Sixth Sunday of Easter

Sixth Sunday of Easter (C)

May 25, 2025

Text: John 16:23-33

Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!

            As promised, due to the length of Catechism time, I hope to keep this sermon brief.  And so, I’d like to concentrate on these words: “In that day you will ask nothing of me.  Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you.   Until now you have asked nothing in my name.   Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full” (John 16:23-24; ESV).

            “(W)hatever you ask the Father in my name, he will give it to you.”  On the basis of these words, we have a practice in the Church of concluding most of our collects… the collect is the short prayer in the bulletin that collects the petitions of the congregation into one petition based on the readings from Holy Scripture… we conclude these collects with the words, “through Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord,” or some such similar formula.  Likewise, we often append to our prayers at Church, or in our personal prayers, the words, “for Jesus’ sake,” or even more to the point, “in Jesus’ Name.”  It’s a good practice, because it reminds us of this text.

            But what does it mean?  First of all, what it does not mean…  It does not mean that this is some magical formula that, if we remember to say it just right, we’ll get what we want, and if we don’t remember, we shouldn’t expect to receive anything.  We should not reduce this practice to mere superstition.  Nor should we think of these words like dollar bills deposited in a vending machine.  The recitation of these words is not the same thing as remembering to say “please” when you ask somebody for something.  In fact, sometimes we don’t actually say these words at all.  The Lord’s Prayer is given us by Jesus Himself, and so is the most perfect prayer we could pray.  We do pray it in Jesus’ Name, but we don’t conclude with these words.  So, you get the point.  It’s not the words so much as the fact.  Whatever we ask of the Father, whether we say the words or not, we ask only, and always, in the Name of Jesus Christ, His Son.

            And what does it mean to ask, or do, anything, in the name of anybody?  It means to ask in that person’s place.  It means to do a thing with the authority that person has bestowed upon you.  If I cash a check in my wife’s name, it means she has given me the authority to do so by signing it over to me.  We will often send one of our children close at hand to ask, or command, another of our children far away, to do this or that.  They are asking, or commanding, in the name of Dad, with all the authority of Dad behind the commandment or request.  So it is with praying in the Name of Jesus (only in this case, of course, the Son is not commanding His Father).  You are asking in the authority He has bestowed upon you, so that when you ask, He is really the One asking.  And you are asking in His place, which is to say, as the Father’s beloved Son.  Well, you are baptized into Him, after all.  He has given you to be God’s own child, and so He says to you, “When you pray,” then, just like Me, “say: ‘Father’” (Luke 11:12)… Our Father…

            You are asking with Him, with Jesus, the Son.  Or, perhaps better, He is asking with you.  He holds your hand as you come before the Father’s throne.  And you’re asking according to His will, as He reveals it in Holy Scripture.  Well, you have no authority to ask for anything else, anything outside His will.  You can’t ask to sin, for example.  That wouldn’t be asking in Jesus’ Name, because He doesn’t want you to sin.  Just like me cashing a forged check in your name wouldn’t really be cashing it in your name.  This is why, when we know something is God’s will, because Scripture says it, like asking for forgiveness of sins, or eternal life, we don’t say “if it be Your will.”  We already know it is.  But if we’re praying that it doesn’t rain today… or that Safeway has a good sale on ground beef… or that we don’t die today… we do say the words, or at least pray with the understanding, “only if it is Your will.” 

            And this gets to the Promise in our text, a Promise which often confounds us: “whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you”… “Ask, and you will receive”…  That doesn’t mean, “Lord, please give me a million dollars… in Jesus’ Name, amen,” and then I get it.  I can ask that.  And it could happen, if it is God’s will.  But it probably isn’t His will, because it probably wouldn’t be good for me, and God’s will is only and always for our good.  So I want His will to be done, even if, at the time, I don’t really like His will. 

            But here is what He will do.  He will provide for me, all my needs of body and soul, and so much more besides.  And that is really what I’m praying for when I ask for a million dollars.  I pray it better when I use the words of Jesus: “Give us this day our daily bread.”  And that’s also not so selfish, because I pray it for us, and not just for me.  And see, in doing that for me… for us… the Father is really saying “Yes” to my prayer.  It’s just that His “Yes” is infinitely better than my silly, stupid, selfish request.  And I can trust Him on it, because He is my Father, and I am His child.  He will give me what is good.

