The Feast of the Ascension of Our Lord

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Circuit Conference Matins - Tuesday in the Week of Rogate

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Rogate - The Sixth Sunday of Easter (Easter 6)

(Audio) 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Giving Thanks for God’s Good Gift of Motherhood

Mother’s Day is an opportunity for us to celebrate and reflect upon what God has given and commands us through motherhood. While we enjoy the flowers, cards, and memories, Mother’s Day is also a good time to consider God’s will and purpose for mothers, for marriages, and for families as well.

For Christians, motherhood is more than a social role or a personal choice. It is a holy vocation. In the Ten Commandments, God commands us to “Honor your father and your mother,” showing that both parents matter deeply. This command is not just about children obeying their parents, but it is about confessing how God uses parents to give life, care for us, and shape the next generation, and what we owe our parents and our God in terms of honor, respect, and obedience.

To understand motherhood, we return to the beginning, where the Bible introduces Eve, our first mother, whom Adam called “the mother of all the living.” God made her from Adam and for him, as a helper, and together they received the gift of marriage. Through them, human procreation began as husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, participate with God in bringing forth new life. Eve’s role as a mother was central to God’s creation and plan. She was the first woman and mother to receive life from God and to bring forth life going forward.

Motherhood shows us something important about God’s design for human life. From the start, the Bible teaches that God made men and women with different but complementary roles. Marriage is where new life is created, nourished, and brought up. Mothers have a unique and irreplaceable role in this: giving life, caring for children, and shaping them with love, discipline, and faith.

This does not take away from the role of fathers. Fathers are called to lead, provide, and protect their families. Children need both fathers and mothers. When we blur or ignore these differences, children are not helped. If we forget God’s design for family, children are often the ones who suffer most.

Mother’s Day is more than a day for feelings. It is a time to recognize the real sacrifices mothers make. Sleepless nights, quiet prayers, and daily patience may go unnoticed by others, but not by God. In a world that often overlooks or changes the meaning of motherhood, Christians have good reason to honor it as a high and holy vocation.

At the same time, this day can be difficult for those who wish to be mothers but have not received that gift. Some feel the pain of losing a child or a mother. Others face broken families or difficult relationships. The Church does not ignore these struggles, but we bring them to the Lord, who is full of mercy and close to the brokenhearted.

In remembering our first mother Eve, we also see that the story of motherhood, like all human stories, shows the effects of sin. But God did not leave His creation. He promised that through a woman’s child, redemption would come. This promise was fulfilled in Christ. Through motherhood, God not only gives life but also has given our Savior into the world.

For everyone, Mother’s Day is a chance to give thanks, not only to our mothers, but also to God. He is the one who gives life, guides our days, and, in His grace, forgives our failures as children and as parents.

Let us honor our mothers, show our gratitude when we can, and teach our children to do the same. Let us also thank God, who in His wisdom has given us the gift of family for our good and for the blessing of future generations.

Christian Funeral for Ann Margaret Bahlmann

(Audio)

John 14:1-6; Romans 14:7-9; Isiah 40:27-31

 

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

Ann and Duane were attached at the hip. They gardened together. They traveled together. They played games together. They worshipped together. They raised their family together. And they took great pleasure and pride in attending their grandkids’ school and sporting events together. I always thought of them as Tweedle Dee and, well, Tweedle Dee-Dee; neither of them could rightly be called Tweedle Dum. They were both whip smart and just ornery enough. But everyone knew who the boss was. It was Ann, of course. After all, she was three months older. Ann was the matriarch, and everyone knew it and loved it.

Ann was born in Jefferson Township and educated in parochial country schools. Later, she taught in a country school herself, where she could really be the boss. Ann loved teaching, and not only in the classroom. She loved teaching her grandchildren all sorts of useful things: gardening, canning, cooking, baking, sewing, cross stitch, quilting, and more. Often all those things came together in a single day. Potatoes dug fresh from the garden, peas picked that afternoon, and by supper there would be Potatoes and Creamed Peas, farm to table in the truest sense.

