Last Sunday of Church Year Sermon

LISTEN

Jesu Juva

“Looking Forward”

Text: 2 Peter 3:13b (Introit Antiphon)

Isaiah 51:4-6; Jude 20-25; Mark 13:24-37

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

What are you looking forward to? Many folks were looking forward to this holiday weekend and spending time with family and friends. Many are looking forward to the holiday season now before us, with its sights and sounds, and getting some time off, some time to rest. Or maybe you’re looking forward to a new job, to finishing school, or something else awaiting you in 2019.

The Introit we sang today reminded us of something else, too, that as Christians we are looking forward to: We are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness. The home of righteousness. Where righteousness is not just an occasional guest that comes and goes, or pops in now and then, but where righteousness stays and lives; where everything is always good and right. No sin. No death. No injustice. No division or separation. Where everything is as it is supposed to be.

And it will not just be the home of righteousness, it will be our home, too. We who now are broken and struggling, but then will be perfect and new. We who are lacking and weak, but then will be strong and complete in every way and lacking nothing. That is something, that is a home, to look forward to.

But the events leading up to that day . . . not so much. Isaiah spoke of those days, saying that the heavens [will] vanish like smoke, and the earth will wear out like a garment. Jesus describes it this way in the Holy Gospel we heard: the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. All of which doesn’t sound like something to look forward to!

But it is, actually. Because then, after that, will be Jesus. He who died but then rose from the dead. He who came and will come again. Or again, as God put it through the prophet Isaiah, my salvation will be forever, and my righteousness will never be dismayed. My salvation, my Jesus, will be forever. My righteousness, my Jesus, will never be dismayed. For Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words, Jesus says, will not pass away.

Pass away. That’s a phrase we use for dying. That’s what we say: He or she has passed away. It means: they’re dead. Sin won. Sin claimed its wages.

So heaven and earth, this world, this creation, if it’s passing away, it’s dying. Because it, too, is broken and struggling, lacking and weak. And one day it will pass away. Sin, the anti-life, will win again. Science has confirmed this Word of God, noticed this reality, too. Though it doesn’t know of sin and cannot tell us what comes next. 

But as Christians, we know what comes next. We know that those who die in Christ, those who pass away in Christ, will receive new life. They will rise from the dead, just as Jesus is risen from the dead. That’s why while we are sad at the funerals of those who die in Christ, we also rejoice in this promise of God.

And so, too, when heaven and earth pass away. Though a frightening day, at the same time it will be a joyful day. For we know there is new life awaiting. In the one who paid all sin’s wages on the cross. In the one who defeated death. In the one who provided a “next,“ a future, for us. In Jesus. For His resurrection means that sin didn’t, in fact, win. He did.

And so as Jude reminds us today: He is able. He is the one who is able. Able to keep us. Able to help us. Able to take us from death to life again; from this world to the next. For as we have remembered this whole church year, He Himself paved the way. He was born into this world to die, and then went through death to life; from this world to the next. For you and me. To provide a way for us. That where He is, we too may be. Jesus is able to do that. He is able to do what we are unable to do.

For this time that we are now living in, Jesus says, is like a man going on a journey, but who is coming back again. And who will come back at just the right time; in the nick of time. Just when everything around us is coming to an end and falling apart, all the chaos and catastrophe we heard of earlier, and we need hope. That is our hope. That is how we can look forward to the end. Because the end isn’t just the end. The end isn’t just the curtain going down on your life or on this world and there’s nothing more. And the end isn’t going to happen by accident. The end is Jesus coming back. He is the alpha and the omega, the Scriptures tell us. The beginning and the end (Revelation 22:13).

So as sure as this world, this creation, is here, just as sure is Jesus coming - not just to end it, but to re-create it. Make it new and good and perfect again.

So, Jesus says, watch for Him. Like we watch for the snow when a blizzard is coming. Like we watch for family to arrive when the holidays come. That is not an idle kind of watching, but watching and waiting with much activity and preparation and excitement.

But what does that look like? Such waiting and watching? We’ll turn back to the reading from Jude for the answer, who lists a number of things there:

But you, beloved, build yourselves up in your most holy faith; pray in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves in the love of God, waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life. And have mercy on those who doubt; save others by snatching them out of the fire; to others show mercy with fear, hating even the garment stained by the flesh.

Those things are the same kinds of things we do as we wait for weather or for the holidays - only in a spiritual way.

