Eve of The Feast of the Circumcision and Name of Jesus (New Year's Eve)

(Audio)

Luke 2:21; Galatians 3:23-29; Numbers 6:22-27

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Eight days after His birth, our Lord submitted to circumcision in His flesh according to the Law of Moses and was given the Name Jesus, proclaimed by the angel Gabriel at His conception nine months earlier. His Name, Jesus, means “Yahweh Saves.” Fulfilling the Law of Moses and then suffering the death we deserve is how He saves. Eight days after His birth, our Lord Jesus is already about the work He has come to do: He has come to shed His innocent blood, suffer, and die for our sin.

It will do no good to separate His conception and incarnation from His circumcision and name; or His baptism, transfiguration, suffering, death, resurrection, ascension, or second coming. For they are each and all necessary to fulfill all righteousness, to make us righteous before His God and Father. These are not scattered events; they are a seamless garment of salvation, woven from eternity into time, and handed to us as a gift.

Yet none of this truly makes sense apart from the bondage of sin that held us. St. Paul explains, “Before faith came, we were held captive under the law, imprisoned until the coming faith would be revealed.” The Law held us captive. It commanded us to be perfect in thought, word, and deed, but because we were not, the same Law condemned us. It exposed our sin, robbed us of hope, and made us cry for rescue.

But the Gospel promise was given that we should have hope, not in our obedience, but in God’s mercy. Hope in a promise that would come from outside of ourselves and be received by faith. And so Adam and Eve, Abraham, and all the Old Testament faithful hoped in this promise. They trusted that God would do what He said, and the LORD counted their faith to them as righteousness. The Law became their guardian, not their savior, curbing evil and exposing their sin, that they should repent and stay upon the path until the promised One should come.

“But now that faith has come,” in Jesus, “we are no longer under a guardian, for in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith.” In the conception and incarnation of Jesus, He takes up our humanity and flesh and makes Himself subject to the Law. In His circumcision, baptism, and holy life He fulfills the Law’s demands. In His suffering and death, He atones for our guilt. In His resurrection, He destroys death’s claim. In His ascension, He restores us to the presence of the Father. And in His promised return, He will bring us to dwell in glory forever.

We receive this sonship in our own baptism into Christ. “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” To be baptized is to put on Jesus and to be marked with His Name. In holy Baptism you are named and claimed God’s own child in Jesus. Anything that rightly belongs to Jesus He shares with you: His holiness, righteousness, innocence, perfect obedience; His perfect sonship and love of the Father; even a share in His kingdom. You are heirs because you are His.

This Name was promised already in the Old Testament as Aaron was commanded to bless Israel: “The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.” Even when the blessing was only a promise, it was already a reality. God’s Word makes reality. In Jesus’ circumcision and name, He receives the Name above every name and becomes the fulfillment of the promise to Abraham: “In your offspring shall all the nations of the earth be blessed.”

So how do we step into a new year? Not by pretending the old year was perfect or by promising that this next one will be. Not by resolutions grounded in our own willpower, which fade as quickly as the calendar turns. We step into the year as those marked with the Name of Jesus, anchored in the faithfulness of Christ.

This is why His circumcision and naming matter tonight. In His circumcision, He sheds the first drops of blood that will end at the cross, blood that covers your shame and silences every accusation of the Law. In His Name, given from heaven, He reveals God’s heart for you: “Yahweh saves.” Not “Yahweh assists the self-improving.” Not “Yahweh approves the impressive.” “Yahweh saves.” He saves sinners. He saves the captive. He saves those who cannot save themselves. He saves you.

So tonight, do not look ahead with fear, and do not look back in despair. Whatever awaits in 2026, joy or sorrow, gain or loss, clarity or confusion, your identity is not up for renegotiation. The Name of Jesus rests upon you. The blood of Jesus covers you. The promise of Jesus carries you.

And this Name shapes our prayers. We pray that Jesus would be near to us in His Word and Supper; that He would guard our homes and heal our wounds; that He would strengthen the weak, comfort the grieving, forgive the repentant, restore the wandering. We pray that Jesus would daily drown the old Adam and daily raise the new creation He has named His own.

In a world that measures years by success or failure, we measure them by grace. In a world that fears what comes next, we confess the One who has already gone before us. We do not know what the year holds, but we know Who holds us.

So as this year closes and a new one begins, we return where we always return: to the Name. The Name spoken over us in Baptism. The Name whispered in our prayers. The Name sung in our hymns. The Name that silences the devil and strengthens the fainthearted. The Name before which every knee shall bow. The Name that is our peace. Jesus. Yahweh Saves.

Jesus for you. Jesus with you. Jesus ahead of you.

A new year of our Lord dawns by this Name and under this benediction. The LORD bless you and keep you. The LORD make His face shine upon you. The LORD lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.

In the Name of Jesus, the Name placed upon you, the Name in which this year, and every year, is blessed.

Amen.

The Feast of the Holy Innocents

(Audio)

Matthew 2:1-18; Revelation 14:1-5; Jeremiah 31:15-17

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

There will be wars and rumors of wars in the Last Days. That has been true in every age. Wars are not only waged by emperors and kings, presidents and dictators. There are drug wars and gang wars. There are cultural conflicts, political battles, and personal wars waged in hearts, homes, and hospital rooms. And in all these conflicts, there are always casualties beyond the battlefield: children, the elderly, the poor, the unborn, and many simply caught in the crossfire.

But Scripture teaches that these are not many separate wars. There is, finally, one war: the ancient war between God and Satan. And because of our sin, we are not merely caught in it, we are often complicit. For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. There are no holy innocents by nature. And yet, there are those who suffer and die having done no actual sin of their own, who nevertheless die on account of Christ.

