Lent 5 Midweek Vespers Meditation

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Jesu Juva

“Crosswords”

 

In the Name of Jesus. Amen.

He saved others; he cannot save himself.

Did you hear that? Those who mock Jesus do so by acknowledging the truth: He saved others. He saved those they didn’t think were worth saving. He saved those they didn’t want to be saved; who were too sinful. It’s not that He couldn’t, it’s that He did. He gave sight to a man born blind. He raised a four-day-dead Lazarus from the tomb. How dare He! For this, He must die. 

And look - He cannot save Himself.

Well that’s not quite the truth. He could, but would not. But to those mocking, that’s the same thing. To them, if He could, He would. That He doesn’t is proof that He can’t. Because first and foremost in this world and life you take care of yourself. You use your resources for yourself. 

That’s true of a sinful world, a world curved in, bent in on itself. My needs come first. My wants come first. But the sinless Son of God in human flesh isn’t like that. He isn’t like us; He is what we should be. So He used His power for others, and for that, He is crucified.

And as He is, crucified, things go on as normal, really. Sinful men continue acting as sinful men, and Jesus continues acting as the God merciful, gracious, and abounding in steadfast love. They mock, He forgives. They take, He gives. They rise up against Him, He continues to serve them, even those who are doing this to Him. Father, forgive them. He gives hope. Today you will be with me in paradise. He does not hate for He cannot hate. He feels the full burden and weight of their sin, and the sin of the world. 

But there are a few things not normal. A few people who Jesus’ love has changed.

The first is the thief on the cross next to Him. Who began this day as a condemned criminal with no hope. Who lashed out at Jesus with the others, but then changed his tune - his mocking becoming confessing, his confessing becoming repentance, and his repentance becoming hope. And he who began this day a condemned criminal with his arms outstretched on the cross, ends it a beloved son in the arms of his God.

The second person is the centurion - the soldier probably in charge of what was happening here. When he saw how Jesus died, he said, Truly, this man was the Son of God. Perhaps when he saw how Jesus died, he realized he was not really the one in charge here after all. The one in his charge was really in control, dying on his own terms. He was laying down His life, not having it taken from Him. Father, into your hands I commend my spirit. This man was unlike any other.

And then there was Nicodemus, who before had come to Jesus at night and had a rather confusing and unsettling conversation with Him. Nicodemus never did crawl back inside his mother, but apparently was born again anyway, lovingly serving the One who had so lovingly served him that night. He no longer cared what the others thought, if it was night or not. He would help lay Jesus in the tomb.

And then there’s one more . . . one more person Jesus’ love has changed . . . you. For you Jesus carried His cross so that you could be unburdened of your sins. For you Jesus was stripped of His clothes so that you could be clothed with His righteousness. For you Jesus had the charge against Him written and hung over His head so that the sins which hang over your head be removed and your name written in the Book of Life. For you Jesus was reviled so that you be honored. For you Jesus left father and mother to hold fast to you, His Bride, the Church. For you Jesus was forsaken so that you never be. For you Jesus thirsted and received sour wine so that you who thirst for life be given the drink of His sin-forgiving, life-giving Blood. For you Jesus was laid in the tomb so that there is no place your body may go that He hasn’t already been there. For you Jesus was pierced that you may be healed. For you Jesus’ tomb was guarded and sealed, so that you have no doubt of His resurrection to life again. 

All this for you, so how can you not be changed? The Word of God and the Spirit of God working through the Word work in your heart so that like Nicodemus you be born again, like the centurion you confess Jesus as the Son of God, and like the thief on the cross you look to Jesus for the life you need. And all you need, you have. The gift of God’s Son for you, the gift of God’s Son to you. His life that you have life.

We hear the story of Jesus’ passion every year, and we need to. We need to wonder and marvel at all He has done for us, to rejoice that He has, and to grow in faith and trust in Him, that we may grow in love toward others. That as Jesus has done for us, so we may do for others. Not because you have to, but because that is the change that has been worked in you. The change from sinner to saint, from selfish to giving, from outcast to son or daughter of God. That things not go on as usual for you and your life, but that you be different. Raised to a new life in this old world, and so not the same. Jesus, as the Son of God, was different, and you, as sons and daughters of God are different, too. 

So only five miles from where Jesus was born and laid in the wood of the manger, Jesus is hung up on the wood of the cross and dies. But because of that short distance, the distance we have fallen from God, the chasm of sin which separated us from God, has been overcome. As we heard on Sunday, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1). The Passion of Christ means the forgiveness of our sins. The Passion of Christ means we have a future. The Passion of Christ means everything.

So we come to Holy Week. And we know the truth: He saved others; - he saved ME - because he DID not save himself.

Behold the life-giving cross, on which hung the salvation of the world.

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

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday in Lent

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Jesu Juva

“Lenten Hope”

Text: John 11:1-53; Ezekiel 34:1-17; Romans 8:1-11

 

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

Today we’ve reached the Fifth Sunday in Lent. It is the start of Passiontide, the last two weeks of this Lenten season. So a little more is taken away from us. Our crosses are veiled. No more Gloria Patris. Next Sunday is Palm Sunday, then Holy Week, culminating with the crucifixion of our Lord. But we know that shortly - very shortly - after that, is the joy of Easter.