To build yourselves up in your most holy faith is to get what you need before the day comes. Not from what’s at the supermarket, but what’s at the church - the Word, and the Body and Blood of Jesus, to feed you and strengthen you in your watching, to keep you from distraction and weariness, and to be strong in His forgiveness and life. 

To pray in the Holy Spirit comes from that, for we respond to what we here receive from Jesus. He speaks, then we speak. Our guests say: we’re coming, and we say: yes, come! Jesus says: I’m coming; and we say: yes, come, Lord Jesus!

Then also keep yourselves in the love of God and wait for His mercy. The love of God first and foremost is His forgiveness. So keep your yourselves in this. Confess your sin and receive His absolution. Just as we keep in touch before the weather arrives or our guests arrive.

Have mercy on those who doubt - those whose faith is weak and wavering. Help them as we help our neighbors during a storm, or as we visit them during the holidays. Assure them of the love of God for them in Jesus. Point to His manger, point to His cross; to see the love of God.

Save others by snatching them out of the fire, Jesus says. Warn them about sin, do good for them when they’re suffering in sin and its consequences. Like when storms hit or the holidays come, and communities often come together, neighbors help each other. Why just then?

And not getting caught up in sin, either, hating even the garment stained by the flesh. Not hating our neighbors or turning away from them, but turning away from sin and the things of sin, and staying focused on the coming one, on Jesus. Waiting for Him. Watching for Him. Lest He come suddenly and find you asleep. Lest He come and find that your faith has given way to the things, the concerns, the desires of this world. Lest He find that instead of turning away from sin and focusing on Him and His forgiveness, we’ve turned away from Him and His forgiveness and focused on . . . well . . . me. What I think, what I want, what pleases me, what benefits me only. If that’s my focus now, that will be my focus also when the end comes - and so it will be a day of worry and fear, trying to protect and preserve me and what I have.

But if instead we are waiting and watching for Jesus, if our focus is not on me but on Him, then when the end comes - when HE comes! - then it will be a day of joy. A day not of loss but of gain. A day not of death but of life. An end, but also a beginning. The day of the new heavens and the new earth, the home of righteousness. A day to look forward to.

So . . . are you? Are you looking forward to that day, or are you too near-sighted? Are you waiting and watching for it, or too busy, too consumed by the tyranny of the present? It’s tough, isn’t it? We triage our lives, and there’s stuff that needs to get done now, and stuff that we can put off. And so we do.

So the end of the Church Year is good for us. It gives us glasses to correct our near-sightedness and enable us to look ahead, to look forward to the end and Jesus coming again. And to triage our lives rightly, and know what really matters, and what doesn’t. And to know that when that day comes, it will be a day of joy. The day we’ve been looking forward to. For the same Jesus who comes to us now, here, hidden in water, words, and bread and wine, will be the Jesus who comes then, in glory. And all the family of God will be home. Our brothers and sisters in Christ from the beginning of time to the end of time, and from every peoples, tribes, nations, and languages. That day will be all the holidays - Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Easter, birthdays - all rolled into one big celebration. A joy unlike any other. For that’s what Jesus has done for us. For you.

So are you looking forward to that day? Yeah. And maybe looking forward to that day will help us get through today, too. With a little more confidence, a little more peace, and a little more joy.

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

Thanksgiving Sermon

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Jesu Juva

“Let Us Bless the Lord!”

Text: Deuteronomy 8:1-10; Philippians 4:6-20; Luke 17:11-19

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

Sand. Wilderness. Rocks. Nothingness. That’s what they had seen for the last 40 years as they wandered about. It was their fault - or their fathers’ fault - that they had to do so. They didn’t trust God. That He would give them the land He had promised to give them. The people there looked so big and so strong! Their hearts had melted in fear. God had defeated Pharaoh and the Egyptians. He had divided the Red Sea. He had brought them this far . . . why hadn’t they trusted? Why were their eyes more persuasive than their hearts? And their doubts and fears bigger than their faith? They paid for that. 40 years. 

But now, they had a second chance. The 40 years were past and they were again on the border of the Promised Land. And Moses repeated the same words they heard so many years ago: the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing out in the valleys and hills, a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, a land in which you will eat bread without scarcity, in which you will lack nothing, a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills you can dig copper. And you shall eat and be full . . . How good it sounded! They could eat fruit! They could build homes. They could rest. They would trust this time. This time, they would believe. 

