Sermon for the Funeral of Nancy Nelson

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Jesu Juva

“A Birthday Into Heaven”

Text: Job 19:23-27a; 1 Corinthians 15:51-57;

Romans 6:1-5; Matthew 28:1-10

 

In the Name of Jesus. Amen.

Ken, Donna and Read, Rhonda and Louie, Erika, Tatiana, Luke, Jazzmynne, and Artie, family and friends,

78 years ago today a little girl named Nancy was born into this world in Wichita, Kansas, much to the delight, I’m sure, of her parents Marcus and Velma. Of course, Nancy didn’t quite make it to her 78th birthday - she fell one week short. And instead of celebrating her 78th birthday here with us, she instead got to celebrate another birthday, a new birthday, her birthday into heaven last Tuesday. It wasn’t what we expected. It wasn’t what we hoped. We hoped to have Nancy here with us a lot longer! To enjoy her laugh and her unique sense of humor. To appreciate all she did for others. To watch the races with Ken. To receive her text messages which she always seemed to send in threes! But God had other plans. And as delighted as her earthly father and mother were at her birth her, even more delighted is her heavenly Father, to have her, with Him, in Paradise. So while June 23 was a sad day for us, it was a joyful day in heaven.

People often wonder what heaven will be like. The Bible tells us a little about that, but not much. I suspect because we wouldn’t understand anyhow. For us trying to understand what heaven will be like is like trying to get a baby in the womb to understand what this world will be like! Before you’re born into it, all you know is where you are. But for a little, newborn baby, a whole, big, beautiful, exciting world awaits. And for us, too, as Christians. There is a whole, big, glorious eternity waiting for us, when we, like Nancy receive our birthdays into heaven. And while I don’t know what that will be like, Nancy now does. With her Father and her Saviour. With no more cancer, doctors, treatments, tests, therapy, oxygen, or hospitals. 

And this is true for Nancy not because she was a good person. She was . . . at times. She did many wonderful things. But she had her moments, too! She could be as ornery as the next guy, and she confessed every Sunday that she was a poor, miserable sinner. She knew it. 

But she knew something else, too. She knew, as Job knew, that she had a Redeemer, and that her Redeemer lives! And that after [her] skin has been destroyed, after death and disease has done its worst and robbed her of life, yet in [her] flesh she [would] see God; that [her] own eyes [would] behold Him. And now, what she for almost 78 years knew and saw by faith, she will see with her own eyes. Those eyes are now at rest, for a time. She closed them for the last time last Tuesday. A few hours after that, Ken and Rhonda and I sang, The strife is o’er, the battle done (LSB #464). And it was. She was set free from her trials and troubles, her labors and struggles, to rest in the arms of her Saviour. The arms of her Saviour Jesus, which He once stretched out on the cross for her, to bear all her sins. Yes, He bore them, every single one. To redeem Nancy - and us all. To pay the price for our sins. All of them. He took Nancy’s sins and failures and shortcomings and orneryness upon Himself so none of that would be on Nancy; so none of that could be held against her. And then He died with all of that, for her. He paid for them with His life, He redeemed her, so she could live. And not just now, for a while, as we all do. But with Him, forever. A life that death cannot not end.

Which is a pretty bold claim to make! Here in this world where death is all around us; where death ends everything, try as we might to conquer it. You and I will one day die - maybe sooner than we think, and unexpectedly, like Nancy last Tuesday. No, we can’t conquer death, but there is one who can. And did. We heard that account today, when Jesus, who died with and for all of Nancy’s sins - and all of your sins and my sins, too - rose from the dead. That first Easter morning, the women went to the tomb of Jesus expecting to find His body. His dead body. But they instead saw something quite unexpected - a glimpse of heaven itself! An angel, with an appearance like lightning and clothing white as snow, who told them: He is not here; He is risen! 