            And that is really what it means to pray in Jesus’ Name.  To pray as a child of the heavenly Father, trusting that He will do all that is needed, all that is right and good.  For this reason, we should always be motivated to pray.  We should discuss everything with our Father in heaven.  Commend everything to Him.  Ask His help and blessing in everything, knowing that He hears and answers, because that is the Promise.  Every day, everything before you, your concerns, your endeavors, everyone on your mind and heart… discuss it with Him.  Every evening, all that has happened, your successes, your failures, your sins, your ongoing concerns… bring it all before Him.  In Jesus’ Name, which is to say, covered with Christ.  Clothed with Christ.  Immersed in Christ, in the blood that cleanses you from all sin, in His death, in His life.  You in Christ.  Christ in you.  And then relax.  The Father will do it.  That is the Promise.  You will receive what you need, when you need it, as He knows best.  And your joy will be full.

            Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.            

Funeral for Lib Duffau

In Memoriam +Sara Elizabeth (Lib) Duffau+

May 24, 2025

Text: Ecc. 3

            Lib has always had this way of cutting through the nonsense, hasn’t she?  That is, she could make herself clear.  Always nicely.  Always with class.  Always with elegance.  Often with humor.  But clear.  I think she may be doing that with us today in the readings she has chosen.  Especially the reading from Ecclesiastes.  She didn’t choose these readings haphazardly.  She wants us to know some things, and think about some things today, even as we weep, and laugh, and weep some more, and miss her, and remember her, and tell stories about our times with her.

            This morning, she’s teaching us about life.  Real life.  Life here and now, in this world.  Life in the flesh.  Life day-to-day.  And life as it comes into its fullness in the Lord Jesus Christ, who has redeemed us, redeemed our lives, by His death for us on the cross, and who gives us eternal and abundant life in His bodily resurrection from the dead. 

            It’s a rich life, isn’t it, this life we’ve been given?  There is a season for everything, for every matter under heaven.  Everything is beautiful in its time.  We are given to eat and drink and take pleasure in our toil, the work we’ve been given to do, full of meaning and purpose.  Nothing better for us than to be joyful, and do good, as long as we live.  And in that, we have an example to emulate in Lib. 

            But it does run its course, this life.  This earthly life, anyway.  For the righteous and the wicked… that is, those in Christ, and those outside of Christ.  Everyone has to die.  It is our common lot.  “All are from the dust, and to dust all return” (Ecc. 3:20; ESV).  Lib is cutting through the nonsense by giving us this reading, compelling us to look the reality of it in the face… death… and she’s doing it for our good.  And the point is not to devalue this life.  Quite the contrary.  It is to marvel at the givenness… the gift… of this life, and the sanctity of it.  But it is also to point out that there is a defect, a deficiency, especially if this life is all we’re living for.  Because of our sin and the resulting separation from God, this life comes to an end.  Full stop.  And everything we’ve done, everything we leave behind, all that eating and drinking and taking joy in our toil… even the good we do… all of it eventually fades and perishes, too. 

            And that is why God has put eternity into man’s heart (v. 11).  So that we would crave something more.  Long for something fuller and more real, something that endures, something that lasts.  A life without defect or deficiency.  A life, full and fulfilling, and never-ending.  Beloved, that is something we can’t make for ourselves.  That is something only God can do.  And He does.  He does it for us.  “I perceived that whatever God does endures forever,” Lib wants us to read, and hear, and know; “nothing can be added to it,” not even by us, “nor anything taken from it,” not even by us.  “God has done it, so that people may fear”… fear, in the biblical language, means some combination of reverence and faith… “so that people may fear before him” (v. 14). 

            What Lib wants you to know, and believe (trust!), and confess by your words and actions, is that true life, real life, life that never ends, is found only in God.  And she even tells us how to get it.  Namely, in Jesus Christ, God’s Son.  Look… there is a road map right there in the third reading Lib chose for us.  “I am the way, and the truth, and the life,” says Jesus.  “No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6).  If you want life in all its fulness, as it was always meant to be lived; life, real and abundant and eternal; true life; believe in Jesus.  Jesus is the only way.  His death.  His resurrection.  For you.  Lib knew that, and believed it, and confessed it in her words and actions (even right here this morning).  And so, though Lib has died… she lives!  She lives!  Right now!  Her body has expired, it’s true.  Even “everything beautiful in its time,” only has its time.  But her spirit is with Jesus in heaven, where He has prepared a place for her.  A room in her Father’s House.  And there is something more.  Jesus Christ, who is risen from the dead, will raise her.  Bodily, as he is risen.  And what Lib wants you to know, more than anything, is that what she has in Christ, you also have in Christ.  Believe in Him.  Be baptized into Him.  Come to His Church to hear Him, and to eat and drink and take joy in what is imperishable: The crucified and risen body and blood of the Lord Jesus Christ in His Holy Supper.  See, in that way, you can start living this real and abundant and eternal life right now.  With Lib!  In fact, you can meet her as she lives, every time the Church gathers around the altar, lauding God’s holy Name with angels, and archangels, and all the company of heaven.  There is Lib, living and lauding among them… among us! 