The story of the Holy Innocents still sounds like breaking news. Every day brings images of violence: schools on lockdown, communities shaken, families shattered. The line between collateral damage and direct attack grows thin. There is truly a war going on, one that began before the creation of mankind. Our present conflicts are only its skirmishes. If we do not lift our eyes to see this, we will be left with only fear and hand-wringing as the headlines keep coming. But God would lift our eyes.

Herod was evil, paranoid, murderous. But that is not ultimately why the boys of Bethlehem died. They died because Satan wanted the Christ dead, and he would kill anyone necessary to stop Him. Whatever their age, those children were sons of Adam, as are we. They bore the stain of original sin. The wages of sin is death, period.

And yet, in Herod we see the face of the true enemy. It is overkill. Satan sees every human being as expendable. To him, you are not even collateral. Collateral implies value. Satan sees you only as fuel for his hatred, hatred of God, and therefore hatred of you. He does not want your worship. He wants you ruined, because he is ruined. He wants you in the outer darkness with him, where Jesus says there is only weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Today we remember those little ones of Bethlehem, and we also remember that the world has not changed as much as we wish it had. Even here in Iowa, where fields stretch wide and neighborhoods seem peaceful, the spiritual war still rages. We may not hear air raid sirens, but we know tears. We see lives unravel through addiction, abuse, and despair. We see broken homes, children caught between warring parents, young people losing hope, and funerals that come too often and too soon. In a town like ours, grief often comes quietly. Meals are dropped off. Neighbors whisper. We put on brave faces in the grocery store aisle. And still Rachel weeps for her children.

We mourn the loss of unborn children in our own state and nation, not by decree of a king, but by decisions made in fear, pressure, confusion, and heartbreak. We lament for them, and for their mothers and fathers. We ask God to make His Church a refuge and not a courtroom. A place where the frightened find courage, the ashamed find grace, the repentant find forgiveness, and where families are supported before and after birth. Christ does not despise the brokenhearted. He gathers them.

And the voice of Rachel is heard here in other ways: in hospital waiting rooms, in mental health crises, in the silence after a chair is suddenly empty at the table. The world may not notice, but God does. And the Church must, too. The serpent still lies here in our midst. He whispers to the lonely, the anxious, the ashamed: “You are alone. You are abandoned.” But that is a lie.

Yes, the war is brutal. Yes, it is bloody. Yes, it appears we are losing. But take heart: we are not as those who have no hope. The victory is already won by our Lord. What we endure now are the last, desperate skirmishes of a defeated enemy. At the cross, Christ crushed the serpent’s head. His resurrection and ascension rang out across heaven, earth, and under the earth: The war is over. The Christ has conquered.

Satan now fights like a retreating tyrant. He burns and destroys because he hates. His weapons are lies and despair aimed at your faith. When tragedy strikes or headlines horrify, he whispers, “See? God has lost. You are alone.” But he lies because he knows the truth: his time is short.

Jesus lives. The victory’s won. Nothing can snatch you from His hand. Nothing can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus. He works all things, even the wicked things, for good for those who love Him.

Herod’s rage drove the Holy Family to Egypt, but Scripture was fulfilled. They returned to Galilee, but Scripture was fulfilled. The Son of God was handed over to death, but Scripture was fulfilled. Satan meant it for evil. God meant it for good.

Jesus is the one true Holy Innocent. In His death, He destroyed sin, death, and hell. In His resurrection, He opened the way of life. What Satan meant for evil, God means for salvation.

So, hear the promise: “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.” “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”

In Holy Baptism, that is already you. You have died and been raised with Christ. Your life is hidden with Him. When your body dies, your soul will be with the Lord, awaiting the resurrection of the body. And on that day, Jeremiah says it, “there is hope for your future.” Every eye will see. Every tongue will confess. And God the Father will be glorified: Jesus Christ is Lord.

Until that day, the Church and the Spirit pray, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.” And the Lord answers: “Do not be afraid. Watch. I am coming soon.”

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord - Christmas Day

(Audio)

John 1:1-18; Titus 3:4-7; Exodus 40:17-21, 34-38

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Our God is a Father and a Creator. He brings forth and He creates out of Fatherly divine love and goodness. That’s who He is and that’s what He does. There is a natural and an essential relationship between God and His creation, a relationship like a father and a child, but greater, and a relationship that was broken and corrupted by that which God did not create, sin. Still, God is a Father and a Creator, and God is love, and still God desires to have a relationship with His creation. That’s who He is. The rest of the Holy Scripture are essentially the record of God’s work of recreation and restoration of His fallen creation and the reconciliation of its broken relationship with Him, a work that finds its fulfilment in the incarnation of the Son and Word of God Jesus Christ. And so there is Christmas:

The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. Like the tabernacle before, the glorious presence of the LORD took up residence within a tent of flesh, human flesh, in the womb of the Virgin Mary. The Creator became a part of His Creation to recreate, redeem, and restore it. As St. Athanasius put it, “God became man so that man might become God.” That is what we remember, celebrate, and give thanks for this day.

God prepared His people for the Incarnation, for the enfleshment of His spiritual Word, in many ways, but principally through the tabernacle and, later, through the temple, where His shekinah glory was present, though veiled, in the midst of His people in the Holy of Holies. But, when the time was right, God’s glorious presence transferred to the womb of the Virgin Mary when the Holy Spirit of God came upon her and she conceived through the very Word the Archangel Gabriel spoke. Thus, the hymn has it correct: Veiled in flesh the Godhead see, hail the incarnate Deity! Pleased as Man with man to dwell, Jesus, our Immanuel!

