Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 13A)

August 2, 2026

Text: Matt. 14:13-21

            “(H)e had compassion on them” (Matt. 14:14; ESV).  Beloved, seize on that word, “compassion,” and emblazon it on your mind and heart.  Our Lord Jesus has compassion for sinners.  He has compassion for the harried and helpless, for the sick and the suffering. He has compassion for you.  The English word compassion comes from Latin roots which mean, “to suffer with.”  The Greek word in our text, here translated compassion, means He was moved in His guts.  That our Lord has compassion for us, means that He suffers for us.  He is moved in His very guts for us.  Remember that, beloved.  Remember it, and cling to it.  How is God disposed toward you?  That is how.  He has compassion for you.

            See His compassion unfold in our Holy Gospel.  First of all, don’t miss His compassion in the face of death, namely, the death of St. John the Baptist, His dear cousin and forerunner.  That is the “this” of which He had heard, leading to His withdrawal to a desolate place by Himself (v. 13), undoubtedly to pray and to grieve.  Now, you may say, “what compassion?  Couldn’t He have prevented St. John’s death in the first place?”  Indeed, He could have.  What prevented Him?  It was, in fact, His very compassion.  For St. John, who even now enjoys a martyr’s reward in the Kingdom of heaven.  And for us, who have in St. John an example of what it means to suffer for the Name of Jesus, even unto death, if necessary, and so receive the crown of life.  And for countless Christians, spanning the centuries, who hear and heed St. John’s preaching, now sealed in his own blood, that they “prepare the way of the Lord” (Matt. 3:3), and behold in Jesus “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29).  So… compassion in grief.

And then, compassion for the crowds who come out to seek Him.  Even when our very human Lord Jesus, here in His state of humiliation, needs a break.  Time to mourn.  Time to heal Himself.  Nevertheless, they come, and He gives Himself for their sake, compelled by His compassion.  Moved in the guts for them.  Suffering with, and for them.  They bring to Him their sick, and He has compassion on them, and heals them.  “Surely he has borne our greifs and carried our sorrows… by his wounds we are healed” (Is. 53:4, 5).  

But now the day is over, and this being a desolate place, and the people not having eaten, the disciples bid the Lord to send the crowds away into the villages, to fend and forage food for themselves.  Nothing doing, though.  Not with Jesus.  His compassion will not send away in time of need.  You give them something to eat.  Behold, His compassion in this, even toward His disciples and Christians, as He tests, and then teaches them.  How are we to feed a crowd like this?  Where will the resources come from?  It is an impossible task!  We have here only five loaves and two fish.  Have you ever considered that want and lack are often components of Jesus’ compassion for you?  That He is accomplishing more with that want and lack than He would with plenty?  “Bring them here to me,” Jesus says (Matt. 14:18), and already the lesson has begun.  Ours is not to wring our hands about all that we do not have, but rather to bring what we’ve been given, and place it again into the hands of the Giver.  In order that He bless it, and do with it according to His good pleasure, to our own benefit, and the benefit of countless more.

So, the Lord has the people sit down on the grass.  He is the Compassionate Shepherd, the Good One, who makes His sheep to lie down in green pastures.  And He takes the loaves and fish, blesses them, breaks them, and gives them to the disciples.  Doesn’t this sound oddly familiar?  Well… This is not the Lord’s Supper.  Bread and fish, rather than bread and wine, and He is not here giving His body and blood.  But Jesus is setting the pattern.  This is how He will feed His people.  His disciples take what He has blessed… and let’s be clear, here.  These are the Apostles, the clergy.  The clergy take what Jesus gives them, and distribute to the people.  And, miraculously, it is enough.  More than enough.  Five thousand men, not counting the women and children.  And they pick up twelve baskets full of leftover pieces, a basket for each Apostle.  A basket for each Tribe of Israel.  Because the Apostles will have enough to feed all Israel, which is to say, the holy Church of God.  You.  And all your Christian brothers and sisters.  