            And you know what having this life in Christ does for day-to-day life in this world, in this flesh?  It transforms it.  Because now you live this earthly life in light of your life in Christ.  Now you know that you are a beloved child of your heavenly Father.  Now you know you have a place in His Kingdom, His House, at His Table.  Now you know that whatever is wrong in this world is redeemed, and will be made right, in the End, when Jesus comes again and raises Lib, and raises you, from the dead.  So, now you can hear and appropriate what Jesus says, and what Lib wants you to know, from the second reading (Matt. 6:26-34):  Do not be anxious.  Do not be anxious about food and drink.  Look at the birds of the air.  Hear their sermon.  God loves us, they say.  God takes care of us.  He feeds us.  We trust Him.  How much more value God places on you.  He loves you.  He takes care of you.  He feeds you.  And the lilies of the field.  Mere grass that withers and dies.  What is the sermon they preach?  Look how God clothes us!  We don’t worry about it.  We don’t toil and spin.  God loves us, and cares for us, and provides for us.  How much more will He do it for you!

            Because He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up into the death of the cross for us all, will not forsake us now.  He’ll graciously give us all things needful (Rom. 8:32).  Lib doesn’t want you to spend this life worrying.  Instead, do what?  Eat.  Drink.  Be joyful.  Give thanks to God for all of it.  But seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, knowing that all these other things will be added to you (Matt. 6:33).  Live in Christ, because then you’ll have the real thing.  Then, even when you die, you won’t die.  You’ll live forever.  And you’ll get to be with Lib, again.  Forever.  You’ll be raised together, bodily, so that you can embrace again, and laugh together again, and she can tell you when you’re full of nonsense again.  Life in Christ.  Life full and fulfilling.  Life resurrected.  Life made new. 

            “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” (Ecc. 3:1).  Ironically, for us, today is a time for both weeping and laughter, both mourning and dancing.  We’re sad.  Of course we are.  We miss Lib.  But we rejoice.  Because she lives.  Because Jesus lives.  He is risen from the dead.  He’ll raise Lib, and us.  Let’s cut through the nonsense, for Lib’s sake.  Death is coming for us all, so live in Jesus.  He is the Way.  And don’t waste your time being anxious, worrying about things.  Trust God.  He’ll see you through.  He will provide.  Rejoice.  Eat and drink with thanksgiving.  Toil in joy, doing good.  And know that what God has done, and is doing, for you, in Christ… that endures forever.  It is a rich life, isn’t it?  And it is all gift from God in Christ, our Savior.  Listen to Lib.  She chose these readings for you.  No nonsense.  Believe these words.  Because these words are life.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

           

 

Fifth Sunday of Easter

Fifth Sunday of Easter (C)

May 18, 2025

Text: John 16:12-22

            Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!

            And because Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, no one can take your joy from you.  Because you know how this ends.  You know where this all leads.  The resurrection of the body.  Eternal life.  New Creation.  A new heavens and a new earth.  All that is wrong made right… Perfectly right.  The Holy City, New Jerusalem, Holy Church, prepared as a Bride adorned for Her Husband.  The Wedding Feast.  God Himself dwelling with His people, wiping away their tears.  No more death or mourning or crying or pain.  For the old order of things has passed away.  He who is seated on the throne says, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5; ESV).  That is the reality in the bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.  That is our eternal destiny.  So no one can take your joy from you.  Not a chance.  Not with you in Christ, and Christ in you. 

