The Third Sunday after Trinity (Trinity 3)

(Audio)

Luke 15:1-10; 1 Peter 5:6-11; Micah 7:18-20

 

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

The scribes and Pharisees, the religious scholars and theologians of Jesus' day, stand in judgment of the only truly holy Man and say, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.” What they accuse Him of is true. Jesus does indeed receive tax collectors, prostitutes, and sinners of every sort. He does indeed eat with them. And that is good news for sinners. It is good news for you and for me.

Ironically, these enemies of Jesus become unwitting preachers of the Gospel. For this is precisely why Jesus came into the world. As St. Paul writes, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” The Son of God came to seek and to save the lost. And the lost flocked to Him. In Jesus they found not condemnation, but forgiveness. They found the mercy of God, Who casts their sins into the depths of the sea. But this offended the scribes and Pharisees. They had already judged such people. They had already written them off. They wanted to limit God's mercy to those they considered worthy of it. So they grumbled: “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”

But table fellowship follows reconciliation. People do not feast together as enemies. They feast together because peace has been restored. The meal is the celebration of forgiveness, the sign that what was broken has been made whole again. That is why Jesus responds with three parables: the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin, and the Lost Son. In each parable, something precious is lost. In each parable, what was lost is found. And in each parable, the finding gives rise to rejoicing.

The third parable, which we did not hear today, tells of the prodigal son. A son despises his father, squanders his inheritance, and finds himself utterly ruined. Yet when he returns, he is received with mercy, clothed in honor, restored to sonship, and welcomed to a feast. When we hear that parable with the ears of faith, we discover that it is not really about the prodigal son at all. It is about the father. It is about the boundless mercy, grace, and forgiveness of God the Father. The same is true of the parables we heard today. The Good Shepherd is Christ. The searching woman is His Church. The focus is not ultimately on the sheep or the coin, but on the One who seeks what is lost.

Jesus begins by asking, “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it?” I have thought about that question for years, and I have come to the conclusion that the honest answer is: no one. No shepherd, no businessman, no farmer, no ordinary person would leave ninety-nine sheep to go searching for one. The risk seems too great. The loss seems acceptable. One sheep out of a hundred hardly appears worth such effort. And I think that is exactly the reaction Jesus intends. Because the parable is not about ordinary shepherds. It is about the Good Shepherd. The Son of God left the glory of heaven, surrounded by angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, to seek one lost humanity. He came into our fallen world to search for Adam and all his children. He came to seek and to save the lost.

In the second parable, a woman loses one silver coin. She lights a lamp and searches diligently until she finds it. And when she does, she calls together her friends and neighbors to rejoice. Again, the point is not the coin. The point is the value the coin has in the eyes of the one searching for it. This woman is a picture of the Church. The Church seeks the lost because Christ seeks the lost. And you are that precious coin. In Holy Baptism you have been marked with the image of the Prince, Jesus Christ. You are a sheep redeemed by the blood of the Good Shepherd. You belong to Him. And there is rejoicing before the angels of God over one sinner who repents. There is rejoicing because what was lost has been found. This is why the Church exists.

The Church is not a memorial for saints. She is a hospital for sinners. Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. Those who will not confess that they are sinners cannot receive the forgiveness He came to give. It is like a person who is desperately ill but refuses to admit that he is sick. There is medicine. There is healing. There is a physician. But none of it can help the one who refuses treatment.

That was the tragedy of the scribes and Pharisees. They judged the sinners who came to Jesus, but they would not confess that they themselves were sinners. They too were lost. They too needed forgiveness. They too needed the Great Physician. But only the lost can be found. The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost. And that means He came for you. We all share the same disease of sin, and left untreated its diagnosis is death. Yet Jesus teaches in these parables that you are so precious to Him that He seeks you relentlessly. You are worth more than one sheep out of a hundred. You are more precious than one coin out of ten. You are more beloved than one son out of two.

On this Father's Day, what a beautiful picture of fatherly love our Lord places before us. Your heavenly Father is not content to lose His children. He is jealous for them. He loves them with a selfless and sacrificial love. No matter how far they wander, He continues to seek them. That is why He sent His Son. Jesus laid down His life to bring the lost home. He gathers them into His Church. He binds up their wounds through Holy Absolution. He restores them as beloved children through Holy Baptism. He feeds them at His Holy Table. And there is rejoicing.

There is rejoicing in heaven. There is rejoicing on earth. There is rejoicing wherever sinners are found, forgiven, and restored. In the love and sacrifice of earthly fathers we catch a glimpse of our heavenly Father's love. The image is imperfect, tarnished by sin, yet it points beyond itself to the One whose love never fails. If imperfect fathers can love their children so deeply, how much more does your heavenly Father love you with an eternal and perfect love?

So come to the feast, found children of your heavenly Father. The Man who receives sinners and eats with them is here for you. He is both Host and Meal. Do not be offended that He receives such sinners. Rejoice that He does. For we are all sinners whom He has found. We are all children whom He has restored. And there is feasting and rejoicing, on earth as it is in heaven, both now and forevermore.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Second Sunday after Trinity (Trinity 2)

(Audio)

Luke 14:15-24; 1 John 3:13-18; Proverbs 9:1-10

 

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

The social dynamics of a dinner invitation can be a fascinating study in human behavior. We are generally far more comfortable being the inviter than the invitee. Why? Because the inviter remains in control. The invitee becomes dependent upon another. And we do not like that. If we accept an invitation, what is one of the first things we ask? “What can I bring?” We want to contribute something. We want to pay our way. We want to avoid feeling indebted. Deep down, we are uncomfortable receiving what we have not earned. And, what if we do not want to accept the invitation at all? Then we make excuses.

Excuses are attempts to justify ourselves, ease our guilt, and shift responsibility elsewhere. Adam blamed Eve. Eve blamed the serpent. In the end, they both blamed God. And that happened in the third chapter of the Bible! The desire to be independent and in control is deeply rooted in fallen humanity. It is one of the fruits of Original Sin. We do not want to depend upon God. We want to be our own gods, accountable to no one and beholden to no one. That is why we make excuses.

And that is why grace is so offensive to our sinful flesh. The very idea that we can contribute nothing to our salvation, nothing to our justification, nothing to satisfy our debt before God, strikes at the heart of our pride. We want to bring something. We want some credit. We want some control. But grace strips all of that away. So we run. We hide. We make excuses. We attempt to justify ourselves. But the Lord sees through it all. Therefore, there are really only two possibilities. We can continue running from Him in fear and rebellion. Or we can let His Word put the old sinner to death so that He may raise us to new and eternal life.

