Sermon for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

LISTEN

Jesu Juva

“A Feast of Joy and Happiness”

Text: Luke 14:1-14

 

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

When you heard the Gospel read today, and maybe you have a dinner planned for today or this week with your friends or family, and you didn’t invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind, it’s okay! You can still have it! Some of our happiest times are when we gather with family and friends, when we can just relax, laugh, and share. When we don’t have to worry about what others think of us; we can just be ourselves because we are among family and friends. Jesus is not criticizing that today. In fact, He Himself did that! It’s just that His friends were sinners and tax collectors and prostitutes and other undesirables and outcasts. He ate with Matthew and his gang, Zacchaeus and his family. And these were feasts filled with joy. So no, Jesus is not criticizing that today, because that’s not what’s happening in the Gospel we heard today.

The feast that we heard about today, that Jesus was at this day, at the house of a ruler of the Pharisees, had a different purpose. This wasn’t family and friends, and a relaxed good time. This was about seeing and being seen. This one was about pecking order, your social standing. Being with those who were good for your career. So you wore the proper clothes, you jockeyed for position. Where you got to sit and who you sat next to was a big deal. Some of you have been to banquets like that. You see who’s there, who’s been invited. Others are looking at you, who’s sitting where. It’s not relaxing. It’s tense, it’s exhausting. 

So it was on this day, and so they all tried to get the good seats, the best seats. Which means . . . think about it . . . if they’re all jumping into the best seats, then where did Jesus get to sit? Not there! In the back maybe? By the door?

Which is probably how this man with dropsy got to stand before Him. Maybe the lawyers and Pharisees brought him in and set this up as a test, as a trap for Jesus, to see what He would do. Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe this man just came in. That was possible. For it was traditional, a traditional show of piety not to invite the stranger or the poor, but to keep the door open for them, with the understanding that this was just symbolic and some fool didn’t take this seriously and actually come in! And if someone actually did . . . well, you could stare him down. Make him feel uncomfortable. Maybe generously give him a few morsels, but then hurry him on his way. He really didn’t belong there. Everyone knew that.*

Except Jesus, it seems. Jesus acknowledges him, this intruder. Almost like he’s no intruder at all. Like the door really was open to him! And He wants to give him more than just a few morsels - He wants to heal him. Is that okay, guys? Can I do that? It won’t take long . . .

Now, do you get it? Do you see what Jesus just did? The head of the table is now not up there, but back here, where Jesus is! And who gets to be there, with Jesus, in that place of honor? This man with dropsy. Jesus has turned the room completely around. And His host and his guests are not happy about it. They don’t say anything. They just sit and steam in silence. So Jesus heals this man, bringing a little joy and happiness to this gathering. 

And then, in perhaps the continued uncomfortable silence that ensued, Jesus says: What? Ya’ll do the same thing. If your son or ox falls into a well and it happens to be a Sabbath day, you don’t leave him there until the next day! You pull him out. Rules for thee and not for me, apparently. And He was right. They had. They would. They couldn’t deny it. But that didn’t change their thinking. We’re not even told they were amazed at the healing! They were just indignant. Jesus was messing everything up! This isn’t how things are supposed to work.

Except it is how things work in Jesus’ kingdom. So Jesus tells a parable about a wedding feast, to teach them. And whenever you hear a story about a wedding feast from Jesus, you know Jesus is talking about His kingdom, and His love for His Bride, the Church, and how it is with Him. And at His feast, the room is all turned around. Those who you thought would be up front, aren’t. Those you thought would be in the back are brought forward. And the door to His feast really is open! It’s not just a show of piety which He really doesn’t mean and doesn’t really want you there - this feast is for you. His friends and family. You don’t have to earn it. You don’t have to jockey for position. It’s not about you! It’s about Jesus and His gifts for you. Jesus’ feast is a feast of happiness and joy.

It’s about us being that man with dropsy, a disease that made you swell up and disfigured you and made you an awful sight to look at. It was painful and dangerous. It’s what sin has done to us. It has disfigured us. Swelled us up with pride. Made us ugly by how we act and what we say. 