By His compassion, Jesus makes it so.  Never let go of that word!  Remember this Gospel text.  Run to it in your time of need.  Our Lord Jesus Christ has compassion for you.  In your time of grief.  When you are sad and sorrowful.  He knows.  He’s been there.  Where do we find Him this day, but in a desolate place, mourning dear St. John?  And we know, He weeps at the tomb of Lazarus, His friend (John 11:35).  Our Lord Jesus knows about heartache and bitter tears, and so, when it is your time to weep, He is with you in it, to wrap you up in His great compassion, and console you by His Word and Spirit.  

He has compassion for you in your suffering. Be it sickness, or anxiety over the suffering of others, as was the case with the crowds in our Gospel.  Or persecution, or martyrdom for the Name of Jesus, as was the case with St. John.  He knows.  He came to suffer.  For you.  To save you through suffering.  To sanctify your suffering, by uniting it to His own.

He has compassion for you in every time of need.  In hunger.  In doubt.  When you think you don’t have enough.  You pray His own words to your Father in heaven, “Give us this day our daily bread,” and  you know He hears, and He answers.  You are here today, alive and well, because He’s done just that.  Fed you.  Provided for your needs.  In spite of what you may lack.  He’s taken what you have, what He Himself has given you, into His hands (even if He’s had to pry it from yours), to bless it, and do with it according to His good pleasure, for your own benefit, and the benefit of many more.  You’d think we’d get, at some point, just how silly we are to worry about what we don’t have, and just trust our Lord.  But we don’t.  So He keeps preaching, and keeps blessing, because that is what His compassion for us demands.  

He has compassion for you in your greatest need.  In your sin.  In your death.  In your captivity to the devil.  His compassion brought Him into your humanity, your flesh and blood.  His compassion led Him to Calvary, to be nailed to a cross.  Compassion.  With suffering.  Yes.  “Suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried.”  All for us.  Moved in the guts.  I’d say.  For helpless sinners.  For you and me.  Undoing all that afflicts you, and grieves you, and binds you, and condemns you.  In compassion for you, He suffered.  He died.  

And now, He is risen, and lives.  And what does He do, but continue to pour out His compassion on you?  He heals your sicknesses.  Often quite literally and acutely, here and now.  How many illnesses and injuries have you recovered from in your lifetime?  How many pains have been relieved?  You most likely take it for granted, but that was Jesus, you know.  But more to the point, He heals the terminal illness responsible for your death.  Sin.  In His compassion, He forgives your sins.  He applies His blood and death, by His Word and Sacraments, to wash away your sins.  To do them to death, that you may live.  

He gathers you away from the world, here in His Church.  He speaks to you compassionately.  He comforts you.  He consoles you.  He bids you recline in His lush pasture.  And then He takes bread!  Blesses it.  Breaks it.  And gives it to you.  “This is my body,” He says.  “Given for you, for the forgiveness of sins.”  And He takes… not fish this time, but wine, also blessed, and gives it to you.  “This is my blood,” He says, “shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins.”  He knows your hunger.  He knows your thirst.  He knows the emptiness in you that only He can fill.  As St. Augustine so beautifully  says, “our heart is restless until it rests in you.”  In His compassion for you, He gives you that rest, by filling you with Himself.  Body and soul.  So that you lack nothing.  In fact, in Jesus, your cup runneth over.  Is it not so?  Yes, you often feel the lack.  That’s you wringing your hands over what you don’t have, instead of bringing Jesus what you do have, what He has given you in the first place, for His blessing and employ.  Yet He blesses anyway, and employs for the benefit of one and all.  Yes, you often feel the pain and loss, very acutely.  So did He.  But beloved, He has reversed it.  He is risen.  And now you have only to wait.

So, yes, your cup runneth over.  Yes, there are the twelve baskets full of leftover fragments.  For the feeding of all Israel.  For the feeding of the Church.  All eat and are satisfied.  With Jesus, there is always enough.  And more!  For He is compassionate and merciful (James 5:11).  And beloved, His compassion is for you.  Seeing the great crowd, “he had compassion on them.”  Seize on that word, and never let it go.  Cling to it all the way to your grave.  And out the other side, again, to resurrection and life with your compassionate Lord.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.                    