Ann loved her garden, though she hated rabbits. Marigolds lined the perimeter to keep the varmints out. It was once a huge garden, though it grew smaller as Ann and Duane grew older. Ann thought digging potatoes was one of life’s great joys. Duane and the grandkids were less convinced. Strawberry and rhubarb season always lined up with granddaughter Helen’s birthday, which meant Strawberry-Rhubarb Cake. Unfortunately, Helen didn’t like rhubarb, though Brian did, so things worked out just fine. And then there was American Rinderwurst. For those unfamiliar with this delicacy, it is roast beef mixed with seasonings like nutmeg, ginger, and allspice, plus onions and oatmeal, ground together, frozen in a cake pan, sliced into squares, and served with maple syrup. Is it meat? Is it cake? Perhaps it’s meat cake. Whatever it was, the family ate it and remembered it. Ann was also a master canner. Her pantry was stocked with tomato sauce, pizza sauce, canned beef, vegetable soup, and more. She provided for her family with cheerful diligence.

She loved quilting too, creating beautiful wall hangings for every season. The winter one featured a snowman, and rumor had it the snow wouldn’t stop until the snowman came down and something more springlike replaced it. Every grandchild received a special quilt made by Grandma with love stitched into every square.

Together, Ann and Duane enjoyed traveling to Gulf Shores. Duane liked fishing in the ocean while Ann preferred watching the water from the balcony. They loved taking family and friends to local attractions like Lambert’s, where rolls flew through the air, and the restaurant called Roadkill, which somehow was always packed. They enjoyed fresh seafood, crab, shrimp, and fish, and they especially loved playing cribbage, Pinochle, and 500 with dear friends like Helen and Romane.

Above all, Ann loved her family. She loved having you around. She found joy simply listening to you talk about your children, your families, and life together. She was immensely proud of her grandchildren and faithfully attended their sporting events, concerts, and school activities. The last sporting event she attended was Kimberly’s volleyball game. Kim gave her a small autographed volleyball afterward, and Ann treasured it. She loved family reunions and visiting cousins. She somehow knew everyone’s name and exactly how they were related, which is remarkable when you consider she seemed to be related to nearly everyone.

And through all these things, Ann and Duane remained steadfast in their faith and devoted to their church. They were fixtures in the Sunday Divine Service and active in church life. Ann faithfully served in the Dorcas Society, helping with meetings, devotions, and funeral lunches. Together, Ann and Duane made sure their children were raised in the faith, attended church, and learned their catechism. Sunday worship was not optional, and catechism memory work was going to happen, thanks especially to Duane. They lived just one block west of church while Chuck and Betty lived one block east. Sunday after Sunday, the same familiar saints gathered together in these pews. And now the matriarch has joined Eugene, Betty, Larry, and the other faithful departed who rest in Christ. Clarence, that makes you the patriarch now. May the Lord bless you with health and long life before He calls you also to His rest.

In many ways, Ann and Duane aged together and declined together, though each in different ways. Perhaps that is why it is not so surprising that they died only a few months apart. These last years were difficult, not only for them but also for all of you who loved them and cared for them. At times it may have seemed as though God was hidden or distant. If you ever felt that way, even for a moment, know that you are in good company. The prophet Isaiah gives voice to that very complaint: “Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, ‘My way is hidden from the LORD, and my right is disregarded by my God’?”

But then the prophet answers with words of comfort and truth: “Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary… He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength… but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength.”

Ann and Duane waited on the Lord. They lived in His Word and received His gifts. They came here again and again to hear His promises, to confess their sins, and to receive Christ’s body and blood. And now the Lord has renewed their strength in the only way that finally matters. He has brought them through death into everlasting life in Christ Jesus.

Dear brothers and sisters, we do not grieve as those who have no hope. We know where Ann is. She is with Christ because she belongs to Christ. Saint Paul says in Romans 14, “For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.”

