“Do This and You Will Be Living” - Luke 10:25-37

“What must I do to inherit eternal life?” This profound question, which we heard in our text for today, is hard to miss. It has an enduring and timeless relevance. In a lot of ways it is the question of the human race. Faced head-on with the reality of my own mortality, the reality that I will die, it is a question that lurks in the background of my entire existence: “How can I be certain that my life will endure on the other side of death? How can I live my life today so that I am on the path of life?”

“What must I do to inherit eternal life?” In our text, Jesus was confronted with this question by an expert in the law. Though we may want to dismiss this question as ignorant because of our fear of the answer, it is important to note that in this instance Jesus himself does not dismiss this question like he often did with others. Jesus acknowledged this question by asking the expert in the law how he read the law, that is, how he understood the Word of God to answer this question. The expert in the law replied to Jesus: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and your neighbor as yourself.” And to this succinct answer Jesus clearly replied: “You have answered correctly. Do this and you will live.” Or to put it more accurately: “Do this and you will be living.”

But this answer wasn’t satisfactory for the expert in the law and I am afraid that it does not sit well with me either. The possibility that this profound question and this simple answer are the whole truth scares me—scares me to death. Scares me because of what it means for my life. Scares me because of the unqualified obedience it demands from me.

Probably fearing the very same, we are told that the expert in the law wanted to justify himself, wanted to assure his own righteousness and standing before the Word of God, and therefore he asked another question—a question that seems logical and innocent enough, but a question that betrayed his lack of contentment for the simple and clear Word of God that he apparently knew so well. The man knew the answer to his own question—Jesus acknowledged as much!—but the man was afraid of what that answer meant, he was afraid of the demand it placed upon his life—and so he ran to the refuge of continued questioning. He thought to himself, “Maybe if I can show this Word of God to be ambiguous and unclear then I won’t be responsible for doing it, I won’t be responsible for obeying it.” And so he asked his question: “But who is my neighbor?”

By this question this man was hoping to spawn an ethical debate with Jesus, he was hoping to expose the endless possibilities: Is my neighbor my biological brother? Is it my best friend? Is it the person who lives across the street? Is it my sister in the church? Is it my enemy? Who is it? Jesus could have fallen into the trap of this question—but he didn’t. He refused to acknowledge any lack of clarity in the Word of God. And in order to show the complete misunderstanding of this second question and to reinforce the truth of the first answer, Jesus told a story…

One day a man was heading down the 17 mile road from Jerusalem to Jericho. This was a winding road which dropped thousands of feet in elevation and was very notorious for its outlaws and robbers. Crusaders in the Middle Ages built a small fort at the halfway mark to try and protect travelers from the brigands who lurked around the many bends in the road. And even in 1857 there was an incident recalled by William Thomson where pilgrims who were traveling this very same road had one traveler fall behind the rest of the group only to be “attacked, robbed and stripped naked.” And it was no different for the man in Jesus’ story. As he went down the road from Jerusalem to Jericho a band of robbers jumped out from behind some boulders and ambushed him. They assaulted him. They took all he had, stripped him of his clothes, beat him to the brink of death, and left him for dead on the side of the road.

A little while after this attack a priest came riding around the bend. He beheld the scene: a naked, bloody, unmoving, unrecognizable man lying on the side of one of the most dangerous roads in the country. His stomach churned and his head swam. Then his mind jumped into action. “Is this man Jewish? Or is he a foreigner? He has no clothes and I can see no movement. Maybe if he responds I will notice his accent.” So the priest called out to the man. No response. His mind raced again: “Is he dead? I can’t see him moving or breathing and if I get too close I will become ceremonially unclean and have to spend the next week going through purification. And even if he is only unconscious, if he turns out to be a foreigner I will still be made unclean. And I really have no time for any of this. The people are expecting me. I need to be back at home to carry out the sacrifices. I have a job to do—I have responsibilities I need to attend to. And besides, what could I do to possibly help?” And with this, his mind was made up, and the priest quickly rode by the man on the far side of the road.

Shortly after the priest, a Levite came walking down the road. His breath caught in his throat and his gut seemed to drop to the ground as he took in the bloody scene. His eyes immediately darted to the boulders and hills along the road. There were hiding places everywhere. “Was this a trap?” The robbers could be anywhere. Then he thought about the priest he had seen riding a ways ahead of him at the last precipice: “Where was the priest? Had he been attacked too? Or had the priest determined that this man was beyond help? Was this man dead and unclean? The priest didn’t help this man, so who am I as a simple Levite to question his decision? And besides, I am on foot—what help could I possibly be? This is all far too dangerous—I need to get out of here!” And so, the Levite hastily moved past on the other side of the road, warily scanning the dangerous terrain.

Finally a third man stumbled across the horrific scene. This man was not a Jew—and he was not just a foreigner either, he was a Samaritan—not just an unbeliever but a heretic and schismatic. This was someone who had not just rejected the Jewish faith; this was one who had perverted the faith and was bringing division within it. The Mishna was clear: “He that eats the bread of the Samaritans is like one that eats the flesh of swine.” And to make things worse, the Samaritans had defiled the Temple just a few years before this time by scattering human bones in the Temple court.

But when this despised Samaritan, traveling in Judea, the land of his enemies, saw the bloody man lying on the side of the road—his heart went out to him. Shunning the potential danger of robbers and overlooking any concern over un-cleanliness, the Samaritan ran to the man’s side. There he immediately bandaged the man’s wounds, pouring oil and wine upon them. Humbling himself to the level of a servant, the Samaritan then placed the man on his donkey and led him to an inn. At the inn the Samaritan didn’t just drop the man off, but he stayed on for the night and took care of the man. In doing this, the Samaritan willingly exposed himself to the possibility of retribution from the Jewish community, if they assumed that he, the hated Samaritan, was in fact the culprit. Just think—this would be as if a Plains Indian in the 1800s would have walked into Dodge City with an injured cowboy on his horse and then checked in to the room over the local saloon. Or as if a black man in the 1960s would have carried a beaten and bruised white woman into a small hospital in Alabama. This was an act of kindness that was socially very dangerous—and yet the Samaritan didn’t stop there. To top it all off he paid in advance for the man to stay at the inn for the next couple of days with the promise that he would return to get him and pay any final expenses.

With the completion of this remarkable story, Jesus then looked at the expert in the law and asked him which of the three men he thought was a neighbor to the man who was attacked by robbers. With the picture painted so vividly, the expert in the law was forced to vaguely respond: “The one who had mercy on him.” He couldn’t even bring himself to verbally acknowledge that it was a hated Samaritan who had been the neighbor over and against the priest and the Levite.

And then, in this moment of vulnerability, Jesus let the other shoe drop. He looked at the expert in the law and declared: “Go and do likewise.” The expert in the law was speechless. Jesus had blocked off his every escape. Every excuse was now impotent. And now he finally saw how his question was all wrong. The issue was not “who is my neighbor?” the issue was that he himself had been called to be a neighbor to everyone in his life. No longer was he an outside party who was approaching this question theoretically. Now it was personal. Now it was the expert in the law face-to-face with the word of Jesus. All that was left was obedience or disobedience. Life or death. The way of the cross or the way of selfishness.

We are not told what happens with the expert in the law after this final word of Jesus, and honestly, it’s none of our concern. We now have too much to worry about ourselves. The story has served its purpose; it has brought us to the same point as the expert in the law. Now it is you and me face-to-face with the word of Jesus: “Go and do likewise.”

This word leaves me no escape. I so often try to scramble and avoid the call of this word upon my life. I am constantly devising new excuses and new methods to approach the word of Jesus as an outsider. And sometimes the best method seems to be in avoiding and ignoring the word altogether. But this running is exhausting. And every time I run away trying to ignore the word, I inevitably get caught again: “Go and do likewise.” And as long as I run from the word of Jesus I am restless. In the back of my mind I am constantly checking to see if I have done enough to escape the word. Have I gone far enough? Am I there yet? Have I done enough to get this word to leave me alone? The word suffocates me as I try to run. My selfish desire for control, my desire to get away, my desire to be my own lord cannot breathe under the weight of this word: “Go and do likewise.”

This word squelches my every attempt to get away and be neutral towards the commandment because in the end I know the truth: this word is addressed to me. “Go and do likewise.” And it will not let me rest until I realize that my life is not all about me. As long as my focus is on me and as long as I try to run away to protect myself from this word—this word will crush me under the weight of its call. Jesus’ word will in one way or another catch up to me and teach me to deny myself—to realize that life is not all about me. It will teach me to bear my cross and to live as a neighbor to my fellow man.

But once this word catches me, kills my focus upon “me”, and teaches me to focus on Jesus and my neighbor, it then brings life and gives rest. True rest is found only in the word of Jesus—only by living in the word of Jesus. This command of Jesus, this word of Jesus is life, life that is whole and complete because it is what you were made for, it is what you were designed for by your heavenly Father. Jesus himself gives you the promise: “Do this and you will be living” and “Blessed are those who hear the word of God and obey it” (Luke 11:28). To live every day no longer focused on “me” and totally focused on God and your neighbor is life and rest.

