“What should we do?” (Luke 3:7-18)

Luke 3:7-18

Pastor Tom Johnson, December 13, 2015

A Farmer walked through his field one cold winter morning. On the ground lay a Snake, stiff and frozen with the cold. The Farmer knew how deadly the Snake could be, and yet he picked it up and put it in his coat to warm it back to life. The Snake soon revived, and when it had enough strength, bit the man who had been so kind to it. The bite was deadly and the Farmer felt his life slipping away. As he drew his last breath, he said to those standing around: “Learn from my example not to take pity on a scoundrel” (Aesop's Fable: The Farmer and the Snake).

At first it seems that John the Baptist is as cautious with the crowds coming to hear him preach and be baptized. Politicians are supposed to flatter their audience and supporters. John insults them. “You brood of vipers!” he calls them, “Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” He warns of the Messiah who is coming as a tree farmer to reap the fruit he has planted and cut down and throw the fruitless trees into the fire. John’s charge is a bit abstract: “Bear fruit in keeping with repentance.” “What shall we do?” the crowds ask. “Share with others what you do not absolutely need for yourself.” Make your surplus useful to those around you. Fulfill the Royal Law and Golden Rule to love your neighbor as yourself.  “What shall we do?” even the ill-reputed and despised tax collectors ask. “Don’t try to collect more from people than you’re supposed to. “What shall we do?” the soldiers ask. “Don’t coerce people. Don’t take bribes. And be content with your salary.”

What makes John’s message unique is that he can be very abstract—bear fruit in keeping with repentance—but he can also be very concrete. He names specific behaviors and attitudes that need to change. What shall we do? We should realize that when we have more than we need, it pleases God for us to provide for the needy and less fortunate around us. We bear fruit that will bring joy to the heart of Messiah when he comes. What shall we who are in positions of power and authority do? We should remember that we are accountable to God and to those whom we serve. It was good news for the tax collector and soldier who began to see their vocations as serving the greater good and not bring harm to their neighbor. God is disappointed by the misuse of power. It saddens him and it brings hardship to others. Money is one of those common threads too. The love of money does seem to be the root of all kinds of evil (1 Tim 6:10). When Christ comes, he will be pleased to see the fruit of generosity and the heart of a cheerful giver.

What shall we do in preparation for Messiah? We should bear fruit that will make this world a better place. We should see our various vocations as a way to serve our neighbor. We should remember that whatever we do—even if it seems small and insignificant—is part of a greater story of how God is working through us. “What shall we do?” is a fantastic question. It reveals the heart of those people who went out into the wilderness to hear John preach and be baptized. They went to the water of the river Jordan ready to have their sins washed away. They listened to the Word of God for strength and guidance to live better lives. They went back to their jobs with a renewed sense of calling. Their work was to be the answer to our collective prayer “Give us this day our daily bread.” “What shall we do?” is a question that is only possible from a mind that doesn’t have all the answers. “What shall we do?” reveals a will that is ready to make a change. “What shall we do?” says “I am teachable. Instruct me. Mold me.” This question—“What shall we do?”—is the true essence of the meaning of repentance—a new behavior—a renewed way of thinking—a change from a path of sin toward a path of forgiveness and salvation.

Charles Spurgeon, a 19th century London preacher, said that “repentance is not just a change of mind, it is the change of the mind itself.” “What shall we do?” says I am ready for life-transformation. I am prepared for God to change the way I speak, act, understand my role at home, in the world, and through my particular vocation. “What shall we do?” is another way of asking for what we prayed for earlier in the service: “Wisdom to see your purpose” and “openness to hear your will.”

John invites us to imagine a world that is less venomous—not so much a family of snakes digging our fangs into one another—where we poison our neighbor in order to accumulate more stuff and amass more power. Instead we bear fruit for God. What shall we do? We learn from his example to have pity on scoundrels. This is the good news—God sends his Son to crush the head of the serpent. He takes away the poison of sin from under our tongues and out of our lives. He takes the bite of death on his heel on the Cross of Calvary. He overcomes death and the grave three days later. He assures us that he comes to make all things new. Through the washing of water, the Holy Spirit, and power of the Word he renews our lives. He comes to give us purpose. He comes to give our diverse vocations meaning. He comes to transforms a brood of vipers into a loving and nurturing family.

And so we pray: “Even so. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.”

"He who began a good work among you" (Philippians 1:6)

Philippians 1:3-11

 

Pastor Tom Johnson, December 6, 2015

In his letter to the church at Philippi, Paul gives us hope in a future that represents not our deepest fears but our highest hopes. God will deliver. God is faithful. He says, “I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work in you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.” “God has started to form excellence in your life; and without a shadow of a doubt, I am sure that he will finish it with perfection when Jesus comes again.” Paul wants to put us into a kind of “grace sandwich”—between two slices of grace—one on either side of our daily lives. The first slice of grace is what God has already done for us and the second is what God will do for us in the future.

