Jesus in the languages of the world. 

            That Holy Spirit is poured out upon you, in all His fulness, in the gifts the Lord Jesus bestows on His Church.  Your Baptism into Christ.  The Word of Christ, ringing in your ears.  The Holy Supper of our Lord’s body and blood. 

            And this is the amazing thing about Jesus’ ascension into heaven.  He is not gone from us.  He is with us in the gifts.  To the end of the age, as He promised long ago (Matt. 28:20).  And who else is with us, but Elijah, whose own bodily ascension was a type of that of our Lord?  And Elisha, himself.  And all the saints.  Because, in the gifts of Christ, and particularly in the Supper… heaven comes down.  And we are enveloped in it.  With angels, and archangels, and all the company of heaven.  The chariots of fire and the angelic horseman.  It is all present, right here, right now. 

            And this is just the foretaste.  The Day is coming, and that right soon, when we will take our permanent place in the heavenly host.  Bodily so, on the Day of Resurrection.  And, think about this.  Your loved ones who have already crossed over Jordan… those who died in Christ, and so live… they have already taken their place. 

            Now, you miss them.  You grieve for them.  You wish they had never had to go.  It is the Lord’s mysterious will, once again.  But you know… you can be with them, even now.  In fact, you are, here, in this place.  Because the closer you are to the Lord, the closer you are to them.  And there is nowhere closer to the Lord than here, kneeling before the Mercy Seat, the holy Altar.  Where you find Jesus Himself, feeding you with Himself, for your forgiveness, life, and salvation..

            Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah?  You know.  You know.  He is right here.  Right here with you.  And with Him, all who are in Him.  You can’t see it.  But you believe it.  Because the mantle has fallen.  The ministry of the Word.  The Spirit is poured out.  The waters are parted, and here is the Promised Land.  It all comes together in the body of Jesus, does it not?  So, take, eat.  Take, drink.  The time has come, and you now it.  The Lord, the God of Elijah, is right here for you.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.          

 

 

Fourth Sunday in Lent

 Video of Service

Fourth Sunday in Lent (A)

March 15, 2026

Text: John 9:1-41

            “Some of the Pharisees… said to him, ‘Are we also blind?’  Jesus said to them, ‘If you were blind, you would have no guilt; but now that you say, “We see,” your guilt remains.’” (John 9:40-41; ESV).

            I’ve always been struck by the irony of this truth.  If you know you are blind, you see clearly.  If you think you can see, you are in utter darkness.  It reminds me of something C. S. Lewis said in Mere Christianity, about the Great Sin (pride): “If anyone would like to acquire humility, I can, I think, tell him the first step.  The first step is to realize that one is proud…  If you think you are not conceited, it means you are very conceited indeed.”[1]

            If you think you are not blind, it means you are very blind indeed.  That is the lesson the Pharisees had to learn.  And us, too.  It’s striking, isn’t it?  And it bugs me.  Because, how do I know whether, at any particular moment, I’m blind, or I’m seeing?  If I think I’m seeing, I’m blind.  If I know I’m blind, I can see.  But if I think I know that I’m blind, and therefore see, I’m really blind, am I not?  Now, I realize this gets silly rather fast.  But it's good that I’m bugged about this.  And you should be, too.  Because here’s the point: As long as my eyes are on me (curved in on the self), whether thinking about how relatively righteous I am as compared to others (the Pharisees), or despairing that I can ever be righteous… as long as my eyes are on me, I am totally blind.  Ah, but what happens when the Lord Jesus lifts my gaze from off of myself, and onto Him?  Yes.  Now I see.  My eyes have been refashioned.  My blindness is healed in His light.  And so, I see that He is my righteousness.  He is my salvation, my health, my life, my all.  Now, that reminds me of a quote often attributed to Martin Luther.  I don’t think he actually said it… at least not in these words (I can’t find the citation, anyway), but it makes for a good internet meme, and it is beautiful, nonetheless: “When I look at myself, I don't see how I can be saved.  When I look at Christ, I don't see how I can be lost.”