 

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 12A)

July 26, 2026

Text: Matt. 13:44-52

            If you’ve been in my living room, you’ve seen it.  The beautiful Ed Riojas painting of our Lord in a cemetery, a field of headstones, face dripping with sweat, holes in His hands.  And with those bare, pierced hands, He is ripping a coffin out of the ground.  The headstone above that coffin bears the artist’s name.  And from the east, the light is dawning.  It is the Great Day.  Christ has come, making all things new.  At the bottom of the painting, a banner: “For joy he went and sold all that he had and bought that field.”  See, according to the painting, Jesus is the One who buys the field.  Jesus is the One who sells everything to acquire the treasure.  And what is that treasure?  You are, beloved.  You are.

As it turns out, that is not the traditional interpretation.  The traditional interpretation is that the treasure, or the pearl, is the Kingdom, and you are the one who should go and sell everything you have, give up everything, including your possessions, your home, your freedom, your loved ones, your very life, in order to purchase that Kingdom.  Now, that isn’t wrong.  And I’ve heard many an edifying sermon on this Gospel with just that interpretation.  We should be ready to give it all up for Jesus.  What this traditional interpretation does, is it exposes our idols.  What do we cling to more tightly than Jesus?  What is more important to us than the Kingdom of God, and eternal life with God?  What do we fear, love, and trust more than the one true God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?  We are reminded of the rich young man, whom Jesus commanded to go and sell everything he had, give it to the poor so that his treasure may be in heaven, and come follow Jesus.  That young man, remember, went away sorrowful.  Why?  He had great possessions (Mark 10:21-22).  He wasn’t so sure the Kingdom was worth it.  That young man… and you and I… ought to ponder Jesus’ question in another place: “what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?” (Matt. 16:26; ESV).

So, the traditional interpretation?  Take that to heart.  The Kingdom of God is worth it.  It’s worth everything.  Even your life.  Read about saints and martyrs and all they suffered in view of Christ and the eternal prize.  Take that cloud of witnesses (Heb. 12:1) as your inspiration.  God may not call you to shed your blood for Jesus, who shed His blood for you.  But you should be ready.  And you should be willing to suffer every lesser pain in love for your Savior and God.  Heavenly Father, grant us Your Holy Spirit, that we be faithful even unto death, and so be given the crown of life (Rev. 2:10).  Grant us never to forsake the holy faith.  Beloved, let the lesson of this interpretation be written on our hearts.  Buy the field.  Buy the pearl.  Whatever the cost.  That the treasure may be yours.   

But also, every scribe who has been trained for the Kingdom of heaven is like a householder, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old (Matt. 13:52).  Here is something new: The less traditional, significant minority interpretation of these parables is as compelling as it is beautiful.  And that is that Jesus is the One who sells it all to buy the treasure for Himself.  And that treasure is you.  After all, this is the very heart of the Gospel.  The Almighty and Transcendent Son of God does not consider equality with God a thing to be grasped, but makes Himself nothing… comes down into your flesh and blood (conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary)... takes your sin and your sorrow and your death into Himself, and upon Himself, and empties Himself out… humbles Himself, to the point of death… even death on a cursed Roman cross (crucified, dead and buried) (Phil. 2:6-8).  He goes and sells everything He has.  To buy the treasure.  To buy the pearl.  To purchase you for Himself.  And so gain for Himself a Kingdom.

I actually find this second interpretation more compelling than the first, for a number of reasons, but chief among them being that, while we should be ready to give up everything for Jesus, we can’t actually buy the Kingdom for ourselves.  No matter how much we give up.  No matter how much blood we shed.  It will never be sufficient.  We can’t do it.  But Jesus can.  And He did.  And then He gives it to us, freely.  In Word and Sacrament.  He gives it to us.  He is giving it to us now, in the preaching.  And soon we’ll take our place at the royal table to taste it; to eat it, and to drink it; the very Kingdom of heaven in His true body and blood.  It is a foretaste of the eternal feast to come.