Now, normally, when you go to see someone, to be told he or she is not here is bad news. Like the news we received last Tuesday, that Nancy was no longer here with us. But in this case, it was not only good news, but the greatest news ever and of all time! That the Jesus who died on the cross beat death! He is alive. And then they saw Him, and even took hold of His [very real] feet. And now Nancy, too. She is not here, and she also is not dead. Her body is, and we will commit it to the ground next Tuesday. But she is alive and at rest with her Saviour.

Which she was very much looking forward to. These past few weeks, even months, had been tough for her. And she was ready for rest. She was ready to be set free. For she knew the promises her Saviour made to her in her baptism - that her sins were covered with His righteousness, and that her death was conquered by His life. That, as we said at the beginning of the service today, buried with Jesus by baptism into death, she knew that just as Jesus was raised from dead, so would she be, too. So she would sing, as we did earlier: Death, you cannot end my gladness: I am baptized into Christ! When I die, I leave all sadness to inherit paradise (LSB #594 v, 4)! And last Tuesday, Jesus fulfilled that promise.

She also looked forward to this day every Sunday in receiving the Lord’s Supper. The Body and Blood of her Saviour which not only fed and forgave and strengthened her here and now, but also was, she knew, a foretaste of the feast to come; the heavenly feast, waiting for her. But the last few times she received the Lord’s Supper were not at our church, but in the hospital. But whether at church, at her dining room table, or in the hospital, didn’t matter. Jesus was there. For her. Feeding her, His little girl. Forgiving her. And she received Him and all His gifts given there, from her loving Jesus. Embracing Him, as the women did that first Easter morning. As the women did to their victorious Saviour.

Because those women knew, as the angel told them, and as Saint Paul told us today, Death is [now] swallowed up in victory! On Good Friday, it looked like death had won. Last Tuesday, it looked like death had won. Today, it looks like death has won. And next Tuesday, it will look as if death has won. But it has not, will not, and can not! For as Saint Paul goes on to say, mocking death: O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? You are like a fighter who has been knocked out. You are like a empty bottle of poison. You are a race car without any gas. (Nancy would like that one!) You are a toothless predator. Because the death that swallows us has itself been swallowed up. The grave which swallows us up has itself been swallowed up. The enemy of my enemy is my friend! Or even better, my Saviour! Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!

Which is why even in the midst of tears and sadness today, there is joy. Because our hope is not built on how good we are or what we are able to do - My Hope Is Built on Nothing Less than Jesus Blood and Righteousness (LSB #575). We’re going to sing that hymn at the end of the service today. It was one Nancy liked very much. I didn’t always pick hymns that she liked. I think she got frustrated with me at times for that. But I’d sneak one in for her every now and then. Like this one. Now, she gets to sing the song of heaven. 

These next few days, weeks, and months are going to be tough ones for you all. Nancy’s absence will bring tears, and her memories will bring smiles, but let this be true as well: let her faith and confidence inspire you. Inspire you to lean on your Saviour, as she did. To repent that you have not been who you should be, and receive the forgiveness of Him who always is. That when the day comes when you are called from this world and life, maybe suddenly and unexpectedly, you have the confidence Nancy had - that in Jesus, and in Him alone, we live, even when we die. That Jesus lives! The vict’ry’s won! Jesus lives! Death’s reign is done! Jesus lives! This shall be my confidence (LSB #490)!

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

Sermon for the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

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Jesu Juva

“Business as Usual”

Text: Mark 6:45-56; Ephesians 3:14-21

 

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

Today’s Gospel seems like déjà vu all over again, doesn’t it?

Just a few weeks ago, we heard of the disciples out on the Sea of Galilee. They were freaking out, Jesus calms the storm for them, and they are astounded.

We’ve also heard stories about the crowds of people that followed Jesus around. Just last week we heard one of those stories, in fact. And as usual, when they find out where Jesus is, they not only come out to Him, but they bring everybody! Everybody who needs healing - the sick, the lame, the blind, the deaf, the diseased - and Jesus heals them. 