            What does Jesus do for us in our Holy Gospel?  That, by the way, is a clue for how to read the Bible profitably every time.  Always be on the lookout, always be asking, what is Jesus doing for me in this text?  Well, He does one kind of thing for me in His Law, holding before me His righteous Commandments, His holy will, like a mirror, showing me what to do and not to do, and how far I fall short of that, and so how hopeless is my condition.  And He does another kind of thing for me in His Gospel (Gospel, not as in the Gospel of John, or Matthew, Mark, and Luke, but in the narrow sense, Gospel as opposed to Law), where He shows me what He does to rescue me from death and hell, pay my debt, forgive my sins, credit me with His own righteousness, and give me health, life, wholeness, and every blessing besides. 

            What is the Law in this text?  You are blind.  And you don’t even know it.  Not unless Jesus opens your eyes to it.  That is what He does for the blind man.  The man is physically blind, but in this way, he is a picture of the spiritual condition of every one of us…  As a side note to the Law of this text, the disciples are blind to the fact that, when a person is physically blind, that isn't because they committed some horrendous sin, or their parents committed some horrendous sin, and now God is punishing them for it.  As it happens, quite the contrary in this case.  And look how blind the disciples are to their own pride when they ask this question (“Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” [John 9:2]).  The implication is, “We weren’t born blind, so we haven’t sinned as bad as this guy must have!”  Lord, have mercy!...  But the Pharisees think that, too.  And we are tempted to think it, and often do think it, even if not out loud.  About our own suffering, or that of others.  Must be because of some sin.  And so, what does Jesus do for the Pharisees, and for us, by His Law preaching?  He kills that self-righteous, judgmental attitude in us.  He kills our pride.  If you think this man is physically blind, because he is a sinner, but you have your physical sight intact, because you are more righteous than he… or more to the point, if you think that this man must be spiritually blind, on account of his sins, but you can see just fine, as evidenced by your righteous life… it is clear that you can’t see a thing.  Utter darkness.  You are utterly blind.  That is a jarring surprise to Pharisees and good Christian folk alike, who are ever eager to remove specks from the eyes of their neighbors, but have no clue about the beam protruding from their own pupil.  That is a description of every last one of us.  And Jesus graciously kills that here in this text.  Let Him.  Thank Him for that.  And repent.  The Pharisees don’t repent.  They hang on to their blind self-righteousness all the way to death and hell.  Let that not be you.  Lose yourself in the Word of Jesus.  Die to yourself.  That you may find yourself in Christ, and live. 

            What does Jesus do for us, though, in the Gospel of this text?  What He does for the blind man, physically and spiritually, He also does for us…, first spiritually, already now (born spiritually blind… original sin… now baptized into Christ, created anew, eyes opened)… and then physically, and perfectly, and completely on the Day of Resurrection.  So, what does He do? 

            First of all, let it not be lost on you that, as the Light of the world, He dawns on the man.  He approaches the man in his blindness and need.  And what do we have, but this very strange thing where Jesus spits on the ground, making mud with His saliva, and smearing it on the man’s eyes.  In fact, the text says, He anoints the man’s eyes.  He Christens them.  Two things about that.  First, see how our Lord uses means to do His gracious work.  That which proceeds from His mouth, His saliva, which calls to mind His Word.  And then also earthly elements, the mud, which calls to mind His use of water, bread, wine, parents, pastors, and other Christians… the means He uses for His gracious work on us.  And secondly, what is this dirt work, applied to the eyes, but a re-creation of what sin has deformed?  He is redoing Adam, here.  Just as the healing and restoration He performs on us is really His work of New Creation.

            Then, He sends the man to a pool named Siloam.  There is a play on words, here.  He sends the man to Siloam, which means sent.  And there, the man is to wash, and be cleansed, and so see.  And it is a Baptism, isn’t it?  That is where Jesus brings us to rebirth and regeneration.  At the pool.  At the font.  That is where He pours out His enlightening Spirit upon us, so that we see. 