God had not abandoned them those 40 years. He fed them. Daily bread. Manna. He gave them water from a rock that followed them around. And their clothing and shoes did not wear out. The hand of God for sure. And so, Moses said, you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land he has given you. It sounds like what we hear in the liturgy so often: Let us bless the Lord! And we respond: Thanks be to God!

Thanks. Thanksgiving. The pilgrims made it popular, but Israel maybe held the first Thanksgiving feast. There in the Promised Land, with food they hadn’t eaten for so long. The pilgrims escaped persecution; Israel escaped slavery. The pilgrims sailed for months; Israel wandered for 40 years. They would be thankful, for sure. But don’t forget, Moses seems to be saying. To bless the Lord. To thank the Lord.

They needed the reminder. God had cared for them for 40 years, but how often intead of thanksgiving, had they grumbled and complained? Too often. They took God and His gifts and His care for granted; they grumbled like spoiled children. Odd, no? Doubting God one moment, then taking Him for granted the next. What a jumbled, mixed-up faith they had! But God was consistent. Yes, He tested them, and disciplined them when they needed it. But He never let them down. Not once. They couldn’t say the same.

What about you? 

Today is a reminder to us, as Moses reminded Israel, to bless the Lord. To thank the Lord. For we forget, too. Maybe take God and His care and His gifts for granted, too. And maybe we’ve even grumbled a time or two. When things aren’t as we want them to be; when things don’t turn out as we want them to; or not as quickly as we want. When what we need is the discipline we don’t want. Good for us, then, that God is consistent. And faithful to all His promises. Even when, like Israel, we act like spoiled children.

But thanksgiving isn’t just about doing what we should be doing. Today isn’t about scolding us into being good and thankful children. Thanksgiving is what we need. It is good for us. It keeps us focused on the Giver and His love. 

That’s why we need a reminder. Not just once a year, with a holiday, but every Sunday in the liturgy. Moses’ words reminding us to bless the Lord who is merciful and gracious to us always - even when we don’t realize it. And with mercy that perhaps doesn’t always seem like mercy. That’s why Paul said in the words we heard tonight: but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

The peace of God. The peace the comes with knowing that all things are in His hands. Thanksgiving acknowledges that, and keeps our hearts and minds focused in the right place. 

But this too: Paul says that the peace of God . . . will guard our hearts and minds. But guard them from what? From grumbling. From doubting. From fear. From worry. From discontent. From presumption. These things that satan can use to turn us away from God, as He did to Israel in the wilderness. So instead, Paul says, give thanks. Not because God needs it, but because we do.

So we do at Thanksgiving, and we do in our daily prayers. At least sometimes, I hope. But when we do so here, in the liturgy, it is for the gifts received here: the forgiveness received here, the Word received here, the Body and Blood received here. For our Lord being here. We may not be wandering through a wilderness, but that doesn’t mean life is easy. You know that, of course. But thanksgiving acknowledges that we’re not alone. That the Giver is with us and providing for us, even as He was for Israel. In the good times, in the tough times, at all times.

We heard tonight also of some men who were wandering in their own kind of lonely wilderness - the lepers. I wonder if they ever grumbled? It’s hard to imagine they wouldn’t have. And maybe even got angry at God for letting them get such a life-altering disease.

Yet as we heard, Jesus is there for them. And when they call out to Him for mercy, they receive it. Not exactly, probably, as they expected; but mercy given nonetheless. From our consistent, faithful God. Our merciful God.

And returning in thanksgiving, one leper, the Samaritan one, received what he needed. It wasn’t that the Jewish lepers were cleansed, but the foreigner, the Samaritan, was not. No. All were in need; all received mercy. All ten were cleansed, healed, but to only this one did Jesus say: Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well. He received an extra gift. Cleansing not only on the outside, but also on the inside. The cleansing not only of his body, but the cleansing of his soul.

And you, too. We thank the Lord not only for the external gifts that we can see, but for also the ones we cannot. For not just providing for our bodies, but providing for our souls. For faith and love and mercy and forgiveness. All undeserved. Which is why they’re gifts. From a giving God. Who won’t stop giving. 

So tonight we hear Moses remind us again: Let us bless the Lord. And we respond: Thanks be to God. Gifts received. Our Jesus has made us well.

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

Pentecost 26 Sermon

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Jesu Juva

“Confident in the One Who Endured to the End”

Text: Mark 13:1-13; Daniel 12:1-3; Hebrews 10:11-25

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

Jesus says a lot of frightening things in the Holy Gospel today. 