In Christ, God has begun a good work in us. In the first Advent, the eternal Son of God became human. In his life, he has begun a good work in us. He lived a perfect, sinless life. He healed the sick, raised the dead, and preached good news. In his death, he has begun a good work in us. He died to destroy death—breaking the power of guilt and condemnation in our lives. He has begun the good work of forgiveness that pours out from the Cross of Christ. In his ascension, he has begun a good work in us. He ascended to the right hand of the Father and he sends us the Holy Spirit. Through Baptism he has begun a good work in us. He has made us “partakers of grace,” cleansed and adopted us. We live our lives with this slice of grace behind us and upon us—this first book end of promise—that God loves us and is at work in our lives. This assurance of the grace of God in our lives should be the antidote we need in a broken world. When doubt arises—when guilt sets in—when confusion overwhelms us—when the lure and things of this world tempt us—we stand firm on the Rock—confident in the person and work of Jesus Christ, “the one who began a good work in us.”

After the terrorist attack and mass killing in San Bernardino, California, one of the greatest cries of desperation was written in large letters on the front page of the New York Daily News. It said, “God isn’t fixing this.” My social media lit up with similar messages. “The victims don’t need your thoughts and prayers. They need your action. We need societal change, not prayer.” This is not unlike the psalmist David who tells us that he was repeatedly asked and challenged by the question “Where is your God?” (Psalm 42). “God isn’t fixing this,” we cry. But why do anything unless our hearts are filled with compassion and our thoughts and prayers result? Remember that Paul was a perpetrator of great evil and death. God transformed his life through the prayers of the saints. And how are we to act, if we don’t do so prayerfully and believe God is working through us? And how are we to change like Paul did without the life-transforming power of the Gospel? And how will we strive for peace apart from the Prince of Peace?

I understand the despair. I also feel the hopelessness. If we are honest with ourselves, our track record is not so good. We appear to be—to our core—a violent species, we humans. We need God to fix this. We need God to act. We need his transformation. I’m sure you saw the pictures yourselves: the evacuated workers went onto the golf course and started to form circles. The victims themselves prayed. Their thoughts and prayers were with those who were shot, their friends, their families, the medical professionals working to save lives, and law enforcement to bring true justice. This is our Advent prayer: “Stir up your power and come! Do something. Visit us in our affliction.” As we prayed earlier in the service in the prayer of the day: “Give us strength in our conflicts and shed light on our path through the darkness of this world.” The good news of Advent and our Scripture is that Christ is with you. God’s love precedes us and draws near us every day. We live in between.

He is the Alpha and Omega—the “A to Z.” We live out our lives somewhere in the middle of the alphabet. What God has begun he will bring to completion. What God started in our lives, he will finish. This is the other slice of the grace of God. We live from grace to grace. God has placed you and me right in the middle of these two book ends—the Son of God who came into the world and the Son of God who will return to make all things new. This is an assurance of God’s grace now based on the certainty of what God has done in the past and what he will do in the future. Jesus has come and he is coming back. And when he comes again in his full glory, he will finally present us pure and blameless. On that day, we will finally appear as we truly are and are destined to be—the holy, radiant Bride of Christ—pure and blameless and ready to spend eternity with our groom, Jesus Christ.

From beginning to end, this is the work of God. From start to finish it is to the glory and praise of God. From the time God entered our lives until his exit strategy, we can be assured that God is faithful and our salvation is secure—I am sure of this, that he who overcame our unbelief will overcome our lingering doubts—he who forgave the sin of our youth will forgive the sin of our old age—he who brought us into the light while we were in darkness will bring us into the eternal light of him who shines more brightly than the sun. I am confident of this. He has begun his good work in you and me. He will finish what he has started—he “will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.” Amen. Come Lord Jesus.

“The True Kingdom” (John 18:33-37)

John 18:33-37

 

Pastor Tom Johnson, November 22, 2015

The terrorist attacks in Paris, France happened just one day after a bombing in Beirut, Lebanon. A few weeks earlier, a Russian passenger plane was brought down by a home-made bomb. These deaths were claimed by ISIS. In the days following, Boko Haram surpassed those deaths by terrorist attacks in Nigeria.  And now Al Qaida has claimed responsibility for the deaths at the hotel in Mali just two days ago. The French flag—the red, white, and blue lights on downtown buildings—still can be seen everywhere.  “Why do so many people seem to care more about the French when people are dying even greater violent deaths in Africa and the Middle East?” My answer, “Because that is my tribe.” Many Americans have French ancestry or have been to France. I have friends who have visited, run the marathon, and studied in Paris. In other words, it hits home because Americans are more likely to be familiar with Western Europe than we are with Africa and the Middle East. Although that is changing.