            And then, the catechesis.  Not just Catechism class, but the whole life of the baptized Christian, pictured in the things that happen to this man.  That is, he grows in faith, and in the knowledge of what has happened to him.  At first, he doesn’t even know who Jesus is, really.  A prophet.  Okay.  He just knows the facts of what happened.  The Man, Jesus.  The mud.  The sending.  And behold, he who was blind, now sees.  But then, as he meditates on what happened… particularly as he suffers some really terrible things: The skepticism of the crowds, the questioning and abuse from the Pharisees, and his own parents distancing themselves from his newfound healing and faith (not to mention his expulsion from the synagogue, his home congregation)… he grows to understand, and confess with his own lips, this Man is from God.  That faith and confession is a gift to him.  And that is the gift we receive from Jesus, as we grow in the Word, and in understanding, and in suffering.  We confess Him.  And we endure in our Christian faith.

            And then, in the lowest moment, cast out, rejected… there is Jesus.  With the man.  Speaking to the man.  “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” (v. 35)… “You have seen him, and it is he who is speaking to you” (v. 37).  Yes… “Lord, I believe” (v. 38).  And so, the gift of clear sight.  A firm faith.  A true confession.  A new home with Jesus and the people of God.  And worship… “he worshiped him.”

            What does Jesus do for you in this Holy Gospel of the man born blind?  He gives you to see your own blindness (the Law).  And confess it.  And repent of it.  And He opens your eyes to focus on Him (the Gospel).  His love for you.  His mercy upon you.  His death for you.  His resurrection and life for you.  His continual coming to you in His Words, united to earthly things.  His washing you.  His feeding you.  His re-creating you.  His pouring out His Spirit upon you.  His bringing you before His Father, righteous and pure, healed and whole.  Loved and belonging.  As God’s own child.  If your eyes are anywhere but on Jesus, you are utterly blind.  But here, Jesus lifts your gaze to Himself.  And you see!  It’s a miracle.  That is what He does for you in this text.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.             

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[1] C. S. Lewis: Mere Christianity (New York: Macmillan, 1977) p. 114.

Lenten Midweek III

Video of Service 

Lenten Midweek III

Adventures with Elijah: Elijah Despairs, but the LORD Refreshes

March 11, 2026

Text: 1 Kings 19; Luke 9:28-36

            From the monumental high of victory over the prophets of Baal, to death threats from Jezebel, running for his life into the wilderness, and the descent into despair. 

            Why this sudden faltering of courage?  For one thing, here is an indication that even the mightiest of saints can succumb to fear.  Even after witnessing the great works of God.  Enjoying glimpses of His victory.  Impotent Ahab is one thing.  But Jezebel is out for blood.  Hers is the real seat of ruthlessness in that marriage.  Extermination of prophets is her specialty.  She means to have her revenge on this man of God.

            Add to that, this feeling of futility.  Elijah has given his whole life to the LORD’s work.  He’s preached.  He’s suffered.  He’s put his life on the line.  He’s been faithful.  And for what?  Ahab and Jezebel are still on their throne, and the people are still running off after idols.  They’ve forsaken the Covenant.  Thrown down the LORD’s altars.  Joined in on the prophetic killing spree.  What’s the point of going on?  Enough!  I’ve had enough of it!  I’ve been jealous for the LORD of Hosts, but every man has his breaking point.

            And then, simply, this: “I, even I only, am left” (1 Kings 19:10; ESV).  Elijah believes he is utterly alone.  The last Christian on earth.  (And Elijah is a Christan.  An Old Testament one, looking forward to the Christ who is to come.)  Better to just let me die.  Take me home, LORD.  This world is done for.  Israel, too.  Let them go to hell.  There is nothing I can do about it now.

            So, the prophet sits under his broom tree in the desert.  Exhausted.  Alone.  Afraid.  And in utter despair.