So it is that Christmas is what follows the Fall in Genesis chapter three. Man’s sin and rebellion, the uncleanness and corruption of his flesh, does not prompt the Creator to destroy His creation, but instead He is moved by His own mercy and love to restore His fallen creation. That’s who He is and that’s what He does. God restores His creation, not by leveling it to the ground and rebuilding it, not by wadding it all up into an unformed ball of clay to begin anew, but He, Himself, in His holiness and spiritual purity, stepped right into the muck and mire, the blood and the filth, the uncleanness, pain, suffering, and death of humanity to redeem it and to make it holy. That’s who He is and that’s what He does. Moreover, God is not corrupted by taking on human flesh, but rather, human flesh is made to be holy by its union with the incorruptible God. This truth we confess in the Athanasian Creed saying: Although He is God and man, He is not two, but one Christ – one, however, not by the conversion of the divinity into flesh, but by the assumption of the humanity into God.

Further, the union of divinity and flesh was not just for a time that has now passed and the two are now separate, but Christ remains the God-Man for all eternity, seated now at the right hand of the Father that He might fill all things, but coming again soon in glory to raise our perishable bodies to be like His imperishable body. Thus, though our flesh is still corrupted, though we still sin and though we still die, we are not unclean, for our flesh has been sanctified in the flesh and blood of Christ. We have been given a second birth, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God. In believing this you are God’s children.

The Incarnation of the Word of God, the Son of God made man, has changed everything. He was like a seed planted in dry ground, unlikely to flourish, but whose shoots have branched out in every direction far and wide bringing the earth into fruitfulness. The Incarnation means that God has assumed all of human existence into Himself in the very condition of its rebellion and opposition to Him. God loves sinful man in his sinfulness! That’s who He is and that’s what He does.  Thus, the saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. Reflect then, dearly beloved, and in the light of the Holy Spirit carefully turn your mind to perceive, Who it is that has received us into Himself, and Whom have we received within us; for since the Lord Jesus Christ by being born has become our flesh, we also, by being reborn, have become His Body.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord - Christmas Eve

(Audio)

Luke 2:1-20; Titus 2:11-14; Isaiah 9:2-7

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Many who view the earth from space report a sudden and overwhelming sense of awe at its beauty, its isolation, and its fragility in the vast and mostly empty universe. This dramatic shift in perspective has come to be known as the Overview Effect.

For some, that moment brings peace and wonder. For others, it brings dread. Because from that vantage point, everything we once thought was so large – our nations, our possessions, our ambitions, even our lives – suddenly appear very small.

Yuri Gagarin, the first human being to see the earth from space, said, “Circling the Earth in a spaceship, I marveled at the beauty of our planet… let us safeguard and enhance this beauty.”

Apollo 11 astronaut Michael Collins described the earth as “tiny… beautiful… home… and fragile.”

And more recently, William Shatner, after briefly traveling into space, said that what overwhelmed him most was grief. He realized that we live on “a tiny oasis of life, surrounded by an immensity of death.”

Down here on earth, however, we rarely see things this way. We are preoccupied with work and worry, with making ends meet and preparing for the future, with protecting what is ours – our money, our comfort, our nation, our way of life. We accumulate possessions, debt, prescriptions, and anxieties. Our eyes, minds, and hearts are trained downward and inward.

But from another perspective, the truth becomes unavoidable: we are small, dependent, and fragile, yet astonishingly blessed. Because the God who made the heavens and the earth, the sun, moon, and stars, did not abandon this tiny world. He loves it. He loves us. And He gave His Son to save us from sin and death.

That is very much the world the Son of God entered on that holy night in Bethlehem.

People were going about their ordinary lives. Traveling to hometowns for a census. Looking for lodging. Preparing meals. Nursing infants. Tending animals. Watching sheep by night. No one was expecting anything to happen. Nothing felt momentous. Nothing seemed holy.

No prophet had spoken for four hundred years. The promises of God had not disappeared—but they had grown quiet. Faint. Easy to ignore beneath the weight of daily survival under Roman rule. The kingdom of David looked like a burned-out stump. Hope for restoration seemed long extinguished.

When all was still, and it was midnight…

That is when God acts.

Your almighty Word, O Lord, descended from the royal throne.

This was the greatest change in perspective the world has ever known. Not human beings looking down on creation from the heavens, but God Himself coming down into His creation. Not God remaining distant and untouchable, but God made small. God made vulnerable. God wrapped in swaddling cloths and laid in a manger.

All but a precious few had stopped looking for the Messiah. Even those who still waited could scarcely imagine how God would act. The promises were there, but they seemed buried beneath centuries of disappointment.

And yet, God was keeping every one of them. An angel was sent to shepherds, men at the margins, watching their flocks by night, and said, “I bring you good news of a great joy that will be for all the people.” Not for the powerful. Not for the important. “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” And this – this is the sign: a baby. Not a throne. Not a sword. A baby, wrapped in cloths and lying in a feeding trough.

God’s holy angels certainly knew that He would redeem His people. But they did not know He would do it this way. They longed to look into these things. They did not expect the eternal Son to take on human flesh. They did not expect heaven’s King to lie in a manger. They did not expect salvation to come so quietly, so humbly, so vulnerably.

And so, when the angel finished speaking, heaven itself could not remain silent. “Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom He is pleased.’”

This is the true Overview Effect. Not humanity gazing upward into the heavens, but heaven opening and looking down upon us. Not the realization that we are small and insignificant, but the revelation that we are small and deeply loved.

Tonight, the world does not look impressive. It looks much as it always has. Fragile. Anxious. Divided. And so do our lives. Many of us arrive here tired. Burdened. Grieving. Distracted. Wondering what the future holds.