But there are a few things in the reading today that are different . . . and probably the chief thing is Jesus walking on the water. But not just that. That’s amazing, certainly, in and of itself. But maybe some of its amazingness is tempered a little because of what we heard a few weeks ago - that Jesus was able to command the winds and waves to be quiet and still, and they obeyed Him. So if He can do that . . . then walking on water isn’t that far of a stretch. 

Different also today is that the disciples weren’t afraid of the storm they were in. What freaked them out today is that when they saw Jesus, they thought they saw a ghost. That’s what terrified them! But whether or not they believed in ghosts and things like that (and I don’t know what they believed), it kind of makes sense to me. People don’t walk on water. People sink in water. At least I do! So when they saw Jesus walking on the water . . . I get their thinking!

As far as the people who came for healing . . . perhaps different for them is that they weren’t begging Jesus to touch their loved ones or heal them - they just wanted to touch the fringe of His garment! But this, too, is understandable, as we recently heard the story of the woman who bled for twelve years and was healed when she reached out and did just that - touched the hem of His garment and was made well. Pretty amazing! And it seems that word had gotten around.

But there is one thing is the reading we heard today that is very different, and honestly, quite odd. And it is this: that when Jesus came to them, walking on the water, about the fourth watch of the night, He meant to pass them by.

Now, I’ve heard a lot of explanations about that - maybe you have, too - about what that means; why Jesus was going to do that. And there are many! And some make sense to me, and some don’t. And it’s really all conjecture, because Mark doesn’t tell us why. Does He not care? Was He testing their faith? Was He hoping they wouldn’t see Him? But the impression I get - not just of this detail, but of this entire story, and this entire story in the context of Mark’s whole Gospel - is that this is just business as usual for Jesus. He's just crossing to the other side of the Sea. Nothing to see here. For Him, nothing really extraordinary going on here. He’s just doing as He has done, and will continue to do. Steadfastly, consistently, faithfully going to the cross for the life of the world. And the life He gives as He goes - the healings, the feedings, the forgiveness, the rescues - are all signs, pointers, to the great, new life He has come to provide for us.

So that day, right after the feeding of the 5,000, the disciples get into the boat to go to the other side. Business as usual. Jesus goes off by Himself to pray. Business as usual. The storm is calmed by Jesus. Business as usual. The crowds follow Jesus and He heals them. Business as usual. And even Jesus walking on the water, intending to pass by His disciples and meet them on the other side, business as usual . . . for Jesus.

Now, often, business as usual for us is freaking out like the disciples. When life throws you a curveball, when the storm clouds gather on the horizon, or when the storms of life hit - you lose your job, the stock market crashes, there is a death, or the doctor comes into the room with that look on his face - you know, the one that tells you this isn’t going to be good news, the wrong party gets elected, causing widespread weeping and gnashing of teeth, a pandemic shuts down the world . . . or even smaller whirlwinds, like a break-up, a promise not kept, a failing grade, being passed over for a promotion, your plans for the future not quite working out as you imagined or hoped . . . and it’s déjà vu all over again, when we, like the disciples, wonder: Lord, don’t you care? Lord, are you intending to pass us by? Lord, why is this happening? Lord, where’s the fringe of Your garment when I need it? Lord, where are you?

And in the midst of our uncertain world and our uncertain lives, in the midst of our fear and doubt, in the midst of our troubles and trials, there is the Lord. Steadfast, consistent, faithful. The crowds are fed, the storms are stilled, the sick are healed. In the midst of this world and it’s business as usual of things falling apart and things going wrong and chaos, is Jesus and His business as usual of calming, rescuing, and saving. Even when faced with the biggest chaos of all - going to the cross.