            What does the LORD do for him?  He does not forsake him.  He does not leave him desolate.  What does He do?  He sends His holy angel, to minister to His man.  The angel feeds him, to strengthen him.  Here is a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water.  He gives the prophet sleep.  Rest.  It is like the Psalm says: “he gives to his beloved sleep” (Ps. 127:2).  And then the angel comes a second time, again with food and drink, and bids Elijah arise.  And behold, he is strengthened.  Strengthened such that he can go on the strength of that food, forty days and forty nights, to Horeb… that is, Sinai… the mount of God.

            But God isn’t done, and Elijah isn’t out of the woods.  What else does the LORD do for him?  The LORD, Himself, shows up.  “And behold, the word of the Lord came to him,” the text says (1 Kings 19:9).  And who is that?  The Second Person of the Holy Trinity, God the Son.  And He asks him a profound question: “What are you doing here, Elijah?”  It’s not unlike the question He asked Adam in the Garden.  “Where are you?” (Gen. 3:9).  There is more to the question than meets the eye.  The LORD is giving Elijah a self-examination tool.  What are you doing here?  This is not where you belong.  This is not where I’ve sent you, called you to work.  And, as with Adam, the question leads to confession.  Again, “I have been very jealous for the Lord, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life, to take it away” (v. 10).  What am I doing here?  I’m a failure.  I’m a marked man.  And I’m utterly alone.

            Now, what does Elijah need from God?  Does he need God to show up in a blaze of glory and awesome show of divine might?  We may be tempted to think so.  But the LORD will make clear to the prophet (and to us) that that is precisely what he does not need.  The LORD passes by, and what?  A great and strong wind, tearing the mountains to pieces.  But how does that help Elijah?  It’s about as helpful as an EF-5 tornado ripping through Moscow would be helpful to us.  The LORD was not in the wind.  Then an earthquake.  Was that helpful?  Would it be helpful to you?  No, the LORD was not in the earthquake.  Then, a fire.  We know about those around here.  Is it helpful when the world around us is ablaze?  No, it drives us to further fear and despair.  The LORD was not in the fire.  See, when we are in fear and despair, the last thing we need is the LORD to show up in irresistible power and might.  We think that’s what we need, but that would actually kill us.  No, what do we need?

            What does He do for Elijah?  What is it that actually helps?  A low whisper.  The LORD is in the whisper.  The soothing Voice of the God who loves His servant.  The Gospel.  The LORD is in the Gospel for Elijah.  Mercy.  Promise.  Encouragement.  Help is on the way.  You are not alone.  Two kings and a prophet to anoint, Elijah.  They will accomplish the LORD’s purposes.  In particular, Elisha, Elijah’s successor and son in the faith.  And as for the dismal appearance of things as you see them now?  It’s not how it looks.  I have reserved “seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him” (v. 18).  Elijah is comforted, and strengthened to go on.

            Now, things didn’t suddenly become easy for him.  That is not the Promise.  Dear Christian, you were never promised an easy life.  Get over that.  But things did become bearable.  How?  Elijah received the LORD’s provision, and trusted in His Promise.  God has His purpose.  He is still in control.  He is working all things for the good.  He has not forsaken you, Elijah.  Here, receive food and drink.  Receive rest.  He hasn’t forsaken His people, Israel, either, His 7,000.  God will bring them through.  By the Promises.  So Elijah is strengthened.  “Keep going.  Keep preaching.  Keep trusting.  In My own time, I will take you home.”  (We’ll get that text next week.)  And the day will come when you will see what this is all about. 

            As it happens, that day will take place on another mountain, in the presence of Moses, Peter, James, and John, when the Word of the LORD has come in the flesh, and is transfigured before them.  On that occasion, the Lord Jesus Himself will discuss His “departure” with Elijah and Moses, as they appear with Him in glory (Luke 9:31).  As I’ve told you many times, the word is actually “exodus.”  They will discuss Jesus’ “exodus” with Him, which is to say, His death for our sins, and the sins of the whole world, and His resurrection, which will turn all our despair into unimaginable joy.  Then Elijah will know that his suffering was never futile, that God is working all of this for His good purpose. 