“Blessed is everyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” That statement is absolutely true. To eat bread in the kingdom of God is blessedness itself. Apart from that, there is no lasting blessing. But who would reject such an invitation? Those who do not want to be blessed by someone outside themselves.

Jesus tells the Parable of the Great Banquet while dining in the house of a ruler of the Pharisees. He notices that the guests are wealthy, respected, and influential men. He notices how they seek places of honor. He notices the endless calculations of status and advantage. And so He teaches: “When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return and you be repaid. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind.” In other words, invite those who cannot repay you.

The flesh hates this teaching because the flesh turns every relationship into a transaction. It wants an advantage. It wants leverage. It wants a return on investment. But grace does not work that way. True blessing is found in receiving what we cannot earn and giving where we cannot be repaid. That is why Jesus pronounces blessings upon the poor, the hungry, the persecuted, and the reviled. Such people are often in the best position to receive grace because they know they have need.

The self-sufficient do not think they need grace. The poor in spirit do. Those who believe themselves independent invite people who can advance their reputation, increase their wealth, or provide future benefits. Such invitations are not acts of generosity but acts of self-interest. The guests become tools to be used rather than people to be loved. But the Lord gives differently. He gives to those who cannot repay Him. He blesses those who have nothing to offer. He invites those who have no claim upon His generosity. That is the great scandal of grace.

In the parable, those first invited refuse to come. One has purchased a field. Another has oxen to examine. Another has married a wife. None of these things are evil in themselves. The problem is that they become excuses. They all say, in one way or another, “I have something more important to do.” And so they dishonor the host. They reject his generosity. They refuse his invitation. Believing themselves rich, they discover that they are poor. Believing themselves free, they become slaves. Believing themselves independent, they cut themselves off from the very source of life.

So the invitation goes elsewhere. “Go out quickly to the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in the poor and crippled and blind and lame.” And when there is still room: “Go out to the highways and hedges and compel people to come in, that my house may be filled.” Those who know their need receive the invitation with joy. Those who know they are hungry come to the feast. Those who know they are poor receive riches.

“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight.” This is First Commandment language. “You shall have no other gods.” What does this mean? “We should fear, love, and trust in God above all things.” There is only one gracious Host. There is only one true Inviter. There is only one Lord who gives every good and perfect gift. To reject Him is foolishness. To prefer anything above Him is idolatry. To trust in anything more than Him is death. Your excuses cannot hide your sin any better than Adam and Eve's fig leaves covered their nakedness. God sees through them all.

And those things we often place ahead of Him are passing away even now. Fields become barren. Oxen grow old and die. Possessions decay. Even husbands and wives, precious gifts though they are, cannot be kept forever in this life. Everything in this fallen world passes away.

But Wisdom has built her house. She has prepared the feast. The table is set. The banquet is ready. It is finished. “Blessed is everyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” The question is not whether the feast is prepared. The question is whether you will come. Will you receive what God freely gives? Will you confess your need? Will you acknowledge that you are not self-sufficient? For the fear of the Lord begins with telling the truth: You are a sinner who needs forgiveness. You are dead and need life.

And yet you are invited. The Lord has prepared a feast for His Son, a feast at which He is both Host and Meal. Come and eat the Bread of Life. Come and drink the blood of Life Incarnate for the forgiveness of sins, the strengthening of faith, and life everlasting. Come, but bring nothing except your wretched self. Do not attempt to purchase admission. Do not attempt to earn your seat. This feast is by invitation alone, without cost and without repayment.

But know this: if you eat and drink at the Lord's banquet, you will not leave as you came. You will be changed. You will be filled. You will be blessed. And having been blessed, you will become a blessing to others. You will be His servants and messengers in the world, loving not merely in word or talk, but in deed and in truth, to the glory of the Father, through the Son, and by His Most Holy Spirit.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The First Sunday after Trinity (Trinity )

(Audio)

Luke 16:19-31; 1 John 4:16-21; Genesis 15:1-6

 

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

In his Small Catechism, Martin Luther explains the First Commandment, “You shall have no other gods,” saying that we should “fear, love, and trust in God above all things.” Fear, love, and trust; those are familiar words. We use them every day. Yet because they are so familiar, their meaning can become shallow or confused. Therefore, it is worthwhile to consider what it means to fear, love, and trust in God according to His Word.

Let us begin with fear. Most people think of fear simply as being afraid. Certainly, there is an element of that. When sinners become aware of their guilt before the holy and righteous God, fear, anxiety, and even terror naturally follow. Isaiah cried, “Woe is me!” when he beheld the Lord upon His throne. Zechariah, Mary, and the shepherds were afraid when angels appeared to them.

Yet the fear of the Lord is more than terror. You would not fear God's holiness if you did not first believe that He is holy and righteous. Thus, faith and trust are already bound up within the fear of the Lord. This is what Solomon means when he writes, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.” The fear of the Lord is a holy mixture of awe, reverence, humility, faith, and trust. We see this in Abram. When the Word of the Lord came to him, Abram knew his own weakness and need. He had no son. He had no visible reason to believe God's promise. Yet he trusted the Lord. He believed the promise that his descendants would be as countless as the stars of heaven, and that faith was counted to him as righteousness. Abram feared the Lord because he knew who God was and who he himself was. He trusted the Lord's goodness, mercy, and faithfulness. Such fear is the beginning of both wisdom and faith.

Fear, love, and trust cannot finally be separated from one another. St. John joins them together beautifully: “God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” Then he continues: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” At first glance that sounds contradictory. How can Christians fear God and yet have no fear? John is speaking about the fear of punishment. The Christian no longer lives in terror of God's wrath. Through faith in Christ, God's judgment has been borne, His wrath satisfied, and His forgiveness bestowed. Therefore, the fear that remains is not terror but reverence. It is the awe of those who know God's holiness and yet also know His mercy. When you trust that the Lord is good and faithful, you learn to fear Him rightly. When you fear Him rightly, you love Him. And when you love Him, you begin to love your neighbor. For God is love.