And Jesus does not and will not leave you on your own. Through his word he is picking you up, placing you on his back and taking you to the cross to die to yourself so that you will be raised to new life—living for God and your neighbor. The word of Jesus is killing your selfish desire to control life and make life all about you. But the word of Jesus is also raising you to new life. You have been baptized. You dine at the Lord’s Table. You are dead to yourself and alive to God. You are a new creation through Jesus Christ your Lord.

So, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” The answer is simple: come, die to yourself with Jesus in the Lord’s Supper and then freely live life focused on loving God and your neighbor. That was the difference between the priest and Levite and the Samaritan. As Martin Luther King, Jr. put it: “The first question which the priest and the Levite asked was: ‘If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?’ But then the Good Samaritan reversed the question: ‘If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?’” The priest and Levite were full of fraught and concern over themselves and so their lives were restless—the Samaritan, on the other hand, knew he had a heavenly Father who was caring for him and so he was able to restfully and peacefully serve the man fallen amongst the robbers.

You are alive in Jesus Christ and you have a heavenly Father who loves and cares for you in all things; therefore, Jesus’ word to you is life: “Go and do likewise.” Amen.

“Lord of the Future” - Luke 12:13-34

Anxiety. Worry. Stress. These feelings hover in the background of every part of my life and I would be surprised if it wasn’t the same for you. I usually just assume that anxiety, worry, and stress will accompany me in some form wherever I go and in whatever I do.

What will I eat? Where will I sleep? What will I wear? How will I pay my bills? Electricity—gas—water—rent—internet—cable— cell phone—tuition—books—health insurance—car insurance—taxes. Will I be able to finish paying for school without going into debt? And will I be able to get into the grad school of my choice? Have I been saving enough money for retirement? Will my pension and social security be enough? Is the economy going to finally crash? Is the housing market going to continue to go down? And what about my health? Is my blood pressure too high? What are my cholesterol counts? Am I exercising enough? When I am older how will I be able to be self-sufficient and stay out of a nursing home? And what about family? Should I be married already? Does God even have marriage in the plans for me? Will I ever have any children of my own? And am I doing a good enough job as the vicar? Will the college students listen to me? Am I even in the right career field? Does God really want me doing this? Should I be doing something else? And even today—right now in fact!—the anxieties and stresses are still assaulting me. How will this sermon go? Will my nervousness show? Will I lose my train of thought? Will y’all stay awake? Will y’all even care about what I have to say? And on and on and on…

It’s endless. The things of this life just never stop assaulting us. And our whole lives are consumed as we try to chase all these things away. One worry after another—one stressful thing after another to keep us tossing and turning in our beds in the wee hours of the morning. It’s non-stop. We tackle one thing—and then three more quickly replace it. There seems to be no end. It’s even down-right exhausting just thinking about it all. And now I’m worried that I’m worried so much!

But we have no choice, right? We can’t possibly live without anxiety, worry, and stress—if we didn’t worry about the future, then nothing would get done, right? Where would the food come from? Where would we stay? If we don’t do it, then who will? Jesus tells us that this whole world of worry about the future is flat-out wrong and completely unnecessary. “Do not be anxious about your life” (Luke 12:22). Jesus’ command from our text is clear and simple and it hits home with a bang: “Do not be anxious about your life.” But surely Jesus couldn’t have meant that literally or meant that about our entire life—right? How could we survive in this society if we weren’t constantly looking ahead and planning and worrying and stressing and figuring things out for the future?

Maybe our whole approach to the future is wrong. The rich man in our text for today tried to hold on to his life and take control of his future by storing up all that he had—but his life was suddenly taken from him despite all his best planning and organizing. His life was consumed by building up his storehouses in order to survive tomorrow, in order to preserve his life for the future. But as Jesus shows us through this parable, hoarding is death—fighting to control our own future leads to death.

There is a little story that illustrates this well. One morning Death came to a town and a man saw him and asked, “What are you going to do?” Death replied, “I am going to take 100 people.” The man jumped into action. He quickly ran out and warned everyone in the town he could. Then, later that evening the man saw Death again and confronted him, “You told me you were only going to take 100! Why did 1,000 die?!?” Death simply replied, “I only took 100, worry took the rest.” Studies and statistics back up the truth of this little tale. The US National Mental Health Committee reported a few years ago that half—half!—of all the people in America’s hospital beds are constant worriers. Mental distress over the future can lead to migraine headaches, arthritis, heart trouble, backaches, ulcers, depression, digestive disorders and, yes, even death. Worry literally kills.

Listen to Jesus’ words: “Whoever tries to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?” (Luke 9:24-25). Jesus wants you to live for today and place the future into God’s hands, where it rightly belongs. If you try to save this life for the future then your worrying and anxiety will slowly kill you and in the process you will lose your very self. An unknown author said it well, “If you spend your time with worries over what might happen tomorrow, you have no today in which to live.”

On the other hand, if you let God be the Lord of the future then you will be free from the struggle for tomorrow that burdens you with anxiety, worry, and stress. Anxiety, worry, and stress are only the symptoms. No stress relief program will work, for as any doctor will tell you, to fight only your symptoms is futile. You cannot win that way. You have to tackle the root problem—you have to tackle the disease that is causing the symptoms. And this disease is your desire to be lord of the future, your desire to control a future of your choosing.

Therefore, we need to let go of our desire for control of the future. Our fighting and struggling is killing us. We need rest. We need to be able to finally stop. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said it very well: “The next day, the next hour is completely out of our hands’ reach. It is meaningless to behave as if we could worry. We can change nothing about the conditions of the world. Only God can change the conditions for God rules the world. Because we cannot worry, because we are so powerless, we should not worry. Worrying means taking God’s rule onto ourselves.”

Listen to that last line again: “Worrying means taking God’s rule onto ourselves.” In my worrying I am trying to do God’s job—I am trying to play God, I am trying to be lord of the future. And this is something I am not good at, though I may like to think I am! I have no control of the future. Jesus told us this much: “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?” (Luke 12:25-26). Control of the future is never mine, no matter how hard I try. I need not be anxious. I need not worry. I need not stress. Because they accomplish nothing. The future belongs to God alone. And Jesus tells us why this is good news—Jesus tells us that we need not fear at all because our God is a gracious Father. A gracious Father who is Lord of the future. A gracious Father who is caring and providing for us 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

“Ok, that’s all well and good” you might think “but how is this letting go of the future feasible, how is this actually done in everyday life?” Thankfully, Jesus tells us very plainly. Because we are certain of our heavenly Father’s rule and care for our life we can turn around and generously give to others. This active generosity will free us from anxiety, worry, and stress. Mark Buchanan in his book The Rest of God discusses the miracle of generosity: “Generous people have more time. That’s the irony: those who sanctify time and who give time away—who treat time as gift and not possession—have time in abundance. Contrariwise, those who guard every minute, resent every interruption, ration every moment, never have enough. They’re always late, always behind, always scrambling, always driven….We hold time so tight we crush it, like a flower closed in the fist. We thought we were protecting it, but all we did was destroy it.”

Therefore, Jesus calls you to live active lives of giving and generosity so that you might be free from anxiety, worry, and stress. And Jesus doesn’t just recommend “inwardly” giving—he implores you to very literally sell your possessions and give to the poor because it is only in action that your anxieties will start to fall away. Notice how there is no lack of concreteness to Jesus’ words. Often times when we hear a teaching it comes across as abstract and we may ask “Well, how can I do that? What does that look like in real life?” Here, in the face of the tangible words of Jesus those questions are powerless. “Sell your possessions and give to the poor.” It’s that simple. It’s that clear. “Sell your possessions and give to the poor.” No, you may not want to hear this. No, you will probably fight with everything you have to come up with some sort of excuse why you can’t do this and why it is impractical. But in the end you and I have no excuse. The words are plain. “Sell your possessions and give to the poor.” The promise is also clear. “Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom.” So stop killing yourself by hoarding things for the future—stop crushing the delicate flower of your life by trying to be in control. Give—give generously! Let the daily blessings of time and possessions from your heavenly Father flow through you to those who are in need around you. Jesus promises that this generosity will free you from your anxiety, worry, and stress!

The command may be simple, but it is much easier said—and preached from a pulpit!—than actually done. So how can I bring myself to actually do this? How is it feasible to live this way in our capitalistic culture and society? You and I can only give completely of ourselves in this culture of greed because of the generosity of the one who went before us. Jesus gave up his entire life—everything!—for us and was abandoned by his Father as he went to the cross to die. But the Father did not abandon him for good; he turned back to Jesus and raised him to new life three days later.

Because Jesus was abandoned, you will not be. You—you can give and give and give because in your baptism you were united to Jesus Christ and received the same Holy Spirit with whom he was anointed. Because you bear this Spirit of God—because you have been given the Father’s kingdom—you will stand out as a beacon of generosity in the midst of a society that consumes and hoards with every breath it can muster. Since you bear the Holy Spirit, Jesus’ path from death to life—this alternative to the world’s empty paths—is now your path.