            And it’s all this type of our Lord Jesus Himself, and His saving work, isn’t it.  Because there is Jesus, enjoying the monumental high of the Transfiguration.  And His disciples, too.  But then what?  Down the mountain, face set toward Jerusalem (Luke 9:51), where the people are plotting against His life and thirsting for His blood.  And they will get it, and He knows it.  What happens in the Garden of Gethsemane, on the night when He is betrayed?  Having just given food and drink to His disciples (Himself… His body and blood), and knowing what He is about to suffer, our Lord Jesus is sorrowful unto death.  He falls on His face and prays, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will” (Matt. 26:39).  Three times He prays this.  And He is utterly alone, isn’t He?  Where are His disciples, Peter, James, and John?  Asleep.  The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak (v. 41).  Like Elijah… and fulfilling what was inaugurated in Elijah… our Lord suffers. 

            And see, He is taking all of our suffering, loneliness, and despair into Himself, along with our sins (the causes of all this)… Elijah’s, too… to suffer them for us.  He is taking our place.  He is redeeming us.  And an angel comes and ministers to Him, strengthening Him (Luke 22:43), just like in our text.  Strengthening Him for what?  To avoid the cross and suffering?  Go around it?  Skip it?  Just be happy all the time?  No.  To go through it.  To go through the cross and suffering.  To endure the sadness and pain… the hell of it all.  To endure the mockery and injustice, the spitting, the scourging.  To carry the wood (and the weight of this world’s sin) up on the mountain, receive the pounded nails, and be lifted up.  Knowing… believing… trusting nevertheless… the Word and Promise of His heavenly Father: “you will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one see corruption” (Ps. 16:10); “when his soul makes an offering for guilt, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.  Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities” (Is. 53:10-11).  The Promise is that there is saving purpose in our Lord’s suffering and death.  And the Father will bring Him through.  On the Third Day, He will rise.  So, for the joy set before Him, our dear Lord Jesus endured the cross, despising the shame, and is now seated at the right hand of the throne of God (Heb. 12:2).

            For the same joy… the victory of Jesus and the salvation of the world… God strengthened Elijah to bear up, and carry through.  And what of you?  You know sorrow, too, don’t you?  You know fear and futility, loneliness… maybe even despair.  But your Lord sets this joy before you.  He sends His angel to strengthen you.  You don’t see it.  But we know the angels are continually ministering to us, directing us away from all that is harmful and deadly, and toward the Word and Promises of God that give life.  And there is the food and drink.  And Jesus Himself shows up in it, His true body and blood.  And here is the rest, and the low, soothing whisper.  The Gospel.  Your sins are forgiven.  All of them.  And the Lord’s Israel is not done for.  God still reserves His thousands whose knees have not bowed to Baal, whose lips have not kissed him.  And you are not alone.  Here is your family, your brothers and sisters in Christ.  In the House of your Father.  Immersed in the Spirit.  And there is Jesus.  And the great cloud of witnesses, surrounding this Church… this altar.  Angels and archangels and all the company of heaven.  They join us from the other side, and they are rooting us on.

            And so, we are strengthened.  Not to go around the crosses we ourselves are given to bear.  We are not promised an easy life.  But to go through the cross.  To go through the suffering.  Knowing… believing… trusting nevertheless…God’s promises for us.  Easter is coming.  One day, soon, this will all make sense.  Until then, faith, not sight.  But here is the Supper.  Beloved, God has not forsaken you.  He comes.  He is here.  Doling out the fruits of His exodus for you.  And you can go on the strength of it all your days.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.         