But Jesus’ door is open. And so we come in here and we stand before Him, ugly and disfigured and swollen and dying. And it’s not just lawful to heal us of our sin and death on the Sabbath, it’s exactly what the Sabbath is for! It’s why Jesus is here. And so He does. I forgive you all your sins, He says. Words that are proclaimed next to the Font, reminding us that we are baptized children of God. But then He doesn’t send us away. Au contraire! He turns the room around and gives us the seats of honor at His table, to feed us not with just a few morsels, but with heavenly food, His own Body and Blood. A feast of joy and happiness - joy not only for us, but for Jesus. Who has come to eat with sinners and tax collectors and prostitutes and other undesirables and outcasts. You come as nothing, or less than nothing. You come with sin and guilt and shame. You come puffed up with sin and dying. And Jesus takes all that away. Welcome, welcome! my son, my daughter. Here, take my seat. Here, eat and drink my food. I am most happy you are here!

If you are not amazed at that, I don’t know what else to say!

Because you know what you did this week. You know how you were this week. You know how you stumbled and fell into the same old sins, how you failed to love God above all things and your neighbor as yourself. How you lived as if God did not matter and as if you mattered most. And Jesus knows it, too. Which is good news, not bad! Good news, because if you had some sins Jesus didn’t know about, how do you know He died for them? But if He knows them all, then He took them all, and He died for them all. They’re on Him and not on you. And He atoned for them. All. He took the fire of God’s wrath against them all. And He came here today to forgive you and feed you and welcome you and heal you. For you to rejoice in His love, and for Him to rejoice in you.

Now, Jesus got criticized for that, for eating with sinners and tax collectors and prostitutes and other undesirables and outcasts. And He does today, too. The Church is criticized for being full of sinners, hypocrites, failures, undesirables. To which I say: Yup! We are! That’s exactly right. And that’s why we’re here. Because we deserve nuthin’! But what we deserve isn’t given here. Only gifts here. Only grace here. If you’re not a sinner, don’t come. But if you are, welcome. 

And Jesus isn’t the only one welcoming you. We say in the liturgy that we gather here with the angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, and we do. But realize what that means! That means that if Jesus gives us the places of honor here at His table, that means all the company of heaven are moving over to give you their seat! Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Aaron, David, Elijah, Elisha, Matthew, Peter, James, John - all of them! You’re not just the guy who snuck in the door but they don’t really want you here and so are staring you down. No! They’re moving over to give you their seats. Because the last shall be first. The humble shall be exalted. The unworthy counted worthy. That’s how it is with Jesus, at His feast, in His kingdom.

And as members of His kingdom, you now get to do the same. Not because you have to, but sharing in Jesus’ happiness and joy. We do what we do not to be repaid, because we’ve already been given all the gifts and grace of God - more than we deserve and far more than we can imagine. We do so now because Jesus and His love live in us. What He does for us, we can now do for others.

Because God’s gifts always grow. And they grow by being given away. So if you’re not giving, if you’re keeping or doing for yourself, you’re actually doing the opposite of what you think you are. But when you give, when you serve, when you help and forgive, when you move over and let others have your seat, happy are you and joyful. Not with the joy and happiness of the world, but with that joy and happiness that the world can neither give nor take away. That is the gift of God. That is Jesus. The joy and happiness of a man who once had dropsy, but who I now like to think is here with us, a part of all the company of heaven, and welcoming us. Saying to us: I was once where you are, and soon you will be with me where I am. 

Now, I don’t know if that’s true, if that man with dropsy was saved. But I know what is true, and even better - that Jesus says those words to us. And made them so. He came and was once where you are, and even worse - on the cross for you! And now risen from the dead, you will soon be with Him where He is, healed, forgiven, and restored, in Paradise. 

That’s how it is in Jesus. That’s how it is in His turned-around kingdom. That’s how it is at His quite-different-than-the-world feast. Not competition. Grace. Not deserving. Gifts. For you. From Him. And we do not remain silent. We sing His praise. We confess Him name. And we keep checkin’ the door! Because who Jesus might be bringing in to be with us next . . . You just might be surprised.

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

* These details from Norman Nagel, “Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost” in Selected Sermon of Normal Nagel, (c) 2004 CPH, p. 208-212.

Sermon for the Commemoration of Saint Bartholomew, Apostle

LISTEN

Jesu Juva

“Nathanaeling Bartholomews”

Text: Luke 22:24-30; 2 Corinthians 4:7-10; Proverbs 3:1-8

 

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

Jesus had just given His disciples His Supper, His Body and Blood, for the very first time. A momentous occasion, to be sure. Then He said that one of them would betray Him, which was unimaginable. They had all been with Jesus for three years. They were a band of brothers. They had just eaten this new and incredible Passover. Who would turn traitor? They began to debate which of them could possibly do that. And that debate then morphed into what we heard today, that a dispute also arose among them, as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest. Which I guess makes sense? If you’re going to argue who’s the worst among you, then it’s not so far to argue about who’s the greatest among you.