Ann lived to the Lord. She died to the Lord. She is the Lord’s. Death has not taken her away from Him. Nothing can separate her from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

And that same Lord Jesus speaks tenderly to us today in the Holy Gospel. On the night before His crucifixion, knowing the sorrow His disciples were about to endure, He said: “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you.”

These words are not wishful thinking. They are the promises of the crucified and risen Son of God. Jesus prepared a place for Ann by His holy life, His innocent suffering and death upon the cross, and His victorious resurrection from the grave. Because Christ lives, Ann lives also. Because He rose bodily from the dead, Ann too shall rise bodily on the Last Day.

The same Lord who placed His Name upon her in Holy Baptism, who fed her for decades at this altar with His true body and blood, who absolved her sins week after week, has now brought her safely home. The weakness and weariness of old age are gone. The hands that once gardened, quilted, canned, and cared for others now rest from their labors. She waits now in peace for the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.

And dear friends, this promise is for you as well. Christ is still the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He is still present in His Word and Sacraments. He is still forgiving sins, strengthening the weary, and comforting the sorrowing. He is still bringing His people safely home.

So take heart. The matriarch has gone home, but she has not gone alone. Christ has taken her to Himself. And one day He will call all who trust in Him to that same heavenly feast. Then you shall see Ann again, not worn by age or illness, but radiant and whole in the resurrection of the righteous.

Until that day, wait upon the Lord. He will renew your strength. He will sustain you through grief and loneliness. He will not forsake you. And when your own final hour comes, He will do for you what He has done for Ann: He will bring you through death into life everlasting.

Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Cantate - The Fifth Sunday of Easter (Easter 5)

(Audio)

John 16:5-15; James 1:16-21; Isaiah 12:1-6

 

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

There is but one will, God’s will, and His will alone is good. Your enemy, however, has but one goal: that you would not acknowledge, believe, or follow God’s will, but instead recognize another will, your own, or his, in place of God’s. And if you look at the world today, you may be tempted to think he is winning, or has already won.

For what passes as the highest good in our time is tolerance, yet even that word has been reshaped. It once meant to bear with, to endure patiently, which is in keeping with God’s will. But now it has come to mean something else entirely: to accept, to affirm, even to bless as true and good whatever anyone wills. And so, if you hold to God’s will, if you confess that His Word alone is truth, you are no longer considered tolerant. You are seen as narrow, unloving, even dangerous. To walk according to God’s Word is to reject the claims of every other will, every competing “truth,” every false god. And that will not go unnoticed by the world, or by your enemy.

Last week, you heard our Lord say that you will weep and lament while the world rejoices. He was not exaggerating. But He also promised that your sorrow will turn into joy, a joy that no one can take from you. And so, lest you grow too comfortable in this world, too at home in this flesh, He has gone away. He has ascended to the right hand of the Father. And though you may think it would be easier if He were still visibly here, easier to believe, easier to endure, He says otherwise. He says it is to your advantage that He has gone away, so that He may send you the Helper, the Holy Spirit. And what does the Holy Spirit do? Jesus tells you: He convicts the world concerning sin, righteousness, and judgment.

That word “convict” is important. It is a courtroom word. To convict is not merely to accuse, but to present evidence, to establish the truth, to render a verdict. A man may protest his innocence all he likes, but when the verdict is given, the truth stands. So it is with the Holy Spirit. He does not ask the world for its opinion. He does not negotiate with human wisdom. He speaks God’s verdict. He convinces and declares what is true, whether the world believes it or not.

Dear Christian, this is why you must not make peace with the world. You cannot simply drift along with what it approves or rejects. But take comfort, this is precisely how the Holy Spirit helps you. Through the Word of God, through the Law and the Gospel, through the preaching, through the Sacraments, He preserves you in the true faith. He anchors you in what is real, even when everything around you seems persuasive, reasonable, and good according to human thinking. You experience this often in your conscience. Something doesn’t sit right. Something in you resists what the world calls good. That is not your imagination, that is the Holy Spirit at work, exposing the lie.