So what have you learned this Lenten season? From your time in Scripture, in prayer, perhaps in fasting, what have you learned? Or, maybe let me ask you this: If you had to sum up the Lenten season in one word, what would it be? 

Some might say repentance. That’s a good word, and certainly a focus of this season.

Others might say prayer - Lent is all about prayer. That’s good, too. And if you’ve prayed more this season, that’s a good thing.

Still others might say Lent means giving something up (although that’s three words, not one!).

Maybe you are thinking of another word than those. But here’s mine: hope. Lent is so I might have hope.

The First Sunday in Lent we heard of Jesus fighting satan and temptation in the wilderness. The battle I so often fight and lose, He fought and won. For me. To give me hope on the battlefield of this world, and the battle raging in my heart.

The Second Sunday in Lent we heard Jesus tell Nicodemus of new life - the new life Jesus has come to provide for us by being lifted up on the cross. To give me hope that new life comes not by me fixing myself up (as if I could!), but by grace through faith in Jesus.

The Third Sunday in Lent we heard of the Samaritan woman at the well, burdened by all her sins and failures in life, beat up and beat down by others, and an outcast; and yet Jesus loves her and wants her. Which gives me hope that He might actually love and want me, too.

Last Sunday, we heard that Jesus gave sight to a man born blind, to give me hope that even though the ravages of sin continue to wreak havoc in this world, there is nothing that Jesus cannot overcome.

Even death.

Which is what we heard today. Sure, Jesus healing sicknesses and diseases is cool, cleansing lepers is great, giving hearing to the deaf and sight to the blind is amazing, forgiving sins and calming winds and waves at His Word is awesome, but there’s a boundary, isn’t there? A limit. When you’re not talking about fixing life or healing life or helping life, but when life is gone. Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. Martha said that. Mary said the same words. If only You had been here. If only You hadn’t delayed. If only . . .

If only means a line has been crossed. If only means that on this side of the line there was hope, but now, on this side . . . Our brother is dead. Four days in the tomb. If only You had been here . . .

Death is one of the toughest things about life in our sinful world. Sudden and unexpected death. Long, slow, drawn out death. Death at the hand of another. Death at your own hand. Death brings guilt and regrets - wouldas, couldas, and shouldas. I wish I had done things differently, told her I loved her, been there more. Death brings questions - why? how? Even when death brings relief from suffering and pain, there is still separation and sadness. We try to make death look good, like with flowers; we try to make death sound good, that it’s better this way; some would deny death, believing that our loved one is still with us, somehow still caring for us, watching over us, for our good. But there’s nothing good about death. It was never meant to be. It is the result of sin. It is the destruction of life. It is the enemy, Scripture says (1 Corinthians 15:26).

As long as there’s life, there’s hope. Hope of healing, hope of change, hope of a miracle. We pray for these things. Lord, if only You would come and do this! But when death comes, that hope ends. It’s over. Lord, if only . . .

But then, with just three words, Lazarus, come out! Jesus shows that with Him, there is never no hope. The one who created life with His Word, can restore life by His Word. And I’m sure there was much joy in Bethany that day as Lazarus was unbound and restored to his family.

But that’s not enough. Because sometime in the future, the events of those four days in Bethany would be repeated. Lazarus would again die, from an accident, a disease, or just old age. And then what? Call Jesus back again? Have Him do it again? How many times? And what about us? We could rise from death, but what about the next natural disaster, the next pandemic-causing disease, the next accident or stray bullet? No, just power over death is not enough. Death is the enemy, but it’s not the problem. So Jesus has come to get at the root cause of death, to not just overpower death but to defeat death. To give us hope not just here and now, for a time, but an ongoing hope.

And again, that is what Lent is all about: hope. Hope, whether you are a first century Pharisee, a Samaritan woman at a well, a man born blind, or a man, or the family of a man, four days in the tomb. So that we might have hope in all times and in all places, no matter who we are or what our condition, Jesus has come to conquer the root cause of it all, which is sin. The sin that is wreaking havoc in our lives and in the world.

This is a question I often ask my catechism classes. Why did Jesus rise from the dead? And the answer is often: because He is more powerful than death. Which is true, but not really the answer. That’s the Lazarus answer. Or, maybe we could even say, the Ezekiel answer - with the powerful Word of God bringing back to life that valley of dry bones. But neither of those is really what Jesus has come to do. They are pointers to it, foreshadowings of it. But what Jesus came to do is deal with death another way, not in power, but in weakness, on the cross. The cross is where Jesus dealt with the root cause of death by atoning for the sin of the world. And if sin is dealt with, then death is not just overpowered, but undone, defeated. And there is not just hope and life for some, but for all. 