And Bartholomew? The apostle we’re commemorating today . . . I think he would be planted firmly in the middle of the pack! I don’t think Bartholomew is in any danger of getting the mantle of the greatest. I mean, that’s got to belong to Peter, James, or John, right? One of the big three, the inner circle. Or if not them, maybe Andrew or Philip - they seem to be the second tier. But Bartholomew? Nah, he wouldn’t get any votes. 

But I don’t think he’d be considered the worst either. Bartholomew was also known as Nathanael, about whom Jesus had said: Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit (John 1:47)! Such praise from Jesus gets you some status. But maybe that Matthew fella . . .  He was a tax collector is his former life after all. And if you’re going to betray your people like that, maybe you’ll betray your master as well . . .

Now imagine Jesus . . . after He had just given them His Supper . . . sitting there . . . listening to all this . . . who’s the worst, who’s the greatest . . . had they not learned anything from Him? 

So maybe before they get their pecking order all figured out, Jesus cuts them off. Pecking order, status, highest, lowest, greatest, least - this is how the world works. This is how the world thinks and acts. I’m above you. I’m better than you. But not so with you, Jesus says to His now, hopefully, a bit embarrassed disciples. The road to greatness is not up, but down. A true leader doesn’t demand to be served, but serves. Didn’t you see what I just did? You were all just reclining at the table, and who served you? It was me, wasn’t it? Your master. Your teacher. The one you, Peter, said was the Christ, the Son of the living God (Matthew 16:16). The one you, Nathanael, said was the Son of God, the King of Israel (John 1:49)! And you, Andrew, said we have found the Messiah (John 1:41). Are you all so great that you deserve to be served by me? Surely you don’t think so! Even the greatest among you, the greatest of the twelve, doesn’t deserve such an honor. Yet so I honored all of you. So stop this silliness, this worldliness. That’s not who you are.

And that’s not who you are either. Though we do this, too. Compare ourselves with others. And how that usually ends up is that we consider ourselves either far worse or far better than we really are. We either focus on our sins and failures and shortcomings and think we’ll never measure up, or we focus on the sins and failures and shortcomings of others and think they’ll never measure up! Then we either despair or become prideful. We look at others with either contempt or with jealousy. 

That’s how the world works. In the world, there is higher and lower, there is achievement and merit. A law-based system: do this, get that. And that’s not bad. Maybe even necessary, in the world. The problem comes when we bring that thinking into the church, like the disciples did. That’s when the problems begin. Then faith and salvation and our standing before God becomes something we earn or deserve - law-based - and not by grace, a gift of God. And that kind of thinking can lead us astray.

I heard it again, just this week, in fact. Our president was talking about making peace between Ukraine and Russia, and said that if anything was going to get him into heaven, that would be it. Sorry, Mr. President. You’re wrong. If anything’s going to get you into heaven, it’s not anything you will do, great as it may be. It’s what Jesus did for you. It will be by grace. A gift.

Maybe this is where Bartholomew can help us. Or at least, his names. For the name Bartholomew is Aramaic for “son of the furrows,” probably a reference to his family being farmers. But we can get into furrows, or ruts, in our life. Sinful ruts that become comfortable and hard to get out of, even when we know they’re not good. But Bartholomew’s other name, Nathanael, is Hebrew for “gift of God.” And if we’re to get out of our ruts, out of our sin, out of our worldliness, it will be only as a gift of God. As it was for Nathanael. The first time he met Jesus, Philip had told him they found this fella Jesus of Nazareth - the one that Moses and the prophets spoke of. And Nathanael’s response was: Nazareth! Can anything good come out of Nazareth (John 1:46)? One of his ruts, evidently, was a rut of prejudice. And maybe pride. But instead of condemning him, Jesus lifted him out of his rut, and he became a disciple, and then an apostle.

It’s what Jesus does. Because of sin we are dust (or dirt!), and to dirt we shall return (Genesis 3:19). We get cast into the dirty, sinful ruts of others. We form dirty, sinful ruts ourselves with well-worn paths of sin. Our ways do not lead us higher, but lower. Our ruts become deeper and deeper, until we die in them and are buried in them, dust to dust. What are they for you? Your ruts. The sin you keep returning to. The sin you’re comfortable with. Maybe it’s pride, maybe despair. Maybe it’s rebellion, maybe it’s greed. Maybe it’s lust, or apathy, or jealousy. Or failing to care about others. What are your ruts?