He convicts the world concerning sin, showing that the root problem is unbelief. The world’s path may look attractive, even sensible, but it is a path away from God. And to follow God’s Word will make you uncomfortable in that world. It will cost you. Your own flesh will resist. Your own reason will argue back. Your enemy will use both to try to turn you aside, calling evil good and good evil. That is why St. James warns you: “Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above.” If you are not rooted in that truth, if you neglect the Word, withdraw from the fellowship of the Church, abandon prayer, then you will not remain neutral. You will find yourself guided only by your own thoughts and the voice of the enemy. And that path does not end well.

The Holy Spirit also convicts the world concerning righteousness. The world has its own version of righteousness, good works, outward virtue, a kind of superficial peace that avoids conflict at all costs. “Peace, peace,” it says, even where there is no peace. But this, too, is a lie. True righteousness is found in one place only: in Jesus Christ, crucified, risen, and ascended. The world stands judged as guilty. All have sinned. And yet, in Christ, the Father has declared sinners righteous, not because of their works, but because of His Son. His sacrifice is the full atonement for the sins of the world. There is no other righteousness that avails before God. And so the Holy Spirit calls sinners to repentance, to turn away from themselves and to trust in Christ alone.

Finally, the Holy Spirit convicts the world concerning judgment, because the ruler of this world has been judged. Satan’s accusations have no standing against those who are in Christ. Yes, the Law condemns sin, but Christ has fulfilled the Law. Yes, the devil accuses, but Christ has answered for you. You are forgiven. You are declared righteous. And that verdict cannot be overturned. Therefore, while you must not make peace with the world, neither are you called to conquer it by force. You are not here to impose Christianity through power or coercion. That is not the way of Christ.

You are called instead to be leaven, salt, and light. It is through your life, your love for God’s Word, your obedience to it, your love for your neighbor, that the Holy Spirit works. As God’s love is poured into you through Christ, it overflows in acts of mercy, compassion, patience, and truth. And through these, the Spirit opens ears, softens hearts, and brings the dead to life.

So again, St. James exhorts you: be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger. Put away wickedness. Receive with meekness the implanted Word, which is able to save your souls. In other words, live what you confess. If you would have others love the Word, then love the Word. If you would have others honor God’s gifts, marriage, life, truth, then honor them yourself. If you would have others understand true peace and true tolerance, then live in humility, patience, and selflessness, not affirming falsehood, but bearing with others in love. A little leaven leavens the whole lump. A little salt seasons the whole dish. And where there is light, darkness cannot remain.

Yes, it is to your advantage that Jesus has gone away. For He has sent the Helper, the Holy Spirit. And the Spirit has called you by the Gospel, enlightened you with His gifts, sanctified and kept you in the true faith. He forgives you all your sins. And on the Last Day, He will raise you and all the dead, and give eternal life to you and all believers in Christ. This is most certainly true.

Jesus told His disciples that there was more they could not yet bear. But at Pentecost, the Spirit was poured out, and they began to understand. The Word of God opened to them in its fullness, and they could not keep silent.

And how does that same understanding come to you? Through living in this world, but not of it. Through suffering. Through temptation. Through endurance. Through being tested, even mocked or rejected. In all of this, the Holy Spirit is at work, shaping you, refining you, conforming you to the image of Christ. He is drawing your will into alignment with God’s will, teaching you to love what He commands and to desire what He promises. So that, amid all the shifting changes of this world, your heart may be fixed where true joy is found.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Jubilate - The Fourth Sunday of Easter (Easter 4)

(Audio)

John 16:16-22; 1 Peter 2:11-20; Isaiah 40:25-31

 