St. John writes, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar.” The love of God cannot be separated from love for the neighbor. That brings us to today's Gospel. Jesus tells the story of a rich man and a poor man named Lazarus. The rich man was clothed in purple and fine linen. He feasted sumptuously every day. Jesus is not condemning wealth itself. Scripture nowhere teaches that riches are inherently evil. Rather, Jesus exposes a heart that feared, loved, and trusted riches more than God. The rich man lived for himself.

At his very gate lay Lazarus, covered with sores and longing even for the crumbs from the rich man's table. Yet the rich man showed him no mercy. The dogs displayed more compassion than the man whom God had blessed with abundance. His failure was not merely a failure of charity. It was a failure of faith. He did not love his neighbor because he did not love God. He did not trust God because he trusted his possessions. His heart belonged to mammon.

Both men died. Lazarus was carried to Abraham's side. The rich man found himself in torment. Notice that poverty did not save Lazarus, nor did wealth condemn the rich man. People can place their trust in poverty just as easily as in riches. What separated these two men was faith.

Even Lazarus's name preaches a sermon. It means, “God is my help.” Though he possessed little in this world, he feared, loved, and trusted in the Lord. The rich man did not. Indeed, even in Hades he still viewed Lazarus as a servant. He had never learned to love. He knew only fear, not the reverent fear born of faith, but the terror that comes from unbelief and judgment.

Yet there is another Rich Man in Scripture. The eternal Son of God possessed all riches, glory, and majesty. Yet for your sake He became poor. He had nowhere to lay His head. He humbled Himself unto death, even death on a cross. Because He perfectly feared, loved, and trusted His Father, He was free to love His neighbor completely. He held nothing back. He gave Himself for sinners. This Rich Man also died. He descended into hell, not to suffer, but to proclaim His victory over sin, death, and Satan. Then He rose from the dead and ascended to the right hand of the Father as the firstfruits of all who sleep.

That is the great irony of today's Gospel. The rich man begged that someone might rise from the dead and warn his brothers. Abraham replied, “If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.” And yet Someone has risen from the dead. Jesus Christ has risen. The Scriptures have been fulfilled. Moses and the Prophets testify concerning Him. Through His Word, He calls sinners to repentance and faith. Through His Gospel, He creates the very fear, love, and trust that the First Commandment requires.

Therefore, fear, love, and trust in God above all things. Fear Him, not as a condemned criminal fears a judge, but as redeemed children stand in awe before their gracious Father. Trust Him, for He is faithful and keeps His promises. Love Him, because He first loved you.

And as you have been loved by Him, so love your neighbor. Give of His gifts. Forgive with His forgiveness. Show mercy with His mercy. For perfect love casts out fear, and God has loved you perfectly in His Son, Jesus Christ.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian Funeral for Clarence Arthur Huck

(Audio) 

John 14:1-6; Romans 8:18-28; Lamentations 3:22-33

 

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

Dear Rosemary, Kymn, Dawn, Gail, and Cheryl; grandchildren, family; brothers and sisters in Christ, and friends: Grace, mercy, and peace be unto you from God our Father and from our Lord Jesus Christ.

In preparation for this service, I read through Clarence’s obituary and the thoughts and memories several of you shared with me. One thing appeared again and again: Clarence’s voice. Whether it was singing, cheering, laughing, joking, auctioneering, crying out in pain, or simply talking, Clarence’s voice was memorable. It made an impression everywhere he went.

Clarence was the birthday singer at Terex. He sang for everyone in the company, and his voice carried throughout the factory. He had the perfect voice for auctioneering too. After the flood of 2008, as furniture lay scattered across the lawn while the family sorted what could be saved and what had to be thrown away, Clarence began calling bids like an auctioneer. The entire neighborhood could hear him. Neighbors down the block were shouting, “Yep!”

At sporting events his was the voice everyone heard. “Shoot the ball!” “Steal third!” “Throw home!” “Nice serve!” And, of course, “Come on, ref!”

On Wednesdays, when Clarence and Rosemary came for the midweek service, I knew when they arrived because I could hear Clarence talking all the way from the Gathering Room. And when service began, Clarence lifted our a cappella singing to the apex of this sanctuary ceiling.

Even during Clarence’s final days in the hospital, when a music therapist visited, Clarence sang favorite hymns and songs together with you, his beloved family. I suspect the whole floor could hear him singing.

Clarence did not know a stranger. He could strike up a conversation with anyone. He had a positive outlook on life and encouraged people wherever he went. His social calendar was full: church activities, softball, rabbit club, 4-H, the United Way, UAW retirees, card games, Schafkopf, and cheering on children and grandchildren at sporting events, concerts, and county fair competitions.

Chad cherished summer breaks spent with Grandpa, working together in the garden, picking berries and green beans, collecting those special leaves by the elementary school to make cucumbers into pickles. “That made me feel special when it was just us,” Chad said. I know every grandchild here likely has stories like that. Clarence loved family. He loved neighbors. He especially loved children and making them laugh.

Chad also shared a story from when he was very young. Clarence had fallen asleep on the couch, and to a little boy Grandpa’s round belly looked like a perfect landing spot. Chad launched himself from the back of the sofa and landed squarely on Clarence’s stomach. Clarence woke startled, hurt, and more than a little irritated. But even when he was upset, somehow he was still funny.

Clarence knew joy. But Clarence also knew suffering. The last years were not easy. His body bent under the curvature of the spine. His feet and legs troubled him. Walking became difficult. Neuropathy, weakness, pain, and dependence on others crept in. Yet suffering never extinguished his joy or kindness. He still joked. He still encouraged. He still sang. He still laughed.

That should make you stop and wonder why. Because contentment, joy, peace, and hope are difficult enough when life is easy. When pain settles into your bones, when movement becomes hard, when frustration grows, joy does not come naturally. It comes from somewhere else.

Clarence’s confirmation verse was from Hebrews: “Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for He has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you.’” That promise shaped Clarence. The source of Clarence’s peace was never merely his personality. It was his Lord. “The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.” That is not sentimental talk. Those words were written amid suffering, sorrow, and ruin. Yet even there, faith clings to God’s mercy.

And God gave Clarence more than enough mercy. The Lord gave him joy that bubbled over into laughter. Peace that became encouragement. Hope that became song. Love that overflowed toward family, friends, neighbors, and strangers.

Saint Paul writes: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Clarence believed that. He knew suffering was real. He knew pain. But he also knew suffering does not get the final word. Christ does. That is why Jesus says today, “Let not your hearts be troubled.”