            Though your three main enemies, the devil, the world, and frankly, your own sinful flesh, will certainly try.  Christian joy, in this world, does not mean the absence of sorrow.  You suffer your heartaches and you shed your tears in this earthly life.  Of course you do.  Even though you believe in Christ and His salvation, you know that things in this fallen world are not how they ought to be, how they were created to be.  All people, believers and unbelievers alike, know instinctually that something is dreadfully wrong.  This is why depression is an epidemic.  Unbelievers assign the blame to meaningless evolutionary chance, or bad karma, vindictive gods, or powerless ones, anyway.  Believers know precisely what went wrong all the way back at the beginning with Adam and Eve and their serpentine rebellion.  And we know what continues to go wrong in our own rebellion.  Our flesh is fallen.  Creation itself has been subjected to our fall.  And so, there is injustice.  There is war.  Terrorism.  Vandalism.  Poverty.  Oppression.  Broken relationships.  In fact, we need look no further than our own bodies for the brokenness.  We die.  The wages of sin is death.  We deteriorate.  All things decay.  We decay.  There is no evolution, only devolution.  You know that if you keep anything at all for any length of time.  It all falls to pot.  Including your own body.  Your friends and loved ones get sick and die all around you.  You get sick.  You are dying.  You mourn.  You have real tears for God to wipe away.  But you do not mourn as those who have no hope (Cf. 1 Thess. 4:13-18).  You know your Savior, and you know what He is doing about it in the end (though, to be honest, the specifics of it may leave you wondering).  Still, you mourn as those who long for that Day when your mourning will be at an end.  Therefore, the deep and abiding joy of the Christian, far from being an absence of sorrow, is a joy that looks through the tears to fix itself on Jesus, who is risen from the dead. 

            “A little while, and you will see me no longer; and again a little while, and you will see me,” Jesus says to His disciples (John 16:16).  They do not know what He is talking about, but they will.  They are with Him in the upper room on the night in which He was betrayed, and He is telling them about His death on the cross for the sins of the world… “you will see me no longer”… and His triumph over death and hell in His bodily resurrection… “again… you will see me.” 

            His death, of course, will cause them unimaginable sorrow.  They will grieve, as one does in the face of death.  But they will not grieve as those who have hope.  Because all their hope was in Jesus, and now He is dead, and they have never understood this talk about Him rising from the dead on the Third Day.  As far as they are concerned, when Jesus is nailed to the cross, suffers, and dies, that’s the end of it.  All their hopes are dashed.  Three years wasted.  And they’ll probably come for us, next.  The world, and the devil himself… all hell rejoices when the Son of God is killed.  “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice.  You will be sorrowful…”

            BUT!  “but your sorrow will turn into joy” (v. 20).  See, He is risen!  And that is what makes the difference.  He appears to them.  Eye witnesses.  They touch Him.  He eats in front of them.  This is no ghost.  This is the Body that was crucified, dead, and buried, now animated with life and breath, beating heart and coursing blood.  And sorrow is put to flight.  There can be no more sorrow where death no longer holds its prey.  In fact, the very sorrow of Jesus’ death is what is turned into joy.  For His death is the sacrifice of atonement for your sins, my sins, the sins of the disciples, and the sins of the whole world.  And death didn’t win.  It couldn’t keep Jesus down.  He killed it.  By dying.  And now Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, never to die again.  And He will raise you from the dead and give eternal life to you and all believers in Christ. 

            All your sorrows, whatever they may be (and they are very real sorrows), are the death throes of death itself.  All that is wrong in this world and in your life, all that causes you to mourn, is the handiwork of sin, and has the fingerprints of death all over it.  But it is precisely sin and death that is defeated in the death and resurrection of Christ.  The very event that turns the disciples’ sorrow into a joy that cannot be taken away, is what turns your sorrow into a joy that no one can rob from you.  God’s answer to your sorrow is the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. 

            Now, the disciples find this all so confusing, and who can blame them?  Frankly, so do we.  Because we know the sorrow by sight.  It is plain to the eyes and to our very nerve endings.  But the joy?  That is by faith.  Sure, we get little glimpses of it in this life.  Beautiful music.  The splendor of the setting sun.  As Jesus says, the joy we have at the birth of a child.  In fact, even unbelievers can be happy… which is not the same thing as joy… not in the biblical sense.  Happiness is a surface emotion.  It doesn't mix with sorrow.  Joy… Christian joy, again, fixes its gaze through the sorrow on Jesus, the risen One.  And that is what sustains it.  Jesus.  Risen from the dead.

