The Fourth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity 4)

(Audio)

Luke 6:36-­‐42; Romans 8:18-­‐23; Genesis 50:15-­‐21

 

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

Last Sunday we considered God's love manifested as grace. Today we see God's love manifested as mercy. Grace and mercy are two sides of the same coin, for both are manifestations of God's love for you in Jesus Christ.

When I teach catechumens about grace and mercy, I explain it this way: Grace is when God gives us good things that we do not deserve. Mercy is when God does not give us the bad things that we do deserve. One is a giving; the other is a withholding. Yet both come from God: His will, His action, His love.

Last week we heard of God's seeking love that finds and restores the lost. Today we focus on God's mercy, through which He works even through suffering, pain, and loss to preserve us in His Son unto eternal life. We hear that God works man's intended evil for good. We hear that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. And we hear our Lord exhort us to be merciful as our Father is merciful: to judge not, condemn not, forgive, and give.

The story of Joseph and his brothers is one of the clearest examples of mercy in all of Holy Scripture. Joseph's brothers were consumed with jealousy. Their father Jacob loved Joseph, the son of his old age. He gave Joseph the many-colored coat. Then came the dreams in which Joseph's brothers bowed before him. Their jealousy turned to hatred. They plotted murder. Reuben intervened, and instead they sold Joseph into slavery.

What followed was years of suffering, injustice, and humiliation. Yet through it all God was at work. Joseph eventually became Pharaoh's right-hand man in Egypt. Then came the famine. His brothers traveled to Egypt seeking food and, just as Joseph had dreamed, bowed before him.

After Jacob died, the brothers feared revenge. Surely now Joseph would repay them for all they had done. They expected judgment. They expected condemnation. They expected to receive what they deserved. Instead, they received mercy.

Joseph said, "Do not fear, for am I in the place of God? As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good." Joseph did not deny their sin. He did not pretend evil was good. He named it for what it was. "You meant evil against me." Yet he also confessed God's greater purpose. God had been at work through all of it to preserve life.

Joseph did not give his brothers what they deserved. He forgave them. He restored them. When they offered themselves as slaves, he called them brothers. He provided for them and for their children. Their guilt was not repaid with vengeance but overcome by mercy.

What Joseph did for his brothers points us to what God has done for us. In our Epistle lesson, St. Paul reminds us that the fall into sin affected not only humanity but the entire creation. Everything is subjected to corruption. Everything groans beneath the curse of sin. We see it everywhere, in sickness and disease, war and violence, broken relationships, anxiety and fear, sorrow and death. We know these things all too well. We experience them in our homes, our bodies, our families, and our hearts. Yet Paul directs our eyes beyond present suffering. "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us."

Notice that Paul does not deny suffering. Christianity is not wishful thinking. It does not pretend pain is not real. Rather, Paul says that what God has prepared for His children is so glorious that there is no comparison.

The whole creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. Dearly beloved, that is you. The revealing of God's sons began with the Incarnation of His eternal Son, Jesus Christ. It continues now in those who have been united to Christ through Holy Baptism and faith. Yet its full revelation awaits the resurrection of the body. That is why we groan.

We do not groan because we have no hope. We groan because we do have hope. We possess the firstfruits of the Spirit. We know what is coming. We know that Christ is risen. We know that our bodies will be raised. We know that creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption. Paul compares our present sufferings to the pains of childbirth. Labor is painful. It is difficult. Yet the joy of the child overwhelms the suffering that came before. So it is with the Christian life. The sufferings of this present age are preparing us for the glory that is coming.

God does not waste suffering. He works through it. Just as He worked through Joseph's suffering to preserve life, so He works through our suffering to preserve us in Christ and prepare us for the resurrection. That is divine mercy. God does not give us what our sins deserve. The wages of sin is death. Yet God gives us life. He does not hold our sins against us. He forgives them for the sake of His Son. He does not condemn us. Christ has already borne our condemnation upon the cross.

And if this is how God has treated us, how then shall we treat one another? This is the point of our Lord's words in today's Gospel. "Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven." How can those who have received such mercy refuse mercy to a brother? How can those whose chains have been removed bind another with judgment, condemnation, or bitterness? We cannot.

The debt forgiven us is greater than any debt owed to us. The mercy shown us is greater than any mercy we are called to show another. Therefore, as recipients of God's mercy, we become instruments of that mercy toward others. Forgive as you have been forgiven. Give as you have been given to. Show mercy as mercy has been shown to you.

The Lord now prepares a feast for His sons who are being revealed. Here, too, His glory remains hidden. Christ is present under humble forms of bread and wine. Yet this Holy Supper is a foretaste of the glory to come. It is a feast of reconciliation. What was lost has been found. What was broken has been restored. It is a feast of grace, mercy, love, and forgiveness.

Therefore, come to this altar as those who have been set free. Come forgiving as you have been forgiven. Come reconciled to your brothers. Do not place upon another the chains from which Christ has released you. For He who fills this cup and satisfies the hungry heart fills you with His overflowing love, grace, mercy, and forgiveness, that you may pour the same upon others to the glory of God the Father, through His Son, Jesus Christ, in the communion of the Holy Spirit.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian Funeral for Dorothy Jean Nolte

 

(Audio)

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

 

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

As you just heard, Dorothy was baptized, confirmed, and married in this church. Today we gather to give thanks to the Lord for Dorothy’s faith and life and to hear once again the promises of God that sustained her throughout her days.