And so for you. Whatever your situation, whatever attacks you are sufferings, whatever is seeking to rob you of life. For you, there is no, Lord, if only you had been here, for He is here for you, in water, words, and bread and wine; living water, life-giving words of absolution, of forgiveness, and the same Body and Blood that hung on the cross and rose from the dead now fed to you that you have that life in you. To deal with the root cause of sin in your life. That you hear, and know, and believe that your sins are forgiven. That you hear, and know, and believe that there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. That there is therefore now no condemnation for you, for you are in Christ Jesus and He is in you. And so in Him you have hope and life.

Hope on the battlefield against satan, sin, and temptation.

Hope for new life when your old life keeps weighing you down.

Hope when you’re thirsting for something that satisfies, living water, in an ever-changing and unsatisfying world.

Hope to see Jesus in a world where we see so much sin and rebellion and hate.

Hope in the midst of a world of death, in the midst of a world dying to live, in the midst of a dying world.

Hope in a world when one day’s solution is the next day’s fake news; where what worked one day doesn’t work the next; where we don’t know what to count on, what we can rely on, what is the truth.

Hope to cut through all that, and say: Here is the one you can rely on. Here is the one who is and speaks truth. Here is the one who has what you need, namely life, and hope. Here is the one you can believe and trust with your life. Because He gave His life for you.

This season of Lent focuses us on that. We start with our little ashen crosses, but end at His cross. Praying, fasting, and almsgiving take away the distractions of the world and of our lives to focus on the cross. We repent, we give up, until on Good Friday, we have nothing left but the cross. And there is our hope. Our hope in life, our hope in death. Our hope now, our hope for the future. Our hope in times of tribulation, our hope in times of prosperity. Hope that will not let us down.

Which doesn’t mean life will be easy or always go your way - you know better than that. Sin and its havoc on us is real. And while life may dish out more than we can handle, it can never dish out more than Jesus can handle. He is the victor, then and now. And that victory He has given to us. Just as surely as He won the victory that day in Bethany.

So when you are baptized, it is Jesus calling out to you, Come out! And you are born again, born from above, to a new life.

When you are absolved, Jesus is calling to you, Come out! Come out of your sin and live the new life that I have given you.

When you hear the Gospel, Jesus is calling to you, Come out! Hear the truth in a confused and messed up world and live not in sin, but in the freedom I have given you.

When you eat and drink the Body and Blood of Jesus here, Jesus is calling to you, Come out! And go out into the world from this place with your new life, and live in the victory over sin and death you have here received.

Now maybe, like Lazarus, you’ve been bound in sin and death. And maybe, like Lazarus, it has been for a while and you stink. The good news is that Jesus is the resurrection and the life. That Jesus unbinds you and anoints you with His Spirit. And just as there was joy that day in Bethany, so there is joy in heaven over one sinner who repents, who is forgiven, who lives in Jesus. Joy that is our’s too, even in Lent. For we have hope. We have Jesus. And He has us. As we journey through this world, through death, and to life everlasting.

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

Lent 4 Midweek Vespers Meditation

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Jesu Juva

“Clash of Kingdoms”

 

In the Name of Jesus. Amen.

Thy kingdom come, Jesus taught us to pray.

But how often it is MY kingdom that I want to come, that I work and strive for. My desires, my plans, my dreams. And I would like God to help me; make that happen. But if MY kingdom comes, that makes ME the king, not God. And that is not good. That is one of the things I suspect we all need to repent of this Lenten season.

And so it was with the Jewish leaders, and Pilate, and Herod. They all had their own kingdoms, their own plans, their own desires, their own dreams. The Jewish leaders wanted their nation back, with them at the top, of course. Pilate wanted a better governorship and to be in the “Friends of Caesar” club. Herod was a tetrarch, but a bigger kingdom and more power is always welcome. 

And then there’s Jesus and His kingdom - the round peg of God’s kingdom in the square hole of this world’s kingdoms! He didn’t fit. His kingdom was unlike any of theirs. His a kingdom of truth, not power. Of coming down to serve, not rising up to be served. A kingdom not of this world. But this they cannot understand. All they know is that in this “clash of kingdoms,” Jesus and His kingdom cannot exist with theirs. It is a threat. It - and He - will have to go.

So the Jewish leaders bring Jesus to Pilate because under Roman rule they cannot put Jesus to death. The Romans gave them a good amount of self-rule, but capital punishment remained in Rome’s purview. At first, they don’t bring any specific charges; they don’t really have any to bring. Just a trust us! He’s a criminal. He needs to be put to death. But Pilate needs more than that. He may not be the best governor in the Empire, but he knows that much. 

So after the Jewish leaders accuse Him and level some charges, Pilate questions Him, but Jesus does not defend Himself. Three times, in fact, will Pilate publicly declare Jesus innocent. But in this “clash of kingdoms,” neither truth or guilt or innocence is the point - the preservation of kingdom and power is. And until Pilate’s is threatened, he doesn’t budge. No need to. Nothing on the line for him.

But he does try to pass the buck by sending Jesus to Herod. He didn’t like Herod, but he may be useful. But Herod’s in the same situation as Pilate - he’s not threatened by Jesus, so reason to do anything. Jesus isn’t a challenge to him, just an amusement. So when he’s tired of Jesus, he sends him back to Pilate.