And our hearts are troubled. Death troubles us. Empty chairs trouble us. Silence troubles us. For a man whose voice filled rooms, stadiums, church halls, and sanctuaries, the silence feels especially heavy. But Jesus speaks into troubled hearts. “Believe in God; believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you.”

Clarence’s voice is silent to us for now, but Clarence himself is not lost. He is with Christ. The Lord who promised, “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” kept that promise to Clarence through every burden, every ache, every hard day, and every difficult step. And the Lord did not abandon him in death either.

Jesus says, “I will come again and take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also.” Clarence is with Christ. No pain. No bent spine. No aching joints. No struggling to move. No weakness. Only joy. Only peace. Only the presence of Jesus.

And yet even this is not the end of the Christian hope. We do not merely confess life after death. We confess the resurrection of the body. The day is coming when Christ Himself will speak again, not only to troubled hearts, but to graves. The trumpet will sound. The dead in Christ will rise. Clarence will stand again, not bent over, not weak, not suffering, but restored, whole, and glorified. And perhaps then, with a resurrected voice stronger than ever, Clarence will sing again among the saints.

That is the Christian hope. Not wishful thinking. Not sentimentality. Not positive vibes. Jesus Christ died and rose again. He is “the way, and the truth, and the life.” Because He lives, Clarence lives. Because Christ rose, Clarence shall rise.

So grieve, yes. Tears are fitting. Death is an enemy. But do not grieve as those without hope. For the steadfast love of the LORD never ceases. His mercies never end. They are new every morning. And for Clarence, morning has already dawned.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Feast of the Holy Trinity

(Audio)

John 3:1-17; Romans 11:33-36; Isaiah 6:1-7

 

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

The Holy Trinity is the greatest mystery of the Christian faith. And yet, belief in the Holy Trinity is necessary to salvation. One cannot be a Christian and deny the Holy Trinity. For to deny the Holy Trinity is to deny that, together with the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit are also, and at the same time, God. To deny the Holy Trinity is to deny that Jesus is the Son of God, true God and true man, and therefore to deny that Jesus Christ is the Savior and Redeemer of all mankind.

To say that the Holy Trinity is a mystery is not to say that God cannot be known at all, or that He has left us in utter darkness. Rather, it is to confess that He cannot be fully explained or comprehended by human reason. The mystery of the Holy Trinity is beyond our understanding, yet not beyond our knowing. For the nature of a mystery is not to shut you out, but to draw you in, deeper and deeper into wonder, faith, worship, and trust. The more you hear, receive, and believe what God reveals, the more there is to ponder. Like standing at the shore of a vast ocean, you may know the water truly without ever exhausting its depths. So it is with the Holy Trinity.

This is why the Church confesses in the Athanasian Creed: “Whoever desires to be saved must, above all, hold the catholic faith.” And what is this catholic faith? “That we worship one God in Trinity and Trinity in Unity, neither confusing the persons nor dividing the substance.” What is necessary to confess has been revealed by God Himself. That means we may say only what God has said concerning Himself in His Word, and we may reject only what contradicts what He has revealed. The Holy Trinity is not an article of human speculation, philosophy, or reason. It is an article of faith. For the God who made heaven and earth, who created the mind itself, is before the human mind and beyond its limits. Yet He graciously reveals Himself, in creation, in His Word, and by His Spirit. And what God reveals must be received in faith.

Thus Jesus taught Nicodemus: “Unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God,” and again, “Unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.” Faith comes in much the same way as life itself. It is received, not earned. It is given, not seized. It is revealed, not reasoned into existence. The Holy Spirit calls, gathers, enlightens, sanctifies, and keeps people in the true faith where and when He pleases through the Means of Grace. Thus, you are the recipient of His gracious work, just as you are the recipient of life itself or the cooling breeze of the wind.

Jesus said to Nicodemus, “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.” You experience its effects even if you cannot comprehend its workings. So also with faith. Nicodemus was a learned and faithful man, a teacher of Israel. He could see with his own eyes that Jesus was a great rabbi sent from God. But his reason and observation could not yet comprehend that God was not merely with Jesus, but that Jesus Himself was God in human flesh, sent by the Father, upon whom the Spirit descended and remained.

And Nicodemus is not alone. Like Thomas. Like Peter. Like the Apostles. Like you and me. We are tempted to trust only what we can measure, prove, explain, and comprehend. We want God to conform Himself to our expectations and understanding. We seek signs that satisfy reason. But Jesus did not cast Nicodemus away. He did not shame him for his weakness. Rather, He invited him to receive, to receive the testimony of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in Word and truth. Faith in the Holy Trinity is a gift of grace, just as forgiveness is a gift of grace.

Isaiah knew this. When he beheld the Lord seated upon His throne, high and lifted up, surrounded by the seraphim crying, “Holy, holy, holy,” he did not stand confidently in his own righteousness. He cried out, “Woe is me! For I am lost.” And yet, the Lord did not destroy him. Instead, the seraph touched Isaiah’s lips with a burning coal from the altar and declared, “Your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.” The holy God forgave the sinful man.

Nicodemus too received this gift, born again of water and the Spirit. And so have you. In Holy Baptism, your Triune God placed His Name upon you: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. There He gave you new birth, forgiveness, faith, and eternal life. And all of this flows from the love of God revealed in Jesus Christ: “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.”

Notice this well: God does not ask you to climb your way up to Him by reason or wisdom. He comes down to you in mercy. In today’s Collect we confessed this gift when we prayed: “Almighty and everlasting God, You have given us grace to acknowledge the glory of the eternal Trinity by the confession of a true faith and to worship the Unity in the power of the Divine Majesty.” You have been given grace to confess this faith. And we also prayed that God would keep us steadfast in it and defend us from all adversities. For this world constantly assaults the faith. Secular reason mocks what it cannot comprehend. Human wisdom dismisses what cannot be measured. False doctrine confuses God’s revelation.

Yet your Holy Triune God continues to reveal Himself to you. He has lifted up His only-begotten Son upon the cross that all who look upon Him in faith should not perish but have eternal life. Where human reason sees only a dying man upon a cross, faith beholds God Himself giving His life for sinners. Where reason sees only water, faith confesses Baptism as a lavish washing away of sins and new birth by the Holy Spirit. Where reason sees merely bread and wine, faith receives the very Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, true God and true man, given and shed for the forgiveness of sins, for the strengthening of faith, and for eternal life. For the God who is before all things, who made all things, sustains all things, and fills all things, the Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, is present even now to bless you with His mercy, forgiveness, and life.