First, He tells His disciples that the Temple they were just standing in and which engulfed them with its size, would be destroyed. And not just a little. Not one stone upon another would be left. Complete and utter destruction. A pile a rubble is all that would be left. Then, He says, there will be false prophets and false messiahs speaking false truths, and they will not be mocked or ignored - they will be popular and will lead many astray. But the trouble won’t only be spiritual. There will be wars - nation against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. And the trouble will not just be man made. Creation, too, will convulse. There will be natural disasters - earthquakes and famines. And then the trouble would get personal. There will also be persecution because the truth will not be popular, and those who speak it will be put on trial and suffer for it. And if all that was not enough, Jesus says that even family members will turn against each other. All in all, not a pretty picture, nor an easy life. Trouble such as never has been, according to Daniel. Indeed.

These are birth pains, Jesus says. The beginning of new life, coming to be. The birthing of the new heavens and the new earth, for the new you. The new you, raised from sin and death, to live a new, eternal life. One where all these frightening things will be no more, for sin will be no more. There will be only new. Life without death. Love without heartbreak. Unity without division. Fulfillment, not disappointment. Nothing broken, everything good again, as it was in the beginning.

But not yet. This all must take place first, Jesus says. And it has been, since 70 AD when what Jesus said about the Temple, happened. When one last straw broke Rome’s back and they came in and leveled not just the Temple, but the whole city of Jerusalem. And ever since, these things have been taking place. That’s why, as I said last week, Christians in every era have thought they were living in the end times. They were! And we are. Just in the not yet. But one day the birth pains will end and the baby will be born. 

So what a perfect example that is - birth pains - for it was a baby that started all this. Oh, not the wars and disasters, division and persecution - that all is the result of sin. That all has been around since Cain decided to kill his brother Abel. But the birth of a baby, the birth of Jesus, was the beginning of the end. The beginning of the end of all the wars and disasters, division and persecution. And the beginning of the end of the Temple, too. Because it would no longer be needed. For once Jesus came and offered Himself as the all time, single sacrifice for the sin of the world, no more sacrifices were needed. In fact, no sacrifice could do anything any longer, for Jesus had atoned for all sin; there was nothing left to sacrifice for. And so the Temple became like washboards, TV antennas, and pay phones - a thing of the past.

But with those words, Jesus was not trying to frighten His disciples - or us - but give them hope. True hope.

For remember why Jesus spoke these words. They were in response to the disciples marveling at the Temple and how wonderful it is. But Jesus knows better. He knows nothing in this world is going to last forever. And so Jesus reminds the disciples of that - of how the world is crumbling and coming apart at the seams. And if that’s what you’re counting on, if that’s where your hope is, in anything of this world, then you’re going to be disappointed at best, and fearful and hopeless at worst. And many today are.

So what instead? Well, the answer is embedded in the words Jesus spoke; words that are often, in fact, misunderstood. When in the midst of talking about all these troubles, Jesus said: the gospel must first be proclaimed to all nations. Some have heard those words as meaning that we’d better step up our game and get better at proclaiming the Gospel throughout the world so that Jesus can come and end all this! He’s waiting for us! So, if you want Jesus to come, you’d better get out there!

Uh, no. Jesus already knows when He’s coming again. And that’s not why we tell others about Jesus - to get this world over with and escape to heaven. No. As messed up as this world may be, the things of this world are still given to us by God to enjoy. Remember, He created them good! Rather, what Jesus means is this: the gospel must, of first importance, be proclaimed to all nations. Or in other words, when you see all these things happening - the world crumbling and coming apart at the seams, the wars and disasters, the division and persecution - see these things as an opportunity to speak what really matters, to proclaim the hope that we have. That hope that others need, too. That yes, this world is falling apart and is filled with disappointment and death, and there is sadness and fear - but there is hope. Of a future. For the one who endures to the end will be saved.

Now, that part about enduring doesn’t (at first) sound like good news, does it? For it sounds like it’s putting the onus on you to endure to the end. But that’s not the Gospel! For we have doubts and fears too! And how often can we not even make it to the end of the day without stumbling and falling. The one who endures to the end? It’s not me. Will it be me? It can’t be me!

Well, relax. The one who endured to the end was Jesus. He was the one put on trial. He was the one rejected by His family and those in His hometown. He was the one betrayed and put to death on the cross. He was the one. But He endured it all and was faithful to the end. For you. So that joined to Him, in Him, we will be saved, too. His doing, not ours.