Pilate then tries to be a savvy politician and divide the leaders and the led, the chief priests and the people, by offering up Barabbas - but the chief priests won that battle, persuading the people to ask for Barabbas. It’s only when Pilate and his kingdom and his power, his hopes and dreams and ambitions, are threatened, that he relents. For, after all, in this “clash of kingdoms,” his kingdom must come first. He was afraid, he was confused, he was conflicted, he tried to maintain his innocence, to wash his hands of the matter, both literally and figuratively. Fine. Do what you want with your king. He’s your king, after all. Not mine.

But Pilate, you are wrong. He is your king. He is Caesar’s king. He’s the king of kings. You will one day know that. You will one day confess that. Because one day, every knee [will] bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (Philippians 2:10b-11). The only question, Pilate, is this: Will your knee bow and your tongue confess in this life, leading to glory? Or in the next, with you in eternal torment?

You see, this “clash of kingdoms” isn’t really a clash at all. There is really only one king, and He is in control. The kingdom of God comes by itself without our prayer, but we pray that it may come to us also (Small Catechism, Second Petition). The Jewish leaders and Pilate and Herod think they are in control, but it is really Jesus running the show here. All the kings and kingdoms of the world get their authority from Him (Romans 13). Jesus, in fact, confessed that fact to Pilate in words we heard tonight. But those words bounced off Pilate’s blind eyes, deaf ears, and hard heart. But as Jesus taught His disciples earlier: No one takes His life from Him - no one could. He demonstrated that in Gethsemane when they came to arrest Him and at His word they all fell to the ground. No, no one takes His life from Him, He lays it down of His own accord (John 10:18). He lays it down precisely because He is the king. And this is what good kings, powerful kings, godly kings do - not gather power to themselves, but love and serve their people. 

And so Jesus, the true King in this story, does. Lays down His life for the life of the world. For the Jewish leaders’ life. For Pilate’s life. For Herod’s life. For Barabbas’ life. For the life of all in the crowd shouting crucify him! And for your life and mine. No life, no sin, left unatoned for by Jesus. His life for all, that all may be His.

But not all want to be his. The chief priests said: We have no king but Caesar, following in the footsteps of Old Testament Israel who had also rejected God as their king. The people said: His blood be on us and on our children, following the footsteps of Old Testament Israel who rejected God in favor of the false gods of the nations around them, even to the point of sacrificing and shedding the blood of their own children. And how about us and what we do for our own kingdoms? Following in the footsteps of our first parents in the Garden, who listened to the lie of satan and instead of gaining a kingdom, crashed and burned the one they already had.

But that’s what makes Jesus and his kingship so remarkable. What we crashed and burned, He rebuilds. He brings life for our death, forgiveness for our sin, and the promise of a glorious future, so that I may be His own and live under Him in His kingdom and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness (Small Catechism, Second Article). That just as He is risen from the dead, so will I be. And not just in the future, but already here and now. Raised from the death of my sins to a new life in Him. Raised from my own kingdom into His. 

 

So we pray Thy kingdom come, and we heard how that kingdom comes tonight, in Jesus.And as the King comes to us today, His kingdom comes for us. And it’ll look the same - not powerful, but weak; not wise, but foolish; not honored, but mocked and reviled; not glorious, but crucified. But exactly in those things will it be triumphant. For Christ crucified is the power of God and the wisdom of God. And the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men (1 Corinthians 1:14b-25).

Pilate couldn’t figure out why Jesus remained silent and wouldn’t defend Himself. We know. To die. And win.

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

Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent

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Jesu Juva

“Who Is Really Blind?”

Text: John 9:1-41; Ephesians 5:8–14

 

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

Who can see? Who is blind? This isn’t just a question for Jesus’ day. Today, this debate rages on as well. Both in the world and in the church.

Consider the economy and inflation. Some say spending more will improve things - how can you not see that? Others say spending more will just make it worse - how can you not see that!

When it comes to abortion, some say it’s healthcare - how can you not see that? But for others, it’s murder - how can you not see that! 

Look at what’s going on with gender. For some, your gender is whatever you think it is, and there are many genders to choose from; gender is of the mind - how can you not see that? But for others, gender is of the body; there is male and female - how can you not see that!

And there’s lots more examples I could cite and you are probably thinking of. And these are important questions. Life questions. People feel and act passionately about these issues. But while important, they are questions that pale in comparison to questions that concern eternal life. So while something like transgenderism is trying to fix my life here and now, and transhumanism - trying to blend man and machine - is trying to somehow overcome death and give my life a future, Jesus has come to do what not these or anything else can do: transfigure us. Not just fix up this life, or extend this life, or save this life, but give us a new life. A new life in Him. A new and glorious life. And so how we see Jesus is a matter of utmost importance.

And so the account we heard today - a story not so much of a man born blind who can now see, but of how we see Jesus. And how Jesus sees us.

For that’s how this story begins: with Jesus seeing. Jesus sees a man who cannot see and could never see; a man blind from birth. You get the feeling this man was invisible to most - they didn’t see him, they just walked right on by him, as we do to a lot of folks. We’re busy, we’re preoccupied. But not Jesus. He sees him. This man matters to Him. Jesus pays attention to him, cares for him.