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

You have to wait for a lot of things in life. Throughout your working years, you faithfully make contributions to your 401k or IRA, watching it slowly rise and, sometimes, radically fall, all in the hope that, over time, it will increase to a sufficient amount to carry you through your retirement. And when you were younger, it probably seemed like you were always waiting for the next milestone. At sixteen, you could drive. At eighteen, you graduated, could vote, and could be drafted. At twenty-one, or maybe nineteen, you could legally enjoy a beer. And then, at twenty-five, well… perhaps you stopped counting. And if you have young children or grandchildren, you know just how hard it is for them to wait. They wait for that promised bowl of ice cream, for you to read them their favorite book, for their birthday party or Christmas, or for that long-anticipated trip to Disney World. To them, it feels as though what has been promised will never come. It is hard to wait. It is hard to wait patiently, in faith and in hope, trusting that what has been promised will actually be delivered.

That is precisely where the disciples find themselves in the Gospel. On the night before His death, our Lord Jesus said to them, “A little while, and you will see me no longer; and again a little while, and you will see me.” He was speaking of His death, and of the suffering they were about to witness: His betrayal, arrest, unjust trial, mocking, scourging, crucifixion, death, and burial. And He knew they did not yet understand. So He speaks to them as one comforts a child: “A little while….”

That phrase is meant to comfort. It promises that the time of sorrow, though real, is limited. It has an end. There is a definite “after.” But the disciples don’t understand, and so Jesus gives them an image: a woman in labor. In the midst of childbirth, the pain can feel overwhelming, even endless. But when the child is born, the anguish gives way to joy, so much so that the suffering fades in comparison. “So also you have sorrow now,” Jesus says, “but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.”

And that is exactly what happened. That Thursday night, that dreadful Friday, and that silent Sabbath, there was weeping and lamenting, fear and confusion. But then came Sunday. The risen Christ stood among them, still bearing the marks of the cross, and they were glad when they saw the Lord. Yet even that was not the end of their waiting. For forty days, Jesus walked and talked and ate with them. Then He ascended, bodily, into heaven. And in that moment, His words took on yet another meaning: “A little while, and you will see me no longer; and again a little while, and you will see me.” Because now the Church lives in that “little while.”

And let’s be honest, it doesn’t feel very little. It has been nearly two thousand years. In this time, the faithful have known sorrow and suffering. The world rejoices while the Church laments. The faith is mocked. What is good is called evil, and what is evil is called good. And so it is not unreasonable to wonder whether our Lord has a different definition of “a little while” than we do.

But the issue is not confusion on His part. The issue is perspective. The Scriptures teach us that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. That is not a formula for calculation. It is a way of saying that God does not experience time as you do. He is not bound by it. He sees all things, past, present, and future, at once. Luther illustrated this with the image of a great tree. When it stands upright, you can only see part of it at a time, the base, or the middle, or the top. But if it lies on the ground, you can see the whole thing at once. So it is with God and time. What you experience moment by moment, He sees in its entirety. This is what it means that He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. From His eternal perspective, your salvation is not uncertain. It is already accomplished in Christ. Your resurrection is not a possibility, it is a certainty. Your seeing Jesus again is not merely hoped for; it is, in His sight, already done. That is why Jesus can say, “A little while.”

But this does not mean you are given to calculate the timing. Our Lord Himself says that no one knows the day or the hour, not even the angels in heaven. And history is filled with those who have tried anyway, predicting dates and leading many astray. That is not faith. That is presumption. Instead, you are given something far better than a timeline. You are given a promise. And you are given a calling for this “little while.” St. Peter exhorts you to live as sojourners and exiles. This world is not your home. Abstain from the passions that wage war against your soul. Keep your conduct honorable. Submit to lawful authority, not because it is always just, but because the Lord works through it. Live as people who are free, yet do not use your freedom as a cover for evil. Honor everyone. Love your fellow Christians. Serve faithfully, even under difficult circumstances.

In other words, live as those who are waiting, but not idly. Waiting in faith. Waiting in hope. Waiting in the confidence that the promise will be fulfilled. Because the One who made the promise is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not grow weary. His understanding is unsearchable. He gives strength to the faint and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and fall. But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength.