And that’s why we have hope. That’s the Gospel. If it depended on me, or you, well, who knows, right? But because of what Jesus did for us, we heard from Hebrews that we can draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith. In confidence!

We can draw near . . . to God, the each other, to troubles, to persecutions, to the end of our life, to the end all things, without fear. For we are not alone, but have the one who has conquered every evil, forgiven every sin, and made us children of God. Your hearts have been sprinkled clean . . . and your bodies washed with pure water when you were baptized into Jesus. And so in Him you are safe. In Him you have hope and a sure and certain future. In Jesus, we can draw near to whatever comes our way . . .

We can draw near with a true heart . . . a heart that truthfully confesses our sin, to God and to one another. And a heart made true, made pure, by the forgiveness of sin that we hear here and that we hear from each other. Forgiveness that takes away fear and opens us to God and to one another; that restores what sin has divided and brings us together again.

And so we can draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith . . . in full assurance of all the promises of God made and fulfilled in Jesus. And especially His promise to be with us here with His Body and Blood, to feed and strengthen our weak and often-wavering faith. That as we are in Him and He is in us, we will endure to the end. He will see to it. Here is all that we need. Here is the end already breaking into the here and now, as the same Jesus who will come in the end comes now, for you. 

And so, the words from Hebrews go on to say, let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, for how much does a world with wars and disasters, division and persecution, need your love and good works? How much do those locked in fear and hopelessness need your love and words of encouragement? And need the hope and confidence that we have in Jesus?! As of first importance. And we need it, too. So let us not neglect meeting together, it says, to hear of His faithfulness, His victory, and to receive the gifts of God given here. And to encourage one another. And all the more, he says, as you see the Day drawing near. All the more, as the need grows greater and greater.

For how many have given up on things in this world and in their lives? Given up on peace, given up on politics, given up on friendships, given up on marriage, given up on things getting better, given up on themselves? For our world is a mess and shows no signs of getting better. Wars and disasters, division and persecution - they’re just getting worse, right?

Maybe. I don’t think there was ever a “golden age” that didn’t have these things in one form or another. But know that in the midst of just such a world and life, there is a ray of hope. A light in the darkness. That one day the birth pains will end and the baby will be born. But this time, the new life will be the new heavens and the new earth for the new you. The you made new by Jesus. And as you die and rise with Him by faith each day, dying to yourself, dying to sin, each day, and rising in His forgiveness each day, being made new each day, then you can wait for that Last Day, that new day, with confidence, for you’ve been practicing for it. And the Saviour who saves you with His forgiveness now, will be the Saviour who saves you in the end.

And so come war, disaster, division, persecution, whatever; come sickness, disease, struggle, or death; come trials, troubles, hatred, or fears - in this bad news, crumbling world, you can face all these things with confidence. For the one who endured to the end will see you through it all, just as He went through it all.

So as we especially remember at the end of another church year, the Church prays: Come, Lord Jesus! Come, yes, at the end. But come even more now. Wash us, forgive us, teach us, feed us. Make us ready. Make us new. That we be confident not in ourselves or anything in this world - but in You.

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

Pentecost 25 Sermon

LISTEN

Jesu Juva

“A Poor Widow, A Rich Bride”

Text: Mark 12:38-44 (1 Kings 17:8-16)

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

There were a lot of people in Jerusalem. It was almost the Passover. So people were coming from all over, coming to Jerusalem for the Feast.

And coming to Jerusalem, they went to the Temple. It never failed to impress. Like tourists who go to New York City and walk around with the faces to the sky, impressed by all the skyscrapers and amazed at their dizzing heights. So it was at the Temple, as they went and got in line to give their offerings.

There were thirteen “trumpets.” That’s what they called them. Metal tubes that flaired out at the end, like trumpets; or like hands begging crying for a handout. And when one put money into them, they made a clanging sound as the coins made their way down the tubes and into the boxes at the end. And it was a noisy day. Lots of people. Lots of offerings.

And Jesus watched. All kinds of people and all kinds of offerings. Many rich folks came. Their large deposits made lots of noise. And they seemed pleased at that. They must be good. They must be doing something right for God to have blessed them so. And lots of noise would mean others would know it, too.

Mark doesn’t tell us how long Jesus stayed, though it must have been for some time if He saw many put in large sums. Surely, not everyone did. But many did. Many among all who came to the Temple that day. So why did Jesus stay? What was He waiting for? What was He watching for?