So once Jesus sees this man, then the disciples do. Oh yeah, this guy. What happened to him, Jesus? And why? Who sinned, this man or his parents?

Jesus’ answer is important. That’s not how God is, tit for tat. That’s how we are. But God is not like us. God has a special plan for this man. I’ve been looking for him, Jesus says, to work this work of God in him. To be the light of the world for him. Not just so he can see the things of this world, but so that he can see Me. See and believe and have eternal life.

But there is a kernel of truth in what the disciples asked - this man was blind because of sin; because of the sin of his parents. Not his mom and dad, but his very first parents, Adam and Eve. That’s why there’s something wrong with him, and that’s why there’s something wrong with us. All of us are born in sin and with sin. It manifests itself in us in different ways, perhaps; but it’s true for all of us. We’re all by nature sinful and unclean. We’re all by nature blind and dead. We all need Jesus. So Jesus comes for us. To see us that we may see Him. 

The man didn’t ask for healing - Jesus just acts. He acts as the Creator. What Adam and Eve ruined and plunged into sin, Jesus restores. So just as He did in the Garden when He formed Adam from the dust of the ground, Jesus uses the dust of the ground to make mud and give this man eyes, as it were, to see. And then tells him: Go, wash in the pool of Siloam. He does, and He sees.

What then ends up happening is that this man who maybe thought he had been rejected by God (which seemed to be the implication of the disciples’ question) and relied on the world to help him, now is rejected by the world and relies on Jesus. He confesses Jesus and worships Jesus for He sees Jesus - not just the man Jesus, but the Son of Man, Son of God, Jesus. A happy ending, we might say.

But one not easily arrived at! For in between, we get this investigation by the Pharisees. They drag the man in, and then his parents, and then the man again. And in all this, there are really just two questions to be answered: Who is this man? And who is Jesus? 

Is this the same man who used to be blind, blind from birth, who used to sit and beg? Some said it was, some said it wasn’t - this man just looked like him. Because it couldn’t be the same man! A man who’s been blind his whole life couldn’t possibly now see. Can’t be. But wrapped up in that question was the bigger question: What if it was the same man? And if it was, then who is Jesus? Is He from God? Is He a prophet?

Well, they know. They know what happened. Everyone’s dancing around it, but they know. His parents won’t say it because they’re afraid of the Jews and getting tossed out of the synagogue. The Pharisees can’t say it because they think Jesus broke their Sabbath rules and they couldn’t condone that. They know, but they deny, they won’t confess. They see, but they’re blind. To which the man-born-blind-but-now-seeing says: Why, this is an amazing thing! How can you not see this? How can you not acknowledge the truth? How can you not see, that is, believe?

The Pharisees then accuse him of being a sinner, that is, one who is blind and cannot see. Which is pretty ironic! The one who couldn’t see but can now see the Pharisees say cannot see! For them, the one who confesses Jesus is blind, and the ones who do not confess Him, they can see.

Which is what our world says today as well. Christians are dumb, stupid, not seeing, blind to what is obvious to all. We need to get on the bandwagon with the world. We’re told that what we say is true is really false, and what we say is false is really true. And we who have been washed in the waters of baptism and given the eyes of faith to see are not welcome in the synagogue of this world, among the learned of this world. You and your faith must stay out of the public square. But then, and now, who is really blind?

And then we see the Good Shepherd at work. The Creator, who is also the Good Shepherd. The one who at the beginning of this story saw the one who could not see, now finds the one who can see and so was rejected, tossed out, and left alone. Jesus finds him and cares for him, catechizes him and reveals Himself to him. Before, the blind man only heard His voice; now he sees Him in the flesh, and worships Him.

And so will you. The one you now hear, His voice speaking to you in your Baptism, speaking to you His Absolution, speaking to you His Gospel, and speaking and giving to you His Body and Blood, you will one day see with your eyes, when the transfiguration begun in your baptism is brought to completion in your resurrection. That is the future that awaits you. You who have been born in utter sin, but the Lord saw you and rescued you and made you His own. Your sins forgiven, your life restored, and your future assured. 

That reality is hidden in this world of sin and death. But it is reality nonetheless. Jesus has changed you and given you eyes of faith to see and believe. Your identity is no longer person born in utter sin, but baptized child of God. That’s who you are. Or as St. Paul put it in the Epistle today, For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. That is, once you were dead in your trespasses and sins, but now you are alive in Jesus. Once you were blind, but now you can see. Once you had no future, but now you have a glorious future. 

So, Paul says, live like it! Walk as children of light. 

That man-once-blind, everyone could see he was different. They tried to deny it was the same man, but they knew it was. Do you think he lived differently from that day forward? Not only because he could now see, but because he saw Jesus and now knew his Saviour? Nothing would, could, be the same for him now.

And that’s true for you, too. Maybe you look exactly the same before and after Baptism. Maybe you look exactly the same before and after Absolution. Maybe you look exactly the same before and after receiving the Body and Blood of Jesus in His Supper. But are you the same? Or are you different? How could you not be different? 