But Jesus has come to Nathanael us Bartholomews. To, by His gift of grace, lift us out of our ruts to a new life. 

And Jesus did that by jumping in our ruts with us. Coming down from heaven and jumping into the ruts of the prostitutes and sexual sinners, into the ruts of the tax collectors and the greedy, into the ruts of the prideful and uncaring, into the ruts of the rebellious and hurtful. And into your ruts. Whatever they are, and however deep they are, Jesus is there to die for you in them, and then lift you out in His resurrection. Because the thing to remember is that when we’re talking about the greatest and the least, the highest and the lowest, the best and the worst, is that Jesus was the greatest, highest, and the best who became the last, the lowest, and the worst - He became that guy, even the worst betrayer! - in order to raise you, buried under all your sins and the sins of others, to a new life. A life no longer in the ruts, the way of sin, but in His way, the way of life.

Jesus did that for you when He baptized you in those waters of new life, new birth, forgiveness, resurrection. Waters Nathanael’s own hands used to give what his name means: the gift of God. How many of the 3,000 who were baptized on the Day of Pentecost were baptized by him? And how many after that? How many before, as history records, he was martyred by flaying - having his skin cut off his body. But Nathanael knew, or came to know, that the gift of God is greater than the strength of men. They could kill Bartholomew, throw him into what this name of his kind of means - a furrow, or grave of dirt. But they couldn’t take his life. The new and heavenly life that baptism gives.

That confidence is what St. Paul wrote about in the Epistle we heard today. But we have this treasure - the good news of Jesus - in jars of clay, - or dirt! - to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. And notice how he now contrasts the weakness of the flesh with the strength of the Spirit . . . We are afflicted in every way (in the body), but not crushed (in the Spirit); perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.

Death, so that, in order that, life. Jesus’ death, for your life.

And that’s not only the gift of God that inspired Nathanael’s name, that he gave in baptismal waters, and that he lived, but he also preached. To people concerned about greatness, about ranking. Been there, done that, he could say. There’s something better than that, greater for you, in Jesus, the gift of God who gives the gift of God. 

Now the world scoffs at that. Scoffing that whoever Jesus is and whatever He wants to give me doesn’t make my life better, but worse. So no thank you. And, you know, maybe that’s true. Maybe following God’s Word in this world makes things harder for you. Others lie, cheat, and steal to get ahead, but not so with you. Others use, and misuse, and abuse others for their own gain, but not so with you. Things that are legal in the world are still sometimes things a Christian won’t do. So is my life as a Christian better? When there is, as we heard from Paul, affliction, persecution, hardship, disadvantage, and maybe even a bloody death?

Well, yes! Because as a Christian your life isn’t just how high you can climb now, or how much you can get now, or how easy you have it now - as a Christian, your life is eternal. Your life won’t end as a Bartholomew, in the furrow of the grave, but go on as a Nathanael, as a gift of God, risen from the dead, in His kingdom that has no end. You may not get a throne and judge the twelve tribes of Israel, as Jesus promised the apostles. But you will eat and drink with Jesus at His table in His kingdom. In fact, you already now have a place at His table here, and feast on His Body and Blood - new food, living food, that gives the gift of God, a new life, and makes you Nathanaels.

And whether you are the highest or the lowest, the greatest or the least, a really bad sinner or a really bad sinner, you get to live a new life, right where you are, as a Nathanael, a gift of God, to those around you. And don’t underestimate the impact you have. You may not see it or realize it, but leave that to Jesus. Or as He had King Solomon write in Proverbs: Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. He’ll see to it. For your benefit and theirs. Even if that means the victory of a martyr’s death.

So as we commemorate St. Bartholomew today, we really commemorate what Jesus did for him and through him. And for us the same. For us who are maybe not the greatest, maybe not the least, maybe planted firmly in the middle. But important to Jesus and precious to Him. His baptized child with a seat at His table and the promise of life eternal with Him. Which, all in all, is a pretty good gift of God. Bartholomew once asked, Can anything good come from Nazareth? And maybe for us, the question is: Can anything good come out of me? Or him? Or her? Or this situation I’m in? Or this disease? Or this trouble? Come and see, Bartholomew was told. Wait and see, might be the advice for us. And you just might be surprised at what Jesus can and will do. And all the Bartholomews he will turn into Nathanaels, gifts of God. Like you.

