Ash Wednesday

(Audio)

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21; 2 Peter 1:2-11; Joel 2:12-19

 

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

“Remember, O man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” These words are not a symbol. They are not religious poetry. They are the truth of your condition. You are dust. From dust you were formed by the hand of God. To dust you shall return under the sentence of death. The ash placed upon your forehead declares what your sin has earned and what your body cannot escape. It is the mark of mortality, the reminder of judgment, the witness that “the wages of sin is death.” You are dust, and you are dying.

This truth is easily ignored in the noise of daily life. We surround ourselves with distractions. We busy our hands and minds. We imagine that death is distant, belonging always to some later time. Yet the Word of God strips away such illusions. “All flesh is grass.” “The days of our years are threescore years and ten.” The dust clings to you even now. Each passing day carries you toward the grave. Every breath is a gift you cannot preserve. Apart from God, your end is certain and your condition hopeless.

And yet the greater danger is not that you will die, but that you would refuse to hear why death reigns. For death is not natural. It is not merely biological. It is the bitter fruit of sin. Therefore, the LORD calls you through the prophet Joel: “Return to Me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning.”

This is no gentle suggestion. It is the voice of the holy God whom you have offended. For your sins are not small. You have not merely faltered; you have rebelled. You have not merely stumbled; you have turned inward. You have loved the gifts more than the Giver, the world more than its Creator, your own will more than the Word of God. In thought, word, and deed you have sinned. You have neglected prayer. You have excused bitterness. You have justified impurity. You have harbored pride. Even your righteousness is stained by self-interest. Even your best works cannot stand before the holiness of God.

And so, the ashes testify against you. They preach without speaking: “Thus you shall become.” All earthly glory fades. All human strength fails. All that you possess and build shall pass away. The grave awaits every child of Adam. Dust to dust.

Such words crush our pride. They expose the old Adam who would rather boast than repent, who would rather deny death than face judgment. Yet this is precisely why the Church places ashes upon your head and why repentance stands at the door of Lent. “Rend your hearts and not your garments.” True repentance is not outward display, but the breaking of the heart before God, the confession that we are not merely weak, but guilty; not merely flawed, but condemned apart from divine mercy.

And yet the God who declares judgment also declares mercy. “Return to the LORD your God, for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.” The One whom you have offended does not delight in your destruction. The Judge Himself provides your rescue. The God whose law exposes your sin sends His Son to bear it.

For your sake, the eternal Son entered your dust. Jesus Christ took on your flesh, your weakness, your mortality. He did not stand at a distance from your corruption, but placed Himself under it. He bore your sin. He carried your guilt. He submitted Himself to your death. Upon the cross, the sinless One was treated as sin. The Holy One endured judgment. The Author of life entered the darkness of the grave. All that the ashes declare about you, they first declared about Him. There, in that great exchange, your salvation was accomplished. Your guilt laid upon Him. His righteousness given to you. Your death swallowed up in His death. His life pledged to you.

Therefore, return. Return not trusting your sorrow or your resolve, but trusting His mercy alone. Return to your Baptism, where God first claimed you, where He joined you to Christ’s death and resurrection, where He washed you clean and sealed you as His own. The ash upon your head does not erase that promise. Though you are dust, you are dust redeemed by Christ. Though you shall die, you shall die in Him who has conquered death.

But where does this mercy meet you now? Where does the crucified and risen Lord deliver the forgiveness He won? Not in vague feelings. Not in distant memories. But here, at His altar. For the same Lord who went to the cross for you now gives you His true Body and His true Blood. The One who entered death now feeds those who are dying. The One who bore your sin now places into your mouth the price of your redemption.

This is no mere symbol. This is the medicine of immortality. Here, the forgiveness of sins is not merely spoken, but given. Here, Christ does not merely remind you of grace, but delivers it. Here, the dust-bound children of Adam receive the pledge of the resurrection. For what you receive upon this altar is the very Body once laid in the tomb and the very Blood once poured out for sinners. The victory of the cross is placed into your hands. The life that conquered death enters your mortal flesh.

Therefore, come in repentance. Come acknowledging your sin. Come hungering not for earthly bread, but for the Bread of Life. Come, you who are dust and who shall return to dust, and receive the food that endures to eternal life. For the treasures of this world perish. But the gifts of Christ endure. The body decays. But the Body of Christ gives life. Death claims all. But Christ has overcome death. And even now He invites you: “Take, eat.” “Take, drink.” “Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” Return to the LORD — and live.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Quinquagesima

(Audio)

Luke 18:31-43; 2 Corinthians 13:1-13; 1 Samuel 16:1-13

 

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

One of the reasons our Lord taught in parables was, as He Himself says, that “seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand.” That is not because Jesus wished to confuse, but because no one truly sees without Spirit-given eyes, and no one truly hears without Spirit-given ears. A blind man cannot make himself see. A deaf man cannot make himself hear. Hard soil cannot soften itself, nor can rocky and thorny ground make itself fruitful. Only the Holy Spirit does this, where and when it pleases God, by grace alone, through the Word alone, received by faith alone.

This is precisely what we see in the blind man along the road to Jericho. He sat there begging because he was blind. He could not change his condition. He could not improve himself. He lived entirely by mercy. Yet though he was blind, he was not deaf. He could not see, but he could hear. Indeed, he could see with his ears.

Hearing the crowd pass by, he asked what it meant. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” And that was enough. To him it was given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God. The others saw only a traveling teacher. The blind man heard the presence of the Messiah.