How calm Jesus is through all of it. He knows what’s about to unfold and take place, and there He is washing His disciples’ feet and teaching them. He goes off to pray, and then lets Himself be arrested. He doesn’t try to defend Himself or protest, but as Isaiah says (53:7), He is like a lamb led to slaughter and opens not His mouth. He doesn’t ask His Father to send twelve legions of angels to fight for Him, He prays for those who are persecuting Him. He bows His head and hands over the Spirit, and despite the forsakenness of the cross, entrusts His Spirit to His Father. 

And while that’s all going on, the disciples are, well, being the disciples! They’re freaking out, drawing the sword, running away, denying, mourning, dazed and confused, unbelieving, in chaos.

But then Sunday morning. Easter morning. A resurrection. And . . . a good chaos? Soldiers who have abandoned their post, the disciples running not away but to an empty tomb, disbelieving, dazed and confused with joy? But for Jesus, business as usual. He talks to Mary in the garden as is nothing unusual has happened. He walks and talks with those two disciples on the road to Emmaus, matter-of-factly opening the Scriptures to them. He greets His disciples in the locked room like it was any other day: Peace be with you. Showing, as He did all along, that He cared. That He doesn’t pass us by. That everything that happened was according to plan. And that even when He seemed farthest away from us with no chance of His coming back to us - when He lay dead in the grave! - here He is, with us, as He was all along. With us in all the storms and chaos and uncertainty of this world. That no matter what is going on in the world or in your life, there is one thing - always one thing - you can count on: Him. 

I said last week that the disciples were still disciples and still learning. They were still learning about Jesus and what He came to do and all He came to do. And still learning about Jesus, that day on the Sea they thought they saw a ghost. Jesus’ ghost. Passing them by.

Don’t mock them. We do it, too. When the storms and chaos and uncertainty hit, it’s easy to think Jesus is ghosting us, too. You know what ghosting is, right? It’s the term used when you’re on a video call like Zoom or WebEx and a person logs on and is supposed to be there, but their video isn’t on and really they’re off doing something else, or at least, not paying attention. They’re there, but they’re not there. 

And we can think that, too. Because is Jesus with us? Well, yes you might say, because Jesus is God and so He is everywhere. True enough. But not very comforting when I need Him here. With me. Like a crying child in the middle of the night - it’s not good enough just to know Mom and Dad are in the house. I need them here, now, with me! So yeah, Jesus is everywhere, but is He really ghosting me? Off helping someone else?

But as good Lutherans, you know that Jesus is more than just present everywhere, that He is present for us where He has promised to be, which is in His Word and Sacraments. But I read His Word and don’t feel Him with me. I take communion and the storms and chaos are still there. And my baptism was so long ago . . . Is Jesus really there for me, or ghosting me?

The devil whispers in your ear: He’s ghosting you! He’s not really there. And sometimes, like those disciples in the boat, we believe it. We think it’s only a ghost.

But Jesus was not a ghost that day. That was really Him. There for His disciples as He always was. And really here for you. Don’t rely on what you feel or what the devil is trying to trick you into thinking; rely on the witness of His Word. And rely on the empty tomb. And that if the storm and chaos of death couldn’t keep Jesus from us, no other storm can either.

That’s what the apostle Paul came to know - and He had more than his fair share of storms and chaos in his life! So he prays that the Ephesian Christians know this, too. That they be strengthened with power through the Spirit in their inner being. That Christ dwell in their hearts through faith. That they may comprehend breadth and length and height and depth of the love of Christ for them. And to believe that He is able to do far more abundantly that all we ask or think. Which is to say, that they know the steadfastness, reliability, consistency, and faithfulness of Jesus for them. 

And that you know it, too. That you know that, as we sang, you can Entrust Your Days and Burdens to God’s Most Loving Hands (LSB #754). That you know that when you are baptized, that really was Jesus taking you into His death and resurrection, so that you have already begun to live a life that’s never going to end. Death can’t have you! You’ve already been raised with Him, in Him. And that you know that when you read or hear His Word, that really is Jesus speaking to you - words of life, word of peace, words of forgiveness. And that you know that here at this altar, this eating and drinking is really and truly His Body and Blood, feeding you with the Bread of Life. Ghosting is what we do! It is NOT what Jesus does. Where His Name is, there is He.