How timely it is to be celebrating Christ the King today. And how fitting of a reminder we have in our Gospel reading. Jesus is there for us to help us navigate global politics.  Keep in mind that Jesus is the accused. He is threatened with the death penalty for treason against two kingdoms—Rome and Judea. He is summoned into the headquarters of Roman authority to be questioned by Pilate. Pilate is confused. How can Jesus call himself a king of Judea when his would-be subjects want him killed? How can Jesus call himself king when the religious authority will not claim him either? Where are Jesus’ soldiers? Pilate is a politician. He measures success by the support he has under the authority back in Rome and his popularity among the nation he is occupying. Pilate represents one kingdom’s dominion over another kingdom. In this case, Rome occupies Judea. How can Jesus declare himself King when both Judea and Rome reject him?

“My Kingdom is not from here.” “I am a king, as you say” Jesus says, “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” Jesus came into the world—the cosmos. You hear people say that “the world has become small.” And by that, they mean that what happens on the other side of the planet does not seem so far away anymore.  The world seems smaller, perhaps, because it is so much easier to travel to those places. More people travel more than ever. We are able to send messages and pictures instantaneously from our phones from one continent to another.

More of us have had the joy and privilege of meeting people who speak different languages, dress differently, and look different from ourselves. We realize more and more than not everyone looks, thinks, and grows up the same way. Last week, a group of pastors and I went to a Lebanese restaurant. I asked the waiter if he had family or friends in Beirut. He said his family lives two blocks away from where the bombs went off. “We are praying,” he said. “So are we,” I replied. The world is even smaller for the eternal Son of God who became flesh. Maybe a better word than “small” would be “close to home,” “immediate,” or “near the heart of Jesus.” This is why he was born—to bring truth to the entire planet. To put it another way, Jesus tells Pilate that he has bigger fish to fry than the petty concerns of the Roman Empire and the Kingdom of Judea. Jesus has a higher call. He has a greater mission than to settle one of the countless human conflicts—between one tribe and another and one nation against another.

Jesus is King of the true Kingdom. The reign of Jesus has no end. The kingship of Jesus has no limit. The true Kingdom makes the world seem small. The true Kingdom makes our kingdoms seem petty. Jesus came into the world. He did not just come for one tribe, nation, or people. He did not merely come into Judea or a Roman province. He came into the world. For Jesus, the impact of sin, evil, and death is global. It hits home everywhere. “My Kingdom is not from here…For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” Jesus was not merely born a Judean; he was born human. He was born for all humanity to reconcile us to God and one another.  Jesus identifies our common enemy. Our imperfections, brokenness, and sinfulness make us our own worst enemy. Our fight is not against flesh and blood but “against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph 6).

Jesus’ Kingdom is not defined by borders, walls, or territories. His Kingdom is not defended by soldiers going into battle to kill and impose authority. All humanity is his tribe. As St. Paul says so succinctly, “We are all God’s children” (Acts 17). Jesus does not need followers to fight for him and keep him from being delivered to the Cross. Because he is the One who holds the field in battle. He is the Captain of our souls. He is the Soldier who boldly confronts and overcomes death. And so, Jesus will not pick up a sword; he will pick up the cross. He will not wear a crown of gold, silver, and gems; he will wear a crown of thorns. Jesus’ Kingdom will not be won by the king killing but by the King dying. The King rises from the dead and makes all things new. His Kingdom come. His will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

“The House of God” (Hebrews 10:19-25)

Hebrews 10:19-25

 

Pastor Tom Johnson, November 15, 2015

Welcome to the house of God. The entry way is wide open. There is only a torn curtain. The tatters and shreds are only what remains on the door posts. When death tore through the Body of Jesus on the Cross, the fabric tore in two. Death was torn in two. All who wish to enter no longer need to fear that impenetrable obstacle. The death of death removed all obstacles to our entering into the House of God. Jesus, by his blood, overcame that curtain and veil of tears. The door could not be any more open. The welcome could not be any more hospitable. This is a royal house. It is a priestly house. The Lord of the house has given his own self to make a way for all the world to enter in. He invites to enter his house. He calls us to come in. Come in with a pure heart. Come in with full trust in your host. He not only wants you to say “Yes” to his invitation, he assures you that it is his good pleasure and delight.