So wouldn’t it be great if people noticed that. If they looked at you and said, is that the same person? It is, but it isn’t. You’re the same, but at the same time different. You’re still a child of man, but you’re also now a child of God. And you can see. You can see the truth, and live that truth. Not what the world says is truth, but what really is. And for that, you may get tossed out, rejected, mocked, even crucified. But through it all, your Good Shepherd is with you. The One who created all things, was born in a manger, showed His glory in His Transfiguration, and then hung on a cross. All the same God, all for you. So that you who were created by Him, be born again in Him, transfigured to be like Him, and then die and rise to a new and eternal life with Him. 

Because that’s what matters most of all. There are a lot of questions about life in our world today - how to have it, how to keep it, how to improve it, what it is, what it means. And those are important questions. But none more important than to see Jesus and His life as the source of your life. The man in the story we heard today was blind for a number of years, maybe a lot of years! But his Saviour came for him and he would see forever. And you, too. For your Saviour has come for you. You may be invisible to the world, but not to Him. He sees you. Come see, hear, taste, touch, confess, and worship Him, now. And then, on the Last Day, as we just sang, 

And then from death awaken me, That these mine eyes with joy may see,

O Son of God, Thy glorious face, My Savior and my fount of grace.

Lord Jesus Christ, my prayer attend, my prayer attend,

And I - a man born blind - will praise The without end (LSB #708, v. 3).

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

Lent 3 Midweek Vespers Meditation

LISTEN

Jesu Juva

“Truth and Consequences”

 

In the Name of Jesus. Amen.

Truth and consequences. Not the game show that was on television when I was a wee lad, but the fact that when you tell the truth, there are often consequences. That’s what we heard in the Passion reading tonight.

But before getting to that, think about the fact that we don’t have to be taught how not to tell the truth; that is, to lie. Children figure that out early on. That when there are consequences to telling the truth, the way to get out of those consequences is to not tell the truth; that is, to lie. And sometimes it works. Not always, but if we can get out at least some consequences with our lies, then why not? And as we grow older, it continues. Maybe increases. And then maybe we don’t just lie to get out of consequences (like cheating on your taxes to pay less), but to get something I want (like lying on your resume). But it’s no surprise that if satan is the father of lies (as Jesus calls him, John 8), then injected with the poison of sin, lies become part of our vocabulary, what we sinful human beings do, too.

First up in the reading tonight were those false witnesses against Jesus. Were they lying to get what they wanted - maybe their 15 minutes of fame? Or were they lying because they had been paid to do so, so the Jewish leaders could get what they wanted - Jesus convicted of breaking their law. Or were they just repeating what they had heard, what everyone was saying, not knowing it was false? Whatever the reasons, whatever the cause, it wasn’t working. Their evidence did not agree, and according to the Law of Moses, you couldn’t convict without the uniform testimony of two or three witnesses.

But Jesus tells the truth. Though He knows there will be consequences for it; but He is willing to suffer the consequences. This is why He came, God in the flesh. To be life in the midst of a world of death. To be love in the midst of a world of hate. To be truth in the midst of a world of lies. So He will not lie. For while speaking the truth would have consequences for Himself, lying would have far greater consequences for the world, namely, it would mean the victory of satan. In the wilderness, satan tried to get Jesus to confirm who He was through signs and miracles. Here, satan wants Jesus to deny who He is, to save Himself. Jesus sees through it all, and simply speaks the truth. Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed? I am. Jesus is the great I AM; God in the flesh. He will not, can not, deny that. And contrary to what the high priest said, to speak that was not death-deserving blasphemy, but the life-giving truth.

The consequences then immediately start. The guards blindfold Him and strike Him and mock Him as they drag Him away. 

Peter, meanwhile, is facing his own truth and consequences moment. Would he confess the truth or would he lie? This was the moment of truth. He had just hours before this boldly and defiantly told Jesus that Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you! (Matthew 26:35). But Jesus knew he would, and told Peter that he would. And now was the moment. While Jesus was inside, truthfully answering the question: Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed? Peter is outside, lying: I do not know the man.

Did he hesitate? Did he pause? Or did he speak quickly? The first one, the first denial, the first lie, was probably the hardest. The rest came easier. One lie leads to another, the heart hardens and the tongue gets used to it. Until the rooster crows. The rooster crows the truth - that day has broken, but it’s really Peter’s heart that breaks. Not that it wasn’t broken before - broken by sin. It was. But now it is revealed. Peter’s sin, fear, weakness, cowardess, all laid bare.

Peter feared the consequences. But what would they have been? Would he have gotten arrested and locked up with Jesus? Maybe. Would he have been mocked, made fun of? That seems more likely. But I recently heard someone wonder . . . what if the people in the courtyard who asked Peter about Jesus just wanted to hear more about Him? What was Jesus really like? Did He really do all those signs? Where did He get His knowledge from? If so, then like Jesus, Peter telling the truth would have consequences for himself, but his lying had consequences for others - maybe robbing them of a chance to hear and believe.

It is said of scandals in Washington that while what is done may be bad, the cover-up is worse. For us, perhaps we could say that the consequences we fear might be bad, but the lying makes it worse.

