Pentecost 12 Sermon

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Jesu Juva

“An Offensive Confession”

Text: Matthew 16:13-20 (Romans 11:33-12:8; Isaiah 51:1-6)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

Hurricane Harvey hit Texas yesterday. It went from a “I think I see some kind of storm in the Gulf of Mexico” to a category four hurricane in just a few days. And when the track of this storm pointed toward Texas, the people started to prepare; to play defense, if you will, against the attack of this storm. The people got supplies, protected their homes and businesses as best they could, and then many got out of town, knowing that even our best defense provided little hope against such a powerful storm. 

But what if instead of just defense, we could go on offense? What if there was a way, when a storm like this forms, instead of waiting for it to attack us, we could attack it? And weaken it or even defeat it before it gets to us? That would be pretty awesome.

Now what about the Church? The Church has a long history, of course, in the Old Testament and now also in New Testament times. But at least these days, it seems to me at least, that the Church mostly plays defense. Storms like the storms of secularism and unbelief swirl about in our culture and get stronger, and the Church seems to be like Texas. We hunker down and prepare for the onslaught. We focus on survival.

But what if instead of just defense, we go on offense? 

That is, in fact, what we heard today from the lips of Jesus. When Peter confessed Jesus to be the Christ, the Son of the living God, Jesus responded: on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. Take notice of that. Jesus did not say: the gates of the Church shall prevail, but the gates of hell shall not prevail. The gates of hell will not be able to stand against Christ and the confession of Him as the Son of God and Saviour of the world. 

You see, back in those days cities - like Jerusalem - were built with walls around them to protect them, and in the walls were gates to allow the people of the city to come and go. If you were to attack the city, the walls were difficult to breach and more easily defended. On the top of the wall you had the high ground and could shoot down or throw rocks down on the people trying to get up and in. But if you could get through the gates, and your army could stream in en masse through that opening, the city was yours.

So when Jesus says here that the gates of hell shall not prevail against Him and the confession of Him as Son of God and Saviour of the world, that’s an offensive statement. That Christ and His Word are the battering ram against which the gates of hell - and so hell itself - is not able to stand. 

And that’s exactly what we see in Jesus. He is sent into this world, into the battle. And He attacks. He heals diseases, demons flee, and when the storm of opposition strengthens and blasts against Him, putting Him on the cross, even there He emerges victorious, rising from the dead and leaving His enemies stuttering and regrouping, trying to figure out and explain how that so heavily guarded and sealed tomb could now be empty. 

But even more than that - not more important than that, but in addition to that - is that phrase we speak in the Apostles’ Creed about what Jesus did: that He descended into hell. And that not to suffer or be under the thumb of satan for a while. Because when Jesus said on the cross it is finished (John 19:30), it was. And so Jesus descended into hell not to suffer, but to attack and fulfill this promise - to defeat the gates of hell itself. Jesus is all about offense.

And so now apply that to the Collect for the Day which we prayed today earlier: Almighty God, whom to know is everlasting life . . .  When you know God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; when you know Him as your Father and you His child because you’ve been baptized into His Son, Jesus, and therefore you are also a son of God; when you know Jesus’ victory has been given to you in those waters by the Holy Spirit who gives you such faith to know and believe - you have everlasting life. A life that will last forever and cannot end. And so you can go on the offensive. Imagine a soldier who knew that: that He could go into war, He could go into battle, and not die! He (or she!) couldn’t be stopped. 

That’s you. Baptized into Jesus, into His death and resurrection, into His victory, into Him who is the way, the truth, and the life, that’s you. To be bold and steadfast. To boldly confess Him to be the Christ and steadfastly walk in [His] way. Because in Christ, you have a life that cannot end.

And so then Jesus sends His disciples out to go on the offensive, too. To wield the sword of the Spirit, the sword of God’s Word. In the reading from Matthew that we heard today, Jesus at that time strictly charged the disciples to tell no one that he was the Christ. Because He had to be the Christ, He had to go through His death and resurrection, before they could go out and proclaim Him as Christ. But once He does, He tells them to go out and make disciples of all nations (Matthew 28:19). To go on the offensive. To go out and fight with His Word. To attack. And the gates of hell would not prevail. Even when the storms of martyrdom and persecution swirled up to category five strength, they couldn’t be stopped. Yes, they, and many after them, were killed, but they live on in that life that cannot end. In the victory of Christ.