 

Third Sunday in Lent

Video of Service 

Third Sunday in Lent (A)

March 8, 2026

Text: John 4:5-30, 39-42

            It should not surprise us that our Lord meets the Samaritan woman at a well.  Isn’t it just like our God to always be doing His mighty works around water?  The Spirit hovering over the water at Creation.  The flood and Noah’s ark.  Crossing the Red Sea.  Crossing the Jordan.  And the list could go on.  And particularly, at wells.  Needless to say, wells were (and are) very important in the Middle East, a matter of life and death.  Wells are a recurring theme in the lives of the patriarchs.   Hagar and her son, Ishmael, are saved from certain death when God opens her eyes to see a well in the desert (Gen. 21:19).  In the same chapter, Gen. 21, Abraham struggles with Abimelech’s servants over possession of a well.  Isaac, likewise, quarreled with the herdsmen of Gerar over his wells, settling finally in Beersheba, “Seven Wells” (Gen. 26).  And Jacob?  Well... he bequeathed to his children, the very well at which Jesus is sitting in our text.  So, very important.  God does not include so many wells in the Scriptures by accident. 

            But more to the point, the well is where marriages are made.  Right?  Abraham’s servant finds Rebekah for Isaac at a well (Gen. 24).  Jacob meets Rachel (and through her, Leah, also), probably at the very same well (Gen. 29).  Moses meets Jethro’s seven daughters, including his wife-to-be Zipporah, at a well (Ex. 2).  Now, here sits Jesus, and… so far, so good.

            But look at the woman who is coming to draw water.  This is where the script just doesn’t seem to fit.  Really?  Her?  Everyone knows about her.  And the whole town talks.  She’s loose, you know.  Hopping from one bed to another.  She’s had five husbands.  What happened to them?  Seems they used her, but found her wanting, so they dismissed her.  And the current guy?  Not even married.  Tsk, tsk, tsk. 

            That is why she is coming alone, at this strange hour, to draw water from the well.  High noon.  The heat of the day.  No one comes for water at that hour.  They come in the cool of morning or evening.  But not her.  She doesn’t want to see anybody.  She doesn’t want anybody staring at her.  Look… she knows who she is.  She knows what she’s done… what she is doing.  But what else is she supposed to do?  Well… you probably have some answers.  Just like the citizens of her town.  But at this point, how is it helpful?  She’s used goods.  Men use her and lose her.  And now, this guy she’s with…  The only way she can keep food on her table and a roof over her head to is to give him what he wants without the bother of a lifelong commitment.  Go ahead and judge.  She’ll just keep coming to the well at noon.  Day after day.  Thirsting for more, but always running dry.

            This day is like all the others.  Except there is a Man sitting there.  “Ugh.  Not today.”  But, the jar is empty.  Anyway, turns out He’s a Jewish Man, “so there’s no way He’ll speak to me… a woman… of Samaria… and clearly a woman of ill repute.”  Respectable men don’t speak to a woman without her husband or father present.  Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.  And Law-abiding Jews do not sully their cleanness by interacting with a woman like her.

            But He speaks!  “Give me a drink” (John 4:7; ESV).  What is this, some kind of pick-up line?  Well, actually… in a manner of speaking!  Jesus is thirsting, but not just for well-water.  He is thirsting for this woman’s salvation.  He is thirsting, not to take something from her, but to give something to her.  Something she has never had before in her life.  Love.  True love.  And a Gift, with no strings attached to any selfish ends of the Giver.  A Gift of eternal meaning and significance.  A relationship… not sexual… not carnal… but an intimate relationship with a Man who will not treat her as an object for His own pleasure… who does not see her as a thing to be used… who knows her shame, but lifts her out of it… who restores her humanity… who speaks to her with grace… and truth, yes, but in gentleness, and with respect… a Man who will be faithful to her.  In life and in death.  Forever. 

            He thirsts to give her Himself.  And with Himself, the Father, and the Holy Spirit, salvation, and the very Kingdom.  “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water” (v. 10).  It is a water that, if anyone drinks from it, he “will never be thirsty forever” (v. 14).  “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water” (v. 15).  “Oh, dear woman.  Dear woman.  You are still thinking about H2O.  But I am speaking of the Water of the Spirit and faith.  The Water that flows from the very throne of God, becoming an impassible River that cleanses and heals whatever it touches (Ez. 47; Rev. 22; Ps. 46:4).  Ask Me, and I will give you that Water.”