There is, of course, a third parable in our text: The Parable of the Net.  The Kingdom of heaven is like a net thrown into the sea.  That net is the Gospel.  That net is being cast this very moment by the Lord Jesus Himself.  Just as He is the One who buys the field and the pearl, He is the One who casts the net.  He does it every time a preacher preaches, and every time you proclaim the Gospel, confessing Jesus in your daily life and vocation, loving with His love, and serving in His Name.  And what does the net do, but gather in fish of every kind.  This is a picture of the Church, gathering in sinners.  Gathering in you.  Specifically, it is a picture of the Church on earth, because, at the close of the age, on the Last Day (the Day of Judgment), Jesus says that men will haul the net ashore and sort between good fish and bad.  This is a picture of what the angels will do on Judgment Day.  In the present, we’re all together in one net, believers in Christ, and hypocrites (those who say they believe, but don’t… those who are Church members outwardly, but not in their heart).  But on that Day, the righteous (true believers in Christ) will be gathered to the Great Fisherman, Jesus.  But the evil (unbelievers) will be thrown into the fiery furnace, which is to say, hell, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.  

Here’s the thing about those evil fish.  Jesus loves them.  Jesus died for them.  To purchase them for Himself.  Jesus rose again for them.  To give them the Kingdom.  Jesus cast His Gospel net for them.  But in the end, they were not Kingdom fish, because they wouldn’t receive the Kingdom by faith in the One who purchased them by His blood.  They wanted another way.  Their own righteousness, perhaps.  Or, like the rich young man, their great possessions.  Or creature comforts.  Or freedom.  Or an easy life.  Whatever it is.  The separation of the evil fish from the good is like the separation of the sheep and the goats from Matthew 25.  What makes the difference?  Faith in Christ.  Believers enter into the joy of their Master.  Unbelievers are told to depart from Him into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his evil angels.  It’s a great tragedy.  This is why we preach the Gospel.  That evil fish be turned (converted, repented) into good fish (that is, believers) before that dreadful Day.  And we rejoice (and we must not take this for granted) that we have been turned by the Spirit in the Gospel from evil fish to good, not because we are better than anybody else (we were evil fish, too), but by God’s grace alone.  And we walk circumspectly, always with Christ and His Word in view, lest we forsake our God, and return to unbelief once again.  God preserve us from that.

That is why I have that painting hanging on my wall.  Because every day, I sit there and meditate on what my Lord did for me.  And I marvel.  “For joy he went and sold all that he had and bought that field.”  It is profoundly moving.  Profoundly beautiful.  His sweat.  His blood.  The holes in His hands.  He did that for me.  My name is on the headstone.  It is my coffin He will rip out of the earth.  And yours.  He did that for you, too.  And one Day soon, He will pop the top off that coffin, as the eternal light dawns, and call you and me, by name, to come out of the grave, and to Him.  And because He is risen and lives, that’s just what we’ll do.  We will rise and live.  With Jesus.  Eternally.  That is the Kingdom.  That is the treasure.  Jesus gave His all to purchase that.  God grant us ever to believe it, and so receive it.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.             

 

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 9A)

July 5, 2026

Text: Matt. 11:25-30

The Lord Jesus gives us three tremendous gifts in our Holy Gospel this day, one gift built upon another.

The first is His declaration that our Father reveals the things of the holy Christian faith… that is, the plan of salvation in Christ, the cross, the resurrection, the Holy Spirit, and His saving doctrine… not to human wisdom and understanding, but to “little children” (Matt. 11:25; ESV).  In fact, the Greek word includes “infants.”  Which, to be sure, means the precious little ones here in our congregation (and baptized children everywhere), the ones concerning whom Jesus says to His disciples, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God” (Luke 18:16).  Parents, and all adults, let us be warned that we dare never step between our Lord Jesus and His babies.  Bring your children to Church.  Bring them to Sunday School.  Teach them the faith.  Hold them always before Him in prayer.  Do not hinder them.  Place them in His arms.  It is a sacred obligation.

But also heed the very next words of our Lord: “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it” (v. 17).  And that explains what Jesus means in our text when He says that the things of the Kingdom are revealed to “little children.”  He means not just babies and toddlers, but all who have a simple, childlike trust in our heavenly Father, and in Jesus Christ, His Son.  All who believe His Words, like a precious child believes Dad. All who know that, while we don’t know all the whys and wherefores of our life in this world, our Father knows, and that is enough.  He’ll take care of it.  He’ll take care of us.  