But what about today? Why are we today so often, it seems, on defense instead of offense? Well, there really can be only one answer: our own unbelief. The things of this world seem stronger. Death seems so final. The Word of God and the confession of Christ seem so weak. And we want to be liked. Maybe we don’t go on the offensive because we don’t want to be offensive, and so we just wind up being defensive. And maybe we’re just afraid of what will happen. And maybe we think all that because, well, quite frankly, things seem to be different today. All that stuff that happened at the time of Jesus and the disciples doesn’t happen today.

But how do you know that? Just because you haven’t witnessed it? Or maybe it’s not as fast or spectacular as you want it to be? Maybe we just don’t have the eyes to see what God is doing and how He is working . . .

But the promise made to Peter and the other disciples is just as true for us today. And His victory is just as true and sure for us today. And the weapon they wielded is the same weapon we have, and just as powerful. 

Truth is, we don’t know what God is doing. Paul said as much today: Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! “For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor?” God doesn’t need us to tell Him what is good or not, or to tell Him what He should be doing. If we were God’s counselors, we would have told Him not to send His Son, and we would have been like we’re going to hear Peter say next week, that Jesus should not to go to the cross! But God knew what He was doing. He knew how to fight, and He knew how to win. And He did.

And even though we may not see it, and even though it may not seem it, He still is. The gates of hell still cannot prevail against the Church built on Christ and built by Christ and on the confession of Him. If it depended on us, we should doubt and we should be afraid. But it doesn’t. It’s all on Him. 

And so we go with Him and He with us, offensively, into this world. We baptize, and demons flee. We pray, and our Father hears us and answers us. We speak, and the Spirit works and attacks through that Word. We forgive, and the chains of sin and guilt satan would imprison us with really are loosed. And we eat and drink the Body and Blood of Jesus, to attack that old sinner in us and put him (or her) down; and that we be what we eat. To be transformed into the image of Christ, to give ourselves - on offense - for others, as Christ gave Himself - on offense - for us. Bold and confident that we cannot out-give God, and that the life He has given us cannot end.

So go out, speak up, attack the storms of secularism and unbelief, and do not be afraid. Make your bold confession along with Peter. Who do you say I am? You are the Christ, the Son of the living God. The crucified and risen one. The victorious one. Who fights not with the weapons of this world, because as Isaiah said, this world is passing away. So He fights with weapons even stronger - with forgiveness and truth and life. And what He opens no one can close. What He looses no one can bind. What He gives no one can take away.

So while lots of people say lots of things about Jesus, the gates of hell fear only one: you are the Christ, the Son of the living God. And blessed are you - both now and forever - who know and confess that truth.

In the Name of the Father, and of the (+) Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Pentecost 11 Sermon

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Jesu Juva

“When a Crumb Is Not Just a Crumb”

Text: Matthew 15:21-28

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

Well, it’s been an interesting few weeks, hasn’t it? From the high of George’s ordination and the joy of his wedding, to the depth of losing our friend Tony. From worshipping in our own church (even when decorated like outer space for the Adventist’s VBS) and at Immanuel, to now a temporary space here in a home. We’ve had five different preachers these last five weeks, from a learned professor to a retired pastor to a newly minted pastor, from a missionary to a seminarian. A tree came crashing down and death came crashing down, too. Quite the roller coaster.

But really, that’s nothing new, is it? We, as a church, have been there before. So have you, as a Christian. High one day and low the next. Joyous one day and sorrowing the next. Triumphs and successes are followed by challenges, trials, and struggles. At home, at school, at work, sin and death come crashing down. Life like a roller coaster, or maybe a constant struggle.