That does not mean the waiting is easy. It does not mean the sorrow is light when you are in it. Time moves slowly when you suffer. But the apostle Paul reminds you that this “light momentary affliction” is preparing for you an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison. That is the perspective of faith. That is what allows you to endure the “little while.”

And more than that, the Lord has not left you empty-handed as you wait. He gives you a foretaste of what is to come. In His Word, He speaks His promises into your ears. In His Sacraments, He places into your hands and mouths the very gifts won for you by Christ, His forgiveness, His life, His salvation. These are not reminders only. They are present realities, anchors for your faith in the midst of waiting.

So yes, you must wait in this life. You wait through sorrow. You wait through trial. You wait through a world that does not understand. But you do not wait alone. And you do not wait without certainty. For in a little while, you will see Him. And your hearts will rejoice. And no one will take your joy from you.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian Funeral for Helen Joan Krueger

(Audio)

John 14:1-6; Ecclesiastes 3:1-8; Job 19:21-27

 

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

As you heard a moment ago, Helen was born on June 7 and baptized on July 8 of that same year. Fourteen years later, on Palm Sunday, she was confirmed in the Christian faith. In other words, Helen was a Lutheran Christian. That was the pattern for generations: born into the faith, raised in it, and living from it. I noticed the same thing when I looked back at the sermon for Romane six years ago. Both Helen and Romane were given this gift early, nurtured in it by their families, and then, in their marriage, they passed it on to their children. Sunday morning church was not optional, it was simply life.

And that tells you something important. The milestones of Helen’s life were not random. Baptism, Confirmation, Marriage, and now Christian burial; these are not just events we mark; they are the Lord’s work in the life of His people. They are even laid out in that very order in the hymnal before you, “with an iron pen and lead …engraved in the rock forever!” This was the frame of Helen’s life, the canvas upon which everything else was painted. And so, of course, that faith shaped her home, her family, her joys, her words, and her way of living.

Helen loved the simple things, faith and family, the days on the farm (though she would remind you they were just “ol’ days,” not “good ol’ days”). And yet, those were the best of times: raising children, building a home, living life together. There were the road trips; Helen was a great navigator, but she had to physically face North in order to read the map! There was camping, fishing, boating, traveling. She and Romane spent those lazy, hazy days in Texas, walking the beach and collecting seashells, so many seashells, I am told, that there are enough for everyone. They played cribbage, cheered on the Chicago Cubs, and enjoyed the steady rhythm of life together.

Helen was fiercely proud of her Norwegian heritage, even as Romane was proud of his German heritage. Romane used to say, “I am 100% German; Helen is 100% Norwegian. We tried to create the perfect race, but we failed.” So, Romane loved his brats, and Helen loved her lefse, which she described as a Norwegian burrito, and there was armistice.

Helen was a faithful member of St. John, active in the Dorcas Society, present in the Divine Service, and in Bible study when she was able. Not perfectly, not flawlessly, but faithfully. And that distinction matters. Faithfulness does not mean perfection; it means receiving what the Lord gives, again and again: His Word, His forgiveness, His life. She also worked as a bank teller for over twenty years. She was good with both numbers and people. However, she would be the first to tell you that she didn’t retire; she quit. I’m sure there’s more to that story. Still, she enjoyed monthly lunches at Pizza Ranch with the “bank ladies.”

Helen loved having the whole family together for Christmas, which meant Thanksgiving, because when you spend your winters in Texas, you make your own calendar. She liked to cook, though baking was another matter entirely. The pies were excellent, but she only served them; Mrs. Smith baked them. There was a humility about Helen that ran deep, and she mentored that humility for you.

And she had a way of speaking, what we might call “Helen’s Proverbs.” Honest, direct, sometimes sharp, but always memorable. “If she cries, I’m going to feed her.” “My house, my rules.” “If you’re not wearing earrings, your ears are naked.” “Why smile for the camera when I can look at you?” There was wisdom in those words, and there was love, too, love that showed itself not in sentimentality, but in care, presence, and conviction.