Those walking ahead rebuked him and told him to be silent. They treated him as an annoyance, an interruption, an embarrassment. But like seed falling into good soil, the Word had already taken root. He cried out all the more: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Notice what faith does. It does not remain polite. It does not yield to pressure. It clings. It insists. It cries out for mercy because it knows where mercy is found.

And Jesus stopped. “What do you want Me to do for you?” “Lord, let me recover my sight.” “Recover your sight; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he saw, and he followed Jesus, glorifying God. “Your faith has made you well.”

What does this mean? It means exactly what it says. Faith laid hold of Jesus and His Word. The man’s healing did not begin with his eyes but with his ears. Before he ever saw Jesus with bodily sight, he saw rightly by faith. He recognized what others missed: this was the Son of David, the promised Christ, the Lord of mercy. Faith makes well because faith clings to Jesus, and Jesus is forgiveness, life, and salvation.

Here is the great irony of the text: the blind man sees what the seeing do not, even the disciples. Just before this encounter, Jesus plainly tells them what awaits Him in Jerusalem: betrayal, mockery, suffering, death, and resurrection. Yet St. Luke tells us they understood none of these things. The meaning was hidden from them. They had eyes, but they did not yet see.

The blind man had no eyes, yet he saw truly. Why? Because faith does not rely on human reason or appearances. Faith trusts the Word of Christ, even when that Word contradicts expectation. A suffering Messiah? A crucified Lord? Salvation through death? These things remain hidden to natural sight.

And so it is also with the baptism of little Grace this morning. There is no clearer picture of our complete passivity before God than an infant brought to the font. Grace did not choose to be here. She did not decide for Christ. She cannot comprehend language. Others speak for her. And yet we believe, teach, and confess that in Baptism she receives exactly what God promises: forgiveness of sins, the gift of the Holy Spirit, rescue from death and the devil, and union with Christ. Why? Not because it fits human logic. Not because it satisfies reason. But because of the Word of God: “Let the little children come to Me.” “Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved.” “Baptism now saves you.”

Faith sees what eyes cannot. Faith hears what reason resists. Faith trusts what God declares. We must learn to see with our ears — to receive God’s gifts as He gives them, not as we would design them.

This is the lesson Samuel had to learn. Sent to anoint Israel’s next king, he naturally looked for stature, strength, and outward impressiveness. But the LORD corrected him: “Man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.” God’s ways consistently overturn human judgment.

The same correction appears in St. Paul’s teaching. Spectacular gifts, impressive abilities, outward displays of spirituality, these mean nothing without love. Apart from Christ’s love, even the most dazzling works are only noise.

Natural sight always misjudges. Human wisdom always misleads. Left to ourselves, we are the blind man. But here is the Gospel: the Lord has not left you to yourself. You are here because the Holy Spirit has given you ears to hear and eyes to see. He has called you by the Gospel, enlightened you with His gifts, sanctified and kept you in the true faith.

Yet the Christian life is not a moment but a pilgrimage. Faith must endure. Vision must be continually restored. The world, the flesh, and the devil never cease their attempts to silence the cry for mercy. And so our Lord’s question remains ever before us: “What do you want Me to do for you?” The faithful answer never changes: “Lord, have mercy.”

In a few days we begin again the holy season of Lent — a pilgrimage of repentance, of renewed hearing, of restored sight. We return because the Lord calls us to return. We return because He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. We return because there is One who receives sinners.

Like beggars along the roadside, we come with empty hands and persistent voices. And where does Jesus stop for us now? Where does He open blind eyes and forgive sins? Where does He give Himself to those who cry for mercy? Here. At His altar. For we are indeed going up to Jerusalem, not merely as history, but as present reality. The crucified and risen Lord reigns even now as our Prophet, Priest, and King. And here He does what faith alone can see and believe. Here He feeds His people with His own Body and Blood. Here mercy is not requested but given. Here sight is not restored to the eyes but to the soul.

So cry out with the blind man. Cling to the Word. Come as beggars. For the Son of David is passing by, and He stops to be merciful.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Sexagesima

(Audio)

Luke 8:4-15; 2 Corinthians 11:19 – 12:9; Isaiah 55:10-13

 

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

We would like to believe that the Gospel is simply “out there” for anyone to take up if only he will choose it, that faith is a decision within our grasp. But nothing could be further from the truth. Holy Scripture and our own experience testify otherwise. It is only by the grace of God and the work of the Holy Spirit through the Word of God that the soil of the human heart is made receptive. Thus, we confess with Luther in the explanation of the Third Article: “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith.”

That confession gives us the right ears with which to hear today’s Gospel. In the Parable of the Sower, Jesus speaks of crop failure three times before He comes to the sowing that bears fruit. Three failures. One success. Why is there so often a bad harvest when the seed of the Word of God is sown? Why does the Gospel seem to be wasted on so many? Jesus is unsentimental about the answer. There is something in fallen humanity that resists the Word. The seed is good; the problem is the soil. Seventy-five percent of the soils in the parable do not bear lasting fruit.

The Word of God shows us not only how faith is created, but also how unbelief is exposed. That is the nature of Jesus’ parables. They are not moral illustrations meant to inspire effort. They are revelatory and divisive. They create faith where and when it pleases God, and at the same time they unmask the hardness, shallowness, and distraction of hearts that reject the Word.