But while things in our lives and in our church change, one thing never does - and that is our Saviour and His promises. Whether we are high and joyous or sad and sorrowful, He comes with the goods, His gifts, for us. Whether we are in a beautiful church or a temporary set up, He is present just the same. For wherever His Word is proclaimed and His Sacraments given, there is He. You can count on that. In the midst of a world where there maybe isn’t a lot to count on, you can count on that. On Him.

Though there are times when maybe it seems different. Like maybe Jesus doesn’t really want to help. Like He doesn’t hear. Like the story we heard today of the Canaanite woman who came to Him for help. Her world was crashing down on her. Her daughter was grievously demonized. She probably would have gladly let the demon have her if it meant her daughter being set free. But there was nothing she could do. She was helpless . . . but not hopeless. For she came to the hope of the world, the Lord of heaven and earth, the promised Son of David, and would not let go. She could do nothing, but He could do everything.

But at first He doesn’t respond. Not a word came from His mouth. No word of either healing or rebuke. He had heard her? She keeps crying out. For how long we don’t know, but long enough for the disciples to lose patience with her and beg Him to send her away. He doesn’t, but does state that He was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.

She is undeterred. Like Jacob who wrestled with God, she would not let Him go until He blessed her. 

Interestingly, it is at this point that she is bold to approach Jesus. His words do not drive her away, but draw her in. Where maybe we hear rebuke, she hears invitation. Sheep know their shepherd’s voice. So she approaches Him. She comes and kneels before Him, saying, “Lord, help me.” Was it a desperate cry? Or just a whisper? 

It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs. His first words spoken to her. Words that perhaps sound insulting to us, but words that this remarkable woman finds hope in. She is not proud. Yes, she is a dog. She’ll gladly be a dog in Jesus’ house! For even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table. A crumb is all she needs. For a crumb from Jesus is more than all the wealth of the world. A crumb from Jesus is greater than the grievous demon that is possessing her daughter. Just a crumb from Jesus . . .

Just two weeks ago we heard about other bread from Jesus, the Feeding of the 5,000. With just five loaves of bread and two fish, Jesus feeds the 5,000 men plus the women and children who were there with them, with 12 basketfuls left over. A crumb from Jesus is never just a crumb . . .

When I was in Kenya a number of years ago I was privileged to help with the distribution of the Lord’s Supper at Nyapolo Lutheran Church. The church was overflowing that day and like we sometimes have to do here, we had to break the hosts to have enough for everyone. But then we also had to break the halves, and then break the quarters, and then the eighths, and by the time we were finished, I was placing crumbs into the mouths of those sheep come to feed on their Good Shepherd. Yet as they knew, a crumb from Jesus is never just a crumb . . .

Perhaps the events of the past few weeks have made us realize once again how much WE need crumbs. It’s easy to forget. To get busy and forget. To have things going well and forget. To get lost in our pursuits and forget. To focus on what we want and desire and forget. To look to ourselves and forget. But then when trees and death or sorrow or trouble come crashing down on us, we realize that now as well as then and really at all times, we are the Canaanite woman. Or her daughter. WE are grievously demonized with temptations to sin, doubt, or despair; with temptations to pride, self-sufficiency, or over-confidence; with temptations to send those in need away, like the disciples. To forget that we - all of us! - are beggars in need of crumbs . . .

Beggars. We see them - them, right? - on the side of the road by red lights. We see them in the Metro stations. We see them - that’s not us, right? But it is us. Luther knew it. When he died, that was on the note in his pocket: We are beggars, this is true. Lord, help me! the woman cried out. Us, too. We need crumbs . . .

But a crumb from Jesus is not just a crumb; it’s never just a crumb, but a feast! Perhaps one way to think about that is like the allowance a parent gives a child. A dollar or two from a parent is a crumb, but to the child, it’s a feast. Or for someone who’s lonely, a few crumbs of your time are like a feast to them. Or for someone in need, a few crumbs from you mean more than you can imagine. So, too, do we feast on the crumbs of God that are much more than crumbs.

Jesus gave the Canaanite woman the crumb she sought - her daughter was healed instantly. The crumb that was really a feast.