Yes, this path and journey will surely take the shape of the cross: If you are faithful to this path then the world will reject you, the world will hate you, you will lack the luxuries that this world has to offer, and you will have to die. But despite this you stand today in hope because you have a Father in heaven who will not abandon you to the grave. When you are faced with suffering and death—as you most certainly will be—you will not be alone. You have a Lord who will be with you always—even in death. You will be raised to new life just as Jesus was. You will be raised to new life in the resurrection of your body. Your Father in heaven who watches over the flowers and sparrows will not abandon you or forget you. He will take care of you always, no matter how dark and hopeless your circumstances may become.

Therefore, you don’t need to hoard your time or your possessions. You can stop trying to be lord of the future. You can stop worrying. You can stop stressing. You can relinquish control. You can generously give to those in need. And then you can finally rest, rest because in Jesus Christ all your anxieties, worries, and stresses are swept away by the assurance of your future—by the assurance that in Jesus Christ your body will be raised from the dead.

And at the end of it all, on that day of resurrection, when you see your Lord face to face he will ask you: “Did you lack anything?” (Luke 22:35) and you will be bold to respond: “Nothing, Lord.” For how could you lack anything when you have the continued assurance that your Father in heaven is Lord of the future? He is watching over you and your future whether you are in hunger, suffering, or even in the midst of dying. Your hope is truly beyond description because your Father in heaven loves you and will never abandon you! And to this I say, thanks be to God through Christ Jesus our Lord! Amen.

“Bearing the Name” - Matthew 28:16-20

In the name of the Father and of Son and of Holy Spirit—Amen.

“In the name of the Father and of Son and of Holy Spirit.” This phrase that we hear so regularly—at least for me—often falls on deaf ears. It is something I have heard thousands of times and have become jaded and almost cold towards. It seldom carries much meaning with it when I hear it. Maybe, you find this to be true for yourself also.

So, what does this phrase even mean?—this phrase which finds itself in our text for today—this phrase that Matthew records as central to the final words of the resurrected Jesus. What does it mean that we baptize, that we carry out our worship, that we carry out our lives “in the name of the Father and of Son and of Holy Spirit?” “In the name of”? “What’s in a name?”

Most of you are probably familiar with this question which William Shakespeare wrote in “Romeo & Juliet”: “What’s in a name?” Is a name just a label or does it have to do with our very identity? Let’s recount part of the famous balcony scene where Juliet, who is from the Capulet family, declares her love for Romeo, who is from the Montague family—the dire enemy of the Capulets…

[Juliet speaks:] O Romeo, Romeo! why are you Romeo? Deny your father and refuse your name; Or, if you will not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. ‘Tis but your name that is my enemy;— You are yourself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is not hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What’s in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, Retain that dear perfection which he owns Without that title:—Romeo, throw off your name; And in exchange for that name, which is no part of you, Take all myself.
[Romeo responds:] I take you at your word: Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized; From then on I will never be Romeo.

Strangely enough, here in these impassioned words of Romeo and Juliet we find something which can teach us to appreciate what Jesus says when he speaks of being baptized “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Here in this play, Romeo and Juliet see that their family names keep them apart. They come from two separate houses that are enemies with each other. In order to bridge this gap which stands between them, Juliet calls for Romeo to forsake his name, to forsake his father and his association with his family—and if he will not, then she will. For if he is to be a Montague and she is to be a Capulet, they cannot be together.

Romeo’s response to Juliet’s plea is remarkable. Even though Juliet, for the sake of her love, wants a name to be nothing but a superficial label, Romeo still recognizes the depth of what it means to carry his name. Romeo could cease to call himself “Montague” but if he still lived and associated with his family, he would still be a Montague, an enemy of Juliet, the Capulet. Therefore, Romeo responds by telling Juliet that if she would call him a new name, call him her “love”, he will be newly baptized—he will cease to be Romeo, he will cease to be a Montague—he will become a new man, he will become defined by his love and relationship with Juliet—he will take on a completely new identity. This transformation of identity would need to be far more than superficial. No longer could Romeo socialize in the same circles, no longer could he live as a Montague, he truly would have to deny his family. His entire life would need to be forsaken; his entire life would need to be changed.

So “What’s in a name?” Is a name just a label or does it have to do with our very identity? If we learn to understand bearing a name like Romeo we will see it is far more than a label—it is an identity which changes and shapes every part of our lives. Looking to the Scriptures and especially to Jesus we will see that Romeo was right.

In the Scriptures we see that names are changed when lives are changed.
· Think of Abram. His name was changed to Abraham—which means “father of a multitude”—after God promised him that he, a 100 year old childless man, would be the father of many nations.
· Think of Jacob. His name was changed to Israel—which means “wrestles with God”—after he wrestled with God and received a blessing that would alter the path of his life forever.
· Think of Simon. His name was changed to Peter—which means “rock”— after Jesus declared that he would build his Church on Peter’s bold confession of faith.
· And think of Saul. His name was changed to Paul after being called by Jesus while on the road to Damascus—Saul’s old life and identity was forever left behind so that he might follow Jesus, proclaiming the Gospel to the nations as Paul.

So it is with all the disciples of Jesus Christ. Jesus tells his disciples that they are to go to all the world making disciples by baptizing “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” and teaching those to obey all that he has commanded. The disciples are called to go and change names and lives, to burst apart families—to change which family we belong to—to bring Capulets and Montagues out of their enemy families and into the family of God.

According to Jesus, this happens to us in two ways. The first is in our baptism. When we are baptized “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” we change families. Our old bonds to the world are left behind and they are replaced by our new bonds to the Church—to the Body of Christ—to this very community, to these people sitting right around you.

In the early church there was a common practice of changing the name of new disciples at their baptism. In the case of an infant baptism it was customary to wait till this time to give this child a name for the first time. This symbolic action of name giving was done in order to show that in your baptism your name and identity is forever changed in a real way—you now bear the name of God. You have left the family of the world and entered the family of the Church. You have left the world’s ways of greed, lust, anger, jealousy, and selfishness behind. No longer are you a Capulet or Montague who struggles through violence to obtain wealth and status. You are now a member of the Body of Christ, a child of God who patiently and non-violently looks to the Father in heaven for all things.

This transformation of identity and change of families also happens to us through teaching. Jesus specifically declared that disciples are made through baptizing and teaching. Teaching gives the disciples the content for their new life and identity. Teaching is not something that makes the disciples “smart” or allows them to simply “explain their faith.” Teaching has its goal, as Jesus says, in obedience, not some “intellectual understanding.” Teaching shows us that it is not enough to simply claim the name of God—we are called to live out the name of God.

Jesus teaches us this in the Sermon on the Mount when he says: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness’” (Matthew 7:21-23).

In these harsh words of Jesus we find out that to be a Christian “in name only” is deadly. Prophesying, casting out demons, and mighty works in Jesus’ name is not what makes us bearers of the “name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” What makes us bearers of that name to the world is the fact that we embody the teaching and life of Jesus that has been given to us in our baptism.

Jesus himself is the one in whom we see what it means to bear the name of God. In our baptism and through the teaching of the Church our life takes on the shape and image of Jesus Christ. Just think of the motion that is common when we say the words “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” In that name our life takes on the shape and image of the cross and resurrection.

For us to bear the image of the cross means that we live in this world by walking in the footsteps of Jesus. We love our neighbors. We turn the other cheek. We go the extra mile. We bless those who curse us. We do good to those who hate us. We pray for those who abuse us. We love our enemies. We lay down our lives for our friends. We live with Jesus as the Lord of our entire life—not America, not money, not our family—Jesus alone is our Lord. And because we live as such, the world, our culture, and even our family may reject us. Jesus told his disciples this very thing: “Brother will deliver brother over to death, and the father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death, and you will be hated by all for my name’s sake” (Matthew 10:21).

The world will hate you. You will suffer. The culture will reject you. Your family may betray you. And you may even be put to death. That is what it means bear the name of the crucified one, to live as one who has been baptized “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

But we bear the name of the one who was not only crucified, we bear the name of the one who was also raised from the dead. Jesus doesn’t leave his disciples without hope, he says: “The one who endures to the end will be saved” (Matthew 10:22).

On the other side of the cross is the resurrection. You will be raised to new life in Jesus Christ. You were baptized “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” and therefore you are no longer a Capulet or Montague who will die without hope. God has made you a part of His family; you have been made a child of God. You have the certain promise that because you have died with Christ in your baptism, you will also be raised to new life with him at the resurrection of the body.

Your name has changed, your identity has changed, and therefore your life has changed. You bear “the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” and that means that your life bears witness to the cross and resurrection of Jesus. Bearing this name before the world is not easy, but Jesus Christ, the one who conquered and defeated death for you, promised you in his last words of Matthew—“I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.”

In the name of the Father and of Son and of Holy Spirit—Amen.

“My Redeemer Lives!” - Job 1:21, 19:25-27

Thank you, dear friends, for joining me here today as we surround this precious family in the name and love of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Dear Garrison and Meghan, Ellie, Suzanne, and Deborah…the depth of what you all have experienced in the last few days is incapable of being expressed by words. The inability to say anything helpful has hung over all our heads like a dark cloud. Most of us have tried to speak at one point or another, but as soon as we have done so, we have realized our inadequacy.