Jesus Himself tells us that His parables concern “the mysteries of the kingdom of God.” The kingdom does not give advice to the capable; it gives grace to the unworthy. It is received not by those who assume they are strong, perceptive, or spiritually competent, but by those who hunger and thirst for mercy and know they do not deserve it. The one who understands the parables is not the clever hearer, but the repentant one. And even that understanding is not self-produced. It is worked by the Holy Spirit through the Word and by grace alone.

So, Jesus presses the issue of hearing. It is not enough simply to hear sounds with the ears. You must hear with Spirit-given ears. Many hear the Word, but few believe it. Many believe for a while, but few persevere. Many show signs of life, but only some bear fruit with patience. Yet those who do bear fruit bear it abundantly – thirty-, sixty-, even a hundredfold. Hearing ears and fruitful lives are gifts. They are not achievements. They are granted by the Holy Spirit through the Word of God.

This means that the Word of God is never weak, never ineffective, never at fault. If there is no fruit, the problem is not the seed. The Lord says through the prophet Isaiah: “My Word that goes out from my mouth shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” Sometimes that purpose is hardening and judgment. “Seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand,” Jesus says. But to those whom the Spirit grants ears to hear, it is “given to know the secrets of the kingdom of God.”

And here is the greatest secret of all: the power is not finally in the soil, but in the Seed itself. The true Seed in the parable is not merely a message, but a Person. The Seed is the Word made flesh, the Word-Son of God, Jesus Christ. He Himself teaches us, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”

Jesus is the Seed sown by the Father: conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, planted in the earth by His death, and raised again to bestow life that never ends. His cross is the sowing. His tomb is the furrow. His resurrection is the harvest. From His death flows forgiveness of sins; from His risen life flows faith, perseverance, and fruit in His people. Any fruit the faithful bear in their lives – faith, love, confession, good works – is not their own creation, but the fruit of Christ’s own life at work in them.

To receive the Seed, then, is to receive the Word. And that means seeking Jesus where He has promised to be found. This is what even His own family once failed to understand when they sought Him on their own terms. Jesus is found in His Father’s house – first in the tabernacle and the temple, and now in the Church. He is found where His Word is preached and His Sacraments are given according to His institution.

The prophet Isaiah urges us, “Seek the LORD while He may be found.” That is not a threat, but an invitation filled with urgency. Do not postpone what God gives today. Do not imagine that neglecting the Word has no cost. Hard soil does not become good soil by accident. Shallow roots do not deepen on their own. Thorns are never removed by neglect. The Spirit works through means, and those means are given now.

This is why the Third Commandment matters so deeply. “Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy.” And what does this mean? “We should fear and love God so that we do not despise preaching and His Word, but hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it.” To absent oneself from the Word is not neutrality; it is danger. To gladly hear it is not duty alone; it is life.

And hearing does not stop with preaching. The same Word who is sown into ears places Himself into your mouth. In the Holy Supper, the Seed gives Himself as true food and drink for sinners: His body given for you, His blood shed for you. Here Christ sustains the faith He has created. Here He strengthens weak roots, guards against the scorching heat of trial, and chokes out the thorns of sin and unbelief with His forgiveness.

So, hear the Word. Hear it often. Hear it where Christ has promised to be. Come to His house. Receive His preaching. Seek Him at His altar. For the Seed is faithful, the Sower is generous, and where the Spirit gives ears to hear, the harvest will surely come.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian Funeral for David Jay Aschbrenner

(Audio)

John 14:1-6; Romans 8:31-39; Isaiah 43:1-3, 25

 

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

It seems appropriate to say “gone too soon” when a man like Dave, in his early 60s, is taken from us. Not just any man, but a husband, a father, a grandfather; a friend, a veteran, a brother in Christ. Dave survived many difficulties in life, even service in Desert Storm – for which we are eternally grateful – and now he is “gone too soon.” What then shall we say to these things?

What shall we say when nothing seems to make sense? What shall we say when no words can bring him back? What shall we say when human words fail, when grief edges toward despair, and tears harden into heartache? What then shall we say to these things?

Perhaps it’s best to say nothing at all. Perhaps it’s best to sit in silence and let God’s Word speak. For our gracious and merciful God does have something to say. Let us pause our struggle to find the right words and listen to what our Lord declares.

From Isaiah: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” You see those words on the banner over there, with Dave’s name woven in. The LORD knew Dave by name before he was born, even before he was conceived. The LORD knew Dave’s name and prepared the works he would do before there was a Dave to walk them out. More than that, the LORD knew He would redeem Dave, forgive all his sins in Jesus, before there was a Dave, before his first sin, before the world itself. “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.”

Forgiveness, mercy, grace, that’s what we long to hear, what we need to hear. Dave was a good man: a devoted husband, father, grandfather; a loyal friend, soldier, patriot, worker, American. We could list all sorts of good things about him, and it might warm our hearts. But the truth is, none of that matters for salvation or life after death. Being good won’t open heaven’s gates, but faith in the Good Man, Jesus, will.

God so loved the world – God so loved Dave, and you – that He gave His only Son to death on the cross, so that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. As Romans declares: “If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things?” Nothing – nothing – can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Dave loved to build and tinker. He crafted his own “Man Shed,” stocked with heat, A/C, microwave, fridge, even a hammock – everything but running water! He hosted parties for family and friends, cheering on the Steelers or watching the races. An avid tool collector, he scoured flea markets, sales, and auctions for them. Most of all, he cherished his motorcycles, riding off for hours or days with Catherine.