And then, of all people, Judas speaks truth. I have sinned. I have betrayed innocent blood. To which the chief priests and elders deny the truth by saying, What is that to us? That is your affair. No, that was the priests’ affair. To offer sacrifices for sin. To lead the sinner to forgiveness. That’s the truth they were to speak, but would not. And the consequence for that was a despairing sinner left in his sin. The consequence for that was Judas’ life.

What are you afraid of? What are you ashamed of? What are you trying to get or get out of? In the world there are so many untruths, half-truths, twisted truths, and outright lies that it’s often hard to know the truth. And a lie told often enough becomes the truth for many. And the consequences of this is the world as we see it and know it. A world that is a mess and a cesspool of sin and death. And the lies that live in our hearts and minds and too often so easily roll off our tongues reveal the same in us. 

So it’s time to tell the truth. Lent is a time to tell the truth. To confess the reality of my sin, the depth of my depravity. To tell the truth and repent. And to hear that wonderful truth spoken back to us: I forgive you all your sins. The truth of Jesus. The truth of the cross. The truth that our great High Priest does not leave despairing sinners in their sin, but is faithful, and has provided forgiveness, leads us to that forgiveness, and speaks to us that forgiveness. For the truth is that Jesus suffered the consequences for your sins - all of them! - and died that you may live. Live in His forgiveness, live His life, live knowing that you cannot lie to God and that you don’t need to. For as lie begets lie, so does truth beget truth. The truth of our sin is met with the truth of His forgiveness. You can lie and deny your sin, but the consequence of that is not life but death. Better is the truth. And while repenting of your sin may feel like dying, it is in reality the way of life. For the way of life is death and resurrection. First Jesus’, and then yours. Dying to sin and rising to a new life. Dying to the lie that you can somehow find and do life yourself, and rising to the life Jesus has for you. A new life. An eternal life.

So Lent is about life. Jesus is life. The truth leads us to life. So it’s time to tell the truth. For your life, the life of the Church, and the life of the world. 

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

Sermon for the Third Sunday in Lent

LISTEN

Jesu Juva

“A Good and Faithful Bridegroom”

Text: John 4:5-30, 39-42; Romans 5:1-8; Exodus 17:1-7

 

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

I wonder what this woman’s story was?

Oh, we heard some of it. She had been married five times, and the man she now had, she was now with, was not her husband. 

How quickly, I think, we gloss over that fact. In our day and age, we’re used to it. Divorce and remarriage are the norm now. Living together outside of marriage is expected now; is prudent, even, we’re told. There are apps for your phone to help you cheat on your spouse. This is all the “new normal.” 

But think of what this “new normal” has done. Pre-nuptual agreements just in case your “I do” becomes “I don’t.” Children growing up without a father or mother, or caught in a tug-o-war between their father and mother. Poverty often results when a two-income household suddenly becomes a one-income household. There is hurt and pain when spouses who were one flesh are ripped apart, and families destroyed. This is bad enough when it happens here or there, but when whole communities are affected, now its schools and neighborhoods in decline, and it becomes a self-perpetuating downward spiral.

That’s our situation, but it wasn’t yet like that in Samaria, in Jesus’ day. So this woman was marked, she was notorious. For you don’t come to draw water, which is quite heavy, at the sixth hour, high noon, in the heat of the day, unless you have to. So not only had she been used and abused by men, but was scorned and shunned by the women as well. 

I wonder what her story was? What had happened with those five previous men? They could have all died and so her many remarriages legitimate, but that’s unlikely. And even if they had, imagine the emotional toll that would have taken on her. But she wouldn’t have been shunned for that. More likely, then, is that she had endured multiple divorces. And so for whatever reasons, five times she was told to go away. Five times she was told she was not good enough. Five times she was rejected. And now this sixth man didn’t even bother with marriage. And she endured it. The pain, the shame, the uncertainty and insecurity. 

And that was all in addition to being a Samaritan and being treated by the Jews - who lived both to the north of you in Galilee, and to the south of you in Judea - that you weren’t any better than a dog. In fact, so filthy were you that the Jews would rather travel additional miles around your country than go through your country. 

That’s her story, or some of it, at least. Maybe you can relate. To being rejected, being told you’re not good enough, being used and abused, or scorned and shunned. I suspect there’s some of that - that uncertainty and insecurity - in all of us. Though we try to hide it. We don’t want anyone to know. We come to church, dress nice, put a smile on, and try to look like we have it altogether . . . because what if they knew? What if they knew how bad, how hurting, how much guilt and shame I have? I don’t want them to know. I don’t want anyone to know. Because if they did . . . if they did . . .

So imagine what must have felt like a knife plunging into the gut of this woman when Jesus says to her, Go, call your husband, and come here. She tells Him the truth - I have no husband - but it’s not the whole truth. She’s just like us. She doesn’t want anyone to know. But Jesus does. Knows her whole past, in fact. And what’s going through her mind? Here we go again. More pain, more hurt, more rejection. This chance encounter, though unusual, for Jews usually weren’t in those parts and if they were wouldn’t start up conversations with Samaritans. This chance encounter, which had started out so nicely, so unexpectedly normal, in this woman’s life where there was very little normal . . . was now just more of the same. Why did He have to say that?