Garrison, you and I have had a chance to reminisce a lot over these days of confusion, and your love of the book of Job has given me the inspiration to mutter a few simple words here, that I pray will point us to a glimmer of hope in the midst of this thick darkness. Job’s first response to the tragedy that unjustly fell upon his life is an immense riddle: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.” The simple faith of these words, the fact that Job would bless the Lord in the midst of loss, unexpectedly shine out against the dark questions which force their way to the surface of our lips:

What, O Lord, have I done to possibly deserve this?
When, O Lord, will you step in and stop all this pain and suffering?
How, O Lord, can you stand by while such injustice takes place?
Where, O Lord, were you when we needed you—are you even here at all?
Why, O Lord, did you let this happen?

The apparent injustice of the situation looms before us all in these moments following this tragic car accident that claimed the lives of Michael, Julie, Jessie, and Hannah. The sheer injustice of this disaster rivals that of even Job’s dire situation. One minute this God-fearing family, this pastor’s family, is driving on the road in Lafayette, Tennessee, helping those who were in the greatest need after tornadoes had ravaged the town—they were providing counseling, food, and supplies—and then the next minute, it was all suddenly over. Tragedy was piled upon tragedy. Those who were graciously reaching out to broken families with the love of God were now broken themselves.

You, the family of these loved ones, have clearly expressed to me that all attempts to find an explanation have left you wanting more, all the attempts to explain this tragedy have been empty and meaningless:

There was some “sin” that caused this.
There is some “greater good” that will be accomplished in this.
There is a “plan” that this was a part of.

All the answers fail. Despite all their good intentions they fall flat on their face when this tragedy shows its true colors. They fail because the solutions they offer are fleeting. They are incapable of telling us why a truly good God who is all-powerful would let something like this befall his children. Every explanation will fail. Words cannot do the situation justice. Words only make it worse.

Job saw this. Job understood this well. His frustration with his friends’ attempts to help him cope made him feel even more alone. He responded defiantly: “How long will you torment me and break me in pieces with words?” Things had become too much for him. Not only had God stepped into his life and taken away almost all that he had, now his friends were making things worse by futilely trying to explain why this had happened.

Job fully understood that God was God and therefore had allowed this to happen. So Job confronted God boldly—Job dared God to explain himself. It is here in this moment, however, that we capture a glimpse, a glimpse which shines out miraculously amidst all the pain and tragedy of Job’s grief. Job confronted God about the tragedy that had come upon him, but then in the next breath he proclaimed his simple faith that drove him onward: “As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another.”

Job did not rationalize away what had happened. Job did not try to justify God’s decision to take away his family. Job knew that would do no good. The pain would still remain. The wound would still bleed. Yet in the face of it all, Job kept the God he knew in view. He clung to the promises that he had been given. He clung to the fact that he would be resurrected and restored when all was said and done. This did not downplay the reality and depth of his tragedy; it simply allowed him to look behind the circumstances and focus on the God who had created him and who was standing beside him.

So it is for you Garrison and Meghan, Ellie, Suzanne, and Deborah. This tragedy cuts deep—too deep to articulate and probably deeper than any of us, even you, can yet imagine. And so like Job we refuse to listen to those empty explanations around us that try to tell us “why” God would let this happen to your loved ones. We look beyond the circumstances of this tragedy to the God who stands behind it. We may rage against him and cry out defiantly in his face—and this he welcomes us to do. Yet with Job we ultimately return to the one thing we have—the promise of God. For us, that promise lies in Jesus Christ—our Redeemer who lives, our Redeemer who reveals the true goodness of God. We know that despite the horrid turns this life has taken and will continue to take, that our hope lies in the fact that when all is said and done we will stand before Jesus Christ and behold him with our own eyes.

Michael, Julie, Jessie, and Hannah were all baptized into Jesus Christ. They were baptized into his death and resurrection. The same promise to which Job clung is real for them and for us as well. You, too, are also baptized, and it is to that word of hope that you cling. The grief is real, the pain will continue. Our hope lies on the other side, on the other side of the cross, on the other side of all this pain and all this grief—it lies in the resurrection and restoration of our bodies to come, where there will be no more pain and no more grief. With Jesus Christ we too will go through death and will emerge triumphant and vindicated on the other side. And because of this, our hope is real today even in the face of such horrible tragedy. At the resurrection of the body you will be reunited with your beloved family—Michael, Julie, Jessie, and Hannah. It is from this hope that they, and we also, have in Jesus Christ that we pull the courage and strength to live on to the glory of God. May the peace of God that passes all understanding fill you with his comfort and hope until the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

“Falling in Love with the Kingdom” - Matthew 13:44-46

You are going about your business as usual. Running errands, getting work done…you never really saw it coming. In the distance you see her for the first time. She’s walking with a bounce in her step. The sun is in her hair. Oh and that smile…a smile that could topple a mountain. Your heart skips a beat. Your lungs clinch and your breathing becomes shallow. Your palms are sweating. Time slows down, seemingly to a halt.

Suddenly everything has changed. Past priorities no longer matter. Previous plans and schedules seem inconsequential. Everything fades into the background. Even what you were on your way to do is forgotten. You don’t know how and you don’t know why—but you know that you need to talk to her, to be with her, to love her. Nothing will get in the way—she is too important, too valuable—everything will take a backseat to her.

If you have ever fallen in love in a sudden way, you can relate very closely to this scenario. In his first parable of our text Jesus shows us that the Kingdom of God is very similar to falling in love. Jesus describes a treasure found hidden in a field. When this treasure of unlimited value is found by a man, the man immediately sells everything he has in order to buy the field. This, Jesus tells us, is what our reaction should be when we are first captivated with God’s Kingdom. Like falling in love, all our priorities should drop for the sake of the beloved. All our plans should change in order to be with our beloved. Everything we have should be forsaken and used in order to obtain our beloved. God’s kingdom is too important, too valuable—everything else must take a back seat.

As a result we must ask: Are we giving the appropriate response to the Kingdom of God which has graciously given us all things? Do we, like the lover or like the man who finds the treasure, immediately drop everything in our life for the sake of the Kingdom of God?

Previously in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus had preached the Sermon on the Mount where he told his disciples not to store up treasures on earth that rust and can be stolen, but that they should store up treasures in heaven where there is no rust and no thieves. He concludes by telling them, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” And later in the Gospel he tells them: “The good person out of his good treasure brings forth good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure brings forth evil.” In these words Jesus is telling us that our treasure is everything—what matters is where we put our trust. If we treasure the Kingdom of God, then good will naturally flow from this good treasure of infinite worth. But if our treasure is the evil treasures of this world then evil will naturally flow from us, because we have put our hearts in the wrong place.

To the rich young man Jesus had some very hard words about putting the Kingdom of God first, that we like to ignore, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” Jesus tells this rich young man that if he wants treasure in heaven then he must stop putting his heart into his earthly possessions and start seeking God’s Kingdom. The problem wasn’t the young man’s possessions, the problem was that the young man was seeking these earthly treasures over and above the Kingdom of God which was calling him to help the poor and cling to Jesus.

So now the question is simple: What is your treasure? What is it in your life that you seek above all things? What is the one thing for which you will drop all else?

Back when I was in California I fell in love with a girl who became the center of my world. Though at the time I would have claimed to be seeking first the Kingdom of God, I can see, looking back on the situation, how false that was. There were moments when my frustrations would escalate because she had forgotten to call or because she broke a small promise. In those moments my whole world would come crashing down—my mood would plummet and my emotions would drop into the gutter—frustrated I would yell into the cushions of my couch. I could focus on nothing else; it felt as if my life were falling apart. And I would do absolutely anything to make it right. And all this was because I was seeking her first, above all things. Instead of seeking the Kingdom of God and thereby loving her freely as someone whom I couldn’t control, I sought to control the relationship and make it what I always desired, by putting her on the top of my world.

Whether it is the woman you love or something else, the question remains: What is the one thing for which you will give up everything? Is it your job? Is it your football, your golf? Is it your beauty? Is it your reputation? Is it your children? Is it your wife or husband? Is it having control and getting your own way? Is it your very own life?

In the face of the Kingdom of God, all these treasures which we seek, pale in comparison. Why then do we refuse to put the Kingdom first in our life? It is because the treasures of this life glow with a promise and a pleasure we can’t resist—they offer short term benefits which we can touch and feel and thereby they blind us to their long term emptiness. The excitement of watching our team win the big game. The satisfaction of a promotion after a job well done. The delight of being told we are beautiful. The joy of seeing our child grow through the years. The loving embrace of our lifelong companion. These things we physically experience and they bring us immediate gratification. The Kingdom of God on the other hand is the path of giving up everything for a God who sometimes seems distant and intangible—a God who must be grasped in faith—and therefore we are blinded to its value.

Having raised these hard questions about the Kingdom of God with his parable of the hidden treasure, Jesus then continues and tells us a second parable which many think simply reiterates the first. However, there is something very different about this parable—Jesus isn’t simply saying the same thing over again.

Jesus begins by telling us that the Kingdom of God is like a merchant. In the parable of the treasure Jesus equates the Kingdom to the treasure in the field, but this time it is the merchant. This merchant is out seeking fine pearls and when he finds a pearl of great value he gives up everything in order to buy it.