Blessed be the Holy Trinity and the undivided Unity. Let us give glory to Him, for He has shown His mercy to us.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Exaudi - The Seventh Sunday of Easter (Easter 7)

(Audio)

John 15:26 – 16:4; 1 Peter 4:7-14; Ezekiel 36:22-28

 

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

The Incarnation of the Son of God was much more than the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us. It was the beginning of the resurrection and the eternal life of men. The raising of Lazarus was but a shadow of it; the resurrection of Jesus was its guarantee.

When the angel Gabriel proclaimed to the Virgin Mary that the Holy Spirit would come upon her and the power of the Most High would overshadow her, the Word became flesh. In Jesus Christ, true and eternal life entered into man once again for the first time since God breathed His life-giving Spirit into Adam and he became a living being.

In Jesus, God visited His people to save them. Yet there was nothing outwardly spectacular about Him. As Isaiah says, “He had no form or majesty that we should look at Him.” In humility He lived as a son, honoring His father and mother. He loved God with all His heart, soul, and mind, and He loved His neighbor as Himself. He fulfilled the Law perfectly for us who were conceived and born in sin and who daily transgress in thought, word, and deed.

At His Baptism in the Jordan, the truth about Jesus was openly revealed. John proclaimed Him to be the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, and there in the Jordan the Father and the Spirit bore witness that it was so. The heavens were opened. The Spirit descended upon Him like a dove. And the Father declared, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

What a remarkable proclamation that was. Since the fall into sin, God could not look upon man and say such a thing. Yet there in the waters stood the sinless and holy Son of God in human flesh. The One who knew no sin entered into the waters where sinners confessed their sins. He became sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.

There the Holy Spirit anointed Him the Christ, the Messiah, the Anointed One of God. Like David, He was anointed for a reign of humble and sacrificial service. But unlike David, who often failed as shepherd of God’s people, Jesus is the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for His sheep.

And that is exactly what He did. Jesus showed the world what it truly means to love God and neighbor. He showed mercy to sinners. He welcomed tax collectors, prostitutes, lepers, and the outcast. He forgave sins and ate with those whom respectable society despised.

But the Pharisees were scandalized by such mercy. In rejecting those whom God desired to save, they revealed that they did not truly love God. So they plotted against Jesus. They even joined themselves to the pagan Romans in order to destroy Him. One of His own disciples betrayed Him, and the others fled. He was arrested, mocked, scourged, condemned, crucified, and killed. The sinless One died for sinners. This is how God loved the world.

But the story does not end with the cross, nor even with the resurrection. Christ is risen indeed, and His resurrection is the guarantee that all who believe in Him shall also rise. Yet there is still more. After His resurrection, Jesus continued to live as a man in glorified flesh. He ate and drank with His disciples. He taught them. He comforted them. The same Jesus who suffered and died now lives forever, the firstfruits of all who will be raised from the dead.

And then He ascended. Sadly, many Christians treat the Ascension almost like an afterthought, but it is not. Jesus said to Mary Magdalene, “Do not cling to Me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father.” His Ascension matters because in it humanity itself enters heaven.

In His incarnation, human flesh was restored to life. In His obedience, the Law was fulfilled for all men. In His death, He bore the curse of sin. In His resurrection, death was defeated. But in His ascension, a flesh-and-blood man entered into the presence of the Father for us. Jesus Christ, true God and true man, reigns now at the right hand of the Father in glorified human flesh. This is your guarantee that you also shall live with God forever.

And He will come again. As the angels declared to the disciples at the Ascension: “This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw Him go into heaven.” Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. That is not wishful thinking. It is certainty.

And while we wait in this little while before His return, our Lord has not left us alone. In today’s Gospel He promises the Helper, the Comforter, the Holy Spirit. Jesus says, “When the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth… He will bear witness about Me.”

That promise was fulfilled at Pentecost and continues still today. The Holy Spirit is given to sustain Christ’s Church during this time between the Ascension and the Lord’s return. For we live in a world hostile to Christ. Satan, the world, and our own sinful flesh tempt us to unbelief. They urge us to live for ourselves, to seek comfort in the passing things of this world, and to forget that Christ is coming again.

But the Holy Spirit keeps calling us back to Jesus. Just as the Lord promised through Ezekiel, “I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you.” The Spirit works through the Means of Grace: through the preaching of the Gospel, through Holy Baptism, through Holy Absolution, and through the Holy Supper of Christ’s body and blood. Through these means the Spirit forgives sins, strengthens faith, and keeps us steadfast while we wait for our Lord’s return.

And so even amid suffering, persecution, weakness, and death, Christians live in confidence and hope. As St. Peter writes in today’s Epistle, “Rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings.” For the same Christ who suffered, died, rose, and ascended also reigns for you now. Nothing can snatch you out of the Father’s hand. Nothing can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

For your Lord has come. Your Lord has died. Your Lord is risen. Your Lord reigns. And your Lord will come again.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian Funeral for Carol Jean Hoffman

(Audio)

John 6:27-40; Romans 8:31-39; Isaiah 65:17-25

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

There are many things that we can say about Carol, but they are not the immediate things that people usually think of. Carol wasn’t a wife or a mother, nor was she a grandmother, or even a sister. Let’s get that out of the way first. Then who was Carol? Carol was a beloved daughter and cousin, and she was a devoted and beloved friend to many. Carol was a child of God and a strong Christian woman of faith who shared her faith with many with kind and encouraging words, wise counsel, loving compassion and charity, and with hugs and tears when appropriate.

And Carol was a teacher, for thirty-eight years! She never married, but Carol had many, MANY children. Roxanne, a former teacher with Carol at Ackley Elementary reflected, “I was so amazed how she knew every date of each student’s birthday; and that was without Google!” One former student, Ryan, wrote, “Ms. Hoffman was one of the most influential teachers I’ve ever had. … William Arthur Ward once wrote, ‘The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.’ Ms. Hoffman inspired.” And I think that Carol’s dear friend Marcia said it best, “God has gained the best second grade teacher in the world!”