            If you want to see this in action, just go to a couple of funerals.  Watch how unbelievers deal with death.  There will be one of two things, or a combination of them.  There will either be denial manifested in all the silly things people say to one another in order to cope: “He lives on in our hearts.”  “We scattered his ashes around that tree, and now he gives life to that tree, so we can always think of him in the spring when the tree turns green.”  “He is that star up there, shining down on us.”  “ Now he’s playing that great golf course in the sky.”  I could go on.  Or there is utter hopelessness.  Everybody dressed in black, sitting around silently, staring off into space.  I’ve been around those situations.  It’s devastating.  And the couple times that I’ve been given a chance to say a prayer or a few words into the hopelessness, all I do is talk about the resurrection of Christ, and you can almost see the darkness fleeing the light.  Do that, if you’re ever at one of those affairs.  Speak the risen Christ into the darkness.

            Then go to a Christian funeral, especially a good, old-fashioned Lutheran one (you have an opportunity for that on Saturday).  Of course, there are tears, and there is sadness.  Death is always a tragedy.  We were created to live forever.  Sin messed all that up.  It’s all very sad.  But unlike the funerals of unbelievers, we stare that reality right in the eye.  “This, our brother, died because he’s a sinner.  The wages of sin is death.  Death is ugly and cruel.  Here it is, in the casket.  Don’t look away.” 

            BUT!  But… this body will rise.  We’ll say that of Lib on Saturday.  Because Christ is risen from the dead.  He died to redeem this body, and He rose to raise this body and give it eternal life.  So at the Christian funeral, we sing.  And not dirges, but Easter hymns.  Alleluias.  Praise and thanksgiving for the Lord’s faithfulness to us and to the one who has died, but lives, and will arise on that Day.  We look death in the face, only to spit in its eye and proclaim the everlasting Easter Gospel.  “Death, you can go to hell, because Jesus has defeated you.  He is risen from the dead and He’s taking me with Him.”  Then, of all things, we go into the fellowship hall and have a feast.  Lutheran ladies know how to set a table, and there is no lack.  We eat and drink and laugh… and cry, but not only cry.  It’s a joyous affair.  Almost irreverent in the eyes of unbelieving mourners.  But see… Our sorrow has been turned to joy.  Because Jesus died, and Jesus is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia! 

            Now, we’ve spent so much time on the second half of our text, that we’ve virtually ignored the first half.  I guess you can’t do everything.  But suffice it to say, our sorrow turning into joy depends on this first part; that is, the promise of the Holy Spirit.  Jesus Himself didn’t say everything there is to say to the disciples that night.  They couldn’t bear it then.  But there is the Promise of the Spirit.  He will be poured out on Pentecost.  Then they will understand, after Jesus is risen from the dead, after Pentecost.  The Spirit will guide them into all the truth.  Which is to say, the Spirit will give the apostles to write the truth down.  The Holy Scriptures.  And in this way, He will guide us into all the truth.  This is an inspiration of the Scriptures text.  The Spirit speaks to the apostles all that He hears from the Father and the Son.  The Spirit takes all that belongs to the Son, which He has received from the Father, and declares it to the apostles, and they write it down.  And that is what we read and preach in the Church, through which the Holy Spirit comes to us and gives us faith in Jesus, who reconciles us to the Father by His death and resurrection.  It is only in this way, by the Spirit coming to us in the Scriptures, that we know the death and resurrection of Christ for us.  It is only in this way that we know how all this ends, where all this is going.  Resurrection.  New Creation.  Eternal life.  God wiping away our tears.  All things new.  That turns all our sorrow into joy. 

            Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

Fourth Sunday of Easter

Fourth Sunday of Easter (C)

May 11, 2025

Text: John 10:22-30

Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!

            “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27; ESV). 

            That is a characteristic of sheep.  They know the voice of their own shepherd.  When shepherds gather their flocks in the same place for grazing, the sheep intermix with one another, and it’s one giant herd.  But when it’s time to head back to the sheepfold, each shepherd sounds his distinctive call.  And the sheep, knowing their own shepherd’s voice, will not follow another shepherd.  They follow their shepherd, and go to their home.

            And the shepherd, for his part, knows his sheep.  And he loves them.  Each one of them.  He can tell the difference between his own sheep, and that of another.  And he can tell the difference between this sheep and that sheep in his own flock.  He knows them each, individually.  I don’t have any experience with sheep… the animal kind, anyway… so I have a hard time understanding this.  They’re just all white, wooly blobs to me.  But I suppose it’s like how I know the difference between my cream-colored poodle, and somebody else’s.  You know your own animals.  I also know my parishioners, so there’s that, too.  The point is, the shepherd knows his sheep, and the sheep know their shepherd.  They know his voice.  He gathers them with his voice.  And they follow him.