At last, she came in. After the many. At the end. Like she didn’t want to be seen or noticed. Her offering made hardly a sound. None at all, in fact, if you weren’t paying attention. And it didn’t take her long. The offerings of the rich took a while, to dump all those coins in. She was in and out quickly. Her two small copper coins disappearing down the chute and lost in the large pile of coins at the bottom, just as she was surely lost in the great crowd of pilgrims.

Except Jesus noticed her. Had He been waiting for her? He didn’t speak to her. He didn’t give her anything. But He speaks to His disciples. He wanted them to notice her, too. Not just to notice the rich and strong and able; but the poor and weak and small. For with Jesus, compassion, not admiration, is what it’s all about. 

Maybe He wanted them to help her. He had done this kind of thing before. When there were 5,000 families who had come to hear Him teach, He had told His disciples to give them something to eat. They said they couldn’t. Alright, then. Here is a single poor widow, who just put in everything she had, all she had to live on. . . . So . . . [wait . . . pause . . .]

The scribes noticed widows like this. To devour them and their houses. Not openly and obviously, of course. For then they would have been criticized and would have had to give up their best seats in the synagogues, the places of honor at feasts, and the greetings and admiration they got in the marketplaces. But when the opportunity presented itself . . . God helps those who help themselves, right? They were good at looking religious and praying, even while they were preying upon widows. Maybe this widow. Maybe that’s why two small copper coins is all she had. 

So Jesus points her out to the disciples. Was it a test? Here is someone who needs mercy. So . . . do you get it yet? 

Well, we’re not told what happened. But given the disciples’ track record, we can probably safely assume they didn’t. Do we? Maybe this story isn’t so much about giving as it is about mercy. Or maybe the two go together . . .

These last few weeks at the end of the Church Year - which are are now in - turn our attention to the last days of the world. To consider that we may be in them. No one knows. Many people through the centuries thought they were in them. Luther did. And one of these days, we’ll be right. But maybe that’s the thing. Maybe God always wants us to think we’re in the last days. Maybe that’s why Jesus doesn’t tell us when it will come and says that we can’t know when. So that we’ll remember that this - this world and life - is not all there is. So that we’ll look for Him. So that our attention will be in the right place. That we’ll notice what we ordinarily wouldn’t otherwise notice. And who.

I said at the start of this sermon that it was almost Passover, but what I didn’t say is that it was almost time for Jesus’ Passover - the time for His passing over from death to life. You see, these were His last days. This story takes place during His last week. The clock was ticking. He would soon - in just a day or so - be on the cross. And He knew it.

So why take the time for this? To sit in the Temple. To notice poor widows? For surely there were lots of other important things He could or should be doing, right? That’s how we think. 

But Jesus is always noticing those the world takes little notice of, or thinks little of. Children, widows, lepers, the poor. And He doesn’t just notice them, He spends time with them, eats with them, speaks with them, forgives them. Good news for us. Even if you are somebody the world notices now. For how long will it last? Until you’re forgotten, too? No longer useful, living in a Nursing Home, pushed aside by the go getters. Like a widow with only two small copper coins . . .

But Jesus notices. Her. And you. Even when He is about to die. For He is going to the cross for her. And you. And even on the cross, who does Jesus notice? The thief hanging next to Him, His mother beneath Him. And He takes care of them. And you. He is never too busy, He never has more important things to do than mercy. For He is about to give all He has, His very life, for her. And you.

So another lesson for His disciples. And you. Beware of the scribes, Jesus tells them. Not just because of what they were doing, but because of what they had become. For they had become quite worldly. Concerned with themselves, concerned with their appearance, concerned with their honor, concerned with their wealth. And so little room for mercy. It is easy to criticize them. How easy it is also to become like them.

But the bridegroom soon will call us, come to the wedding feast (LSB #514). And the trumpets on that day will not be ones for receiving offerings, but announcing our Saviour’s return. And on that day those wedded to the world will become widows when this world passes away. But those now widowed by the world and waiting for the bridegroom - for them, the feast that will have no end. 

So that day in the Temple, you tell me: who were the poor ones, and who really was the rich one? 

The end of the church year gives us that chance each year to remember that we may be living in the last days, and that one of these days, we’ll be right. And so to hang onto the things of this world a little less, and hang onto our bridegroom a little more. To notice ourselves a little less, and notice those in need of mercy a little more. And not to worry so much about the approval of the world, that they notice us - and focus a little more on the good news that Jesus notices you. That He is not too busy and you are not too small for Him. Even if all you have are two small copper coins.