Carol was born in Hampton, but she grew up in Humboldt. She attended Humboldt Congregational Church with her parents. Faith, family, and community were formational for Carol from the very beginning. Carol graduated from Humboldt High School and moved to Waverly to pursue her bachelor’s degree in education at Wartburg College. Upon graduation she began teaching second grade at Ackley Elementary. Thirty-eight years later she had touched countless lives with her love, wisdom, kindness, and faith. The Lord made Carol to be salt, leaven, and light, impacting for the better everyone she met. It was natural for Carol. It was her vocation. She was blessed to be a blessing.

Carol knew the value of hard work, says Cousin Linda, the importance of kindness, and the power of love. This is well attested to in the comments and tributes on her obituary page. But if you knew Carol, you didn’t need someone else to tell you. Carol truly cared about people. She wanted to know everything about you, about your spouse, your children, your grandchildren; and she would remember everything…, EVERYTHING! A phone call with Carol would be an hour. A visit in her home, two or three hours. And she’d just ask questions; you did all the talking. She wasn’t prying; she was truly interested, she cared.

Carol loved her church deeply. She sang in the choir for many years, lifting up her voice in praise to the Lord alongside her brothers and sisters in Christ. And many of you know the beautiful painting hanging above the fireplace in the Gathering Room. When the artist Paul Oman came to St. John to create that painting live before the congregation, there was one problem: the committee did not yet have enough money to make the project happen. Carol quietly stepped in and provided the remaining funds because she wanted to be part of something that would bless the congregation. On March 31, 2015, with the church packed full, Jean playing the piano, Scriptures being read, and Paul Oman painting before the congregation, that image came to life. And now it has become an iconic picture here at St. John.

That story is so very Carol. She was kind, generous, giving, and never interested in drawing attention to herself. She simply saw a need and quietly helped. She delighted in things that would encourage others, strengthen the church, and point people to Christ.

When I took the call to serve here at St. John in the Fall of 2017, Carol was still driving and attended service regularly. She would sit in the last row, pulpit side. Within a couple years she gave up driving and became a shut-in. It was then that I started visiting Carol in her home in Eisenach Village. I quickly learned to schedule an appointment and block out the afternoon. The first hour she asked me about my wife, each of my daughters, other pastors we both knew, how the church was going, about people in the church on the prayer list, etc. Then she would reminisce about teaching, friends, the Hawkeyes, and much, much more. We’d commune together and she’d finally say, “Well, Pastor, I know you have a lot to do, I better let you go.” Forty-five minutes later I was on my way.

But I witnessed Carol beginning to lose her independence. She had someone who brought her groceries and put them away, someone who cleaned and made the bed, nurses and therapists, and lots and lots of friends. This is how she managed to continue to live alone. However, inevitably, the time came for her to move to where she could receive twenty-four hour care. This was incredibly, horribly, painfully difficult for Carol. Yet, as much as it hurt and grieved her, she faced it with courageous strength and peace. She never complained. The last few years were particularly difficult as she suffered with swelling in her legs which was often extremely painful. Still, she attended the Thursday Divine Service at Bartels faithfully and she remained positive. She asked about the family, the pastors, the church now every week! Despite her own grief and loss, pain and suffering, she was only interested in others.

Now, where did that come from? That kind of steadfastness, kindness, peace, and selflessness does not simply appear out of nowhere. It was not merely Carol’s personality. It was faith. It was Christ.

Jesus says in John chapter six, “Do not labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to everlasting life.” Carol understood that. She certainly worked hard in this life. She devoted herself to her students, her friends, her family, and her congregation. But underneath all of it was something deeper. Carol knew that this world, as good as many of its gifts are, cannot finally satisfy or save. Health fades. Strength fades. Independence fades. The body weakens. Loved ones die. Carol experienced all of that.

And yet, she remained content and hopeful because her life rested upon something greater than herself. Jesus says, “This is the will of Him who sent Me, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in Him may have everlasting life; and I will raise him up at the last day.” That was Carol’s confidence. Not that she had been perfect. Not that she had earned heaven by being kind or generous or faithful in church attendance. Carol’s confidence was in Christ crucified and risen for sinners.

That faith shaped who Carol was. The kindness, the patience, the compassion, the concern for others, the ability to endure suffering without bitterness, these were fruits of faith. Christ had served Carol with His mercy, and so Carol served others. Christ had loved Carol steadfastly, and so Carol loved others steadfastly. Christ had borne Carol’s griefs and sorrows, and so even in her own suffering she still had room in her heart for other people.

And that is why St. Paul can say in Romans chapter eight, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” Paul does not say Christians will avoid suffering. Carol certainly did not avoid suffering. Paul himself suffered greatly. Rather, he says that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Not tribulation. Not distress. Not sickness. Not weakness. Not grief. Not death itself.

That was true for Carol all the way to the end. Christ did not abandon her when her body weakened. Christ did not abandon her when she had to leave her home. Christ did not abandon her in pain, loneliness, or grief. And Christ has not abandoned her now.

That is our comfort today. Carol belongs to Jesus. She was baptized into Christ. She heard His Word. She received His body and blood. She trusted His promises. And Jesus says very plainly, “Whoever comes to Me I will never cast out.” Never.

And because Christ is risen from the dead, this is not the end of Carol’s story. Isaiah gives us that beautiful picture today: “Behold, I create new heavens and a new earth.” A world without weeping, without pain, without loss, without death. A restored creation. A resurrection creation. That is what Carol now awaits with all the saints who have died in the faith. Her body will rest in the ground, but it will rest in hope. On the Last Day, Christ Himself will raise Carol bodily from the grave, whole and healed forever. Then all the suffering and sorrow of this fallen world will finally be undone.

And so today we grieve. Of course we do. We will miss Carol deeply. We will miss the conversations, the questions, the laughter, the care, the encouragement, and the love. We will miss her voice singing in the choir and her faithful presence among us. But we do not grieve as those who have no hope. For Carol’s Savior lives. And because He lives, Carol lives also.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Feast of the Ascension of Our Lord

(Audio)

Mark 16:14-20; Acts 1:1-11; 2 Kings 2:5-15

 

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

The Ascension of Our Lord Jesus Christ is a Feast of the Incarnation. It is a celebration that the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, became Man. He took up our flesh by means of our distant kinswoman, that royal peasant of David's line from Nazareth, the Virgin Mary. His Holy Spirit overshadowed her. He was conceived within her without the aid of a man, with only God as His Father, His only begotten from eternity, and His only begotten of a woman in time. All this that He might raise up for Himself, in Himself, a worthy sacrifice to atone for all the sinners who ever sinned. God provided the Lamb. The cords binding us to Hell's altar were severed. By being Man, God fulfilled the Law, in His dying, in His rising, and in His ascending.