Dave adored his family, especially you grandchildren. He treasured those vacations to the Henry Doorly Zoo, trips to Adventureland, picnics in the park. He loved camping at Cedar Bend, hiking and biking the trails; heading to Wisconsin Dells for dinner adventures – the fried chicken was legendary, though he was just as content at Pizza Ranch. He loved his kids and grandkids so deeply that, on his own birthday, he’d let you pick the spot: McDonald’s it often was.

Dave loved you, and you loved Dave. Love comes from God, for God is love. God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, for Dave, for you, for us all. Jesus taught that the greatest love is to lay down your life for others. Dave showed this love in countless ways, small and great. While that brings smiles or tender tears, it’s not the source of our comfort, peace, and hope today. No, those flow from God’s promises, confirmed, sealed, and fulfilled in Jesus Christ. Dave was a child of God, purchased and cleansed in Christ’s blood. God made a promise to Dave in Jesus, a promise Dave was baptized into, and God does not break His promises.

“Let not your hearts be troubled,” Jesus says in John’s Gospel. “Believe in God; believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going.” Thomas – yes, Doubting Thomas – replied, “Lord, we do not know where You are going. How can we know the way?” Sadly, many in our world, even some baptized, seem not to know the way, or they have lost it along the journey. Jesus answered plainly: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.”

Yes, Jesus is the way. Jesus is the only way. But Jesus is for all – for everyone, for you. Jesus was for Dave. And because of that, we hold comfort, peace, and hope amid grief, sorrow, and tears. God keeps His promises; His promise to Dave and to you is in Jesus. Blessed are those who die in the Lord, for they rest with Him. We will see them again, and no one can steal that joy from us.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Septuagesima

(Audio)

Matthew 20:1-16; 1 Corinthians 9:24 – 10:5; Exodus 17:1-7

 

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

St. Paul often compares the Christian faith and life to a footrace. In a footrace, one runs to obtain a perishable prize. In the race that is the Christian faith and life, however, we run to obtain an imperishable prize, life with Jesus that will never end. In this race it is not about finishing first, but about finishing at all. It is not a competition, and all who finish the race receive the same prize. Therefore, we do not begrudge those who entered the race later than we did, but rejoice that they are running with us, encouraging and helping one another to endure to the end and obtain the prize.

And the prize is grace. You do not deserve it, and you cannot earn or merit it. Grace is given freely to all who will not refuse it. It is the most perfect of gifts. You must receive it as a gift, or you will not receive it at all. So set aside your sinful concerns about fairness and equity, for those have to do with merit, and no amount of merit can ever earn this prize.

Grace. Amazing grace. How sweet the sound. And yet, tragically, our sinful flesh and reason do not much like grace. “It can’t be that easy,” we say. “I’ve been a Christian all my life; that person just became a believer.” “I’m in church every Sunday; I give offerings; I’ve served on boards and committees; that has to count for something.” Yes, it does count for something, but only by grace, and by grace alone. And the same grace given to you is given to others as well, such is the generosity of the Father. Do you begrudge Him for showing the same grace to them that He has shown to you? Is He not free to do as He pleases with what belongs to Him?

Our resistance to grace reveals a deeper sin: our resistance toward God Himself. Our flesh and reason do not wish to be in debt to the LORD. We want to be free, self-sufficient, masters of our own lives. If we work, we believe we deserve our wages. We want to be gods unto ourselves, and that was the first sin. What it earns is only death. From that sin flow resentment, fear, anger, and bitterness, not only toward God, but toward our neighbor as well. We do not want God’s grace, and we do not want anyone else to have it either.

God’s people of old showed this very sin in the wilderness. They grumbled against the God who had rescued them from slavery and death in Egypt, accusing Him of intending to kill them by thirst. We do the same whenever we are dissatisfied with His gifts and providence. We look at what our neighbor has and resent it, or we imagine that what we have was earned, while what they have was given freely. But what do we actually deserve? Death. And what does God give us? Grace. Amazing grace.

And how did God respond to His people’s grumbling? He stood upon a rock and had Moses strike it in the presence of the people. God submitted Himself to be struck, and life-giving water poured forth so that the people might drink and live. St. Paul tells us that the Rock was Christ. He submitted Himself to be struck by us upon the cross. From His pierced side flowed blood and water, sin-cleansing blood and life-giving water. Jesus is the Rock cleft for us, in whom we find forgiveness, life, and salvation.

The LORD fed them and gave them drink, and yet they still grumbled and complained. They were dissatisfied and discontent. They accused the LORD of evil toward them, and many were overthrown in the wilderness. They were in the race, but they did not finish it. The prize was given freely, but it was received only by those who endured to the end.

So, St. Paul warns us: “I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control.” An athlete disciplines his body not to earn the prize, but to reach the finish. Feeding the body with what does not nourish, or indulging in what dulls and distracts, only hinders the race. We must keep our eyes on the prize and beware of those things that might keep us from finishing.

“But Pastor,” you might say, “if all that matters is finishing the race, what harm is there in slowing down or taking a few diversions along the way?” The harm is this: you do not know when the race will end. It will end either with your death or with the Lord’s return on the Last Day, and you know neither the day nor the hour. Therefore, stay awake, be watchful, and discipline body and soul, that you may finish the race.