This is not to say, by the way, that wisdom and understanding play no role in the Christian faith.  Faith, after all, always seeks wisdom and understanding.  Faith always wants to grow in knowledge of the things of God.  But it is to say that the things revealed by the Father are precisely the things that give true wisdom and understanding.  Human reason is always servant to the Word of God (the ministerial use of reason, we call it in theology), and never to be master over it.  When reason seeks to be master over the Word of God (the magisterial use of reason, we call it), suddenly, the things our Father would reveal to us are, in fact, hidden.  When you are the smartest person in the room, and you know it, that is exceedingly dangerous to your faith.  Repent of that, and become a child before God once again.  One who simply relies upon, and receives all things from, your Father in heaven, through Jesus Christ.  

Because that is the second gift.  No one knows God by means of his own reason and intelligence.  But our Father has graciously sent Jesus to reveal Him to us as our Father, who loves us, and makes us His own in the sacrifice of His dear Son.  Jesus possesses all the things of the Father, and He gives us those things by His Spirit through His Word.  “All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him” (Matt. 11:27).  By choosing to reveal Him to us, our Lord Jesus brings us up into the very life and love… the Communion… of the Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Spirit.  

But He can only do that for those who give up their own claims to wisdom and understanding.  Because the wise and understanding will always say of the things Jesus says, “It can’t actually be that way.  That doesn’t make sense.  We know better than that.”  This is what Paul preaches to the Corinthians, that “in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom,” so “it pleased God through the folly of what we preach,” namely, the Gospel of Jesus, “to save those who believe” (1 Cor. 1:21).  That is, the little children who receive what Jesus gives… who receive what Jesus says, and believe it because Jesus says so, and because the Father says so.  Whether it squares with human reason, or not.  Because good children know that Father knows best.  

And this gives us the third gift.  Rest.  Unburdening.  “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28).  Because, in coming to Jesus in this way (which is to say, in faith), you can rest as a child in the care of your loving heavenly Father.  You don’t have to know everything (you don’t, anyway!).  You don’t have to be in control of everything (you aren’t, you realize!).  You don’t have to see into the future and plan for every eventuality (as if you could!).  You don’t have to protect yourself against every danger.  You don’t have to save yourself.  You are free of those burdens, because your Father is there to take care of those things.  And He does.  That’s what fathers are for.  

I always remember when I was a child riding in the car, that I never worried about anything when Dad was behind the wheel.  I realize now that not every child is blessed with that sense of security, but I was, thank God, and it’s a great illustration of why we can rest under the care of our heavenly Father.  When Dad was driving, I had… what now appears to be a rather unreasonable… expectation that we would always arrive wherever we were going, safe and on time.  And I didn’t worry about going hungry on the way, even if I didn’t know the plan, because I knew Dad (and Mom, too… let’s give a little credit where credit is due) would stop and feed me at the proper time.  And when it was time to get back in the car, and on the road, Dad wouldn’t forget me, or leave me in the dust.  He’d make sure I was with him.  Nor was I ever afraid he would pull over and tell me to get out.  That I couldn’t belong to the family anymore.  Because he loved me.  And he knew what he was doing, and had the power to do it, and would always do it for my good.  

You know, that is not an unreasonable expectation of our Father in heaven.  The Father Jesus reveals to us.  Our fallen reason may think it unreasonable, and try to convince us, but that’s just evidence that we’re getting too big for our britches.  When those thoughts afflict you, beloved… that maybe God will suddenly stop caring for you, so you shouldn’t rest in His care… repent and run again to this passage.  Receive again the gift.  Kids in the car do often get cranky, and even throw tantrums, and… well, that’s us, isn’t it?  When we doubt.  But even then our Father doesn’t kick us out of the car and abandon us.  See, He could never do that.  Because He purchased us with the blood and death of His Son.  That’s how precious we are to Him.  “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things” (Rom. 8:32).  He loves us.  Rest in that.  