            And he doesn’t just sorta-kinda know them.  He knows them intimately.  He knows everything about them.  He knows which ones are injured, or sick, or have a birth defect.  He knows which ones are more stubborn than the others, and which are prone to wander.  The smarter ones.  The not-so-smart ones.  The rebellious ones.  The ones who are dangerous to themselves and others.  And he cares for each one according to its need.

            There are even certain lambs, rejected by their mothers… their mothers may even try to kill them, because of some weakness or defect… and these take a great deal of effort and attention on the part of the shepherd.  He has to take the place of the mother.  And it’s like caring for an infant.  He raises that lamb like it was his own child.  One can’t help but think of paintings or icons of Christ our Good Shepherd.  In the vast majority of them, He is carrying a lamb in His arms, or across His shoulders.  Think about that picture. 

            That lamb is you.  He knows you.  Oh, He knows you are stubborn and prone to wander.  He knows you are often rebellious, and a danger to yourself and others.  He knows your pains and afflictions.  And He knows just how to care for you.  And He does.  Because He loves you.  He’s rescued you from the jaws of more than one wolf.  He’s steadfastly steered you from a multitude of perils.  He’s carried you.  Applied salve to your wounds.  The right thing.  In the right way.  At just the right time.  Because He knows.  He knows you.  He loves you.  And so, you listen for His voice.  You listen for His Word.  And you follow Him.

            Follow Him.  That’s the definition of a disciple, isn’t it?  It’s what Jesus says to Philip and Andrew, Simon Peter, and the sons of Zebedee: “Follow Me.”  It’s what He says to Matthew in the tax booth, and to the rich young man.  “If anyone would come after me,” Jesus says, “let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23).  Follow Him.  Follow His voice.

            Folow Him where?  “To heaven, of course!”  True.  You’re right.  But not so fast.  Look where He goes, first.  That’s where you have to follow Him.  And where is that?  Jesus Christ is the Son of God who came all the way down where we are, into our flesh and blood, conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, a true Man…  Not just to magically snap His fingers and transport you through a life of bliss to heaven.  No.  No.  That’s probably the pie in the sky religion the world thinks of when it thinks of Christianity.  Unfortunately, all too many Christians think that way, too, and it leaves them in bitter disappointment.  No.  What does it mean to follow Jesus?  To go where He goes? 

            It necessarily means to go through suffering, as He went through suffering.  The trials and tribulations of this life.  As He did.  Hungering.  Thirsting.  Grieving.  Enduring the poor opinions others may have of you.  Perhaps even in your own family.  Rejection.  Betrayal.  Friends abandoning you in fear.  False accusations.  Mockery.  Bitter hatred.  You may have to suffer any or all of these to one degree or another.  Much of it, precisely because you follow Jesus.  But see, always listening for His voice.  Relying on His rod and staff.  To lead you away from danger.  To good pasture.  Water.  The safety of the sheepfold.  Let’s be explicit: Jesus, calling you into His presence, by His Word (Scripture and Preaching); bathing you, washing away your sins (Baptism, Absolution); feeding you (His Word and Supper); and giving you to drink of living water (His Holy Spirit).  All in the safety of the sheepfold, which is to say, His holy Church.  That protects you.  That binds up your wounds.  That fortifies you, whatever more you may have to suffer.  And it gives you times of respite and refreshment. 

            But then what?  Where else must you necessarily follow Him?  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” (Ps. 23:4; KJV).  Where did your Shepherd go?  The cross.  Death on the cross, for you.  Unless Jesus returns first, you will die.  The Lord doesn’t lead you around the cross and death, so you can just skip it.  He leads you through it.  But He is leading you.  He is with you: “thou art with me; thy rod thy staff they comfort me.” 

            And just here is where the difference between the voice of Christ, your Good Shepherd, and every other voice, is most pronounced.  Because every other voice… every other would-be shepherd… whether obviously malicious, or seemingly wise… every one of them can only, finally, lead you into the valley of the shadow, and leave you there for dead.  They’ll lead you right into the jaws of the wolf, right into the gaping maw of hell.  Vain philosophies.  Other gods.  Pride.  Lust.  Self-justification.  The world’s ideas of what is good, and what is bad, and what will save you.  What is fashionable.  What gives you worth.  And so on, and so forth.  All satanic lies.  They would bury you, and seal your tomb forever. 