The season of Lent is given to us for this very purpose. It is an opportunity to recommit ourselves to those disciplines that help keep us in the race by fixing our eyes on the prize. The Church has long observed Lent with prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, not as works that earn merit, but as gifts that sustain faith. Prayer includes faithful participation in the Divine Service and Lenten services, along with daily devotion at home. Fasting trains the body to receive God’s gifts with gratitude rather than entitlement. Almsgiving teaches us to share freely what we ourselves have received by grace. These disciplines do not earn the prize; they help us endure to the end in faith.

The vineyard is the LORD’s, and in His grace He has called us to labor in it. The work is gift, and the reward is gift. All is grace. You lose nothing by sharing it with others. Even if someone takes from you, you have lost nothing at all. Your LORD invites you to live in the freedom and joy of His grace, and to finish the race rejoicing in Him.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

From Babylonian Captivity to Confessional Revival in the LCMS

When I entered seminary (CTSFW) in 1998, Al Barry was Synod President and things were beginning to click in a decidedly “confessional” way. CTSFW had clawed its way back out of the Schmiel administration and was growing stronger and stronger, and its classes of new seminarians larger and larger. The LCMS was in the midst of a confessional revival, so it seemed. Then, Barry died when I was on vicarage in early 2001. Bob Kuhn filled the vacancy until the Synod Convention in July elected Gerald Kieschnick LCMS President. Kieschnick served for three terms (9 years), a period of time I refer to as the Babylonian Captivity of the Church Redux. During Kieschnick’s presidency the LCMS was “rode hard and put away wet.” Kieschnick seemingly worked furiously to undo the confessional reforms that had been made, and to re-make the LCMS into a PresbyMethoBaptiCostal church (Ablaze!^TM, CoWo, Promise Keepers, The Porpoise Drivel Life, etc.). Kieschnick’s coup de grace was a complete restructuring of LCMS governance placing central power in the Synod President and closely administrated superboards.

Young pastors and laity today likely have no idea how bad things were getting for confessional pastors and congregations, and for Confessional Lutheranism in general. Come the 2010 Synod Convention, Kieschnick would see upwards of 85% of his restructuring plan passed, and he was poised to be elected to a fourth term to reign over it. Only, that’s not what happened, Deo gratias! Synod passed the lion’s share of Kieschnick’s restructuring and then handed over the gavel to Matt Harrison who accepted it with a bit of shock and great humility.

We have been blessed to have Matt Harrison as Synod President these past 16 years. Under his presidency confessional Lutheranism has flourished. Our seminaries are more united in doctrine and practice than ever since Seminex, more congregations are celebrating the Divine Service every Sunday and using one of the approved liturgies of the Lutheran Service Book, confessional Lutheran pastors and laity serve throughout Synod boards and commissions, and so much more. Even the COP is stronger, more unified, and more confessional than it has likely been in the past seventy-five years. No, Harrison and his administration have not been perfect, nor do we expect them to be. However, gratitude is due, if you only know and understand what could have been and stop to appreciate what we have and thank God in humility.

 

The current generation of young pastors do not know this history, haven’t experienced the tentatio and anfechtungen of the Scmiel or Kieschnick years, and have not the wisdom gained from patient, humble service, teaching, battles, etc. to appreciate or to even understand the congregations they are now called to serve. Many take what they have for granted and attempt to “build” upon it with things that are not bad in themselves, but unnecessary, and certainly “push the envelope,” with seemingly little knowledge, wisdom, understanding, or gratitude for the hard work that has been done there over the past two or three decades.

 

I’ve seen the comments on social media, read the blogs, listened to the podcasts, and have observed the rise of the programs and movements. They all speak with a great zeal about how we haven’t taught and exhorted the faithful to make use of Confession and Absolution, how the hymnal has non-Lutheran and too many post-16^th century hymns, the railing against numerous Divine Service Settings (hey, I don’t like them either!), etc. And they push for more serious expressions of piety, from head coverings to male-only suffrage, to an insistence that the results of new lectionary research must be implemented immediately if we are to be truly confessional. I assure you, they couldn’t be pushing for any of these things today if it hadn’t been for the 20 – 30 years of faithful confessional Lutheran ministry, preaching, and teaching that resulted in the congregations and pastors this current generation of pastors grew up in.

So, if you’ll take a little advice from one of those who have passed through a little tentatio and anfechtungen, slow down, show a little humility and gratitude, and “strive to excel in building up the Church.” Hey, I appreciate your zeal and that many of the things you desire are good, right, and true. This gives me a great amount of hope and encouragement for the future of the LCMS and the Lutheran Confession and Faith in general. Take a moment and consider how it is that you are able to push for and implement these things? You have a luxury that you do not seem to recognize, fought for by those who came before you, many of whom suffered grievously for what we take for granted today.

Pax Christi. And stay off my lawn!

Christian Funeral for Duane Clarence Bahlmann

(Audio)

John 14:1-6; Romans 8:31-39; Isaiah 43:1-3, 25

 

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

Duane may have been a man of few words in his later years, but he held more than a few opinions throughout his life, particularly about religion, faith, and the Ten Commandments, and he let you know it. Those weren’t just opinions to him; they were convictions formed by the Word of God and the faith he had been given. He wanted his kids and his grandkids to know their catechism, and he would regularly drill them on the Ten Commandments and the articles of the Apostles’ Creed. Rote memory wasn’t sufficient; Duane wanted them to truly understand the explanations in their own words. After the first three commandments about fearing, loving, and trusting in God above all things, the Fourth Commandment was the most important to Duane: “Honor thy father and thy mother.” To Duane, that meant, “Do what your parents tell you!” Yes, the chores had to be done, the Lord commanded it. But not on Sunday; that was the Day of Rest.