And, you know, that is the rest we have in Christ above all else, that we don’t have to earn our spot with the Father, or keep our spot by our good behavior.  We don’t have to perform, or work our way into God’s good graces.  No, no.  We’re born into His Family by water and the Word, washed clean of all sin and guilt by the cleansing blood of Christ, who also fulfilled the whole Law of God for us, and credits that to our account.  To come to Him is to believe that, and receive that.  To rest from this unrelenting quest to justify yourself before God, and simply be justified by God in Jesus Christ.  It’s a load off.  A crushing load off.

Though, Jesus does tell us there is a yoke to be harnessed (albeit an easy one), and a burden to be borne (albeit a light one).  What is that yoke?  What is that burden?  It is the holy cross of discipleship in this life, which crucifies us to ourselves, and shapes us into the cruciform image of Jesus, so that we be raised with Him, and live with Him, and in Him, and Him alone.  Like when I was a kid in the car, and told my Dad that I’m hungry now, and want to eat now, and he told me I had to wait.  I had to suffer it for a while.  Be patient.  It’s good for me.  It’s a yoke.  It’s a burden.  Oh, it seems so heavy in that moment, to a child.  But it was really nothing.  One only sees that later.  As we will see with our crosses from the perspective of eternity.  

Beloved, you are children of the heavenly Father, safely in His bosom gathered, by the Lord Jesus who loves you.  Rest in that.  Those are the gifts Jesus gives us today.  As such, we conclude by echoing our Lord’s own Words: I thank You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that You have hidden these things from the wise and understanding, and revealed them even to me.  Let me always be Your beloved, blood-bought child, and grant me to know and trust You as my loving heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ, Your dear Son.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                   

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 8A)

June 28, 2026

Text: Matt. 10:34-42

Jesus is the Prince of Peace.  Yes.  Absolutely.  He makes peace between God and man by His death on the cross for the forgiveness of our sins, and His resurrection, which restores us to God and gives us life.  He gives us peace of mind and heart, now, by consoling us with this Good News; assuring us that we stand before God as His own justified, beloved children, baptized into Christ; and pouring out His Spirit upon us.  And He will bring with Him an eternal and comprehensive peace when He comes again in glory.  

But that doesn’t always make for peace within our families, here and now, or among other people, who don’t believe in Christ, and so do not accept our faith in, and allegiance to, Him.  In fact, they resent us for it.  And feel judged by it.  And are egged on by the devil and the world to mock us, reject us, shun us, or even persecute us for it.  That is what Jesus means by the shocking words we hear Him speak this afternoon: “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword” (Matt. 10:34; ESV).  It is the continuation of what we heard last week.  Brother delivering brother over to death, and the father his children, and children their parents, and so forth.  That is, there is a cost to being a disciple of Jesus.  Grace is free, but it is not cheap.  

Jesus speaks a hard Word to us today.  That indicates that it’s real, by the way.  No one is scratching your itching ears, or just blowing smoke.  What is this business about setting a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and a person’s enemies being those of his household (vv. 35-36)?  Isn’t Jesus for family values?  Aren’t we supposed to love our families?  Of course.  Of course.  But not more than Jesus.  Not more than God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

What this is, is a matter of ordered loves.  There is a divinely given order to our loves.  Did you know that?  We should love our parents.  There is even a Commandment about that (the Fourth: “Honor your father and your mother.  What does this mean?  We should fear and love God so that we do not despise or anger our parents and other authorities, but honor them, serve and obey them, love and cherish them”).  But we should not love them more than Jesus.  We should love our children.  God gives parents for that purpose, to love and care for children (that is included in the Fourth Commandment).  But we should not love them more than Jesus.  We could add, we should love our spouse.  Again, there is a Commandment about that (the Sixth: “You shall not commit adultery.  What does this mean?  We should fear and love God so that we lead a sexually pure and decent life in what we say and do, and husband and wife love and honor each other).  But we should not love them more than Jesus.  We should even love our life.  It is God’s gift to us (His to give, and His to take, as we learn in the Fifth Commandment).  But we should not love it more than Jesus.  “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.  And whoever does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Matt. 10:37-38).  It’s so contrary to our instinct.  But, in fact, we must be willing to lose these precious people, and even our own life for the sake of Jesus, why?  Not because we don’t love them, but because we love Him more.  “Whoever finds his life”... holding on to this earthly life, and all its joys, and all its relationships, whatever the cost… “will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake”... whether literal martyrdom, or persecution, or severed relationships, or just people being mean to you because you bear Jesus’ Name… “will find it” (v. 39).  Eternally.  Abundantly.  In Jesus.  Because, “take they our life, Goods, fame, child, and wife, Though these all be gone, Our vict’ry has been won; The Kingdom ours remaineth” (LSB 656:4).