Christmas does not deny any of that. Instead, Christmas tells us that God has entered it. The Son of God does not remove us from the ordinary. He sanctifies it. The mundane is no longer empty. The temporary is no longer meaningless. The small and fragile things of this world – human flesh, spoken words, bread and wine, water and light – are now the very places where God meets His people.

And so tonight, you are not asked to manufacture hope. You are not commanded to feel joyful enough, faithful enough, or spiritual enough. You are given something far better. Unto you is born this day a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. When the world feels vast and hostile… when life presses in… when hope feels thin… remember this: the God who holds the universe together chose to lie in a manger. The God who rules all things chose to save you by becoming one of you.

And in a moment, as the lights dim and candles are lit, remember this too: the darkness did not overcome Him. It never has. It never will. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot extinguish it.

This is the peace the angels proclaim. This is the joy of Christmas. And it is for you.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Rorate Coeli - The Fourth Sunday in Advent (Advent 4)

(Audio)

John 1:19-28; Philippians 4:4-7; Deuteronomy 18:15-19

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

“Who are you?” – That was the question the priests and Levites asked John. It was a legitimate question. Moses had relayed God’s promise to the people of Israel that He would raise up another Prophet like himself. John flatly denied that he was that Prophet, the Messiah, the Christ of God. Then Malachi had prophesied in the closing words of the Old Testament that God would send Elijah the prophet before the coming of the Messiah. John denied that he was Elijah too, though Jesus would later teach His disciples that John was indeed the prophesied Elijah come to prepare the way before Him.

“Who are you?” “By what authority do you preach and baptize if you are neither the Christ nor Elijah the Prophet?” – John replied, “I am a voice” and that’s all. John was a voice sent to cry out in the wilderness “Make straight the way of the Lord.” This was not John’s message, he was just the voice, but this was God’s message, the Word of the Lord, “Prepare the way for the coming of the Lord by repentance and humility. Repent, that your mountainous pride may be leveled and that the valleys of your hopeless despair might be filled, that, when the Lord comes, He might find a straight and level path.” John was a voice, a prophet, a mouthpiece for the Lord sent to prepare His way by preaching repentance and by baptizing, an outward sign of repentance. And John was sent to point the way to the Lord who was at hand saying,“Among you stands one you do not know,” and then, the very next day, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”

“Among you stands one you do not know.” To think that the prophesied Messiah, the one to whom all patriarchs and prophets pointed, the Son of God become the Son of Man, born of the Virgin and dwelling in the midst of men who had searched the Scriptures and studied the prophecies, who had watched and waited for His coming – to think that the Messiah could come amongst them and not be known by them is amazing and discomforting to say the least. How could this be? How could they be so blind?

The answer is plain enough: sin. From the moment their eyes were opened to know good and evil in the Garden of Eden, through patriarchs, judges, kings, and prophets, men’s hearts became hard, their ears became stopped, and their eyes became dim as the fruits of sin so that hearing they did not hear and seeing they did not see. The prophets were silent for four hundred years before the coming of John the Baptist – four hundred years not unlike the four days Lazareth lay dead in the tomb. The people of the world were spiritually dead, they stinketh. And the dead don’t raise themselves anymore than the earth plows itself; hard soil must be broken and worked just as hardened hearts. Only the powerful Word of God, the Word that once brought everything out of nothing could change the situation of men’s hearts.

Thus, God sent forth Elijah, John the Baptist to prepare the way by preaching repentance, to break up the hardness of men’s hearts that the Word of God could penetrate and begin to grow and bear fruit. But spiritual death and physical death are not the same thing – yet. Men were still quite alive to pursuing men’s ways, thoughts, and deeds. Men had dreamt up their own ideas for what the Messiah would be like and what He would do – men’s ideas, not God’s, men’s values and expectations, not God’s. So, when the Messiah came, men did not recognize Him, for He did not come in the ways and appearance that they expected. Unless men are turned, unless they repent, they cannot see Jesus for who He is, they cannot receive Him, for they reject Him because He doesn’t meet their expectations.

What about you today? Do you see and hear the one who is present, who stands amongst you now with His gifts of forgiveness, life, and salvation? Or do you insist on having it your way, believing that Christ cannot be present unless you feel a certain way, unless we sing your favorite songs, or unless people flock to this church so that we don’t have room to seat them? Who do you think this Jesus is whose birth we are about to celebrate? Is He merely a concept, an icon of Peace and Love that we should emulate? Is He but a wise sage from ancient times who had some good ideas about being kind and charitable toward each other? Is He your spiritual friend and buddy, kind of like Santa Claus for the Church, who’s always looking out for you though you can never see Him or touch Him? Then I will be a voice crying out in your wilderness, “Among you stands one you do not know! – Repent. The Lord is at hand.”

Why did John preach? To point to the one who was present, whom men did not know, the Lord who was at hand. Why did John baptize? To point to the one who was present to baptize with the Holy Spirit and to the Lamb of God who was taking away the sins of the world. John is still preparing the way for the coming of the Lord through the preaching of repentance for the forgiveness of sins and through baptism, but these have become vehicles, means for the work of the one who is in our midst, Jesus the Christ. His Word opens the ears of the deaf and the eyes of the blind, releases those in prison in sin and death, and proclaims to the poor in spirit the Good News of redemption. And, John the Baptist still points to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world as we sing with him and kneel before our Lord who is present amongst us with His body and His blood that we may know Him as He is and live in Him and He in us to the glory of God the Father in His most Holy Spirit.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian Funeral for Grace Fredericka Arends

(Audio)

John 10:11-16; 1 John 3:1-3; Isaiah 43:1-3a, 25

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Grace was born in Germany after World War I. She immigrated to the United States by ship along with her father and mother, two sisters, and a brother in 1925; she was two years old. Her mother had relatives who lived in Butler County, Iowa, and that is where the family settled. There she was educated in country schools, did chores on the family farm, and attended church and Sunday School in Clarksville.