            The Water flows from Jesus Himself.  Jesus is the Well!  “‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink.  Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, “Out of his heart”… one might even say, “out of His side!... “will flow rivers of living water.”’  Now this he said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive” (John 7:37-39).  We heard in our Old Testament reading (Ex. 17:1-7) how the people thirsted (and grumbled, and quarreled with Moses and God), and God told Moses to strike the rock at Horeb, so that water flowed out for the people to drink.  What does St. Paul say about that rock?  Do you remember?  They “all drank the same spiritual drink.  For they drank from the spiritual Rock that followed them, and the Rock was Christ” (1 Cor. 10:4).  And we know how this is all fulfilled.  On a Friday afternoon, outside Jerusalem, there hung the Son of God with the weight of the world’s sin on His very human, fleshly shoulders.  He cried out: “I thirst” (John 19:28).  But not for the sour wine they held up to Him on hyssop and sponge.  Oh, He was physically parched, I’m sure.  But for what is He thirsting?  The salvation of the world.  The woman.  You.  Me.  All people.

            And then, He said, “It is finished,” and so it was, and He bowed His head, and gave up… and gave forth… His Spirit (v. 30).  Oh, and you know what happens next.  A soldier takes his spear, and… just to make sure Jesus is really dead (and He is!)… runs it through His side.  Right into His very heart.  And out comes… what?  Blood and water (v. 34).  Strike the Rock and the water flows.  Drink this Water and you will never be thirsty forever.  This Water will never run dry.  This Water cleanses.  This Water heals.  Jesus is the Rock.  Jesus is the Well.  And this Water… is for you.

            The woman believes.  “This Man… He must be… He is… the Christ!”  “I who speak to you am he,” Jesus says (John 4:26).  Or better, “I AM… the One speaking to you.”  God in our human flesh.  She believes, and so she comes into the Covenant.  And it’s a marriage, isn’t it?  Right here at the well. 

            Now, we should say (and this is very important, lest we come to some very silly and damaging conclusions about 6^th Commandment issues and other transgressions of God’s Law): Jesus doesn’t leave the woman in her sin.  He doesn’t say, “That’s okay.  Keep doing what you’re doing.  Keep living with this guy and fornicating with him.”  If you think that, you’ve completely misunderstood what Jesus is doing.  To leave her in her sin… and living together outside of marriage is sin... would be to leave her in death.  Jesus has come to give her life!  And that’s what He does.  You can bet things changed that day between the woman and the man waiting back home who was decidedly not her husband.  Maybe they married.  Or maybe that was the end of it.  Nevertheless, the point is, now she has Jesus.  And so, she has life.  Not because of some reformation of her life.  But because of Jesus, who met her at the well.  Jesus, who gave Himself for her and to her.  Jesus, who slaked her thirst for life and for love. 

            And then, what happens?  The disciples return, and they are confused, but they also believe, and so drink, and enter into the marriage feast at the well.  And the woman runs off and gets a whole bunch of other Samaritans to come and meet Jesus, and hear Him for themselves, and so drink, and believe, and come into the marriage feast at the well.  They no longer judge the woman, because Jesus has taken away her shame, and because they, too, are sinners… get this, though… received graciously by Christ Jesus, who forgives them, and washes away all their sins, and takes away their own shame.  How can they judge, when they’ve been received with such mercy? 

            And what about you?  You meet Jesus at the well, too, don’t you?  We call it a font.  Baptized into Christ.  You drink the living Water.  The Spirit flows from Jesus into you.  You believe.  He forgives your sins and takes away your shame.  And it is a marriage.  The marriage feast of the Lamb in His Kingdom which has no end.  Jesus gives Himself for His holy Bride, the Church, you.  He loves you.  And in so giving Himself, He washes you.  Cleanses you.  And presents you to Himself in splendor, without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing.  Holy, and without blemish.  Praise God. 

            No surprise that Jesus meets this woman at the well.  That’s where He meets us, too.  And gives us Himself.  And with Himself, all things.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.