St. John was woven into the fabric of Dorothy’s life from beginning to end. Faith, Christ, and her church were not merely part of her life; they were central to it. When Bud was alive, he and Dorothy were faithful worshippers at St. John. Later, cousin Ellen faithfully brought Dorothy to church. Even after moving to Colorado to live with Jeff, Dorothy watched the livestream every Sunday. It brought her comfort and joy to hear God’s Word from her beloved St. John and to see her church family from so far away.

Dorothy and Bud were active members of this congregation. Bud served as a trustee, and Dorothy was deeply involved in the Dorcas Society. She could often be found helping with funeral luncheons, church events, and other acts of service. Dorothy and Bud’s was the last wedding held in the old St. John church building before this sanctuary was built. They were blessed with fifty-five years of marriage and with three beloved sons whom they raised in the Christian faith.

Dorothy loved her family immensely. She was a devoted mother and grandmother who delighted in her children and grandchildren. She enjoyed baking special treats, attending games and concerts, and celebrating the accomplishments of those she loved. She was especially proud of her grandchildren and all they achieved.

She also enjoyed many of life’s simple blessings: traveling and camping with Bud, winters in Texas, gardening, bowling, card games with friends, and family gatherings. The Lord gave her many joys. Yet her life was not without sorrow.

She endured the loss of her husband. She experienced declining health and mobility. The death of her son Steve weighed heavily upon her heart. The move to Colorado, though done in love and for her well-being, meant leaving behind her church, community, and lifelong friends. Like all of us, Dorothy knew grief. She knew loneliness. She knew the difficult questions that arise when life does not go as we hoped.

Yet through it all, the Lord remained faithful. Dorothy was sustained by the promises of God in Christ Jesus. She was comforted by the Word she heard, the Scriptures she believed, the hymns she sang, and the Savior she trusted. Those promises are what bring us here today as well. For while we certainly give thanks to God for Dorothy’s life, this funeral is not ultimately about Dorothy. It is about Jesus. It is about what Jesus did for Dorothy in Holy Baptism. It is about what He accomplished for her by His death and resurrection. It is about what He continues to do for all who trust in Him.

Jesus says in today’s Gospel, “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me.” Those words were spoken on the night before His crucifixion. The disciples were troubled because they knew something terrible was about to happen. Their Lord was preparing to leave them. Jesus does not tell them to ignore their grief. Instead, He directs them to Himself. “Believe in Me.” That is His message to us today.

Death is an enemy. It always is. Death separates loved ones. Death causes grief and tears. Death reminds us that this world is broken by sin. We feel that reality today. But death does not have the final word. Jesus does.

“I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” Dorothy knew those words. She believed those words. She built her life upon those words. Not because she was perfect. Not because she earned God’s favor by her service in the church or her devotion to family. Those things were fruits of faith, but they were not the basis of her salvation. The basis of her salvation was Christ alone.

Like all of us, Dorothy was a sinner in need of forgiveness. And that forgiveness was given to her freely through Jesus Christ. Through His death, her sins were forgiven. Through His resurrection, death was conquered. Through Holy Baptism, she was united to Him. And because she belonged to Christ, the promises of God belong to her.

The Lord says through Isaiah, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are Mine.” That promise was first spoken to Dorothy in her Baptism. There God placed His holy name upon her and claimed her as His own dear child. And God does not abandon those who belong to Him.

The Lord also says, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” Notice He says when, not if. The Christian life is not free from suffering. Dorothy knew that. But through every joy and every sorrow, the Lord remained with her.

That is the beautiful confession of Psalm 23. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” The Lord shepherded Dorothy through childhood, marriage, motherhood, widowhood, and old age. He guided her through times of happiness and through times of grief. He walked with her through the valley of the shadow of death. And now the Good Shepherd who led her throughout her earthly life has brought her safely home.

Today Dorothy rests with Christ. Her suffering is ended. Her tears are gone. Her faith has become sight. Yet even that is not the end of the story. Christians do not simply believe that believers go to heaven when they die. We believe in the resurrection of the body. The body that we commit to the earth today is not forgotten. It will be raised. Jesus rose bodily from the grave. Because He lives, Dorothy also shall live.

That is why St. Paul can boldly ask in Romans, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” And then he answers: “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Nothing can separate Dorothy from Christ. Not illness. Not age. Not sorrow. Not even death itself.

Death has separated her from us for a little while, but it has not separated her from Jesus. And because it has not separated her from Jesus, it cannot finally separate her from us either. For the day is coming when Christ will return in glory. The dead in Christ shall rise. Bodies and souls shall be reunited. Every tear shall be wiped away, and death itself shall be destroyed forever. On that day Dorothy will stand again, whole and restored, glorified in Christ. That is the Christian hope. That is the promise Dorothy believed. That is the promise that sustained her throughout her life. And that is the promise that comforts us today.

So we give thanks to God for Dorothy. We thank Him for her faith, her kindness, her love for family, her service to this congregation, and the many blessings He bestowed upon her throughout her life. But above all, we thank Him for Jesus. For Jesus is the Way. Jesus is the Truth. Jesus is the Life. And because Dorothy trusted in Him, she lives even now.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

 

The Third Sunday after Trinity (Trinity 3)

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Second Sunday after Trinity (Trinity 2)

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The First Sunday after Trinity (Trinity )

(Audio)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian Funeral for Clarence Arthur Huck

(Audio) 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.