That desire for a faith that endured beyond youth and strength I saw firsthand the first time I visited Duane and Ann in their home. Duane prayed the Divine Service liturgy with me from memory, a blessed gift he would retain even in his last years and months, when the words he spoke were often limited to “yes” and “no” and he slept more than he was awake. “Hi Duane, it’s Pastor.” “Yes.” “Would you like to receive communion?” “Yes.” Then, as I spoke the words of Confession, the Apostles’ Creed, the Words of Institution, and the Lord’s Prayer, Duane’s lips moved along word for word. This is what Duane wanted for his kids and grandkids: a faith that wasn’t just head memory, but heart memory, words that would stay with you even when the head wasn’t as clear as it once was.

That same care and attentiveness showed itself in how Duane loved his family. He was always looking out for the needs of others, especially those closest to him. He attended every concert and sports game he could make it to. He worked with the oldest grandkids on their softball skills, throwing and catching balls in his backyard. He loved to hear how things were going with the grandkids. And when one of them brought a hen into the house for him to see, Duane responded by clucking back at the chicken.

Along with that steady faith and devotion, Duane had a playful, ornery streak. You could see it in that little spark in his eye. He loved to bang on a door or jump out from around a corner to make you jump and scream. He told a nephew that the birthday cake was his. He’d get you to help with cleaning fish, only to throw one into the bucket next to you and splash fish water all over you, all in good fun. Duane believed in chores: one would set the table, another would wash the dishes, and another would dry them. This provided opportunities to secretly dispose of undesirable vegetables when Duane wasn’t looking. Feeding them to the dog didn’t work either; the dog didn’t like them and would cough up the evidence under the table.

Duane also knew how to enjoy the gifts of this life. He loved to play cards – 500, pinochle, schafkopf, and cribbage. He enjoyed playing pool and cheering on the Chicago Cubs, especially during that amazing 2016 World Series win. I’m glad he got to see that; the rest of us will have to wait another hundred years. He enjoyed woodworking in his garage, building cedar chests for his granddaughters and memory chests for his grandsons. He built bookcases for his kids so they wouldn’t leave books laying all over the house, and hall trees for them to hang their coats on, for the same reason.

Duane and Ann were married in 1958 and were fixtures in church on Sunday mornings for sixty-seven years. Duane served as an usher. When Eugene and Shirley Huck got married, Duane and Chuck went downstairs to get more chairs because they had run out in the sanctuary, even though they weren’t officially family yet, only dating Ann and Betty. That was Duane: always ready to lend a helping hand. When Dawn’s son was born premature and was in the ICU, Duane drove to Ottumwa to sit with her. That wasn’t just being kind; that was Duane’s faith and love in action.

Duane was baptized shortly after birth. He was raised in the Christian faith and made confession of that faith publicly when he was confirmed after years of catechesis. He instructed his children and grandchildren and raised them in the faith. Well done, good and faithful servant. And yet, the hope we have today does not rest on Duane’s works, but on the promises of God, promises Duane believed, confessed, and trusted.

Thus says the LORD: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine… I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins.”

“If God is for us, who can be against us?… Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?… Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

“Let not your hearts be troubled… Jesus said, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’”

These are the promises Duane knew well. He taught them to you, and he lived them in his life, words, and deeds. We take comfort that Duane is with Jesus at rest and at peace. While we grieve not seeing him now, we are happy for him, and we know that we will see him again in the presence of Jesus in heaven. No one will take that joy from us.

Ann, Rick, Teresa, Melodee, John, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, family, friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, let not your hearts be troubled. In the Father’s house there are many rooms; there is a room for you also, prepared for you by your Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Believe and trust in Him, just as Duane did, and you will have peace as you make your way through the valley of the shadow of death into the Father’s house forevermore. There you will see those you love who have died in the faith again with your own eyes, hear them again with your own ears, and hold them again with your own arms. This our Lord has achieved for us and has promised us. Believe it for Jesus’ sake.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord

(Audio)

Matthew 17:1-9; 2 Peter 1:16-21; Exodus 34:29-35

 

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

The arrival of the Magi and their gifts, the boy Jesus in the temple, Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan, His changing water into wine at Cana, His miraculous healings and resurrections – all the epiphanies of this season have been pointing us toward this moment. They lead us to this unique, magnificent, and glorious mountaintop experience: the revelation of Jesus’ glory before His closest disciples in the Transfiguration of Our Lord.

Those earlier epiphanies hinted at who Jesus is. The Wise Men brought strange gifts – gold for a king, frankincense for a priest, and myrrh for one who would die. John the Baptist saw heaven opened, the Spirit descend, and heard the Father’s voice declare, “This is my beloved Son.” At Cana, water became wine, and the disciples believed when they saw His glory revealed. Each sign lifted the veil just a little more. Now, on the mountaintop, the veil is pulled back farther than ever before.

Peter, James, and John, whose faith had been growing throughout Jesus’ ministry, saw what had only been suggested before. Jesus’ face shone, His clothing blazed with divine light. Moses and Elijah appeared with Him, showing in type and fulfillment who Jesus is and what He came to do. From Moses, who received the Law on stone tablets, to Elijah, the great prophet, the whole Old Testament bore witness to Christ and found its fulfillment in Him.