Grace lived one hundred two years and nearly seven months. That’s a long, rich life full of a multitude of experience and wisdom by any standard. Grace grew up during the Great Depression, lived through World War II, the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr., and Bobby Kennedy, the Moon Landing, the Vietnam War, and the dawn of a new century and millennium.

Grace saw and experienced a lot, and she remained Grace throughout it all. She was always kind and gracious. She had her own opinions; you could disagree with her and that would be fine, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t correct. Faith was very important to Grace and doing what’s right; she had a firm and consistent moral and ethical code, and she would let you know if you were out of bounds. This is wisdom, which is different than knowledge; wisdom comes from experience, and Grace had it in loads. It would be wise to listen to her and learn from her, and many did.

Grace taught Sunday school and confirmation class and sang in the church choir. At home, after she finished cleaning, Grace would sit at the piano and play hymns and the family would sing together. She had Wendell and Anne complete their Sunday school work for the next Sunday and she quizzed them on their catechism memory work. Later in her life, here at St. John, Grace and Wendell attended Divine Services most Sundays and Bible study after church. Their faith and their church came first over other things. In fact, the rose colored paraments you see adorning the altar, the banners, and the vestments I am wearing today were donated by Grace and the Arends family. They are only used on two weeks out of the entire church year, and I am very happy that this week is one of those! Thank you, Grace, for blessing St. John with these beautiful paraments which will serve our congregation and glorify God for decades to come.

Grace was an avid golfer, and quite a good one at that. She hit two holes-in-one in her career. She also enjoyed reading, dancing, bowling, walking, sunrises, sunsets, birds, flowers, music, and the color blue, but her greatest enjoyment was being with her family and friends. Like many who lived through the Great Depression, Grace knew the value of things. She was conservative, and I don’t necessarily mean politically, but you protect and conserve those things that are important to you; it’s just common sense.

“Fear not,” says the LORD, “for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” Those words from Isaiah 43, which are on the banner over there, served to define Grace, her faith, values, and how she lived her life. Through hard times and through good times, for over one hundred years, the LORD kept Grace in His grace, mercy, love, and peace. He kept her in her baptismal grace. He kept her in Jesus. Grace knew and believed this, and it shaped her calm, kind, peaceful, and resolute demeanor.

Blessed are those who live their lives, their entire lives, as God’s children! Grace became God’s child in Holy Baptism shortly after her birth in 1923, and she remained God’s child throughout her long life, and now she is enjoying the peace and joy of being God’s child in a way only hinted at here on earth. “See what kind of the love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.” […] “Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. And everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure.” Grace lived long enough and through enough to know that life is not always easy and that it is not without its times of tribulation and suffering. Because she was a child of God Grace could face such times with hope and patient endurance. That is why St. Paul could say, “we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”

To be a child of God is to be a sheep in the Good Shepherd’s flock. Grace was Jesus’ little lamb, and Jesus was her Good Shepherd. “I am the Good Shepherd,” Jesus says, “I know my own and my own know me, […]; and I lay down my life for the sheep.” Jesus, our Good Shepherd, leads us through the valley of the shadow of death that is our lives in this world into our Father’s house where His sheep may safely graze. In the valley we are surrounded by enemies that would tempt us, lead us astray, or destroy us, but we are not alone, for our Shepherd, who has passed this way already, accompanies, leads us, and feeds us in the presence of our enemies. And Jesus has defeated the unholy trinity of sin, death, and Satan for us in His own death and resurrection, so they cannot harm or hold us. “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” [..] “I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins.” This is Grace.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Wednesday in Gaudete (The Third Sunday in Advent)

(Audio)

Advent Songs of Salvation: The Song of Simeon - The Nunc Dimittis

Luke 2:22-32; Titus 2:11-14; Isaiah 52:7-10

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Thus far in this Advent series we have heard from some fairly prominent figures in the Scriptures. We listened to Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, and to Mary, the mother of our Lord Jesus Christ. Today, however, we hear from someone we know comparatively little about. Simeon was neither a priest nor a prophet, nor anyone of particular renown. All that Scripture tells us is this: he was “righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel,” and “the Holy Spirit was upon him.”

In other words, Simeon was a faithful believer doing what faithful believers are given to do: watching and waiting for the coming of the Lord, hearing and trusting the Word of God, and serving others in his God-given vocation to the glory of God. He was not extraordinary by the world’s standards, but he was faithful. Yet there is one thing that is special - indeed unique - about Simeon: “It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.”

It was that same Holy Spirit who led Simeon into the temple on the very day that Joseph and Mary brought their forty-day-old son to present Him to the Lord and to offer the sacrifice required by the Law of Moses. Scripture does not tell us how old Simeon was, but it is clear that he had been waiting for this day for a long time. And when the moment finally comes, Simeon takes the child into his arms and sings:

“Lord, now You are letting Your servant depart in peace,

according to Your word;

for my eyes have seen Your salvation

that You have prepared in the presence of all peoples,

a light for revelation to the Gentiles,

and for glory to Your people Israel.”

There is no reason to think that Simeon had a death-wish. This is not despair speaking, but faith. Simeon is not longing merely for his own peace, but rejoicing in the salvation of the whole world, now present in this promised child. To be a Christian is to long for Christ’s kingdom and reign, and to wait for them in hope. In that way, Simeon’s posture is our own. We too live between promise and fulfillment, patiently awaiting the second Advent of our Lord Jesus Christ.