Ordered love.  Here is the order: God first.  Jesus first.  Lose all else, whenever necessary, for His sake.  That is the First Commandment: “You shall have no other gods… We should fear, love, and trust in God above all things.”  Then spouse, children, father and mother.  In that order.  Family.  We should love them, but we dare not make them idols.  (That would be unloving to them, to place the weight of Almighty God’s responsibility on their shoulders.)  And then watch as the concentric circles of ordered love continue.  Neighbors.  There is an order, here, too.  Church family first, as we’ll see in a moment.  Then friends.  Then community (co-workers, next door neighbors, and such).  Then whoever else God places in your path.  And sometimes you have to do a little triage to know who to help first with the resources God gives you.  My first allegiance may be to a Church member, but if a nextdoor neighbor has a greater need, I may serve him first, because that is more urgent.  But you get the picture.  And note why this order is so important.  Because love is not abstract, and it’s not just warm and fuzzy feelings.  And so, you can’t love humanity in general, because humanity in general is an abstract concept.  Love is decision, and concrete action, which you can only bestow on concrete people.  And so, lift up your eyes from your navel and look around you.  These are the people God gives you to love.  

And what about those Church members?  Jesus commands us, here, to receive them.  That is, love them.  Care for them.  Show hospitality to them.  He has several classifications that describe, pretty much, the whole gamut of our brothers and sisters in Christ.  He starts with those who bring the Word of Christ, and administer His Sacraments.  When you receive them… gladly hearing and learning the Word of Christ from them, and receiving the gifts (Third Commandment)... you receive Jesus Himself.  And when you receive Jesus, you receive the Father, who sent Him (v. 40).  Then, when you receive a prophet, because he is a prophet, sent by Jesus, get this… you receive a prophet’s reward (that is, you share in the credit for his ministry)!  Isn’t that amazing?  Pure grace!  We don’t deserve it.  When you receive a righteous person… and that is to say, one justified by faith in Jesus Christ, covered in His blood, which is all those sitting around you… because he is a righteous person, you receive a righteous person’s reward (and that is all the eternal life and gifts of the justified) (v. 41).  And when you give even a cup of cold water… the smallest act of mercy and kindness… to one of these little ones… that is, literally the children of the Church, but also to all who have a simple and joyous faith in Jesus Christ… who don’t appear to be much in the eyes of the world, and maybe are even despised by the world and by those who do appear to be much… when you do that because he is a disciple of Jesus… you will by no means lose your reward.  And what is that?  I think Jesus leaves it ambiguous on purpose.  We can’t even begin to imagine the rewards Jesus will give us in heaven.  Earned?  Well, that’s not really the right word, is it?  By grace alone, apart from works, or any idea of earning anything, our sins are forgiven, and we are given new life in the Spirit.  And that Spirit works that life in us, such that we begin to do good works.  It is His work in us, then, that He rewards.  And we get to enjoy that.  

Because He loves us.  There is an order to God’s love, too.  It is a great mystery.  He loves His Son, first and foremost.  And yet, what does He give, out of love for us, to make us His own?  His beloved Son.  His suffering.  His blood.  His cross and death for us, for the forgiveness of our sins, and our eternal life and salvation.  He redeems us.  And then, He continues to care for us, because He loves us.  And not in the abstract.  Not just theoretically.  Not just in words, and in warm and fuzzy feelings.  Concretely.  He loves us through our neighbor, loving us.  And He loves our neighbor, through us, loving them.

Ordered love.  God first, and everyone else falling into their place, where you can love them best.  Losing your life for Jesus’ sake, and so finding it.  A very practical Gospel for us this day.  God grant us, beloved, to hear and to heed.  And so, to live and love in Jesus, who lives, and who loves us.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.