In these past months, that same steady character remained. Though her body weakened, though she became, visibly, almost half the woman she once was, her faith was not diminished. If anything, it became clearer, sharper, more focused. She faced these days with a quiet dignity, flowing from something deeper than personality or strength. It flowed from Christ.

Helen knew what Job knew. When everything is stripped away, health, strength, even the familiar comforts of life, there remains this confession: “I know that my Redeemer lives.” Not “I hope,” not “I feel,” but “I know.” And Helen knew it. She believed that her Redeemer lives, that He had prepared a place for her, and that He would come to bring her there. That is why she could say, “Don’t pray for me too hard, I’m ready. I have an invitation.” That is not bravado. That is not denial. That is faith, faith grounded not in herself, but in Jesus Christ.

And that brings us to our Lord’s words: “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you.” Jesus does not speak in vague hopes. He speaks in promises. He does not say, “I might prepare a place.” He says, “I go to prepare a place for you… and I will come again and take you to Myself.”

Helen’s confidence, her readiness, was not because she had lived a good life, though she did. It was not because she had been a faithful wife, mother, grandmother, and member of this congregation, though she was. Her confidence was in Christ alone. In His death for her sins. In His resurrection from the dead. In the promise given to her in Baptism, that she belongs to Him. That is the comfort we hold onto today. Not simply that Helen lived a long and full life, though she did. Not simply that she leaves behind many good memories, though she does. But that she died in Christ. And those who die in Christ live.

“For everything there is a season,” we heard from Ecclesiastes. A time to be born, and a time to die. A time to weep, and a time to laugh. Today is a time to weep. Jesus Himself wept at the grave of His friend. Death is an enemy. It is not natural or good. But it is a defeated enemy. Christ has died. Christ is risen. And because He lives, those who belong to Him will live also.

Ninety-one years the Lord gave to Helen. Sixty-seven of those in marriage with Romane. Years filled with ordinary days and extraordinary grace. And through it all, she navigated life the way she read a map, facing True North. Not perfectly, not without detours, but always oriented toward Christ.

And now, the journey of faith has become sight. The One she trusted, she now sees. The Redeemer she confessed, she now beholds with her own eyes. So we give thanks today, for Helen, for her life, for her faith. But even more, we give thanks to God, who gave her that faith, sustained her in it, and has now brought her to its fulfillment.

“Let not your hearts be troubled.” These words are for you, as much as they were for her. Christ is the way, and the truth, and the life. He has gone to prepare a place, not only for Helen, but for you.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Misericordias Domini - The Third Sunday of Easter

(Audio)

John 10:11-16; 1 Peter 2:21-25; Ezekiel 34:11-16

 

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

Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is our Good Shepherd. Of course, He is also the flock, and He is the pasture, and He is the sacrificial Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Already here we begin to see the mystery and the comfort: everything we need for life, salvation, and peace is found in Him.

He is not like other shepherds who labor merely for a wage and care nothing for the sheep. Such shepherds serve themselves. They care about what fills their bellies or increases their standing among men. They may lead sheep to green pastures and still waters when it is easy and beneficial, but when the wolf comes, when danger threatens, they will not put themselves in harm’s way. Most flee. Others linger, attempting some uneasy coexistence with the predator. “If we keep our distance,” they reason, “if we avoid offense, if we do not speak too clearly or too boldly, perhaps the wolf will be satisfied with only a sheep or two.” After all, the world is a dangerous place.

Not so with the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd does not flee when the wolf comes, nor does He bargain or coexist with the enemy. He knows that the beast must be destroyed. His weapons may appear weak to the world, yet they are stronger than anything the world can wield. He fights with the rod and staff of God’s Word, Law and Gospel, simple, humble means, yet mighty to save. And above all, He fights with love, not the shallow sentiment of greeting cards or passing emotion, but true, unconditional, selfless, sacrificial love.