We prepare for and observe His coming in many ways. Annually, as we journey through the Church Year from Advent to Christmas and Epiphany, from Lent to Easter, from Pentecost through Trinity, and back again to Advent. Weekly, as we gather for the Divine Service, moving through the workaday world toward the refreshment of Christ’s Word and Sacraments on the Lord’s Day. And daily, as we confess our sins at night, commend ourselves to God’s mercy should we die before we wake, and then rise in the morning to serve Him by serving our neighbor in word and deed, to the glory of His name.

As with the canticles of Mary and Zechariah, Simeon’s song is sung in the past tense. His words are not merely about what God will do someday, but about what God has already done: “My eyes have seen Your salvation.” The promise has been kept. The Christ has come. And in that baby boy resting in Simeon’s arms is the fullness of God’s saving work - the certainty that whatever remains to be fulfilled is as good as done already. This child is God’s salvation for all people, of all times and all places, both Jew and Gentile, just as the prophet Isaiah had foretold: “All the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God.”

We know Simeon’s song best, of course, from its place in the Divine Service. Have you ever stopped to consider why we sing the Nunc Dimittis where we do? We sing it after the distribution, after we have received Christ’s true body and blood in the Lord’s Supper. Only then do we join Simeon and the whole Church in singing, “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace.” Why? Because like Simeon, we have seen our salvation. More than that, we have received Him. Christ gives Himself into our hands and mouths, just as truly as He once rested in Simeon’s arms.

Having received Christ, we too may depart in peace, from the altar, from this place, and, when the Lord so wills, from this life of sorrow and trial. The peace Simeon sings of is not rooted in circumstance, but in Christ alone.

Simeon’s Nunc Dimittis is therefore a fitting close not only to his life, but also to our Advent waiting. Mary and Zechariah sang in anticipation and dawning fulfillment. Now Simeon sings as fulfillment stands before him. And we sing with him: the promises are kept, the Savior is here, salvation has been seen, and peace is given.

And still, we wait. We depart in peace again and again, week by week, day by day, until that final day when Christ comes in glory. Until then, Simeon’s song becomes our own: sung after supper, at the close of the day, and finally at the end of life itself. For Christ is our peace. Christ is our salvation. Christ is our light.

With Simeon and with the whole Church, we sing: “Lord, now You let Your servant go in peace; for my eyes have seen Your salvation.”

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Faith of John the Baptist – A Reflection on Matthew 11:2-3 in the Week of Gaudete, The Third Sunday in Advent

Did John the Baptist doubt that Jesus was the Messiah? Many read Matthew 11:2–3 that way. John is in prison. He is only human. And Scripture itself gives us reason to sympathize. Isaiah promised that when the Messiah came, the blind would see, the deaf would hear, the lame would walk—and captives would be set free (Isaiah 35:5; 61:1). John sits behind bars while the Christ walks free. It is not hard to see why some conclude that John’s question, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” must arise from doubt. I understand that reading. I once found it persuasive myself. But I can no longer accept it, at least not in that sense.

Yes, John was human. Yes, John was a sinner. Yes, John surely had doubts about many things. But there is one thing John could not and did not doubt: that Jesus is the Messiah.

John was filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother’s womb (Luke 1:15). He leapt for joy in Elizabeth’s womb at Mary’s greeting, already in the presence of his Lord (Luke 1:41). John confessed openly that he was not the Christ (John 1:20), and in humility denied even being Elijah (John 1:21) though Jesus Himself declares that John is the promised Elijah (Matthew 11:14; 17:12–13). John said he was unworthy to untie the strap of Jesus’ sandal (John 1:27). He insisted that Jesus must increase while he must decrease (John 3:30). John heard the Father’s voice at Jesus’ baptism saying, “This is my beloved Son with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17. And what does Jesus say of John? “Among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist” (Matthew 11:11). No one greater, not Abraham, not Moses, not David, not Elijah.

John was a sinner. Surely John wrestled. Surely John suffered. But John did not doubt who Jesus was.

Do you doubt that Jesus is the Messiah? What trial or tribulation would it take to shake that most fundamental confession? John’s imprisonment was not a failure of faith, but the final chapter of his vocation. Even if no messenger had returned to him with words of comfort and fulfillment, John still believed. Weak faith is still faith. Struggling faith is still faith. Even faith that trembles under the weight of suffering is still faith.

John knew his calling. He must decrease. Prison and death were not interruptions of that calling but its fulfillment. And John carried it out in faith, faith in Christ and love for his neighbor. We do not need to imagine John’s doubt in order to make him comforting to us. His faith, steadfast even in chains, already does that beautifully.

Gaudete - The Third Sunday in Advent (Advent 3)

(Audio)

Matthew 11:2-11; 1 Corinthians 4:1-5; Isaiah 40:1-11

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Each Gaudete Sunday, I find myself compelled to restate a truth that is often misunderstood: John the Baptist did not doubt that Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of God.

I know the argument well. John is in prison. He knows his execution is near. He hears reports that Jesus is healing the blind, the lame, the lepers, and the deaf - but John himself remains behind bars. After all, Isaiah prophesied not only healing, but also liberty to the captives. Surely, we are told, John must have wondered: Why not me? And surely, being only human, he must have doubted. It sounds convincing, until we listen carefully to the Scriptures themselves.