And we receive such feasts as well. With regard to the things of the world, not everyone gets the same feast, for our Father in heaven gives as He knows best. What is good for each one. So there are different feasts. There is the feast of physical healing and mercy. The feast of blessings and bounty. The feast of joys, and of talents and abilities. These for us to also share with one another, to give as He has given to us. Crumbs from Him, a feast for us, served from His merciful and gracious hand.

But even more, there is the feast we receive from the cross - the feast we need the most - from the crucified and nail-pierced hands of Jesus. You feast on His forgiveness won for us there. You feast on His Word which teaches you of this sacrifice and the love that kept Him there. You feast on His Body and Blood, given and shed for you. You feast in our fellowship, here, that the Lord has given us. These here for all the same, for we all have need of these. These gifts far more than crumbs . . .

Which is why the Son of David was there that day in the district of Tyre and Sidon. He had come to give Himself as the bread of life. He had come to set the severely demonized free. He had come to hear the prayers of desperate mothers, and set free a humanity and creation in bondage to sin and death. And He has. 

For the one who was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, He was there in the district of Tyre and Sidon for a reason, and He is here for the same reason. For the lost sheep of the house of Israel aren’t only in Israel. For while that Canaanite woman may not have been of Israel by birth, she was by faith.

And that’s true for all of us as well. We are not of Israel by birth, but we are by faith. True Israelites, the Church of God, the children of God, with a seat at the table. So we come to this table today, to receive the life and forgiveness and strength that we need, and look forward to the table that awaits us, with all the saints who have gone before us; the feast of heaven, which will have no end.

For that’s why Jesus came, why He comes now, and why He will come again. Whether it’s Israel, Tyre and Sidon, or here. To feed us now. To feed us forever. Crumbs that are never just crumbs when they come from Jesus.

And one day, when you arrive at the feast which has no end, look around. For departed friends and loved ones, fellow strugglers, who died in the faith. And maybe, just maybe, you also might see an old Canaanite woman and her daughter, who received a few crumbs of mercy, but a great feast of life.

In the Name of the Father, and of the (+) Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Funeral Sermon for Louis Anthony Steiner

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Note: This funeral sermon was quite difficult and a bit different than my usual. Let the reader understand . . .

Jesu Juva

“Hope”

Text: John 11:17-39a, 43-44;

1 Corinthians 15:20-26, 51-57; Genesis 37:29-35

James, Gordana, and David, Friends of Tony and Tony’s family . . .

Your minds are filled with questions. Your hearts are filled with grief. But God’s Word is filled with hope.

You wonder what you could have done. God’s Word tells us what Jesus has done for us, to rescue and save us.

Perhaps you are also filled with guilt. Were there signs you missed? Indications that something was wrong that you should have noticed? God’s Word tells us that there is forgiveness.

So that’s what we turn to on a day like this. Questions without answers provide no comfort. God’s Word gives us hope, and shows us the one greater than our sin, our grief, and our helplessness.

That doesn’t make today easy, of course. Grief and healing take time. But it points us in the right direction. To go to our Saviour with our every need. Our Saviour who grieves with us. Our Saviour who before the tomb of His friend Lazarus, wept like we do today. But who also said this: I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Words of hope.

You see, we live in a world gone horribly wrong. This is not the way things are supposed to be. God did not create us to die. Death was never part of the plan. Death is not a part of life, as some like to say today. Death is an instrusion. Death, as we heard, is the enemy. And especially children are not supposed to die before their parents. But in this world gone horribly wrong, this world turned upside down by sin and death, that happens. And not just today, but from the beginning. Adam and Eve lost their son Abel. We heard today of Jacob mourning for his son Joseph who he thought had been killed by a wild beast - more on that in a moment. King David mourned for his son Absalom. And then there was Mary, who lost her son, too - Jesus - on a cross. But that wasn’t just Mary’s son who died there, but God’s Son. God knows what it’s like to lose a son, too.

But that loss is our gain. For God sent His Son into this world gone horribly wrong and give us hope. Into this world turned upside down and set it right again. To take our sin and guilt and provide forgiveness and hope. To die our death and provide life. That’s God’s plan. Sin and death, NO. Forgiveness and life, YES. Separation and grief, NO. Reunion and hope, YES. 