By becoming one of us, God elevated our position. One of the Holy Three is one of us. God is our Brother. By virtue of that holy Incarnation, His Father is our Father. The Spirit proceeds to us and is our Guide. We enjoy, in this way, greater honor and privilege than did Adam and Eve before the fall. Heaven is better than Eden.

To heaven, that Body, mocked, beaten, nailed to the cruel tree, but raised again, has gone. From there, He sends His Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth, who lives in us, leads us into all Truth, and bears witness of what He has done. From there, He mediates and intercedes. He advocates. At the right hand of the Father, He pleads our case in the scars of His holy office. And yet His Body in heaven is exalted, glorified, for this Man, flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone, ransom for our sin, is also God, has always been God, and will never cease to be God. There is no division between His natures. There is only one Christ. He is capable of being everywhere, for He is omnipresent. He has no limitations save those He sets for Himself. And so, He who ascends into heaven promises to His disciples, and to us, “Lo, I am with you always.” And He is.

His Body ascended. But He is not gone. He is present for us in Word and Sacrament. He is present for us in His Body in the Holy Communion. He who died, lives. He who went away, is here. In His last testament, His dying promise, He said, “This IS my BODY given for you. Do it. Eat it.” It was given on the cross, a sacrifice for guilt, and it is given now as the benefit of that sacrifice, the removal of that guilt, by being eaten. It is the Body crucified, risen, and ascended for you. It joins you to Him by His entrance into you. This is Holy Communion: the uniting of the God-Man to your sinful flesh, sinful no more, but pure and immaculate, as He is pure and immaculate.

This Body is Jacob's ladder. In the Holy Communion, the Feast of His Body, we join with angels and archangels. They descend by this living Bread and join us. Christ has ascended into heaven, and yet Christ is here. He joins us to heaven, to angels, to the saints who have gone before us. We are in heaven, though we stand on earth, for we are with Christ and the holy angels. Our sins are removed, forgiven by Divine declaration and Grace. We feast on the foretaste of the feast that will not end.

This is what the Ascension is about. Not about Christ leaving us, for He has not left. It is about Christ preceding us. He goes to prepare a place for us, even as He is still with us, still for us, still in us. He who broke down the gates of Hell that locked us in has also broken down the gates of heaven that kept us out. His holy, precious blood, and His innocent suffering and death, has paved the way and broken the trail. He is our Captain. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

There is no one to accuse you. There is no more guilt, shame, or regret. Your sins are forgotten. Death is dead. Life lives. Heaven is open. For Christ, our Brother and our Savior, has ascended. He has gone up with a shout. Let the shout be: “Hallelujah!”

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Circuit Conference Matins - Tuesday in the Week of Rogate

(Audio)

Luke 11:5-13; James 5:16-20; Psalm 70:1-5

 

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

This past Sunday the Church observed Rogate, Latin for “to ask,” or “to pray.” The name comes from the Major Rogation Day, April 25, the Feast of St. Mark, and the three Minor Rogation Days preceding The Feast of the Ascension of Our Lord, which were set apart for fasting and prayer in association with the Spring planting season. Rogation Days have the character of humility, repentance, and thanksgiving. In agrarian communities, freshly tilled soil was brought to church, a humble, earthy confession that the Lord provides the soil, the seed, the sun, the rain, the growth, the harvest, and everything needful. We humbly confess our need for His providence, our unworthiness of it, and our thankfulness for it. That is the posture of Rogate. That is the posture of prayer.

But let us consider what prayer actually is, how we should pray, and why. The question is not whether God answers prayer. He does. The question is: What are we actually doing when we pray? Because there is a deep misunderstanding of prayer that even faithful Christians fall prey to, the notion that prayer is how we get God to do something He wasn’t going to do. That if we pray hard enough, sincerely enough, persistently enough, we can change His mind. This is not Christian prayer, but paganism with a cross on top.

Luther understood this. His explanation of the Lord’s Prayer in the Small Catechism is quietly revolutionary. God’s Name is already holy. His kingdom is already coming. His will is already being done. We do not pray to move God. We pray that we might be moved, that our wills would be realigned with His, that we would confess in the most fundamental sense that He is God and we are not. Prayer is not a lever we use to shift heaven. It is the posture of a creature before his Creator, a child before his Father, a bride before her Bridegroom, open-handed, dependent, and trusting. And that posture is good for us, because being in alignment with God’s will is the only place where creaturely life flourishes. The farmer who brings soil to church knows this instinctively. He does not make the seed grow. He plants, and he prays, and he trusts the One who does.

To understand why God hears that prayer, you must understand what happened when the Word became flesh. When our First Parents sinned, they rebelled against God and could no longer stand in His holy presence. Their guilt created a rupture they felt in the marrow of their being. They hid. They covered themselves. Light and darkness cannot share the same space. And yet the LORD did the unthinkable: He penetrated His fallen creation and became a man, “born from the substance of His mother,” perfect God and perfect man. The Holy One plunged Himself into the muck and mire of flesh and blood, sin and death. No longer is there a wall between God and man. Heaven has come down to earth. Heaven’s King has come.

And He did not stop there. Jesus redeemed us by His death upon the cross, and God raised Him, not merely to walk the earth again, but to be seated, in flesh and blood, as a man, at His own right hand in heaven. In the Ascension, a man sits and reigns at the right hand of God the Father Almighty and fills all things. And through faith we are united to that humanity, one flesh with the One who intercedes for us at the Father’s right hand. This is why prayer works. Not because we are eloquent or righteous or persistent enough, but because God hears and answers us as He hears and answers Jesus His Son, our Bridegroom, the Head of His Body the Church. When we cry “Our Father,” the Father hears us as His Son.

And so, our Lord has already told us what to pray. We pray that God’s Name would be hallowed, not just on our lips, but in our lives, our words, our deeds, our vocations. We pray that His kingdom would come and that we would desire its coming. We pray that His will would be done and not our own, as Sunday’s Collect asked, that we would “think those things that are right” and “by His merciful guiding accomplish them.” We pray for daily bread, for forgiveness and the grace to forgive, for deliverance from temptation and the evil one. Every one of these petitions is, by its very nature, a prayer in Jesus’ Name, not because a formula is attached, but because each one is an act of surrender, a relinquishing of our own agenda and a reaching for His.