Once again, the Father spoke: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” But this time He added something more: “Listen to Him.” That command is crucial. The disciples believed because they had seen and heard. Yet now, seeing and hearing overwhelmed them. They fell on their faces, terrified. The glory was more than they could bear. But Jesus came to them, touched them, and said, “Rise, and have no fear.” When they looked up, Moses and Elijah were gone. The radiance had faded. There was only Jesus. And that, dear saints, is the point.

Peter, James, and John formed Jesus’ inner circle. These three were chosen for this penultimate epiphany before the fullness of His glory would be revealed – not on a mountain, but on a cross. They had to learn that God’s glory is not found where the world looks for it: in power, wealth, spectacle, or triumph. Instead, God’s glory is revealed in humility, suffering, and self-giving love.

Just six days earlier, Peter had confessed rightly, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” He got the who right. But when Jesus began to teach what the Christ had come to do – to suffer, die, and rise again – Peter objected. He wanted glory without the cross. And for that, Jesus rebuked him sharply: “Get behind me, Satan.”

That context matters. When Peter sees Jesus transfigured in glory, along with Moses and Elijah, his zeal once again runs ahead of understanding. “Lord, it is good that we are here,” he says. He wants to build tents. He wants to stay. He wants to preserve the moment. But the glory cannot be preserved – not yet. The fullness of Jesus’ glory will be revealed only through His suffering, death, and resurrection. Peter could not see that then. The disciples could not see it. And if we are honest, neither do we.

We still struggle to see glory in lowliness, victory in weakness, life in death. That is why Epiphany, culminating in the Transfiguration, matters so deeply. Epiphany reveals who Jesus is, and just as importantly, what He came to do. The Scriptures help us understand this by taking us back to another mountain. Moses went up Mount Sinai and received the Law of God, holy, righteous, and good. But the Law also revealed humanity’s inability to keep it. That was its purpose: to drive sinners away from themselves and toward God’s mercy. When Moses came down from the mountain, his face shone because he had been in the presence of God’s glory.

But notice the difference here. The glory that shone from Moses was reflected glory. The glory that shone from Jesus came from within Him. Jesus was not merely in the presence of God, He is God in the flesh. That is who Jesus is. Yet remaining on the mountain was never the goal. Staying in glory, on the mountain or in heaven, was not what Jesus came to do. He came down. Down into the valleys where sin, suffering, and death reign. Immediately after the Transfiguration, Jesus encounters a demon-possessed boy and heals him. Soon after, He sets His face steadfastly toward Jerusalem and the cross. That is where His glory would be fully revealed. The cross and the empty tomb are the true mountaintop of God’s glory.

And so today, we too descend the mountain. We bid farewell to our Alleluias for a time, not because joy is gone, but to remind us that God’s glory is not an emotion to chase. It is grace to receive. Mercy to be given. Forgiveness poured out through the sacrifice of the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. As the Church, we enter a season of preparation. Pre-Lent and Lent call us to repentance, to fasting, to self-examination, not for their own sake, but so that we may fix our eyes once again on Christ and His cross. These weeks count us down toward Easter, toward the resurrection, toward the promise that we too will dwell with Christ in glory, body and soul reunited and glorified.

And yet, Peter was not wrong. “Lord, it is good that we are here.” It is good to be here, in the presence of Christ as He comes to us now. Not in dazzling light, but veiled in His Word. In water that cleanses sinners. In bread and wine that are His true body and blood, given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins. Here, Jesus touches us and says, “Rise, and have no fear.”

Here, we remain with Him until the day He comes again in glory.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Second Sunday after Epiphany (Epiphany 2)

(Audio)

John 2:1-11; Ephesians 5:22-33; Amos 9:11-15

 

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

It’s notable that in the Gospel account of Jesus’ first miracle, the changing of water into wine, the miracle itself seems almost of secondary importance. In fact, no one even realizes what has happened, save for Jesus and His disciples. Indeed, the miracle itself is not really the point, nor even the wedding, but rather that Jesus “manifested His glory” before His disciples, and they believed in Him.

John does not even call this a miracle, but a sign. This is the first of seven signs in John’s Gospel, and each one reveals who Jesus is and what He has come to do. These signs cannot be grasped by just anyone. They are not recognized by human wisdom or observation, but only by revelation. A person cannot see Christ’s glory unless it is given to be seen. In Christ, God has stepped into the world to establish a new kingdom and a new covenant.

The old stone water jars stood there as symbols of the old covenant. They were used for the purification rites of the Jews, who had to ceremonially wash themselves of uncleanness before participating in the rites and rituals according to the Law. Yet this washing was ultimately futile. No amount of water could wash away the stain of even a single sin. And once the jars were empty, they would simply be filled again, and again to the brim. What was needed was a new purification altogether, one that would not merely cover sin for a time and then need repeating, but one that would actually take sin away once and for all.

That is what the wine signifies: forgiveness for sins, holiness for the unrighteous, joy for sadness and despair, life for death. Though His hour had not yet come, the hour of His Passion when His glory would be fully revealed, Jesus grants this sign beforehand so that His disciples might believe in Him. In this quiet and almost unnoticed way, Jesus shows that He has come to fulfill the Law’s demands for us. He takes our uncleanness upon Himself and gives us, in exchange, His innocence, righteousness, and life.

This was no ordinary wine, but the best wine. For this wine points to the wine of Jesus’ blood poured out for us, and to His flesh given for the life of the world. The fullness of this revelation would be saved for His hour, when He would truly save the best for last. All the guests at the wedding drank of this wine, yet few knew from where it came. But those who did know, His disciples, were sustained by it as they were prepared to go forth and proclaim the Good News to all the world, even at the cost of their lives.

