Ash Wednesday

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Quinquagesima

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Sexagesima

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian Funeral for David Jay Aschbrenner

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Septuagesima

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.