And that’s what Jesus did for us. Jesus died our death on the cross, to provide a way out of death. He entered into death to crack it open and give us hope. So that He could say those words to Mary and Martha: I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Words of hope. Words of life. 

Sometimes, though, we think there is no hope. That my sadness, my trouble, my trial, my sin is too much. That there is no love greater than these, that could overcome these. But Jesus shows us there is. His love. And He showed it to us on the cross. That He would rather die than we die. 

You see, while He was hanging there, many made fun of Him. They mocked Him and told Him to jump down and prove that He was who He said He was. That He really was God and not just a mere criminal getting what He deserved. That He really was strong and not weak. But He did not jump down. But not because He was weak, but because His love for us was strong. Because had He jumped down He would have saved Himself but lost us. So He stayed. To take our sin and give us forgiveness. To take our death and give us life. So while our hands turn against each other and maybe even turn against ourselves, His hands on the cross turned toward us; reached out to us, in love. That we see that He really is the way, the truth, and the life.

Our sorrow and grief may make it hard to see that, as it did for Jesus’ disciples - themselves wracked with sorrow and guilt - those days after Jesus died and lay in His tomb. But the disciples would see it. When Jesus rose from the dead, breaking its grip, gaining the victory over it, and showing Himself to them alive. Death is too strong for us, but not for Him.

And now He promises that victory to us. That just as He called Lazarus out of the grave with just His Word, so He would on the Last Day do that same for us. That sin let us go. That death let us go. That these enemies be defeated, and there be only life. Life with Him. Life forever. With no more sadness, fear, guilt, loneliness, tragedy, suffering, or tears. Right now, death looks victorious, and it stings. But it will not always be so. But, as we heard, thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Thanks be to God. Tony said those words with us in church week after week. He rejoiced in His Lord’s forgiveness and Word and promises and gifts. As he told his mother, it was the way he wanted - he needed - to start every week. I also studied God’s Word with him during the week. He was a good student and asked good questions and looked forward to our time together. Which is all to say: Tony knew and loved His Saviour. So while the last hours of Tony’s life are shouded in mystery to us, that’s the Tony I knew. 

And that gives me hope. That like Jacob, who mourned his son but later saw him again, that so will I see Tony, together with all who depart this life with faith in Jesus - even if that faith is small as a mustard seed. For it is not the size of our faith that makes the difference, but the size and power of the one our faith is in. And who made, fulfilled, and will keep all His promises to us. Promises like the one we heard today: I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.

I cannot answer why things happen as they do in this world. I do not even know why God would love us so much to give His Son for us! For who am I that God should do that for me? For you? And for Tony? But He did. We have a Saviour whose love is far greater than we could ever imagine. A Saviour we can trust.

So I included a little hymn in your bulletin for us to sing today. A children’s hymn. For at times like this, we look to our heavenly Father as His children, with child-like faith. We look to Him for hope, for forgiveness, for comfort and strength. And He will not let us down.

So let us sing . . .  (Hymn LSB #729: I Am Trusting Thee, Lord Jesus)

In the Name of the Father, and of the (+) Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Commemoration of St. Laurence Sermon

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Jesu Juva

“Life in Christ”

Text: Mark 8:34-38; Revelation 6:9-11

St. Laurence knew the Church is not an institution. It is not a building. It is not a thing. St. Laurence knew that the Church is the Body of Christ, the Bride of Christ. A building not of dead stones, but of living, breathing, bleeding stones, built on the living, breathing, and bleeding cornerstone named Jesus Christ (1 Peter 2:4-6).

That’s why, as tradition says, when Laurence was brought before the prefect of Rome and told to turn over all the treasure of the Church to the Roman treasury, Laurence didn’t bring silver or gold or the keys to a building - he brought people. He brought the disabled and sick. He brought the poor - those the Church had helped and touched; those who had become the living stones of the Church. And he said: “Here are the Church’s treasures.” 