The Good Shepherd lays down His life for the sheep. On a day of clouds and thick darkness, He did not stand at a distance. He threw Himself into the wolf’s snapping jaws and tearing teeth. He laid Himself down as one sheep for the whole flock. He became the sacrifice that ended all sacrifice, destroying the power of the enemy by His death. In His cross, the wolf is defeated. In His resurrection, death itself is undone.

And yet, though the wolf is defeated, he still prowls. His power is broken, but his lies remain. He hunts, he threatens, he scatters. His chief weapons are deception and fear. Often he disguises himself as a sheep. He seeks to divide the flock, to isolate the weak, the wounded, the straying, and to devour them.

His work becomes all the easier when shepherds fail, when those entrusted with the care of the flock do not speak the truth, do not warn of danger, or do not love the sheep. The truth is this: the wolf has no teeth. The Good Shepherd has defanged him. But how many still believe his lies, tremble at his threats, and wander into destruction?

So the Good Shepherd Himself acts. He searches for His sheep. He seeks out those scattered, those driven away, those who have strayed. As the Lord promised through the prophet, He Himself will gather His flock. And He does so through means, through undershepherds whom He sends: prophets, priests, kings, apostles, pastors. These are called to serve in His stead and by His command, to seek the lost, gather the scattered, feed the flock, and guard them from the enemy.

But they are still hirelings. They do not own the sheep. The flock belongs to Christ alone. And while many serve faithfully, there are also those who do not, those who love themselves more than the sheep, who flee when danger comes, or who stand by while the wolf ravages, so long as their own lives and interests are not threatened. At times, the wolf even walks openly among the flock while the careless shepherd looks the other way.

What, then, is a sheep to do? Left to yourself, the answer is grim. You are prone to wander, weak and defenseless. Your fellow sheep are no stronger than you. Even your shepherds are but sheep under the Chief Shepherd. And the enemy prowls, cunning and relentless. If it depended on you, there would be no hope.

But it does not depend on you. The Good Shepherd knows you. He knows you better than you know yourself. He knows your fears, your worries about daily bread, about your children, about the future, about who will care for you. He knows how the enemy tempts you, lifting you up with pride one moment, crushing you into despair the next. He knows how easily you are drawn to other voices: voices of worldly wisdom, of convenience, of compromise, voices that promise much but do not love you, voices that will sacrifice you when it serves their purposes. He knows all this. And still, He lays down His life for you.

Our Lord Jesus Christ is not a hireling. He is the Good Shepherd. He owns the sheep, and He loves the sheep. Indeed, He has made you His own. And more than this: He is also the flock. As sin entered the world through one man, Adam, and all were corrupted, so through the one man Jesus Christ, sin is atoned for all. He who knew no sin was made to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God. The Shepherd becomes the Lamb. The One becomes the many. In Him, the whole flock is gathered, restored, and made new.

And still more: your Good Shepherd is also your pasture. He Himself is where you feed, where you rest, where you are safe. He leads you beside still waters, waters He has made holy, and in Holy Baptism He has restored your soul. There He has marked you, named you, claimed you as His own. You bear His name. You belong to Him. He anoints you with His Spirit, setting you apart, strengthening you, assuring you that nothing can separate you from His love, not sin, not death, not the devil, not even your own weakness.

And here, even now, in this valley of the shadow of death, in the presence of your enemies, He prepares a table for you. He feeds you with His own body and blood. He gives you not mere symbols or reminders, but Himself, His life, His forgiveness, His peace. He fills you, and still He pours out more. In Him, there is no lack. In Him, there is only abundance.

Therefore, you need not fear the wolf. You need not despair over your weakness. You need not place your trust in failing shepherds or in yourself. Your Good Shepherd has conquered. He has sought you. He has found you. He has brought you home. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow you all the days of your life, and you shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Believe it, for Jesus’ sake.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.