So okay, Mr. Prophet - because He must be a prophet to know all about her like this - okay Mr. Prophet, what am I supposed to do now? Did you just come up here to shame me? Tell me, what am I supposed to do. You [Jews] say that in Jerusalem is the place where people ought to worship. Meaning: Jerusalem is the place of forgiveness, because that’s what worship is, that’s why we come - to receive forgiveness. You Jews say that in Jerusalem is the place where I have to worship, but I can’t! You don’t want me in your country, and you won’t let me in your Temple. So what am I supposed to do, huh? You tell me. You know my sin, you point out my sin, your dredge up my sin, why? Did you come just to toy with me and my shame? I got enough of that already! So what am I supposed to do? And I imagine you could see the tears welling up in her eyes. It’s almost too much.

This is exactly what the Law does, or is supposed to do - bring us to the point of hopelessness. Bring us to say to Jesus: What do you want me to do? I’m a dirty, rotten sinner and there’s nothing I can do about it! You know it, I know it, maybe I can hide it from others, but . . . this stinks! The world stinks, I stink, the hurts and pains stink, the shame stinks, people are judgmental, and the harder I try the worse it all seems to get! So what do you want me to do, God? What do you want me to do?

And if there are tears welling up in your eyes, good. 

Up to this point, the woman was intrigued by Jesus and His talk of living water, which she didn’t understand, but it sure sounded good! Then she was convicted by Jesus who knew all her sin and shame and filth. Now she can be saved by Jesus because she has no where else to go. She can’t hide, she can’t explain, she can’t pretend. It’s all out there. Now what? She needs a Saviour. She needs a Messiah, a Christ. The Jews wouldn’t do it, she couldn’t do it, the men she had and the man she now has can’t do it . . . there’s only one who can. There’s only one hope to which she clings, and it’s a small one for someone like her and in her predicament. And Jesus says to her, “I who speak to you am he.” What you need, I’m the one who’s going to do it. 

And this woman, who just a moment before felt so hopeless, must now have felt like she just won the lottery! Are you kidding me? Here? Now? Me? The Messiah? But who else could it be? Who else would treat her like a normal person? And . . . could she say it or think it, because it had been so long . . . someone who would, could, actually love her again?

We don’t have a well, but we have a Font. We don’t have a well, but we have a Pulpit. We don’t have a well, but we have an Altar. Where Jesus comes for you. Where Jesus comes and says: I know who you are. I know all you have done and how much you mess up. But now says: You are my beloved child in Holy Baptism. Who says: I forgive you all your sins in Holy Absolution. Who says: This is My Body, This is My Blood in the Holy Supper. Who says: I who speak to you am he - your Saviour, the promised one. Who came not just to speak to you, but to back up those words with actions - to go to the cross and die for you. Nobody would have died for this Samaritan woman - in fact, they all wished she was dead! They didn’t want her around or have to deal with her. But Jesus? This is how Paul put it, as we heard in the Epistle:

For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, - still sinners - Christ died for us.

And you know why? Because that’s what bridegrooms do for their brides, what husbands do for their wives - or, at least, are supposed to. Paul said that in Ephesians. So Jesus, the heavenly Bridegroom, does that for His Bride, the Church - lays down His life. Not because of who we are - we’re filthy, stinking, and unclean. But because of who He is - the lover of mankind.

So this episode takes place at Jacob’s well. Because Jacob’s father Isaac, his wife was found at a well. And Jacob first met his wife Rachel at a well. And Jesus takes us to be His own not at a well, but at the Font, where there is living water - water which is alive because of His Word and Spirit. So that forgiven and loved by Him, we never be thirsty forever. Never thirsting for life in this world of death. Never thirsting for love in this world of sin and hate. Never thirsting for hope is this world that is circling the drain. Because Jesus has spoken to us and is still speaking to us words of forgiveness, life, and hope. 

So here is our living water in the wilderness of this world because here is the Rock, Jesus, who pours out this water for us. His hands and feet were pierced with nails and His side struck with a spear so that His water and blood wash and refresh us always. That His forgiveness and salvation be always here for us. And they are. It may have been a chance encounter for that Samaritan woman at the well that day (or not!), but here, there is nothing left to chance. Here is the sure and certain Word of God and all his promises for you. For all of us who see in this Samaritan woman a picture of ourselves.

And who, then, like this Samaritan woman, leave this place and tell others: Come and see. Come and hear. Because you’re going to hear something amazing! You’re going to hear something you’re not going to hear in other places! You’re going to hear the truth - how wretched you are, how sinful you are, how unworthy you are. But then this, too: how much Jesus has done for you and has for you, here. Come and see. Come and hear. Come and be washed. Come, take and eat. But come! Because when this Samaritan woman did, she found what she had been so longing for: that bridegroom who would not let her down, would not let her go, and would love her to the end. 

So who are you? What have you done? What do you need? Come. He’s here for you, too.

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