John was filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother’s womb, leaping for joy at the sound of Mary’s greeting in the presence of his Lord. John heard the Father’s voice at Jesus’ baptism: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” He saw the Holy Spirit descend upon Jesus and remain with Him. John confessed plainly that he was not the Christ, not Elijah in his own right, not the Prophet, but the voice crying in the wilderness: “Prepare the way of the LORD.” He declared himself unworthy even to loosen the straps of Jesus’ sandals. He rejoiced that he must decrease and that Jesus must increase.

Taken together, the witness of Scripture does not portray a man wavering in faith, but one who believed more clearly and confessed more boldly than anyone else of his time.

So why, then, does John send his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” The answer is simple, and deeply comforting. John sends them not for his own sake, but for theirs. And for yours. As St. John later writes, these things are written “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name.”

John’s question creates the moment for Jesus to reveal Himself, not with speculation, but with fulfillment. “Go and tell John what you hear and see,” Jesus says. “The blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them.” This is not a vague appeal to goodwill. It is a direct echo of Isaiah’s promises. Jesus is saying, Look at the Scriptures, and now look at Me.

And yet, someone may object: Not all the blind see. Not all the deaf hear. Not all the imprisoned go free. Not all the dead are raised. And what good, after all, is preaching to the poor? But here Jesus teaches us how to understand His works rightly. Physical healings are signs, real and merciful signs, but signs of something greater still: the forgiveness of sins and the restoration of fallen humanity. When Jesus forgave the paralyzed man, the Pharisees objected: Only God can forgive sins. They were right, and that was precisely the point. So Jesus asked them, “Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’?” Whether the outward sign is given now or withheld, the deeper gift remains. All who trust in Christ will be healed, restored, and made whole in the resurrection of the body on the Last Day. Christ’s Word does not merely describe reality, it creates it. He is the Word made flesh, and His promises never fail.

There is more here still. Jesus’ works also reveal spiritual healing. There is spiritual blindness and deafness, spiritual lameness and death, spiritual poverty. And that is why Jesus concludes with these words: “Blessed is the one who is not offended by me.” Those words draw our attention to the Beatitudes. Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. These are not blessings because suffering is good in itself. They are blessings because suffering strips away false comforts and leaves room for the true one. The spiritually blind are given eyes to see Christ. The spiritually deaf hear His Gospel. The spiritually dead are raised to life by faith. And the spiritually poor, those who have nothing of their own to offer God, are made rich beyond measure in Christ.

John sent his disciples so that they might see and hear these things for themselves. And once they had gone, Jesus turned to the crowd and spoke of John, not to glorify the man, but to reveal how God works through humble means.

“What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken by the wind?” John was no vacillating teacher, swayed by opinion or pressure. He preached repentance plainly and without compromise.

“A man dressed in soft clothing?” No, John was free from the lure of comfort, wealth, and power. And because he was free from those things, he was free to speak the truth, even when it cost him everything.

“What then did you go out to see? A prophet?” Yes, and more than a prophet. John was the promised messenger, the Elijah who would prepare the way of the Lord. Of him Jesus says, “Among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist.”

And yet, even here, John points beyond himself. “The one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” That One is Jesus Himself.

Though He was without sin, God made Him to be sin for you. Though He was with God and was God from the beginning, He humbled Himself, taking on flesh, becoming obedient unto death, even death on a cross. And for this reason God raised Him and exalted Him, giving Him the Name above every name, that at the Name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

John’s vocation was to prepare the way, to make disciples for Jesus by preaching repentance and administering baptism. And in the end, even from prison, John completed his task by sending his disciples away from himself and to Christ. He decreased. Jesus increased.

And so it is still. John’s ministry of comfort continues wherever Christ’s Word is preached and His Sacraments are given. Pastors, like John, are servants and stewards of the mysteries of God, not masters, but messengers—preparing the way for Christ to come to His people with forgiveness, life, and salvation. “Comfort, comfort my people,” says your God. Not the comfort of soft clothing or easy days, but the comfort of sins forgiven, death defeated, and Christ present with His suffering people.

So rejoice; Gaudete! The Lord is at hand. He comes to you in His Word. He comes to you in His body and blood. He comes to strengthen you for every trial endured because of Him. And blessed are you who are not offended by Him.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Wednesday in Populus Zion (The Second Sunday in Advent)

(Audio)

Advent Songs of Salvation: The Song of Zechariah - The Benedictus

Luke 1:57-80; 1 Peter 2:9-12; Malachi 4:1-6

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Both Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth were of the priestly line of Aaron. Luke tells us that they were “righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord.” Yet for all their faithfulness, “they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.” Zechariah, serving in the division of Abijah, had his turn to minister in the temple. As he entered the holy place at the hour of incense, an angel of the Lord appeared to him. Gabriel announced an answer to long–spoken prayers: Elizabeth would conceive and bear a son, and he was to be named John — “God is gracious.”

Gabriel described John’s calling: “He will be great before the Lord… and he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God… to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.” Zechariah’s hesitation - “How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years” - is understandable. Yet Gabriel’s reply is firm: “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God… and because you did not believe my words… you will be silent.” When Zechariah came out of the temple unable to speak, the people sensed he had seen a vision. His silence endured until the child was born, and only at John’s circumcision — when Zechariah faithfully wrote, “His name shall be John”— was his tongue loosed. Filled with the Holy Spirit, he burst forth in the Benedictus.

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his people.” Benedictus - “Blessed” - is the first word of Zechariah’s song, but it is also the theme of his whole confession. He blesses the Lord for His gracious visitation and redemption, not merely as a future hope, but as an already–set-in-motion reality. The prophets had long proclaimed this coming day. Malachi, the last of them, warned of the day of the Lord, a day of burning judgment against sin, idolatry, and apostasy. He also promised a messenger who would prepare the way, a new Elijah who would turn hearts and call the people back to the Lord. John the Baptist is that promised forerunner, and the Benedictus recognizes that the dawn of God’s saving work has begun to break.

