Third Sunday in Lent

Third Sunday in Lent (C)

March 23, 2025

Text: Luke 13:1-9

            Why were the people telling Jesus about those Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices?  It is, no doubt, true, that in some sense they were just complaining, grumbling at the injustices of life and the world.  As we fallen humans are wont to do.  It rarely does us any good.  But when we feel bad, we want to express it to others, because we want them to feel bad with us.  “Misery loves company,” as the old saying goes.   

            But, perhaps unbeknownst to them, there was something different, now, about the people’s complaint.  Because, this time, they were speaking to the only One in existence who could do something about it.  And He would do something about it, but they wouldn’t know it for some time.  And, perhaps, some in His company would never know it.  Still, in bringing their complaint to this One, the complaint itself was transformed.  Because, while they were addressing a Man, to be sure… they were addressing a Man who is God.  And so, their complaint became lament.  And lament is a very potent form of prayer. 

            Verse 2 of our text: “And he answered them” (Luke 13:2; ESV).  Don’t miss what glorious good news that is, for them and for you.  When lament is addressed to Jesus Christ, or to the Father through Jesus Christ, He hears and He answers.  Do you see what happens with the simple change of address when you are complaining?  When you are grumbling in your own heart, or to and with anyone who will join you in this exercise of futility, you actually just make things worse.  You think you’ll feel better if you vent.  But you don’t.  You feed off your own words.  But when you look up, away from your own navel gazing, and to Jesus Christ, and address these very same words to Him… ah, now you are praying.  Praying to One who can actually do something about the problem.  And who has done something about it, and is doing something about it, and will continue to do something about it.  He hears you.  And He answers you.

            But you won’t always like His answer.  Because the first thing He is always going to do is call you to repentance.  Well, that is what He does with the people.  There is a great evil, a malignant cancer often attached to our complaining, that must be dealt with, and the treatment is severe.  Jesus exposes it in His answer to those telling Him about the Galilean victims.  And it is this: We think we know why the bad thing happened.  We think we can see what God has intentionally hidden from us.  And we use this supposed knowledge, either as reason for pride, or as cause for despair.  This cancer must be cut out of our complaint.  And it hurts!  It cuts us to the quick.  But it is necessary if our complaint is to become healthy lament, and if we are to live.  So, here it goes. 

            Do you think bad things only happen to people who have it coming?  Those Galileans… were they worse sinners than the rest, than you?  See, pride.  “It didn’t happen to me, so I must be in a better position before God than they were.”  Or, to bring up another example, those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell… were they worse sinners than the rest, than you?  Notice, the first disaster is manmade… tyranny, terrorism.  The second, though, the falling tower… that is what the insurance companies call (fair or not) “an act of God.”  Now you really have room for pride, or so you think.  “See, God got them, and He didn’t get me.  He prefers me.”  Right.  You may think you are immune from this attitude, but the fact is, this thinking infects the whole world.  Karma.  Poetic justice.  What goes around comes around.  “Where is a cop when you need one,” you have said, when some hot-shot, know-nothing, who thinks he’s more important than everybody else, whips around you about where you hit that 25 mile per hour zone in Colfax.  And then, when you see the pretty red and blue lights behind him up ahead?  Glorious, isn’t it?  He’s getting what he deserves.  Now, what’s with this slow-poke in front of me?!

            Fact is, though, we also judge ourselves this way.  Life goes according to schedule, until suddenly it doesn’t.  The bottom falls out.  Tragedy strikes.  Disaster.  Diagnosis.  Death.  Whatever it is.  And we think we know.  This can only be divine retribution.  “What have I done to deserve this?” we ask God.  He must be punishing me.  He must be picking on me.  That’s what Job thought, too, remember?  Until God answered H him.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Job!  Sitting there in your despair.  And your three friends, especially, don’t know what they’re talking about, sitting there in their pride!  I know what I’m doing, because I’m God.  You don’t know, because you are not God.  So… Repent!”

            So… what?  Were they worse sinners?  “No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish” (Luke 13:3, 5).  Beloved, every tragedy that happens, whether to you or to others, is a call to you to repent.  Whatever else God is doing when bad things happen (probably a lot of things we just don’t know, and won’t know until the Resurrection), whether manmade or act of God, He is calling you to stop what you are doing and give Him your full attention.  And root out all that is poisonous and deadly.  Repent of your idolatry.  Your fear, love, and trust of things and people that are not God.  Repent of your self-idolatry, your putting yourself first.  Tragedy has this way of bringing you to the end of yourself.  It is a tangible preaching of God’s Law.  Repent of your judging others (“Oh, he must have deserved that!”  Thank you very much, Job’s friends!).  Repent of accusing God of being against you (“Oh, if this happened to me, it’s either because I’ve done something horrendous and deserving of this, or God is just cruel”).  Repent of all of that.  That is the first part of our Lord’s answer.

            But then… just think a minute about who God is.  He is the God who loved the world, so that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life (John 3:16).  He did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world be saved through Him (v. 17).  This is the God who sends His own beloved Son to the cross, to suffer and die for a world of sinful rebels… for you.  To save you.  To atone for your sins.  To make you His own.  And so, do you see what He does through the cross of Christ?  He takes the worst tragedy in the whole history of the universe… the assassination of God… and by it, turns everything upside down.  There, on the cross, all that is sad and tragic and wrong is done to death in the holy flesh of Jesus.  And transformed.  The cross, the most excruciating method of torture and execution, used to perpetrate the ultimate evil (killing God), becomes, now, the ultimate good.  For you.  Now, if God does that with the cross of His Son, Jesus, just imagine what He is doing with the crosses He lays upon you.  You can be certain, in spite of all appearances, that every cross you bear is given to you for your good.  No, you don’t see it.  But you believe it.  Faith.

            By the tree of the cross, God is making unfruitful trees fruitful.  Even as the barren wood planted in the soil of Golgotha bore nothing less than fruit of the Tree of Life (Jesus is the Fruit… His body, His blood, given and shed for you), so, as the cross touches your life, your body, your soul, what is barren now blossoms and produces the fruit of repentance (He is ripping out your idols), the fruit of faith (you are left with Him alone for help and salvation), the fruit that is divinely wrought love (love for God, love for your neighbor… works of mercy for the other).  Watch for it.  You may be given to see some of it.  But you’ll really only know the fullness of it at the Harvest, when the Lord comes again.  What does the vinedresser have to do for the fig tree in our Lord’s parable, to make the tree fruitful, to prevent the Master from cutting it down and throwing it into the fire?  He has to dig around it.  Oh, that hurts.  And pour on the manure!  That is… unpleasant, to say the least.  But it is gracious.  The vinedresser is saving the tree.  When God digs around you and pours on the manure, remember this.  He is being gracious to you.  He is saving you.

            But go ahead and complain.  Just, direct it to Him, so that your complaint becomes lament.  Prayer.  He will answer.  He has answered.  The cross.  He does answer.  The Means of Grace, the Word and Sacraments, where He gives you His Spirit and the fruits of His cross… where He gives you Himself.  He will answer.  Christ is risen.  He will raise you.  This may seem simplistic, but in fact, it is anything but: Christ is always the answer.  Repent of any other answer you may seek.  Especially of seeking answers in yourself.  And look to Christ.  Because in Him, you will never perish.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.