            But not Jesus.  Where does He lead?  Where is He calling you?  Through the valley of the shadow, to be sure.  And out the other side again, alive, living, whole, risen… like Jesus.  Because where your Good Shepherd leads, you follow.  That’s why keep your ears on Him. 

            And consider this… It’s not only through suffering and death that you follow Him.  You follow Him, now, in a life of purpose, as God’s creature, God’s child.  A life lived for others, a life of service, a life of love.  Knowing that, by virtue of your Baptism, you have already died with Christ, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God (Col. 3:3).  Your life is safe.  No one can snatch you out of your Shepherd’s hand.  So you can spend it, you can give it away, this life, just as your Shepherd gives His own.  You are following His voice.  Vocation (vocal).  He calls.  Calls you to be His agent.  In a specific place.  At a specific time.  Surrounded by particular people.  To be His hands and feet, His presence.  See how this fills your every moment with meaning, with purpose.  Do you want it?  It’s yours in Christ.  Look around you.  Where are you?  Who is near you?  What have you been given to you?  There it is.  There is the purpose to which Jesus is leading you.  Listen to His voice.  Follow Him. 

            You follow Him in a life of faith.  Trust in His Father, and yours.  Prayer.  Surrender to His all-knowing and all-good and all-loving will.  In a life that breathes the Gospel.  Breathe in: Forgiveness of your sins, eternal life, freedom, strength, and all of God’s gifts.  Breathe out: Confession of faith.  Invitation of others to life in Christ, and in His Bride, the Church.  Love in word and deed.  Speaking the truth with gentleness and respect, but uncompromisingly, even when it leads to the cross, because you know what awaits you on the other side of the cross. 

            And see, that is to say, the resurrection already marks your life.  Your Shepherd knows where you still struggle.  He knows you.  He loves you.  He feeds you, and tends you, and binds up all your wounds.  When you’re having trouble following Him, what does He do?  Look again at a painting or an icon of Christ, our Good Shepherd.  There you are, in His arms, or on His shoulders.  In the best of those icons, you can also see the wounds.  Nevertheless, Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  His voice raises you to life. 

            And, you should know, for whatever it’s worth… your Shepherd’s sheepdog loves you, too.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                 

Third Sunday of Easter

Third Sunday of Easter (C)

May 4, 2025

Text: John 21:1-19

Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!

            “(Y)et the disciples did not know that it was Jesus” (John 21:4; ESV). 

            There is something about the risen Jesus.  He is hard to recognize.  We think of Mary Magdalene at the tomb on Easter morning.  She thinks Jesus is the Gardener.  Well, she’s not wrong.  In His resurrection, He is restoring Eden.  “Mary,” He says to her.  One Word.  Her name.  And she knows.  “Rabboni!”

            We think of the disciples on the road to Emmaus.  A stranger joins them on the way, but their eyes are kept from recognizing Him.  They tell Him of the events of Holy Week, and the wreckage of all their hopes.  But He shows them from Moses and all the Scriptures that these things had to take place; that all the Scriptures are about this… about Him!  And their hearts burn within them, and they invite Him in to eat with them and stay with them (for it is toward evening), and He takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and… they know!  It is Jesus.  And all at once He is gone from their sight.

            Paul (Saul), too, has trouble recognizing Him in our first reading (Acts 9:1-22).  Knocked on his keester by the voice and the light.  “Who are you, Lord?”  Well, who do you think it is?  “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.”  It should be obvious.  But there is something about the risen Jesus, our eyes just can’t register.

            And so, in our text… Peter and the Apostles know, now, that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.  He pops up here and there.  But they have such a hard time focusing on the truth of it.  So they go fishing.  Comfort in the familiar.  It’s what they know.  Or, so they think.  They fish all night and catch nothing.  Then, this Stranger calls out from the shore.  “Children, do you have any fish?” (John 21:5).  “No, but thanks for noticing.”  “Cast the net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.”  “Sure, Buddy, whatever you say.”  But they do.  And you know what happens next.  They should have known, though.  They should have been looking for Him.  I mean, they're Christians!  They should have been asking Him (prayer!).  But they just don’t see it.  They just don’t see Him.  And because they don’t see Him, they act like He’s not even there.