The Our Father is not a warm-up before the “real” prayers begin. It is not a child’s prayer we graduate beyond. It is the pattern and substance of all Christian prayer, the prayer of a people who know they are dust, who know their Father stooped down to become dust with them, and who trust that He who rose from the dust will raise them too. Like the farmer kneeling in his tilled field, we come with empty hands. We do not tell God what to do. We ask. We seek. We knock. And He, who is never asleep, never reluctant, never locked away, opens.

He is your Father. Ask Him. Believe His Word and live, for Jesus’ sake.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Rogate - The Sixth Sunday of Easter (Easter 6)

(Audio) 

John 16:23-33; James 1:22-27; Numbers 21:4-9

 

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

Today is Rogate Sunday. Today is also Mother's Day. It is fitting that these two commemorations should coincide, for Rogate means “to ask,” and what mother has not prayed and asked the Lord for strength and faith and for all things needful in the care of their child? Mothers know prayer not as a theory but as a necessity, as natural as breathing. And so today, on this Rogate Sunday, we honor them, give thanks to God for them, and together hear our Lord's own teaching on what it means to pray.

“In that day,” Jesus says, “you will ask nothing of Me.” What could He possibly mean? He means this: because of His death and resurrection in your place and for your sake, He has literally given Himself to you. You are in Him, and He is in you, flesh of His flesh, bone of His bones. He is your holy Bridegroom; you, the Church, are His holy Bride. Therefore, all that belongs to Jesus belongs also to you, for you are His body and He is your head. Remember the words from last Sunday's Gospel? “All that the Father has is Mine; therefore I said that the Holy Spirit will take what is Mine and declare it to you.” There is nothing you could possibly ask the Father to give you that is not already yours in Jesus Christ. And so, Jesus says: don't ask Me, rather, “Whatever you ask of the Father in My Name, He will give it to you.”

“In My Name” is the key. The Name of Jesus is not a magical incantation to tack onto the end of a prayer like a coin dropped in a divine vending machine – insert coin, pull lever, receive gift, thank you Jesus. No. The Name of Jesus is Jesus Himself, indeed, the entire Godhead of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. As St. James says, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” To pray in Jesus' Name is to pray in accordance with who He is, everything that is godly and good, everything consistent with His Word, His will, and His commands. Healings, recoveries, and protections from evil are certainly in Jesus' Name, though they are not always granted on our timeline or in our way. New cars and winning lottery tickets? Perhaps, but not likely. What “in Jesus’ Name” most certainly means is that whatever you ask of the Father that is truly in Jesus, He will give you, in His time, in His way, according to His perfect knowledge of what is good.

So, what should we pray for? Our Lord has already answered that question. We should pray that God’s Name would be hallowed among us in our lives, words, and deeds. We should pray that His kingdom would come, that we would desire its coming and live to His glory in the vocations He has given us. We should pray that His will be done, not our own; as we prayed in today's Collect, that we would “think those things that are right” and “by His merciful guiding accomplish them.” We should pray for daily bread, everything we need for body and soul. We should pray for forgiveness, and for grace to forgive others. We should pray for deliverance from temptation and from the evil one. Do you see how every one of these petitions is, by its very nature, a prayer in Jesus’ Name?

Now, prayer is not an option. You are commanded to pray, and to pray is to obey. This is nothing more or less than obedience to the First Commandment, for when you pray, you acknowledge God to be God and confess that you are not. This is the proper order of things, the realignment of Creator and creature. Prayer is a return to your Father, much as the prodigal son returned to his gracious, forgiving father, who was already watching, already waiting, already running down the road to meet him. God is there for you always, no matter how long or how far you have strayed. Pray to Him simply because He is good and because He is God, regardless of what you expect in return. That is not the point. Just pray. It is good for you, it glorifies God, and He has promised to hear and answer in Jesus' Name.

St. Paul says to pray without ceasing. Oh, the confusion those three words have caused! We want to ask, “When, exactly? How often? For how long?” Our sin-corrupted reason hates open-ended commands. “When must I forgive?” “When is it permissible to stop giving?” “When have I prayed enough?” The Lord’s answer is always the same: Always. There is no limit. Think of breathing. You do not decide to breathe, the atmosphere exerts its pressure, and your lungs respond. When we are born into the family of God, we enter a spiritual atmosphere where God's presence and grace press in upon our lives constantly. Prayer is the natural response to that pressure. It is the breath of the new life in Christ. Many believers hold their spiritual breath for long stretches, as if brief moments with God are sufficient, but this starves the soul. We must be continually in the presence of God, breathing in His truth, to be fully alive in Him. Breathe, pray, live.

Your life, in fact, is a prayer to God. As the food and air you take in nourish your body and enable you to live, so prayer nourishes and enlivens you both spiritually and physically. St. James puts it plainly: be “doers of the Word, and not hearers only.” Bridle your tongue. Keep yourself unstained from the world. Visit the orphan and the widow in their affliction. These are not merely acts of charity, they are the outpouring of a life lived in prayer, a life breathed in and breathed out in the presence of God.

And here, once again, we think of mothers. A mother’s love, at its best, is a living image of exactly this. What is a mother’s life but a long act of self-giving, of intercession, of watching over and caring for those entrusted to her? The mother who prays for her child through the night, who speaks God’s Name over a sick or straying son or daughter, who keeps on praying long after it seems anyone is listening, she embodies what Rogate means. She asks. She does not stop asking. And in doing so, she reflects the love of the God who never stops watching, never stops calling, never stops giving.

“I have said these things to you,” Jesus says, “that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” And so, whatever today brings you, whether you are celebrating a beloved mother, or grieving one who has gone ahead to glory, or aching for a relationship that is broken, or longing for the child you never had, take heart. Jesus has overcome. And in Him, in His Name, you already have everything: righteousness, holiness, sonship with the Father, victory over sin and death, and everlasting life.

You do not have to ask of Jesus, all of it is already yours. But whatever you ask in His Name, His Father will give you, that your joy may be full. And lest you doubt it, your Lord Jesus has left you this Sacrament, something physical, visible, tasteable, to remind you that you are in communion with Him, that you are truly His body and He is your head. He gives you His body and blood for the forgiveness of your sins, the strengthening of your faith, and your protection from the assaults of the evil one.

Rogate. Ask. Pray. In Jesus’ Name. That you may have peace, and that your joy may be full.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.