It was not only a wedding party that had run out of wine, but the children of Israel themselves. This was the condition of all humanity before Christ. The prophet Amos describes it as “the booth of David that is fallen,” a kingdom in ruins. Yet the LORD promises to repair its breaches, to raise up its ruins, and to rebuild it. Through Amos, the LORD speaks of restoration in this way: “The mountains shall drip sweet wine, and all the hills shall flow with it.” He promises to restore His people, to plant them on their land, never again to be uprooted. The redemption of God’s people is like the very best of wines.

This is the glory that would finally be revealed in Jesus when His hour came on a dark Friday afternoon more than two thousand years ago. Through the prophet Isaiah, the LORD had long promised, “On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine… He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from all faces.” That feast is still to come in its fullness, to be revealed on the Last Day, the Day of Christ’s return and the resurrection of the dead.

Yet even now, we already partake of a foretaste of that feast at this holy altar. Here the Lamb whom God has provided gives Himself to us to eat and to drink, His body and His blood, in remembrance of Him and all that He has said and done, and in communion with Him until He comes again.

Every feast has a bridegroom. And that is why this sign takes place at a wedding. Jesus’ first sign has everything to do with marriage after all. Jesus did not regard a wedding as something merely secular or worldly. If that were so, He would not have been there. Yet not only is Jesus present, but also His mother and His disciples. God Himself created man and woman and joined them together as one flesh, that they should be fruitful and multiply. This was God’s first blessing upon humanity.

Marriage is not an invention of man, nor merely a social arrangement, but a gift of God. Scripture offers no vision of human flourishing that runs contrary to marriage and the bearing of children. Celibacy, as St. Paul teaches, is a special calling and gift given to some, but marriage remains God’s good and gracious order for most.

And why marriage? Because marriage is given so that we might better understand, however imperfectly because of sin, the kind of love and relationship God desires to have with us. God does not merely desire to be our God; He desires to be our husband. The Church is His Bride. Yes, God desires to marry you, and more than that, to make you fruitful with His own life and love.

That is why the Church has long spoken of the Lord’s Supper as a foretaste of the marriage feast of the Lamb in His kingdom, which has no end. In this feast, we, the Bride of Christ, are joined as one flesh with our Bridegroom. His life becomes our life, and He makes us fruitful in love toward one another, all to the glory of His holy Name.

Like those first disciples at Cana, we know where this wine comes from.

Come, then, and join in Cana’s feast, until He comes.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Loving with God's Love

I know that we’ve just turned the page on a new year, and yet here we are halfway through January and Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. Already the stores are filled with red and pink mylar, heart-shaped boxes of chocolate, and red and pink wrapped candies. The season of love is upon us!

Love. There’s an important word that has become so overused and distorted that it’s become almost meaningless. Today love can mean anything. Indeed, the cliché “Love is Love” is about as meaningless a statement as there can be, for if love can mean anything, then love has lost its meaning altogether.

Love does have meaning in the Holy Scriptures. In fact, the Greek language of the New Testament often uses different words to highlight different aspects of love: eros (romantic love; the love between a husband and wife), philia (brotherly love; the shared love among people), storge (familial love; the love between parents and children), and agape(unconditional love; the love God has for all people, and the love to which His people are called). Each of these words reflects a distinct and meaningful aspect of love. I suppose the challenge for us English speakers is that English has only one word for love.

When I was a young boy in elementary school, I remember kids struggling to clarify the meaning of the word like, which is related to love: “Do you like Suzie? Or do you LIKE like Suzie?” I assure you, there was a HUGE difference between those two usages of the word “like.”

Love originates in God, who is love (agape) (1 John 4:8). We cannot truly love others if we do not first receive and return love for God, who is love. This truth is encapsulated in the First Commandment: “You shall have no other gods.” In his Small Catechism, Martin Luther explains the First Commandment this way: “We should fear, love, and trust in God above all things.” Moreover, we can only give to others what we first have ourselves. Before we can love others, we must first have God’s love. The result is that when we love others, we love them with God’s love, the very same love we have received from Him. The same is true with other gifts of our Lord: when we give to others, we give of the Lord’s gifts; when we forgive others, we forgive with the Lord’s forgiveness.

True love, love that comes from God, will never go against His Commandments. God’s commandments are not arbitrary restrictions, but gifts given for our good and for the protection of our neighbor. It is not loving to bless what the Lord has not blessed, to call good what the Lord has called evil, or to call evil what the Lord has said to be good. Love seeks the true good of the other, not merely what feels kind in the moment.

Of course, God’s love is ultimately not an emotion or merely a relationship; God’s love is a person, the Son of God, Jesus Christ. Jesus taught that we are to love God above all things and to love our neighbor as ourselves. He even taught that we are to love our enemies. Why? Because God has loved all people in Jesus. Yet Jesus did not command us to imitate our enemies or to bless and affirm deeds that are contrary to His Father’s will. Quite the opposite: in love, Jesus called sinners to repentance and told them, “Go, and sin no more” (John 8:11). It is not loving to fail to warn those whose deeds are harmful to themselves and to others.

St. Paul wrote extensively about love, saying: “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends” (1 Corinthians 13:4–8).

The love St. Paul describes is the love that God is, the love He has shown to us in Jesus, and the love we are called to show to one another.

Here is the bottom line on love: “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another… We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:9–11, 19).