The song looks backward and forward at the same time. It recalls the promises made to Abraham and David, “as He spoke by the mouth of His holy prophets from of old.” It also looks ahead to the impending birth of the Christ. Promise and fulfillment converge in Jesus. Israel had many earthly enemies, but the deeper enemies are sin, death, and the devil. Zechariah’s song focuses on deliverance from these foes. God’s salvation flows from “the tender mercy of our God,” His deep, inward compassion revealed in Christ, “the Sunrise from on high” who comes to scatter the darkness.

John’s ministry, then, is bounded by this light: “you… will go before the Lord to prepare His ways, to give knowledge of salvation to His people in the forgiveness of their sins.” John preaches repentance and baptism, preparing hearts to receive the Lord’s mercy. The church continues the same ministry still: proclaiming the Law that exposes our sin, and the Gospel that forgives it for Jesus’ sake.

The Benedictus is, in many ways, Advent in miniature. It proclaims that God “has visited” His people, past, present, and future. He has visited us in the Incarnation. He visits us now through His Word and Sacraments. He will visit us again in glory when Christ returns. John and Jesus thus stand as the hinge between the Testaments. In them the long–awaited promises of the Old Covenant meet the fulfillment of the New.

This brings us to Peter’s words: “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession… that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.” What Zechariah sang about - light breaking into darkness, mercy overcoming sin - is now the church’s lived reality. Through Christ, God has visited and redeemed His people, and He continues to shape us into a people who “keep [our] conduct honorable” so that others may see His light in our lives.

Zechariah’s song bridges old and new, silence and praise, anticipation and fulfillment. And the God who kept His promises in Christ still gives us His light, His mercy, and His peace. In this Advent season, the church takes up Zechariah’s song as her own:

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for He has visited and redeemed His people.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Populus Zion - The Second Sunday in Advent (Advent 2)

Luke 21:25-36; Romans 15:4-13; Malachi 4:1-6

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

The day is coming. No matter which day you have in mind, that much is true. The day of the final exam arrives. The day of surgery arrives. Christmas Day arrives. Tax Day arrives. The day of our death will arrive. In the same way, the day of Jesus’ return will arrive. Whatever the day may be, it will come, and you already know it will come. Ignoring it does no good. The wise course is to be prepared, to watch and wait for its arrival. To be caught unprepared ought to be a terrible thought, especially when there is no reason for that to happen.

Of course, if you’re not a student, finals week doesn’t bother you. If you’re healthy, you don’t think much about surgery. Christmas Day feels different depending on whether your home is full of young children or long past that season. But Tax Day catches up with most of us, and death and judgment catch up with all of us, young or old, rich or poor, whatever our background.

“The day is coming,” says Malachi, “burning like an oven.” On that day “all the arrogant and all evildoers” will be set ablaze, “so that it will leave them neither root nor branch.” Yet there is a distinction. “For you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.” The Day of Judgment is terror for those who reject the Lord, but it is joy for those who fear His name.

“Leaping like calves from the stall." What a vivid picture of relief and freedom. After being confined for too long, imagine the sheer joy of being turned loose: running, jumping, spinning, simply because you can. That is the Lord’s promise for His people. The Day of Judgment is not a day of dread for the baptized. It is a day to look forward to, a day to anticipate with joy, a day for which we prepare in hope.

But again, there is a distinction. Not only will the arrogant and evildoers be reduced to stubble, but “they shall be ashes under the soles of your feet.” The baptized, the faithful, will judge with Christ and reign with Christ in His kingdom. We do not desire anyone’s destruction, yet we rejoice in the Lord’s righteous judgment when it comes. And He delays that judgment so that all might hear, repent, and receive the same mercy He has shown you. “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the LORD comes.” His work will be to turn hearts, to reconcile the wandering, to call to repentance, to prepare for Christ.

That promised Elijah was John the Baptist. He called all to repentance for the forgiveness of sins. His baptism was real; it bestowed forgiveness. Yet it was still preparatory, pointing toward the baptism Christ Himself would fulfill, a baptism into His perfect obedience, righteousness, death, and life. John’s baptism was the intention to “go and sin no more,” to turn from wickedness and walk in the Lord’s ways, because the Lord was coming.

Malachi instructs Israel on how to live as they awaited Christ’s first coming: “Remember the law of my servant Moses.” Keep the commandments. And Paul speaks to those awaiting Christ’s second coming: “Whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.”

We all witness the signs that Christ says will precede His return: “There will be signs in sun and moon and stars,” and on earth “distress of nations… people fainting with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world.” Many will dread these things because the earthly things they trusted will collapse. But those who trust in the Lord are told something different: “Straighten up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” The turmoil of the world is not the end for you; it is the passing away of what must pass away before the revealing of the sons of God and the Bride of Christ.

Still, Jesus warns His people: “Watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and cares of this life,” so that the day “come upon you suddenly like a trap.” One might ask how such a thing could happen; after all, you are here in the Lord’s house, where you are constantly exhorted to remain watchful and prepared. Yet this gathering itself shows the Lord’s mercy. The church’s chief purpose is not what we offer God, but what God gives us, His Word and His Sacraments for our strength and protection. To receive these gifts is to receive Christ Himself. The highest worship is faith receiving what the Lord gives.

Your strength is not in yourselves, nor in the world’s power, wealth, or stability. Your strength is in the gifts of Christ. Only the Holy Spirit, working through these means of grace, can keep your faith alive and ready for the Lord’s appearing.

St. Paul gives the final word: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.”

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.