The Roman prefect was not amused, but Laurence wasn’t trying to amuse him. Living in the midst of a time of great persecution, Laurence knew that doing this would get him killed. Martyred. But he had to do the truth. And he knew that while the Roman government could kill him, it couldn’t take his life. For his life was safe in Christ (Colossians 3:3). He had already died with Christ and been raised with Christ in Holy Baptism (Romans 6). So he was bold. The Roman prefect counted on fear to get what he wanted. But fear was not the currency Laurence dealt with. Love was. The love of Christ for him, the love of Christ given to him, the love of Christ he now, as a deacon of the Church, gave to others.

And when love is your currency and not silver or gold, you see things differently. You see as Jesus saw. And you see the Church not as an institution, or a building, or a thing, but as the people. For you don’t lay down your life here for an institution, a building, or a thing. You lay down your life here when you know that you’ve already been given a life that cannot be taken away. When the love you’ve received is far greater than the love you could ever give. Receiving a love like that changes you. 

For Laurence, like you and I, was not born this way, ready to give his life for Christ and the Church. By nature we cling to our lives in this world. We cling to the stuff of this world. It’s what we know. But Laurence, like you and I, was re-born; given a new life; a new life in Christ Jesus. And when he was re-born in Holy Baptism, he was changed. He was raised. From one life to another. From an earthly life to a spiritual, heavenly life. He looked the same, but was really a new man. A new man who knew that it didn’t profit him anything to save his life in this world and forfeit his soul. A new man who knew that losing his life in this world meant saving it for eternity. A new man who was not ashamed of a crucified Saviour, and so was not ashamed of those his crucified Saviour came to save - the poor, disabled, and sick; the down and out; the low and unwanted. Jesus wanted them, and that was good enough for Laurence. The things of this world - no matter how great and strong and glorious they look - are passing away. But the One who died and rose again could not pass away again. Not ever. And Laurence, by virtue of his baptism, belonged to him.

That’s how it worked in ancient Rome. If you were a Roman soldier, you were marked as such. You belonged to Rome and to your regiment. Laurence had been marked, as you have been marked - with the sign of the cross - and he would not rebel against the one he belonged to: his Saviour. 

So when he was summoned, he did what was right; he did the truth, even though he knew it would mean losing his life here in this world. He knew God was not against him nor had left him, but that he would be privileged to be one of those we heard about from Revelation tonight - one of those souls under the altar, slain for the Word of God and the witness they bore. God knows exactly the number of that great company, a number being added to even today as Christians are killed for refusing to deny their Saviour. Or maybe better to say, as Christians are given life for refusing to deny their Saviour. 

We admire men and women like Laurence. For doing what they did. For their courage and faith. 

But while we admire men and women like Laurence, we worship the one far greater than he. The one who looked at this world full of the poor, disabled, sick, down and out, low and unwanted; rebellious sinners going their own way; infected by sin and dying, and who loved us anyway. Who saw people unworthy of His time, unworthy of His love, unworthy of His doing anything for us . . . and He came anyway. Not because of who we are, but because of who He is. Because of His love that surpasses anything we can ever imagine. And so He came and gave His life for you. That you be no longer poor, disabled, sick, down and out, low and unwanted, but that you be a child of God. And He gatheres you in Baptism, He feeds you with His Body and Blood, He absolves you of your sin, and He takes you to His Father, and says: “Here are your treasures.” And unlike the Roman prefect, the Father is well pleased. This is exactly what He wants. You.

And knowing that, believing that, you too can be a Laurence and see as Jesus sees. And not only that, but do and speak as Jesus too. And see others, unworthy as they are, as folks to love and help and go out of your way for. Not because of who they are, but because of who you now are - a new man, a new woman, in Christ. It won’t be easy and it may not be popular or pleasant, and as Laurence found out, it may cost you your life. But as Jesus said: whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it. Like Laurence, you have a life that cannot be taken from you; a life safe in Christ. So you can live, without fear. You can live in love. You can live because whatever you need, you have. In Christ. In the one who gave His life for you, and gives His life to you. And when you have His life, you truly have everything.

In the Name of the Father, and of the (+) Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.