And these stories we heard today teach us that. The storms and chaos and uncertainties of life may cause us to freak out in fear, and disbelieve a bit, and wonder . . . But for Jesus, it is business as usual. The business of rescuing and saving. The business of forgiveness, life, and salvation. The business of a Saviour here for you. 

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

Sermon for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

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Jesu Juva

“In This Desolate Place, Too”

Text: Mark 6:30-44; Jeremiah 23:1–6

 

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

Who was in the crowd that day? Those 5,000 men - plus perhaps women and children - who ran there on foot to get to Jesus? Who were they? Well, they are undoubtedly just like the group that has come here today. 

People struggling with issues in their lives.

People with family difficulties. Husbands and wives who fought last night and are still not speaking. Moms and Dads dealing with rebellious children. And children struggling to take care of aging parents.

They are people struggling with temptation and sin, beset with sins they can’t seem to shake and filled with guilt. Knowing what they should do, but failing time after time.

They are people for whom life is empty and uncertain. Lonely people, yearning for a friend.

They are people filled with worries. People filled with sadness, regrets about the past and what could have been, about the future and what will be; people struggling with depression.

They are people struggling to make ends meet, and tired - tired of the daily routine, tired of trying to get ahead, tired of all their hard work and no pay back for it.

They are people mourning the loss of a loved one. People wondering, hoping, that tomorrow might be a little better than today.

Sound familiar?

And when Jesus went ashore and saw them, that great crowd of people like that, He had compassion on them. Because when He looked out at that crowd, when He looks at you now, He doesn’t see strugglers, He doesn’t see failures, He doesn’t see people who were a disappointment to Him, He doesn’t see people who should know better and do better and be better. That’s how you and I feel and think at times, or maybe a lot! But that’s not what Jesus saw. 

He saw people who were like sheep without a shepherd. Which is to say, people who needed some TLC. People who were beat up and beat down by sin, death, and the devil - and by those who were supposed to be their shepherds, but were not! He saw people wounded by sin, and scared of the evil rising up in the world. People running from their past but afraid of the future. That day, in that desolate place, was the flock He had come to shepherd. A flock of sad, sick, wounded, lost, confused, worried, tired, and frightened sheep.

The day had started quite differently. His twelve had just returned from the towns and villages where Jesus had sent them two-by-two, and it was time for Him to care for them, for an After Action Report, a debrief, and a little rest. They needed a little alone time. You know how that is. They got a little, in the boat with Jesus. But the sheep followed their shepherd, for that’s what sheep do. They were in need, and knew Jesus was the one who could supply their need. 

So they ran to Him. To be with the one who understood them. 

Because, remember? Jesus was different. Different than the other teachers and leaders, who heaped up law after law after law. Who just told them what they needed to do and how they needed to be. Surely that was all true. But a little help would be nice! A little relief. A little compassion. 

That’s exactly what Jesus did! Heck, one of His closest disciples was an ex-tax collector! He didn’t reject people for their mistakes or their past. He didn’t just tell people to be better - He made them better. He didn’t ignore their sin, but neither did He shame them for their sin - He forgave their sin! He seemed to know exactly what they needed. He was one of them, but also more than them. He gave them hope. 

And that’s what He did that day. He began to teach them many things, Mark says. Yes, but what He taught was hope. He taught of a loving Father. He taught of promises fulfilled. He taught of a glorious future. He taught that they were not alone, or own their own, in this sin-filled world. And He not only taught that, He did that. For then He fed them. He cared for them. For that’s what Good Shepherds do. 

His disciples wanted to send the people away. They meant well. They thought they were being compassionate. They wanted to give the people enough time to get to the surrounding villages and buy some food before it got too late; before it got dark and the shopkeepers closed up for the night. I suppose that is one kind of compassion - but not Jesus’ kind; not how Jesus does things. You give them something to eat, Jesus said. 