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

Sermon for the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

LISTEN

Jesu Juva

“Fighting Fire with Fire”

Text: Luke 12:49-56; Jeremiah 23:16-29; Hebrews 11:1-16; Gradual

 

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

What if today was the first time you ever stepped foot in a church? You finally gave in to your Ned Flanders neighbor who’d been after you to come to his church with him and wouldn’t leave you alone until you did, so you did it. You came. And you hear these words from Jesus . . . about casting fire on the earth . . . about dividing a family . . . and well, if that’s the kind of God you Christians have . . . now you know why I don’t come to church! And why I’m not coming back. I got enough problems in my life without this Jesus fella adding to them. You can have Him.

And maybe you even thought some of that yourself this morning, when you heard these words of Jesus. Oh, you’ll be back, but in spite of these words of Jesus. Right? We’ll just ignore them, tuck them away and just think about nice Jesus, friendly Jesus, helpful Jesus. These words are embarrassing. We’d be better off if Luke hadn’t included them in his Gospel. Or if they’d been just been skipped over by whatever committee it was that selected and assigned readings to Sundays. 

But Jesus spoke them, and Luke included them, and like it or not, here we are. 

Clearly, Jesus sees and thinks differently than we do. Like when I look at a diamond and think it’s pretty nice, but a jeweler looks at it and sees all kinds of imperfections and flaws. In the same way, we may think this world isn’t too bad, that it just needs some tweaking. But Jesus sees a world on fire. On fire with sin and conflict and rage. A world not progressively getting better, but infected with a cancer that is growing and metastasizing. With false prophets like the ones Jeremiah spoke about, who fill people with false hope by saying: All is well! No disaster shall come upon you. We like those kinds of prophets. They’re popular. They’re on TV. They fill arenas. They rake in cash. I want to hear that I’m okay, even though I know I’m not. I want to hear that all I need are some minor adjustments and how to do them, even though I know I need a lot more than that and that whatever I need to do to fix myself I can’t - I’ve tried! And failed spectacularly. 

So Jesus doesn’t tell us what we want to hear. He isn’t a false prophet who blows smoke at us. He tells it like it is. I came to cast fire on the earth, and would that it were already kindled! 

Now, it may seem strange to cast fire on an earth that is already on fire! But think of it this way: Jesus is fighting fire with fire. That’s what firefighters do when there’s a wildfire. They use fire to burn up what would fuel the wildfire, but in a controlled way, a controlled burn, they call it, so that without its fuel, the wildfire can be extinguished. Now, they have to be careful with that! If they’re careless, they could start their own wildfire. 

So how is Jesus going to do this?

Well, in a way, He already has been. Seeing the pain and destruction in the world, seeing people heavy laden and burdened with sins of body and soul, He’s been cleansing them, healing them, helping them, restoring them, one little lamb at a time. But more is needed. A world-wide restoration. Which is really what He has come to do. Everything else, all these others things, are little signs, little pointers, to this greater work. So, Jesus goes on to say . . .

I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished! 

Now this baptism is not the one He received from John in the Jordan, when He was anointed with the Holy Spirit - that’s done and past. This baptism that He’s talking about here is His baptism of blood. He knows it’s coming, and soon, and He is distressed at all the sin and evil in the world and what it is doing to His people. He must fight fire with fire, but not by burning the world down, but by His cross, where the fire of God’s wrath against our sin will consume Him. He’s the controlled burn! That by consuming Him, He help us, rescue us, from the wildfire of sin. And how greatly distressed He is until it is accomplished, until it is finished, until He can say tetelestai, it is finished, from the cross. 

This is what Jesus has come to do, not just be an example and tell us what to do and how to do it - as if we could. He didn’t come to give peace on earth, but to fight fire with fire. Now, peace is one of the results of His work - peace in the forgiveness of our sins; peace with God and with one another. But what will also happen is that the fire line of His cross will divide, even families. We will find ourselves on opposite sides of cultural issues, life issues, social issues, faith issues. What God’s Word condemns as sin many do not want to be sin. What God’s Word tells us is harmful, many think is good. And so rather than repent and be saved from the fires of sin, they remain on the wrong side of the fire line. 