So, what is Jesus telling us about the merchant that is different than the treasure in the field? Jesus is giving us the other side of the coin. Not only is the Kingdom of God an invaluable treasure for which we should be ready to give up all that we have, the Kingdom of God is a merchant seeking out invaluable pearls of its own.

Once again, it is like falling in love—only this time it is God who is falling in love. God, in Jesus Christ, has chosen for himself a people, a church, and will do anything to bring them to himself. The Apostle Paul wrote of this extraordinary love: “Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish.”

Jesus Christ is the merchant in the parable, and he is seeking out pearls to bring into his church. And yet these pearls are not special in and of themselves, in fact they are hurting and broken—they are oppressed by sickness, death, meaninglessness, and are without a family or identity. These helpless people—these very ones who have up to this point ignored his Kingdom—are seen and loved by Jesus and are thereby transformed by that love into pearls of great value. Because Jesus willingly gives up everything in order to purchase them for himself, they are shown to be of infinite worth—his love makes them valuable. And therefore you—yes you—are a pearl for which Jesus comes. Jesus Christ wants to make you his own and nothing will get in the way. Despite your failure to put his Kingdom first, despite your blemishes and failures, you are too important, too valuable; you have been chosen and therefore everything will take a back seat to you—including Jesus’ own life. Jesus went to the cross and gave up everything there in order to snatch you from the grips of the world that weighs you down and blinds you to the Kingdom of God. Your baptism, your washing in water with the word, is the moment that God officially buys you back and brings you into his family—and in that baptism, that tangible event in your life, you are promised the resurrection of the body as the fruit of being bought and made Jesus’ own.

Therefore Jesus’ two parables are challenging us to see two things. The first is that the Kingdom of God is the most valuable thing in our life and should be sought above all else. The second is that Jesus Christ has given up everything on the cross in order to bring the Kingdom of God into our lives through our baptism. The Kingdom of God has sought us out and has claimed us for its own so that we may seek it above all else.

So when all is said and done we are left with Jesus’ simple directive: “Seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

But, “How do we do this?” you might ask. Jesus tells us that seeking first his Kingdom involves loving no thing and no person more than him, taking up our cross and following him, and losing our life for his sake. In short, this will look a lot like falling in love—and not a Hollywood, romanticized version of falling in love—a real falling in love which sacrifices the self for the sake of the beloved. This is the very same love which God first had for you by bringing you into his Kingdom. This is the very same love that Jesus Christ had for you as he hung bloodied on the cross in order to buy you back for God our Father. As the Apostle John said so eloquently, “We love because he first loved us.” And yet our love and seeking of the Kingdom is not manifested simply in some intangible love directed toward God, it is manifested as we look to our fellow man beside us. The Apostle John clearly proclaimed, “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers.”

Therefore, if we seek the Kingdom of God first, we will seek to do the Kingdom’s work in our life. This involves loving one another as Jesus Christ loved us—this involves laying down our lives for our brothers and sisters. We are called to fall in love with our fellow man in the same way that God fell in love with us. The extreme sacrifice of giving up ourselves for our brothers is what we are called to in God’s Kingdom. By God’s grace and by his falling in love with us, this becomes possible as we boldly step out into the world, loving all people for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

“The Man for Others” - Matthew 8:1-17

When my grandmother was close to death I remember the profound sympathy I had for her as she sat stationary in her wheelchair for what seemed like entire days at a time, hunched over and slouched, devoid of all energy and purpose. Her physical weakness had overtaken her and through this she had seemed to lose any drive to live. It is to such situations that our text becomes very real in our lives: “He took upon himself our weaknesses and bore our sufferings.” There is someone who has taken upon himself our weakness, our brokenness, our frailty, our loss of purpose and spirit. This “someone” Matthew claims is Jesus. But is this something that is real for us today? If we go back to the beginning of our text maybe we too can see what Matthew saw…

Our text begins with Jesus descending the mountain after giving his famous “Sermon on the Mount.” Up on the mountain Jesus had been preaching to and teaching his disciples and the crowds that he had gathered from the likes of Galilee and Jerusalem. After finishing this sermon Jesus comes down from the mountain and is quickly interrupted by a leper who comes to him and throws himself down before him, begging to be healed. Jesus amazingly, does the unthinkable, he reaches out and touches, yes, touches this untouchable and unclean man, healing and cleansing him of his leprosy.

After this Jesus heads to Capernaum. Just as he gets inside the city a centurion approaches him asking him to heal his paralyzed servant. Jesus patiently and kindly agrees to come and heal the servant. The centurion, however, tells Jesus not to bother with coming to his house for he understands that Jesus is a man of authority, and therefore Jesus’ word is sufficient for the task. Jesus marvels at this—he marvels at the profound faith of the Roman centurion. And then Jesus speaks the word, instantly healing the centurion’s servant.

At this point Jesus proceeds to Peter’s house only to find Peter’s mother-in-law sick in bed with a fever. Without hesitation Jesus touches her hand and she is relieved of her fever. And that very same evening many that were demon possessed and spiritually oppressed were brought to Jesus and once again Jesus patiently helped them. He cast out their evil spirits with a word and healed all who were sick.

It is here at the conclusion of this extended series of healings by Jesus that Matthew tells us what this is all about: “This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah: ‘He took upon himself our weaknesses and bore our sufferings.’” Here in this small verse we hear the good news of Jesus, in its simple totality. In his miraculous healings, Jesus was taking upon himself the brokenness of our humanity. He was giving us a foretaste of the restoration of creation by taking our sicknesses, illnesses, and maladies upon himself.

Jesus is here to bear us.
Jesus is here to carry us.
Jesus simply is “for us.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer had a very significant and memorable way to refer to Jesus: “The Man for Others.” And it is here in our text that we see Jesus as “The Man for Others” manifested in a very clear and explicit way.

And this being “The Man for Others”, this being “for us”, is real. These were real healings. The leper walked away with his skin truly free from his sores and leprosy. The paralyzed servant of the centurion was given the full movement of his limbs back. Peter’s mother-in-law’s fever was gone, her body temperature returning to her normal 98.6 degrees. And all those who came to Jesus with demons were rid of the evil spirits that plagued them.

Jesus’ purpose is concrete and tangible—he is here to bear our burdens of all kinds. He bears our spiritual burdens—our demons; and our physical burdens—our sicknesses. The fullness of this bearing is illustrated in our text. Through this bearing we have the promise that in this life Jesus will bear with us in all things. He has promised to give us his actual presence through the members of his Body, the Church. You, yes you, have been brought into the family of Jesus Christ in your baptism and have become a true member of his body. You are now surrounded with a whole company of brothers and sisters who have been united with Christ. In this life, today, right before your very eyes, Jesus Christ is meeting you in these fellow believers. He is here in them bearing your burdens right along side of you, in a very concrete way: The friend who sits with you as your mother lies terminally ill on a hospital bed. The sister who holds you while you cry over the loss of your child. The father who sits up with you all night while you struggle to finish a paper. The random stranger who helps you pick up your groceries that have been scattered across the parking lot. In these very real lives, in these very real people, Jesus is walking with you, living with you, and bearing with you.

But what happens after this life? If Jesus’ story stops with our text isn’t our hope short-lived and fleeting? Indeed, it is. If our hope of having Jesus on our side is only for this life, then we are ultimately hopeless like the rest of the world. But the story of Jesus doesn’t stop with our text. Matthew is setting us up for the climax, he is setting is up for the cross. Jesus’ bearing of our burdens climaxes on the cross. In this dread moment of hopelessness the fullness of his standing “for us” comes through. The final enemy, death itself, Jesus confronts head-on and bears in its fullness. Broken under the burden of death that looms over our very own lives, Jesus cries out to His Father, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

And once again, the story becomes nothing but a hollow tale if it stops here. But death does not hold Jesus. The Father raises Jesus from the dead and declares once and for all the plan that he has for his children. Because we have been made members of Christ’s Body, this journey through the cross and out of the grave becomes our own journey. In Jesus Christ we share in these realities in a very real way. God has promised to completely fix the creation when Jesus comes again—and if we are members of Jesus Christ then we will partake in that same resurrection and new life. In that day we will no longer need to bear with the brokenness of this creation. God will finally step in and put the creation where he wants it to be. Your broken down and decaying body will be resurrected. You, yourself, will stand with your brothers and sisters in Christ in the new world that is bursting with life and goodness.

Therefore, as members of Christ’s Body we now take on the responsibility of Jesus Christ before the world. We ourselves have become “a man or woman for others” in his Body. Paul told the Galatians that this was the fulfillment of their purpose and life as Christians: “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” The burdens around us in life are unavoidable and can only be ignored for so long. The death, the sickness, the broken relationships, the addictions, the lack of meaning and purpose, and all else that plagues us. Jesus Christ has taken these burdens off our shoulders in order that we may now turn around and help those around us with their burdens. We are here to be Christ to others.