But you have much more than that! For you have been baptized and redeemed not with gold or silver, but with the blood of the Son of God - a payment worth much more than all the gold and silver in the world. And you are forgiven all your sins - all of them, not just some of them. That there be nothing between you and your bridegroom; that not even death be able to part you. And you are fed not with the oil and flour that never run out, as Elijah’s widow was, but with the Body and Blood of Jesus which will never run out. That you eat not just for many days, or even as many days as you live on this earth, but forever. For while the widow put her two small copper coins, all she had, into the Temple’s offering trumpet, Jesus puts His two things, His Body and Blood, all He has, into you. The pledge, the promise of His forgiveness, and that He is coming back for you.

So that day in the Temple, the rich put in all she had. The poor gave only a tenth. And the King, He saw His bride. And knew that she would be a widow not much longer . . .

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

Feast of All Saints Sermon

LISTEN

Jesu Juva

“The Big Picture”

Text: Matthew 5:1-12; Revelation 7:9-17; 1 John 3:1-3

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

After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb . . .

I remember a few years ago on All Saints Day reflecting on those words, and trying to imagine who John saw in that heavenly crowd. And since John was in exile on the Isle of Patmos, late in life, when he had this vision (Revelation 1:9-11), I imagined that among the people he saw in this vision were his friends; his fellow apostles, who had been martyred. Most gruesomely. Peter. His brother James. Matthew. Andrew. Philip. Steven, the very first Christian martyr. And Paul. How comforting this vision, then, to him. To see his friends now safe. To see their suffering turned into joy. To see Jesus, the Lamb upon His throne, with His own gathered around Him. All His promises made, fulfilled.

And so for us, too. Who, for us, is in that crowd that John saw? 

A woman whose mind was taken by Alzheimers.

An old pastor whose body finally wore out.

A baby who died before she was able to be born.

A woman overcome by cancer. 

A old man who lived a long life.

A young woman who had been gunned down by a mentally ill person bent on revenge.

A family killed by a drunk driver.

A father who struggled to make ends meet.

A wife who did her best, but her best was never good enough.

A college student who drank too much one night and fell out a 13th story window.

A poor widow.

A man who lived under a bridge. 

A soldier who lost his legs when he was blown up by an IED.

An old childless couple.

A prisoner who just had some mixture of chemicals injected into his veins.

And who else? 

Who might you see or imagine in that great multitude?

These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. Tribulation, not ease. For life in this world is seldom easy. There is hunger and thirst and tears. There is trouble, trials, and temptations. There is weakness, fear, and death. And we are a little flock, hunted by the devil, hounded by his demons, and harassed by his evil, both without and within. And we often fail. We often fall. We are often overcome. And we look at our lives, and we look at life in this world, and we don’t see blessed. We see trouble, difficulty, and sin. 

And yet in the midst of such a world, we have hope. And we are given this vision of hope today. That there is more than what we can see. Much more. And that as John said today in his epistle, though we are God’s children now, what we will be has not yet appeared. Who we are and what we will be is hidden now in this world of sin. But the day is coming when all will be revealed. When Jesus comes again, and John’s vision becomes reality. All God’s promises, fulfilled. 

So saints don’t often look like saints on earth. The blessed don’t often look blessed. In fact, they may look exactly the opposite. Martyrs don’t look blessed. Those who are suffering don’t look blessed. Those who mourn or who are meek don’t look blessed. Those who are poor in spirit and who hunger and thirst for righteousness don’t look blessed. Those who are merciful are often taken advantage of. The peacemakers, too. The pure in heart are mocked, and those who dare to speak of a righteousness different than the worlds, they can expect persecution. Lawsuits, loss of job, loss of friends, loss of support, loss of reputation. It all happened to Jesus. And it will happen to those who are His.

And yet blessed, He says. Over and over He says it. These are they who are blessed!

That sounds foolish to many. That’s not blessed! At least, not the blessed I want! Blessed is to win the $1.6 billion dollars in the lottery. Blessed is to be happy and have all you want. Blessed is to not suffer. Blessed is to be full and satisfied. Blessed is to have an easy life, to be well-liked, to have all your dreams come true. 

Well, perhaps that last one is the key. For what are your dreams? Are they only for this world and life? Are they that small?  . . .  Maybe it’s time to think bigger. Maybe it’s time to realize that maybe we don’t know what blessed is, and need to be taught. Like Jesus did today. These are the blessed ones. Not the ones who seem blessed here and now, for a short time in this short life. But the ones John saw. The ones with tribulation now but blessed forever.