And that is distressing to us. And can be so distressing that maybe we are tempted to give up God’s truth to keep the peace, and especially in our family. And maybe churches do this too, compromise and give up something of God’s Word in order to keep the peace in their church families. But if you’re on the wrong side of the fire line, you might be okay for now, for a while, and live at peace for a while, but that wildfire isn’t stopping. And you’re in danger.

And so Jesus has come to cast fire on the earth to save us. To save us from the flames of sin. To save us from the flames of hell. To take the fire of God’s wrath against our sin on Himself, right there on the cross, so that it consume Him and not us. That the flames of sin, death, and hell be extinguished for us. That we need no longer fear them, but know that we are safe in Jesus.

So if this was the first time you ever stepped foot in church, maybe this is a good Word to hear! To consider which side of the fire line you’re on, and which side you need to be on. But it’s good for us “church veterans” to hear, too. That we not ignore the signs, as Jesus said. And not just the signs in the world, but the signs in your life. For what are you doing? How are you living? What little compromises are you making to God’s Word? Are you where you want to be? Where you need to be?

Thankfully, Jesus put the fire line here for us; put His cross here for us in the water of Baptism, in the words of Absolution and of the Gospel, and in the Body and Blood of Jesus. For in those things, those means of grace, is the cross for us. We are baptized into Jesus’ death and resurrection. The forgiveness won on the cross is given in the Absolution and the Gospel. The Body and Blood that hung on the cross is given to us here. Here is the fire line to escape the flames of sin and hell. To escape the wrath that is to come. To live by faith. 

To live like those we heard about again this morning, in the Epistle from Hebrews chapter 11. They, too, lived in a world on fire - Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Rahab, Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel, prophets, and countless others. Some God used to worldly success, some were martyred. But all, looking to their promised Saviour still to come, were saved. God is faithful. 

So, too, is He for you. Even though it may seem like all the world’s on fire, that your life is on fire, that the Church is dying and evil is on the rise. 

But since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses - all those who have gone before us, who witness to God’s faithfulness - let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

Looking to Jesus. If you look at the sin, at the fire, yeah, things are going to look hopeless and desperate, and cause despair. But looking to Jesus we see the fire of God’s wrath against sin, but then also His victory over sin, death, and hell in His resurrection. And then there is hope and confidence. In His victory. 

So yes, Jesus came to cast fire on the earth, or as we heard God say through the prophet Jeremiah, Is not my word like fire . . . and like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces? But that’s the fire we need. The fire that saves. The fire that purifies sinful hearts and minds. And the hammer that smashes hard and stoney hearts that they beat once again with the love of God. Now that’s not easy! Just read the stories of all those people mentioned earlier and all they went through - sometimes because of their own sin, sometimes because of the sins of others. But how did the fire of God’s Word purify them? How did His hammer smash them? Yet how also did God raise them to a new life? 

And now you. Maybe you’re in the fire phase right now. Maybe you’re under the hammer right now. Maybe the fire line of God’s work for you is going right through your heart and life! To divide you from a sinful life and wrong belief. But by doing that, to save. It may feel like you’re dying! But Jesus specializes in life from the dead. It’s what He does. It’s what He came to do. For you. Even if it means a little fire and hammer right now, that in the end, you live.

Which we are singing in the Gradual right now. I don’t know if you ever pay attention to those words when we sing them, but here’s what we sang today: Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all. Or as Luther would put it: Those whom God would life up He first casts down. Those He forgives He first convicts. Those to whom He gives life He first kills. Not because He enjoys doing those things, but because He must. That we stop going on our own way and trying to do it our way, and follow His way. The way of death and resurrection, not self-improvement. The way of repentance and forgiveness, not self-acceptance. Looking to Jesus, not to ourselves. Looking to serve, not insisting on being served. And to love - not because others are so lovable! But because they’re not. Like us. But to love in the way of Jesus, as one of our hymns says, Love to the loveless shown that they may lovely be (LSB #430 v. 1). That there be a great cloud of witnesses, attesting to God’s faithfulness and love.

And yeah, they’re here. A great cloud of witnesses. And not just unseen, but in your seat. You’re part of it, too! Your Saviour working in your life, and I rejoice in how He is faithfully using each of you to help others in their lives - Christ in you serving, encouraging, loving, laying down your life for them living a new life. Not perfectly, to be sure! We’re not there yet! But we will be. In Jesus. And then, no more fire, no more hammers, just life. Just Jesus. Just peace and rest. 

And whether this is your first time in a church or you’re here every week, that’s the message, the hope, the life we need to hear. And that in Jesus, we have. 

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