            What things does the risen Jesus do for His disciples in our text?  1. He guides them, gives them instruction (“Cast the net on the right side”).  2. He blesses their endeavors.  At His Word, 153 large fish.  They’re not able to haul it in for quantity and size.  3. He feeds them.  There is the charcoal fire.  “Come and have breakfast.”  Fish… NOT the fish the disciples just caught.  Fish Jesus provides.  And bread.  We should also note that, along with the food, He gives them fellowship, communion, with Himself, and with one another.  4. And then, of course, there is forgiveness and restoration for Peter.  A three-fold restoration for Peter’s three-fold denial.  And in this way, Jesus is providing, not only for Peter, but for His whole Church, the Office of the Holy Ministry.  “Feed My Lambs… Tend My Sheep.”

            What the risen Jesus does for His disciples in our text, He does for us.  Right?  1. He guides and instructs us.  That’s what He’s doing now in Scripture and sermon, in Sunday School and Bible study.  It’s also what He does for us behind the vocations of parents, teachers, the government, etc.  2. He blesses our endeavors.  Sometimes even fishing.  Our work.  Our families.  Our relationships.  The Church… That is an important one, because that is really what this net business is about.  Success comes at our Lord’s Word and Command.  When He says.  In the way He says.  Not by our Church growth expertise or clever evangelism techniques.  3. He feeds us.  The Lord’s Supper.  His true body and blood.  The eternal wedding Feast to come.  And, of course, in this way, with this food, fellowship, Communion, with Himself, and with one another.  AND our daily bread.  Why does God give us what we need for this body and life, and so much more besides?  Because Jesus died for our sins, and is risen from the dead.  That’s why!  We should know that.  4. And so that we know that, He provides the Office of the Ministry.  The Preaching Office.  Word and Sacrament.  The feeding and tending of the flock. 

            Do we recognize Him in these things?  The risen Jesus?  We know in our hearts and minds that He is risen, and with us, and that He feeds us, tends us, cares for us, loves us.  But our eyes are all out of focus, aren’t they?  We just don’t see Him.  And because we don’t see Him, we act like He’s not even there. 

            In one way, I suppose this isn’t all bad.  It is an exercise of our faith.  Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, our eyes are kept from recognizing Him, because we’re given to hear Him in His Word, and look for Him in the Breaking of the Bread.  And there is a sense in which we just don’t think about it, because we’re at rest in the safety and security of His care.  “Of course I received my daily bread today.  I’m not surprised.  God has it handled.” 

            But in another sense, it’s these fallen eyes.  They can’t focus.  They can’t see clearly.  We forget.  We forget that God loves us and provides for us because of what Jesus has done for us.  Because of our Lord’s sin atoning death and victorious resurrection.  We think it’s up to us to provide these things for ourselves.  It becomes an occasion, either for pride (“I take care of myself.  Look how hard I work.  I’ve earned all of this.  I’m self-sufficient.”), or despair (“Where are You, Lord?  I need help.  I don’t have the things I need, and I’ll never have them.  Where are You?  I can’t see You!”)

            Where is He?  There the whole time.  Like our text last week, when Jesus appeared in the midst of His disciples the evening of Easter.  He didn’t climb through the window, or sneak in the back.  He didn’t even walk through the wall.  He was there the whole time!  That is the point.  He is with us always, to the end of the age.  Bodily.  Crucified, yet risen.  Where is He in our text today?  Right there.  The whole time.  The problem isn’t Him.  Or His care for us, His providing for us.  It’s us.  It’s our eyes.  God, give us eyes to see!...

            He does.  John spots Him.  “It is the Lord.”  What makes the difference?  What opens His eyes?  Jesus speaks.  And He blesses.  And prepares a meal.  And then, we can’t believe we missed it.  We should have known!  And once we do know… once we remember… then, no one dare ask Him, “Who are You?”  We know it is the Lord.  My lunch before Church today?  It is the Lord.  The fact that I didn’t die a horrendous death last night?  It is the Lord.  That I am here, now, gathered with you around the Word and Supper?  It is the Lord.  That there is a Church here for us?  You know it.  It is the Lord. 

            It is Jesus.  God-with-us in the flesh.  Guiding.  Instructing.  Blessing.  Feeding.  Forgiving.  Restoring.  … Raising from death!...  Ever present in His Church.  Ever present in our life.  Still displaying the mortal wounds (He died for your sins!).  But living.  Reigning.  Speaking.  Providing. 

            Okay, you know this about your eyes: They don’t see so well.  /But now you’ve heard it once again.  Hear it daily.  Read it daily.  Speak it aloud daily.  What?  It is Jesus.  You know it.  And you also know this: Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  Live like it.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.