Hebrews chapter 11 is sometimes called the great faith chapter. It speaks of a great multitude of Old Testament saints who were waiting for the promise of God to be fulfilled - the promise of a Saviour. John must have seen them, too, in His vision. Abel, Enoch, and Noah; Abraham and Sarah; Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph; Moses and the Israelites who crossed the Red Sea with him; Rahab, the prostitute; Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah; David and Samuel and the prophets. And then are mentioned many without names: those who were tortured, those who suffered mocking and flogging, chains and imprisonment. Those who were stoned, sawn in two, and killed with the sword. And more. And we wonder: how could they do what they did? How could they stand firm? And the answer is that they dreamed bigger. They didn’t dream small, of just things in this small world and short life. They knew, as we read in that Hebrews chapter, that they were strangers and exiles on earth, and seeking a homeland, a better country, a heavenly one. The one God had prepared for them. 

And as John’s vision shows us today, their dreams - I mean, their faith - came true.

And so All Saints Day reminds us of this truth: that the purpose of the church, the purpose of our faith, the purpose of Jesus, is not that we live a blessed life, but that we die a blessed death. For that is far better. 

A blessed death. Sounds strange, doesn’t it? For death is the result of sin and the curse of sin. Death was never meant to be. Death is strange and alien to who God created us to be. And death never looks blessed. It’s ugly and empty, even when it ends suffering and pain. But if the suffering and pain ends in this life only to continue in the next, that is not a blessed death, but a pitiable one. For in that suffering and pain there is no hope that it will end. 

A blessed death, though, is possible. John’s vision and the saints who have gone before us testify to that. And it is one of the elders, standing around the throne in heaven with all the saints and talking to John, who tells us how. These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

It is the blood of the Lamb, the blood of Jesus, that enables us to die a blessed death. Ironically, it is the blood of the Lamb, the blood of Jesus, that causes us tribulation in this life. That puts the satanic bulls-eye on your back. That makes this life seem, at times, anything but blessed. 

But blessed are you, Jesus says. Over and over He says it! Even if you don’t look like it. Even if you don’t feel like it. For Jesus took your cursed for you. He died the cursed death (Deuteronomy 21:23) and then rose from that cursed death, so that you could die a blessed death and rise to blessed life. With Him. For to be washed in the blood of the Lamb means to be washed by the blood that flowed out from Him on the cursed cross. The blood of forgiveness. The blood that contains His life. 

And you have been so washed, when that blood was poured on you in your baptism. And you continue to be washed as that blood washes over you with His absolution and in the words of His Gospel. And He gives you His life as you eat His Body and drink His Blood. And you are blessed. Here and now and for forever. And you lead a blessed life and you die a blessed death. For you are in Jesus. And in Jesus, all that’s His is yours. Even if it is hidden under suffering, tribulation, and death in this world and life now.

But that doesn’t make it not real. For hidden doesn’t mean not real - in fact, just the opposite. Hidden means it is here and real; you just can’t see it. But John saw it. And we believe it. I mean, see it . . . by faith.

So today, All Saints Day, the saints are encouraging us. To not give up. To keep the faith. To remember to think and dream big.

On this All Saints day we also remember that we are not alone. That you can never be alone at church. For where Jesus is, His angels and saints are. And Jesus is here. So here, we join them and they join us, around the Lamb. They are just hidden. You know, some older Christians can tell us stories of the good ol’ days, when churches were filled, Sunday School classes booming, and confirmation classes large. John’s vision shows us that the good ol’ days still are.

And All Saints Day teaches us what really is. That what is called death on earth is called the final deliverance in heaven. That blessed is what God calls blessed, not what we think is. And that the day is coming when all this will be seen. When we will see Jesus. Who, by the way, did not look blessed either. Born with animals and laid in their feed trough. Forced to flee a king who wanted to kill Him. Growing up in poverty. Opposed every step of the way. Arrested as a criminal. Mocked, beaten, whipped, crucified. But blessed was hidden in this man. And blessed is hidden in you, for Christ is in you. And when He appears, John says, we will be like Him. That is, we will see what has been hidden all along. 

And the Feast that we began to sing of here again today, the Feast that we get a foretaste of here, will be our Feast forever. As John saw, and said: no more hunger, no more thirst, no more tears, no more scorching heat of tribulations. Only joy. Yes, this is the Feast of Victory for our God! His victory for all the saints. For you and me. Alleluia!

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