The reality of this calling was shown to me in a very unexpected way… As I was attempting to write this sermon and was struggling with getting my thoughts together and moving in a coherent direction, I was sitting in my room, staring blankly at my computer. Suddenly my phone rang. “Ugh,” I thought, “just what I need at a moment like this. Another distraction.” Frustrated, I walked over to the phone and answered it. “Who now? Who is calling now?” I thought. It was my sister. My thoughts ran off: “Ugh—what do you want now, didn’t we just talk yesterday? Do you not remember I am really swamped this week?”

As she began to say “hi” it was revealed that she was just calling on her way home from work—she had had a long day and wanted to talk, she wanted a listening ear and she wanted to see how I was doing. I was in no mood for this—I had a sermon that needed to be written. Grumpily I grunted along for a bit, wondering if she would sense my impatience and remember my workload, letting me go on my disgruntled way.

And then it hit me—like a wall of water. In this moment of selfishness I was in fact a living example of how we fail at bearing one another. I had been sitting there wondering what to say about bearing our fellow man and then—boom!—there I was, so selfishly turned in on my own agenda that I was missing the opportunity to bear my sister in a very simple and yet important way. I was so concerned with my own burdens that I was neglecting hers. I was putting my own burdens as a higher priority than hers. Instead of giving my burdens over to God and graciously helping my sister with hers, I was stubbornly living in an isolated world trying to bear my burdens alone.

Jesus, however, handled himself radically different. He allowed himself to be interrupted by countless individuals who needed his help. Even in our text alone he was interrupted by a leper, a centurion with a paralyzed servant, Peter’s mother-in-law, and many possessed by demons. Every single time Jesus stopped and helped. Every time he allowed his schedule to be interrupted by the people God the Father put onto his path. As members of Jesus Christ, we are now a part of this work for others. Jesus is actively bearing us and all our burdens. Therefore Jesus is alive and at work in our very lives, loving others through us. Dietrich Bonhoeffer recognized what this reality of God’s grace calls us to in his book Life Together:

“We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God, who will thwart our plans and frustrate our ways time and again, even daily, by sending people across our path with their demands and requests. We can, then, pass them by, preoccupied with our more important tasks, just as the priest—perhaps reading the Bible [or writing his sermon!]—passed by the man who had fallen among robbers. When we do that, we pass by the visible sign of the cross raised in our lives to show us that God’s way, and not our own, is what counts.”

And so we are challenged today to understand our Christian calling, and then, to get beyond idle understanding and actually step out and live it. The works of love that God has prepared for you are not hard to find. He is so gracious that he actually puts them into your life himself. The problem is that we have become so selfish and jaded that we have forgotten what these works of love look like. But through his bearing of us on the cross, God has graciously opened our eyes to see once again countless opportunities he places before us as he interrupts our lives with the needs and problems of those around us. May he continue to uphold us and bear us as we lovingly bear all the people he has placed into our lives. Amen.

“Standing Alone with God” - Jeremiah 20:7-13

“O LORD, you have deceived me, and I was deceived; you are stronger than I, and you have prevailed.” What could possibly lead Jeremiah to this outcry that we have before us in our text? Is this an isolated moment of frustration, a brief loss of patience, in Jeremiah’s life? No. It turns out that this outcry has a whole life of frustrating prophetic work behind it. For Jeremiah, it had started long, long before.

Many years before, Jeremiah had thought his life was his own. He thought the world was his “oyster”—that life was what he was able to make of it. The day God stepped in and called him, however, everything changed. Jeremiah was told by Yahweh, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart for my purposes.” All this time Jeremiah had thought he was the one calling the shots and ordering his life. This rude awakening altered his whole existence. Jeremiah was being called by God to be the Lord’s mouthpiece, to proclaim His Word to Israel, “to pull up and tear down, take apart and demolish—and then start over, building and planting.” From this point forward, Jeremiah began to see the terror and the comfort that accompanied being the instrument of the Lord. Yahweh’s unforgettable words echoed into the depths of Jeremiah’s being—“Get yourself ready! Stand up and say to them whatever I command you. Do not be terrified by them, or I will terrify you before them. Today I have made you a fortified city, an iron pillar and a bronze wall to stand against the whole land—against the kings of Judah, its officials, its priests and the people of the land. They will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you.”

What powerful words! The Lord declared that he was making Jeremiah—all by himself!—a pillar to stand against the “whole land”—against the kings of Judah, its officials, its priests, and the people of the land—! Yahweh, however, assured Jeremiah that He would be with him, that He would never forsake him. From this point on Jeremiah would intimately begin to learn what life was like standing alone with God.

So Jeremiah went forth and began to preach the Word of the Lord to Israel. This Word seemed like nothing but a long stream of judgment and disaster against the people. Jeremiah declared that an ancient and powerful nation would be brought against Israel, devouring its food, herds, vineyards, and families—even destroying entire cities and villages. This message was not what the people wanted to hear—Jeremiah was speaking of the overthrow of their country, of the rape and pillage of their homes. Needless to say, the people were not happy about this and they began plotting against Jeremiah, “Let us cut him off from the land of the living, that his name be remembered no more.” This unhappiness with Jeremiah’s message ran so deep among the people that eventually Jeremiah’s own family turned on him and betrayed him, bringing their voices against him. His people and family had left him—Jeremiah was standing all alone.

The true extent of the hurt that Jeremiah was experiencing is hard to imagine. He was completely cut off from his country, culture, friends, and family in every meaningful way—they decided to forsake him rather than support the harsh message he was bringing from God. In light of Israel’s turning away from the Word of God, Yahweh told Jeremiah to give up marriage and not have any children: “You must not marry and have sons or daughters in this place.” The Lord did not want His spokesman to mingle with the people who had rejected His Word. And because of this, Jeremiah was stuck again—stuck between the God who had claimed him and the people, family, life, and dreams that he once had and desired to keep. The Lord had already taken away the world Jeremiah had once known, and now the Lord was even preventing him from building a new life to replace it. Jeremiah was left standing alone with God.

Jeremiah, being steadfast, continued to prophesy—as the Lord desired—disaster after disaster upon the people. He proclaimed boldly the collapse of Judah and Jerusalem, telling vividly of their fall to their enemies and the gross cannibalism that would occur among the people while the cities were under siege. This message was too much—its words too brutal and too disturbing. His people and his family had already heard enough, but now the ones he should be able to trust above all—the priests of His God, Yahweh—couldn’t stand his words any longer. Jeremiah was seized by the priest of the Lord’s temple, was beaten, and then put into stocks at the upper gate of the temple—and he was there presented as a mockery for all to see. And in this moment we find Jeremiah even rejected by the leaders of his own religion, the leaders of the Temple of the very same Lord he was serving with his proclamations. With his own religion now turned against him, Jeremiah was literally standing alone with God.

When he was released from this humiliation the next day, Jeremiah faithfully and obediently prophesied that Israel would be carried off in exile by Babylon. After this, however, exhausted and worn out Jeremiah was at the end of his rope. His miraculous patience was finally running thin. Overwhelmed by it all, his heart cried out to His God: “O LORD, you have deceived me, and I was deceived; you are stronger than I, and you have prevailed. I have become a laughingstock all the day; everyone mocks me. For whenever I speak, I cry out, I shout, ‘Violence and destruction!’ For the word of the LORD has become for me a reproach and derision all day long. If I say, ‘I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name,’ there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot. For I hear many whispering. Terror is on every side! ‘Denounce him! Let us denounce him!’ say all my close friends, watching for my fall. ‘Perhaps he will be deceived; then we can overcome him and take our revenge on him.’ But the LORD is with me as a dread warrior; therefore my persecutors will stumble; they will not overcome me. They will be greatly shamed, for they will not succeed. Their eternal dishonor will never be forgotten. O LORD of hosts, who tests the righteous, who sees the heart and the mind, let me see your vengeance upon them, for to you have I committed my cause. Sing to the LORD; praise the LORD! For he has delivered the life of the needy from the hand of evildoers.” But even here Jeremiah does not stop—he boldly goes on to curse the day of his birth! “Cursed be the day on which I was born! The day when my mother bore me, let it not be blessed!...Why did I come out from the womb to see toil and sorrow, and spend my days in shame?”

Here, we find the honest cry of despair from one whose life has been taken over by God. Jeremiah has come face to face with the reality that he is only an instrument and tool of His God. Everything in his life has turned against him because of his relationship to Yahweh. He is alone, desperately alone—apart from his people, his family, and unable to have a wife or children of his own. And to top it all off, he has now been seized, beaten, and dishonored by the leaders of the Temple of His Lord.

So at this moment of outcry, at this “midlife crisis” of Jeremiah’s, does everything change? Does the Lord answer his prayer, by relieving him of his loneliness and troubles? No. The Lord does not have a fairytale ending for this life in mind for Jeremiah.

As time goes by and Jeremiah continues his prophetic work, his very life is eventually threatened by his people. “This man should be sentenced to death because he has prophesied against this city!” Though at this point Jeremiah’s life is spared by the Lord, he goes on to be beaten and imprisoned, thrown into a dungeon for a miserably long time. And to cap this all off, Jeremiah is later thrown into a cistern—into a dark well with no water—where he is left to starve as he sinks down into the mud, all alone with no one but God. In order to preserve His prophet, the Lord once again steps in and delivers Jeremiah—just as He promised—saving him from this hopeless mud pit.

