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).

The First Sunday after the Epiphany (Epiphany 1)

(Audio)

Luke 2:41-52; Romans 1:1-5; 1 Kings 8:6-13

 

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

It takes the incarnation to make sense of what is happening in today’s Gospel. By this I mean that the Word of God did not simply drop out of heaven for us to interpret with no context. Rather, the Word was conceived, spoken, written, and interpreted within individual prophets, apostles, and evangelists; within a nation, a people, and a church. The Word of God is not a stand-alone magical incantation. It is a living Word, conceived and born from, and enfleshed in, a living people: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

Therefore, if we are to understand today’s Gospel – about the boy Jesus in the temple, His parents losing track of Him as they begin their pilgrimage home to Nazareth, and their finding Him three days later in the temple, inexplicably the last place they look – we need to know something about these people, their culture, traditions, customs, and ways of life. Indeed, this historical and grammatical approach to the Scriptures is what protects us from the mutual errors of fundamentalism on the one hand and higher criticism on the other.

The Law of Moses required Jewish men to appear before the Lord at the temple in Jerusalem for the feasts of Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles. In practice, most men did not do this regularly. It was therefore a sign of serious piety that Jesus’ parents went up to Jerusalem for Passover every year and remained for all seven days, though that was not required. One such journey likely cost a typical Galilean family several weeks’ wages.

Jesus was about twelve years old, on the cusp of being recognized as accountable under the Law. He had already made this journey many times, and it is not at all surprising that Joseph and Mary granted Him a certain freedom and responsibility. Families traveled in large caravans of extended relatives and neighbors. It is easy to imagine their initial calm when they realized Jesus was not immediately with them. Surely He was somewhere among the group, capable enough to manage for Himself, or so they thought.

When they did not find Him among the caravan, they returned to Jerusalem. Taken together, this searching took three days: the day of departure, the day of return, and the day of searching. Given the miraculous nature of Jesus’ conception and birth, the words of Simeon and Anna, and the visit of the Magi with their gifts, it is striking that the temple was not the first place they looked. Only on the third day did they search the temple courts. And there, to their amazement, they found Jesus among the teachers.

The rabbis sat together in the temple colonnades, teaching and answering questions. Joseph and Mary found their son seated in the midst of them, listening and asking questions, participating in their discussion. When they expressed their astonishment and distress, Jesus responded with amazement of His own: “Did you not know that I must be in My Father’s house?”

This discovery of Jesus in the temple is a discovery of who He is and what He has come to do. To find Jesus is always to find His work and His ways together. There is no true knowledge of Christ that is not also a knowledge of what He does and how He acts. We cannot love Him while rejecting His work or His ways. And His work and His ways are always to be found in the things of His true Father.

It seems that Joseph and Mary, at least for a moment, had forgotten these things and therefore did not understand His words. Yet those words will later ring clear and true when the Father’s will for the Son is revealed more fully. Here we see the first hint of the alienation that would arise between Jesus and those closest to Him until they finally understood and confessed that He truly was God’s Son. Mary treasured even what she did not yet understand in her heart. We are not told when she finally came to full understanding. For Jesus’ brothers, that day did not come until after His resurrection.

Yet God’s Son was submissive to them. Biblically speaking, to submit means “to enter into God’s order of things” out of love for Him. God has instituted various orders for life in this world: husbands and wives, parents and children, pastors and congregations, rulers and citizens. It belongs to the saving work of Jesus that He willingly placed Himself under these orders and obeyed His parents, even though He was the eternal Son of God.

In this sense, He is a model for us, but more than that, He is our substitute. He obeys where we fail. He submits where we resist. He fulfills righteousness not only at the cross, but throughout His entire life.

Joseph is mentioned here for the last time in Scripture and likely died before Jesus’ public ministry began, around the age of thirty. What did Jesus do in those intervening years? Presumably, He lived an ordinary life as a first-century Jewish man, working, praying, learning, loving, and obeying, while He “increased in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man.” None of this was wasted time. All of it belongs to His saving work for us.

Before the incarnation, the glory of God dwelt above the mercy seat of the Ark of the Covenant, in the Holy of Holies in the tabernacle, and later the temple. In the incarnation, the glory of God was transferred from the temple to the womb of the Virgin Mary and took on human flesh in the person of Jesus. In today’s Gospel, we celebrate the return of God’s glory to the temple, not as fire or cloud, but as flesh and blood: Jesus, the Son of God.

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

At His baptism in the Jordan, the Father declared Jesus to be His beloved Son, with whom He is well pleased. At His transfiguration, the Father repeated those words and added the command, “Listen to Him.” At Christmas, we celebrated that God became man. Now, in Epiphanytide, we confess and rejoice that this man is God for us and God with us.