Now, Mark records what they said in response to this, that they didn’t have anywhere close to that kind of money! But I think there was probably a moment of stunned silence first! With mouths agape and eyes wide. Us? . . . Surely, you don’t mean . . . how can we . . . you know how much that will cost? . . .

Well, yes, as a matter of fact, Jesus did know. He knew that to properly care for all these people - these people and far more, infinitely more! - was going to cost His life. His life that He had come to lay down for them, not in that desolate place, but in a place far more desolate - on the cross, where, although surrounded by people, He would hang alone. Alone with the sin of the world upon Him. A burden far greater than they could imagine.

They were still learning that. They were still disciples, learners, after all. So time to learn some more. Time to learn not just about the power of God, but the compassion of God. A compassion far greater than their own. That for the Good Shepherd, there is no flock too large or too small for His care. Remember, not too long ago, He had stopped just to care for a single woman who had been bleeding for twelve years - a single sheep. Now He would provide for thousands. And they all ate and were satisfied. The food they didn’t think was enough was more than enough.

First He taught them, then He fed them. Or was it really the other way around? Was His teaching really the food they needed? And was His feeding really the teaching they needed? To teach them who He was. The prophet greater than Moses, when the people were fed by manna in a desolate wilderness. The one of whom Jeremiah prophesied, who would care for His sheep and whose name is The Lord is our righteousness. The one who opens His hands and satisfies the desires of every living thing (Introit). And for us that means the desires of both body and soul.

Which is exactly why you have come here today. It is not because of our magnificent building! It is not for the glorious music. It is not because here are the high and mighty of the world. It is not because of the dynamic preacher. It is because Jesus is here. The one who has compassion. And He does not reject you, though maybe the world does. He does not condemn you, though maybe your heart does. He is not here to scold you. (I’m guessing you get enough of that already!) He is not here to ignore your sin, though, or approve of it. It’s hurting you, even if you don’t realize it. More than that, it’s killing you. So He’s here to forgive your sin. And by forgiving your sin, taking it away, give you life and love and hope. 

Which is all to say He is here to feed you. With His Word, with His forgiveness, and with His very Body and Blood. It’s not just one feeding here, but many. Just as that day in that desolate place. 

And while maybe we’d like to see a miracle like that, feeding over 5,000 people with just five loaves of bread and two fish, truth is, this feeding here is a miracle is far greater. For with this feeding, this food, far more than 5,000 are fed every week, from pulpits and altars and churches all over the world. The Good Shepherd caring for a worldwide flock. And yet here, too. Our little church maybe like that lone woman Jesus stopped to heal that day. We’re not much, but we don’t escape His notice - or His love and care.

And maybe you feel that way because who are you? Not very good, not very important, not very valuable. Except you are! To Jesus. He baptized you, after all. You are His child, His lamb. The one He went to the cross for. The one He comes here today for. The one He’s coming again for, because He has prepared a place for you, to be with Him, forever.

And maybe that changes things a bit . . . that as you go home today, as that great crowd went home after their feeding . . . it’s not without hope. And not just some wistful, wishful hope, but true hope. That you’ve been here with the one who can truly make a difference. Or even more, that He is with you. And that He goes with you. His care not ending at that door, but that whatever you face this week, whatever struggles you are going home to, whatever challenges still await you, you’ve been filled with the gifts of Jesus. And they make a difference. They make a difference in how you treat others, in what you say, what you do, how you live. That the darkness of the world be a little less dark, with the light and love and forgiveness of Christ given to you, now in you for others, and in others for you. 

That day, in that desolate place, the Good Shepherd came and fed His flock. The promised Messiah was there. And thanks be to God, He is here for us, too, in all the desolate places we are. Wherever you are, however you are, whoever you are, take and eat, He says. You are forgiven, He says. I AM, He says, for you.

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