We lose contact with Jeremiah at this point and don’t know for certain how his life comes to an end. Jewish tradition holds that Jeremiah was put to death by stoning in Egypt. Based on what we know of Jeremiah’s life, we can see that this would be an appropriate and fitting ending to this dark tragedy—a tragedy filled by Jeremiah continually standing alone with God.

So what can we take from all this? What do we learn from this hectic and heartbreaking life of Jeremiah? Is his life of standing alone with God too distant to matter to us? Is there anything that comes to us across this 2700 year gap?

It turns out Jeremiah’s life is frighteningly similar to ours. It turns out that the very same God who laid His call upon Jeremiah has come to claim you. In Jesus Christ, you, like Jeremiah, have been called into the Lord’s service—you are now His disciple, you have been called to stand alone with God. In your baptism you have been seized by God and taken hold of, once and for all. As the Apostle Paul put it: “You are not your own; you were bought at a price.” From now on, you can never get away from God—you will never be God-less again because His call is irrevocable. This is both terrifying and comforting—God will always be with you, to protect and save, but God being with you will also often take the shape of Jeremiah’s life.

Jesus’ own words show that the life of discipleship—the life of standing alone with God—that He calls us to, will look very similar to the life of Jeremiah: “Brother will deliver brother over to death, and the father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death, and you will be hated by all for my name’s sake. But the one who endures to the end will be saved.” This is life lived under the cross of Jesus Christ—this is life lived in obedience to the Word of the Lord—this is life standing alone with God.

Right now in the world there are physical persecutions of Christians taking place in China, India, Nigeria, Pakistan, Indonesia, and Turkey—to name a few. The 20th century had the greatest number of Christians persecuted in the history of the Church. Though we might feel safe in our country now, the winds of time are changing. In our culture a great shift is beginning to take place—we are becoming more and more post-Christian. Slowly, but surely, our country is becoming more intolerant of those who insist on taking the Word of Jesus seriously and putting it into practice. As long as we only “talk the talk” they will arrogantly ignore us, but if we start to “walk the walk”—like Jeremiah did—if we start to stand alone with God, they will have no choice but to stand up, take notice, and probably turn against us.

Donald Miller, in Blue Like Jazz, tells a story about being confronted by a professor at Reed College. The professor was not pleased when he found out that Miller might be trying to “evangelize” some students on the campus. The professor proceeded to boldly recall the story of Captain Cook’s visit to the natives of Hawaii—and how Cook failed to escape with his life. The professor then defiantly connected the fate of Captain Cook with Miller’s own potential fate. The message was clear: if Miller kept pushing his Christian faith on campus his very life would be in danger. Miller also tells another story from the same school where some students on Easter snuck into the Christian’s “meditation room” on campus, and left a slaughtered stuffed lamb. In addition to these, there are stories from many other bold college students around the country, who have stood up for their faith in the classroom only to be mocked, ridiculed, and passed off as brainless idiots. Our institutions of higher learning often set the trend for the future, and if that fact holds true, the outlook for Christianity in our country is bleak. When you take the Word of Jesus seriously you will find that people will begin to turn against you. Family members may begin to distance themselves, friends may stop calling, and coworkers may passive-aggressively mock you—or worse. There are even bumper stickers on cars scattered across our country which read: “Too bad we can’t feed Christians to the lions anymore.” Like our Master who goes before us, we are asked to bear our cross and press His Kingdom forward—bearing the same persecution He received from the world.

But we must not forget that we stand with our Lord Jesus Christ not only in persecution and death, not only under the cross—we also stand with Him in His resurrection, in His conquering of death. As Paul said, if there is no resurrection then in this life we are to be pitied more than all men. But there is a resurrection of the dead—Jesus Christ proves this to be true by being raised from the dead Himself, as the first fruits of what is in store for us. The same promise that Yahweh gave to Jeremiah holds firm for us in Jesus Christ: “If you will endure with me till the end, I will stand there with you and I will save you.” Despite the fact that we, like Jeremiah, might have our country, our culture, our friends, our own family, and even our religion turn against us, we are assured that God Himself will be with us through it all. When we stand alone with God—God stands with us. God gives us Himself and that is enough—it is all we need. When everything else has fallen aside—when our health has failed us, when our youth has faded, when our riches have been used up, when our things have rusted, when our families and friends have abandoned us, and even when death and persecutions finally overtake us—we will stand, we will stand again with our Lord at the resurrection of the body. In that day we will see—see with our own eyes!—our Redeemer Jesus Christ and the truth of Jeremiah’s words: “Sing to the LORD; praise the LORD! For he has delivered the life of the needy from the hand of evildoers.” Amen.

“Filling the Hungry” - Luke 1:50-53

“He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty.”

The day Mary’s life changed forever probably seemed just like any other day—just more household chores for this young, anonymous girl of lowly status. Suddenly, however, the angel Gabriel appeared to her and announced that she was pregnant with a son—yes, pregnant! And this was not just any son. Gabriel proclaimed that her son would be given the throne of David and would rule upon it forever. At this point she wasn’t sure what was more shocking: the fact that she was pregnant or that this son was to be the very king of the Kingdom of God! Having heard that her cousin Elizabeth was also pregnant, Mary quickly headed off to see her. After talking with Elizabeth, Mary realized that the Kingdom of God was actually arriving right before her eyes. The message of the prophets was beginning to come true in her very own life: The lowly and poor were being exalted and the mighty and rich were being humbled.

Can we stand to hear this message of the arrival of the Kingdom of God today in 21st century America? Isn’t this message the complete opposite of what our capitalistic culture tells us? Aren’t those with their ipods, plasma screens, SUVs, and big houses the ones we exalt? Don’t the mighty and wealthy call the shots? Aren’t the poor used as labor so the rich can only get richer? Jesus’ own words, however, about the Kingdom of God are crystal clear: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God. Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied”—and—“Woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort. Woe to you who are well fed now, for you will go hungry.”

As we sit here today in the richest country in the history of the world, this message makes me very uncomfortable. Do we even know how rich we really are? Let’s take a moment and see what it would be like for you and me to live like the one billion plus poor people—that’s right, one billion plus poor people—who inhabit our world. I invite you to close your eyes and begin by imagining your house or apartment…

· Start by removing all the furniture in your home except for one table and a couple of chairs. You will now be using blankets and pads for your bed.
· Next, empty your closets and wardrobes of all your clothing except for your oldest dress or suit. Leave yourself only one pair of shoes which are fixed up with duct tape so that they don’t fall apart.
· Move into the kitchen and empty the pantry, the refrigerator, and any freezers of all food except for a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt, a few potatoes, some onions, and a dish of dried beans. Can you begin to feel the hunger pangs?
· After this it is time to dismantle the bathroom, shut off the running water, and remove all the electrical wiring in your house—this means no TVs, lamps, fans, AC, heater, or even plumbing—your bathroom has now moved to the backyard and, if you are lucky, showers are once a week. Can you begin to smell your new odor?
· Next, remove all newspapers, magazines, and books—that’s right, even your Bible. But wait—this will not be a great loss to you because now none of you can read.
· Now it is time to take away all your cars, followed by taking away your house and moving the family into the tool shed. That’s right—your privacy is officially gone.
· And finally, to cap it all off, as if adding insult to injury, lop off twenty-five or more years in your life expectancy—and if you are over 50, don’t even worry about it because you are already dead.

Can you vividly picture this life of poverty? Can you now see how truly rich you are? The Kingdom of God is coming and it is working to fill the hungry and send away the rich—and we are the rich who will be sent away!

So the question is this: How are we going to be able to enter God’s Kingdom? Is there no help to be found for us who are rich? Our only hope lies in the King himself. The Apostle Paul wrote: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.” As Jesus hung on the cross dying, the soldiers were gambling for all that he had left. Jesus was the poorest person in the world as he hung on the cross for your sake. Through this act of His, you have already been made rich beyond all measure. In your baptism you have been joined into Jesus Christ and therefore share in the true wealth of the promise of the resurrection of the dead. You are a part of the Kingdom of God because Jesus Christ became poor so that you might become truly rich in Him.

Jesus’ own words say it all: “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give to the needy.” Because we have been given the Kingdom through Jesus Christ we are now called to use our wealth to help those around us. This can be a hard thing for us to hear and an even harder thing to do.

The closest I have come to this occurred when I quit my job in California as a flight test engineer, to move here to the seminary. In CA, I had a two bedroom apartment all to myself that was full of things. Moving costs were going to be so great that I decided my things may not even be worth the cost to move them. So I gave them all away to my church and some friends—couches, tables, refrigerator, bed—all of it except for my computer and clothes that would fit in my car and several boxes of books, movies, and CDs. Yes, I even gave away my 34” widescreen, Sony, High Definition television that I loved so much. As I had amassed these things over the years I had not realized how much they had begun to take over my life. Even though my motives weren’t pure, God used this move to show me the true freedom that is found in Him and not in my unnecessary possessions. The burden that was lifted from my shoulders by having all that I owned down to a loaded car and a few boxes, was amazing and beyond description! I tasted in small measure what God desires for us with the arrival of His Kingdom.