Jesus’ work is His Father’s work – the work of God – for us and for our salvation, at every stage of His life. Thanks be to God for His love, grace, and mercy.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian Funeral for Harlan William Platte

(Audio)

John 14:1-6; John 3:13-17; Isaiah 65:17-25

 

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

Harlan William Platte lived the life God gave him on this earth ninety-nine years, three hundred sixty-four days, and just a few hours short of his 100^th birthday. That’s a long life by any post-flood standard, and it means that Harlan experienced of lot of history, blessings, joys, sorrows, and tragedies, and he persevered by the grace, love, and mercy of His Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Harlan was a member of the “Greatest Generation.” They didn’t give that name to themselves – it was Tom Brokaw who first coined the name – but others recognized the unique deeds, contributions, patriotism, and sacrifice of that generation. Harlan came of age during the Great Depression, fought in World War II, and demonstrated resilience contributing to building post-war America.

In high school, Harlan was a member of that 1944 Waverly Go-Hawk State Basketball Championship team. That was also the year he graduated. Within a month of his high school graduation, Harlan enlisted in the U. S. Marine Corp and was one of 180,000 U. S. Army and Marine troops who fought in the Battle of Okinawa, one of the bloodiest battles of World War II. Harlan regularly recounted the day his amphibious assault unit landed on Okinawa. It was April 1, 1945, April Fool’s Day, but more meaningful to Harlan, it was also Easter Sunday. Harlan prayed every day and night, sometimes continually, that the Lord would preserve him through the battle. He described the horrors surrounding him and the deaths of his fellow soldiers whom he described as “just meat.” Harlan’s Lord, and his faith was what carried him though.

After the war Harlan eloped with his high school sweetheart Helen Buhrow and was married on February 5, 1949. Harlan and Helen were married just shy of seventy-seven years. Harlan enrolled in Iowa State University’s Veterinary Program. He became a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine in 1951 and opened the Platte Veterinary Clinic in Waverly serving farm animals and household pets for thirty-five years. Harlan and Helen enjoyed golf and dancing at the “Electric Ballroom” and the Janesville “Riviera” where the big bands played. 

Faith was a pillar of life for Harlan. Born, baptized, and confirmed at St. John Lutheran Church in Waverly, Harlan was the longest-time member of St. John. He was not the oldest member, mind you – that title goes to Grace Arends who died in the Lord at age 102 just a couple weeks ago – but Harlan was the longest-time member of this congregation. Grace had transferred in later in life. Harlan served as an Elder for a number of years, and when he was no longer able to attend services in person, Harlan and Helen faithfully watched livestreamed services on their television and received communion regularly from their pastor who visited them at home.

The hymn Cassie sang a moment ago, “Praise to you and Adoration,” was a favorite for Harlan; it was in his Marine Prayer Book, and it brought him comfort and peace in Okinawa. But Harlan had a long list of hymns he loved, hymns which were meant to be accompanied by the organ. In The Battle of Okinawa, Harlan and his fellow soldiers had to make their way through Wana Draw, a treacherous, cave-riddled valley where U. S. Marines faced intense Japanese defenses and suffered heavy casualties such that they named it the “Valley of Death.” I have to think that’s what Harlan thought of when he read the words of Psalm 23, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.” How comforting it is to believe and to know that our Lord and Savior, our Good Shepherd Jesus, has not only passed through that valley before us, but even now shepherds, feeds, and protects us as we make our way through that valley into His Father’s house forevermore.

In these past few years Harlan had an epiphany that brought him immense comfort and hope. Harlan came to realize that when a Christian dies, there’s no long period of time, be it days or years, before he enters the presence of his Lord, but upon death, the soul of a Christian is with Jesus immediately. I think this is important to share with you now because I suspect there are others who have been confused as well. But what does Jesus say? He told the repentant thief on the cross, “This day you will be with me in paradise.” And Jesus told a story about two men who died, one a believer, the other wicked; upon death the wicked man was in torment and flame, and the faithful man was “carried by angels to Abraham’s bosom,” a place of comfort. Harlan found this truth so very comforting, and we are comforted now that Harlan is with his Lord and Savior Jesus.

And Harlan’s comfort is available to all who will believe and trust in Jesus, “For God so loved the world [in this way], He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” And the way to heaven is not a mystery, but it is a person, as Jesus taught, “I am the way, the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father except through me.”

Helen, David, Paul, Ann, grandchildren, great grandchildren, family, friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, “Let not your hearts be troubled.” Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, our Good Shepherd, who led Harlan for nearly one hundred years is still leading, guiding, feeding, shepherding, and protecting you His sheep who trust in Him and follow Him through the valley of the shadow of death into His Father’s house forevermore. There you will see Harlan again and all you love who have died in the Lord with flesh and blood eyes, hear them with flesh and blood ears, and hold them with flesh and blood arms. God will dry every tear from your eyes, and no one will take your joy from you.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Feast of the Epiphany of Our Lord (Observed)

(Audio)

Matthew 2:1-12; Ephesians 3:1-12; Isaiah 60:1-6

 

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

St. Paul speaks in our Epistle of a mystery, one hidden for ages, now revealed by Christ. That mystery is this: “the Gentiles are fellow heirs, members of the same body, and partakers of the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.” This was not an afterthought, nor a change in God’s plan. It had been promised and foreshadowed through the patriarchs and prophets of old. And yet, the way this mystery was fulfilled was so unexpected, so astonishing, that no human mind, and not even the holy angels, could have imagined it in full. The eternal Son of God became a man. He placed Himself under the Law, fulfilled it perfectly for all people, Jew and Gentile alike, and then bore its curse in His own body on the cross, that all might be made one in Him.

No one knew this mystery completely, not prophet, priest, patriarch, angel, or demon, until the night an angel was sent to shepherds outside Bethlehem: “Behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” And when that mystery was spoken aloud, heaven itself could no longer remain silent. A multitude of the heavenly host appeared, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom He is pleased.”

It is difficult for us, who live on this side of Christ’s birth, death, and resurrection, to appreciate just how breathtaking this revelation was. We know the story so well that we can forget how long the waiting had been, and how desperate it had become. The promise was first spoken in Eden, in the hearing of Adam and Eve and even the serpent himself: “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” From that moment on, the world lived by promise.

That promise passed through Seth, through Noah, and then to Abraham, to whom God swore that “in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” Isaac carried the promise forward in type, and Jacob, renamed Israel, the one who wrestled with God and would not let go, became the father of twelve sons. From them came a nation, a kingdom, and a land. David was raised up as king, a man after God’s own heart. Yet even David’s house fell into ruin. Solomon’s apostasy divided the kingdom, and what followed was a long, bitter descent: kings worse than their fathers, prophets ignored or killed, idolatry entrenched, until at last the LORD handed His people over to Assyria, then Babylon, and later to the Greeks and the Romans.

By every outward measure, hope was gone. The royal line of David was reduced to a stump, cut down, burned, lifeless. No prophet spoke for four hundred years. The promises seemed buried under centuries of silence. And then, when no one expected it, and few dared to hope, “the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God” was revealed, not in thunder or fire, but in the womb of the Virgin Mary, and in the birth of a child laid in a manger.

This is what the Church celebrates today. Epiphany means “manifestation,” to make known, to show forth. Throughout this season, the Scriptures proclaimed in the Divine Service reveal who Jesus is and what He has come to do. On this first day of Epiphany, the mystery is made manifest in a striking and unmistakable way: Jesus is not only the King of the Jews; He is the Savior of the Gentiles as well. He is the Lord of all.

The wise men, the Magi, came from the East. They were not Israelites. They were Gentiles, most likely from Persia or Babylon, men trained in observing the heavens. And so the LORD, in His mercy, gave them a sign suited to them: a star. It caught their attention, drew them in, and led them on their journey. They also knew enough of the Hebrew Scriptures to recognize that this sign pointed to the birth of a king, the King of the Jews. And so they went, quite reasonably, to Jerusalem, the city of kings.

But Jerusalem could only point them onward. Herod’s palace held no Savior. The scribes could quote the prophet Micah, but they did not go to see what God was doing in their midst. The Magi were led on, until at last the star came to rest “over the place where the child was.” And going into the house, they saw the child with Mary His mother, and they fell down and worshiped Him. They opened their treasures and offered gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

What was made manifest that day was the very mystery St. Paul proclaims: the Gentiles are fellow heirs. These outsiders were brought in, not by ancestry, not by works of the Law, but by God’s gracious revelation. Even the gifts they brought preached a sermon. Gold for a King. Frankincense for a Priest who intercedes before God. Myrrh for sacrifice, for death, pointing already to the cross. In the presence of this small child, the whole saving work of Christ is quietly, gloriously revealed.

Isaiah had foretold it centuries before: “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.” Israel’s light was never meant to be hoarded. The glory of the LORD would shine through her to the nations: “Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising.” They would come bearing gold and frankincense, bringing good news, the praises of the LORD.

That prophecy is fulfilled in Christ, and it continues to be fulfilled even now. For you who were once far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. You who were Gentiles by birth are now fellow citizens with the saints, members of the household of God. The same Lord whom the Magi worshiped is given to you today, not under a star, but under bread and wine; not in a house in Bethlehem, but here at His altar.

So behold your King. Behold your Savior. The ruler has come, and the kingdom and the power and the glory are in His hand. And this light no darkness can overcome.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

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

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.