Like Jesus who became poor for us, we are to become poor so that the lowly around us may be exalted. The crowds who listened to John the Baptist wanted to know what this looked like: “What then shall we do?” they cried. John’s response to them was simple: “Whoever has two tunics is to share with him who has none, and whoever has food is to do likewise.”

Brothers and sisters, the Kingdom of God is here and breaking into this life that we live today. There are hurting and poor people throughout the world and even within our own city and neighborhoods. We have been called to graciously participate in bringing God’s Kingdom into the world by giving to those who don’t have. The first step is often the hardest, so let’s begin by giving to a food shelter, volunteering for Habitat for Humanity, skipping a meal out on the town once a month to give to Lutheran World Relief, or any other simple first step. As the Apostle John put it: “Let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth.” As we boldly step forward today to carry out this work of God’s Kingdom let us be forever mindful of Mary’s words:

“He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty.” Amen.

“A Tale of Two Kings” - Matthew 2:13-23

It all started with the arrival of the men from somewhere out east. Their questions were unexpected and startling. I was quite amused at first, wondering why on earth they were searching for my son and why they kept babbling on about some star they had seen. But after it was affirmed that it couldn’t be my son they were looking for, things quickly became serious. We discovered that these men were quite sane and very well informed.

I immediately summoned all the priests and scribes I could get my hands on at such short notice. This “king of the Jews” they were searching for was who the Jewish people called the “Christ.” This title troubled me deeply. Even though I myself wasn’t a Jew (though I sometimes claimed to be for the sake of my people) I was well aware of the implications of this title, “Christ.” It was prophesied that from the line of King David a future king would come who would restore David’s house and kingdom forever. My priests and scribes identified the place of birth for this new king as the small town of Bethlehem, just 6 miles down the road from us in Jerusalem.

This undoubtedly meant that this king was coming for me. Me, Herod the Great, the Roman king over all Judea! This meant he was coming for my family. This meant he was coming to disturb the peace. This meant he was coming as a threat to my people.

I was soon not alone in my worries. As word rapidly spread, the whole city of Jerusalem became distressed right along with me. I decided to act quickly. I summoned the men from the east to meet with me in private. We discussed the exact time that the star they had seen had appeared—I needed to know how old this king would be. After they gave me all the details I could squeeze out of them, I urged them to head into Bethlehem and find this child. I told them that I too wanted to see him and worship him.

So they left and I waited. Days passed and despite my anxiety I remained patient. But as more time dragged on, I soon became uneasy. I sent some of my men to go into Bethlehem and search for the men from the east. When my men returned they informed me that the men from the east had been in Bethlehem but they were now long gone back to their homeland. I was furious. I had been duped. I had been lied to and deceived!

All I knew was that there was a rebel king in my lands and his exact identity and location were unknown to me. Now for the sake of my people, my duty to Rome, and especially for my family, I had to act quickly. This king had invaded my lands and was threatening to undo all the peace I had diligently fought for during my reign. Sure, I had my slip-ups and poor decisions over the years, but I had expanded the temple in Jerusalem and I had improved the water supplies. I was a good king for my people; their situation had improved since I came around.

I called for my troops. Something had to be done. Every male child in Bethlehem and the surrounding area, two years old and under—had to be killed. It was the only option. I couldn’t identify this king on my own and it was my primary duty to protect my people from the tyranny of opposing rulers or kings. It had to be done. It was now or never. So I did it—I gave the order I had to give. The invading king must die.

And this is exactly what Herod the Great tried to do—he tried to kill Jesus. He acted dutifully. He had a foreign king in his lands, and something had to be done. What else was he supposed to do? Just roll over and let this new king take over his kingdom? How could he possibly do that when his family, people, and own life were at stake?

What about you? Do you sympathize with Herod? Do you better understand his situation? Or do you think he was a no-good, rotten king? Would you have done differently than he? Would you have stood by idly while another king invaded your kingdom? I say no. I say that each one of us would have done exactly the same as Herod—try to kill Jesus. How can I say that? Because we already have and already do.

Our attempts to kill and eliminate Jesus from our life are abundant. Look at your life. Examine your everyday experiences and decisions. Do you not see the conflict that exists within you, the battle that wages everyday? How you know God’s will for you and yet you continue to ignore it with your choices. Think of the temptations. What is that guilty pleasure which drives your conscience crazy and yet you can’t say “no” to it? Do you struggle with sexual temptation—that one co-worker you “harmlessly” flirt with or the internet sites you shamefully browse or even with your own girlfriend or fiancé? What about talking behind another’s back—do you struggle with analyzing the faults of those you work with or tearing down those you don’t get along with? What about your body—do you struggle with saying “no” to snacks you know you don’t need or lazily neglecting daily exercise because you don’t “feel like it”? What about pride—do you struggle with wanting to be better than those around you at whatever you do? What about controlling your life—do you struggle with always needing things to go your way or at least feeling like you have a say in arranging your situation and circumstances? And what about selfishness—do you struggle with always wanting to put your own interests ahead of the interests of your neighbors, friends, and even enemies?

And what do we see in these everyday struggles of ours? We see the signs and symptoms of our rebellion against the kingship of Jesus Christ. Herod versus Jesus is not a far away conflict; it is the same conflict that wages within you everyday of your life as a Christian. It is the battle of two kings: your desire to put your own interests at the center of the world—the “Herod” within you—versus the claim of Jesus Christ to put God and your neighbor before yourself. This is a battle of life and death. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran pastor who was executed in a Nazi prison, recognized the depth of this conflict: “There are only two ways possible of encountering Jesus: man must die or he must put Jesus to death.” Think about that again: “man must die or he must put Jesus to death.”

Here in the story of Herod we see this encounter with Jesus illustrated. Even in the first few months and years of Jesus’ life we find him already stirring up all sorts of trouble. Even before he could talk, the word of his claim to the throne was throwing men into fits—and this wouldn’t change. For the rest of his life, he caused conflict and division everywhere he went. And even now he still divides men and injects himself into their lives through his Word, baptism, the Lord’s Supper and his Church. Here in these things we too daily encounter Jesus Christ in a life and death struggle.

And as we have seen, this encounter is not friendly: “man must die or he must put Jesus to death.” The sinful desires that lie within you, the desire for control over your life, situation, and circumstances, collide head-on with Jesus’ claim to the throne of your life. There can only be one ruler and master over your life. Something must give. You must die or Jesus must die. There is no alternative. There is no safe middle-ground.

This is observed clearly in Jesus’ own life. In the final hours of his life, when he needed them the most, every last person abandoned Jesus. The church leaders were seeking to get rid of him, the crowds of his own people had turned on him, his disciples had fled, and even Peter, the one who said he would stand with him through it all, disowned him. There is no neutral ground left. Jesus is sent to the cross to die, completely alone and rejected by all, even by those who had confessed him most faithfully—that is, even by you and me.

Therefore we end up doing just as Herod did: we seek to kill the invading king—we seek to kill Jesus. Every time we give in to our desires for life—think of the sexual temptations, the gossip, the pride, the selfishness—rather than Jesus’ desires, we again attempt to hunt Jesus down—man must die or he must put Jesus to death.” With Paul we call out in desperate need: “What a wretched man I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?”

The answer comes to us everyday anew in that unexpected and unpredictable way. In the face of our confrontation with Jesus, Jesus does the impossible. Instead of standing up to oppose us, he humbles himself and meekly goes to the cross on our behalf. He willingly goes to die. Instead of fighting against us, he lays down his life for us. In this he fulfills the truth of his own words: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24).

Jesus has gone to die but the death of Jesus does not mean he is out of our life and that we are “off the hook”, so to speak. He not only dies, but he rises from the dead—he returns, he comes back—and is exalted to full rule over our lives. Jesus did what we were incapable of doing on our own and in that act actually took us along with him. Because he knew that our desire for control and kingship over our life must die, he took us up into his own body and died in our place. His death becomes our death; his resurrection, our resurrection; his victory, our victory.

So remember the story of Herod and Jesus. Here in these two kings we see our own daily battles reflected. Jesus is fighting today for total control and kingship in your life. Your rebellious tendency to want to be free from Jesus’ rule is your “Herod.” The Herod in your life wants to put Jesus to death because it can’t stand the idea of being replaced. But even though these desires may win a few battles here and there—just like Herod—Jesus ultimately wins the war and takes over the throne.

Jesus’ reign as king is a gracious rule and in it you have the only true life: a life that is united with Jesus Christ and is blessed to serve God by loving your neighbors and enemies alike, in all that you do. So daily put to death your own will and desires—sexual immorality, anger, gossip, selfishness, and whatever else you may struggle with—in order that you might submit to God’s will and desires for your life in Jesus Christ—through kindness, humility, patience, and bearing with one another in love. All that you do in life—work, school, family, friends, playtime—is now blessed and holy through Jesus Christ. Therefore, everything you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of your King—Jesus, who has taken you up into his body, gone through death, and been raised to new life for you—giving thanks to God the Father through him. “You have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3). May God grant this to us daily in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ—Amen.