Do you have an evil conscience? Are you weighed down by guilt for what you have done? Are you paralyzed by shame for who you think you are? This is a priestly house. There is a font at the door.
The water, the Word, and the Spirit are there to sprinkle your hearts clean and to cleanse you—body and soul. Foul stench of sin, be gone! Dreaded feeling of unworthiness, wash away. This is not the time to stop speaking hope-filled words. This is not the time to waver. The Great Priest of the House of God has made his promise. He is faithful and true. “Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise” (Ps 100:4). Make yourself at home. “My house is your house,” the Lord says.

Consider with me how we can spur each other on to do some good in this world that desperately needs it. Ponder with me how we can love one another and our neighbor. “Let’s provoke one another to love and good deeds”! Let’s turn each other’s worlds upside down for good. Let’s keep things dynamic by shaking each other out of complacency, dullness, and laziness. “Don’t neglect coming together as is the habit of some.” Don’t forget the value of hearing God’s Word. Don’t take public worship for granted. Avail yourself on the vast resources we have in God’s gifts and in one another as a family of faith. Don’t miss Supper around the Lord’s Table. Don’t deny yourself the benefits of the Bread and the Wine and the blessed fellowship we share.



We are here to encourage one another. The House of God is a house of encouragement. It is a place of positivity. Only constructive and edifying words should echo off these walls and reverberate through our halls. Encourage. The New Testament word means to call to one’s side—to partner, to invite a person to be on your team. It is based in the Hebrew idea to strengthen someone emotionally and spiritually. It is not unlike how we say, “Come with.” To encourage is embolden, strengthen, and comfort another person. It is to ground them in the truth of who they are as a member of the High Priest’s household. It is to call someone to remember they are royal and priestly children of God.

The House of God is a house of encouragement. And as we eagerly await the Lord’s return—we should be all the more committed and diligent to be encouraging to one another. That means we build each other up with our words. It means, by God’s strength and each other’s encouragement, we stop criticizing one another in order to stroke our own egos. It means we refrain from ridiculing one another and find value in every member of our family. It means that we do not participate in playground gossip, junior high politics, or turf wars. We are family. This is the Lord’s House. This is a place of acceptance and mutual edification. Everybody has a place at the table. We are on the same team and working toward the same goals. As one of my childhood TV show hosts Cowboy Bob used to say, “If you have nothing good to say, then don’t say anything at all.”

This is the House of God. It is a House of Encouragement. It is a safe place. It is a nurturing place. It is a blessed place to be as the Day of the Lord approaches. It is a foretaste of our eternal dwelling. The entry way is wide open. The curtain that separated us has been torn in two. Christ crucified has brought about the death of death. There is no obstacle keeping us from entering in. We enter by faith trusting in the High Priest who is faithful. We are cleansed by the water, the Word, and the Spirit in the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Sin, guilt, shame, and hopelessness are carried away by the flood of his mercy, grace, and love. The Lord of the house has given his life to secure your place and mine. Encouragement awaits you. A feast is already prepared at the Table. This is a royal house and you are royal children. This is a priestly house and you are a holy priesthood.
Welcome home.

“Two Small Copper Coins” (Mark 12:38-44)

Mark 12:38-44

Pastor Tom Johnson, November 8, 2015

Jesus thinks it’s absurd for religious leaders to parade around in their clerical garb while shopping for groceries. He’s disgusted by clergy who sit at expensive banquet tables which are paid for by poor widows. He has very little patience for repetitive, performance-oriented, public prayers. And then after he complains about those things, Jesus takes a seat where he can watch people putting their money into the offering box. How would you feel if Jesus peered over your shoulder in the pew behind you as you wrote your check out to First Saint Paul Lutheran Church? Or, while sitting next to you, took a hard look into the offering basket after you passed it to him?

Ancient accounts describe 13 offering boxes in the temple. These boxes as had funnel-shaped openings that would make a melody of music as gold, silver, bronze, and copper coins would pour in. If you could not see bags and handfuls of money, you could clearly hear them—the crashing, clinging, clanging, and ringing of coins. The day Jesus was watching people bring in their offerings, there was a lot of noise—the sort of racket those machines make at the grocery store when somebody puts a bucket of change. A wealthy person might employ the help of a donkey and servants to help carry large amounts of money—not just an individual but an entourage—the offering box crowded and noisy when the rich gave their offerings. There were no checks, paper money, or online donations to keep things quiet and discrete. After the spectacle, noise, and activity of the rich, a poor widow comes in. She is quiet, discrete, and alone. She doesn’t need a bag for her coins. She does not need a young, strong arm or a beast of burden to carry the weight. She carries two small, copper coins. She drops them into the offering box—tink, tink—and away she walks—unnoticed by most—but not unnoticed by Jesus. Two small, copper coins is irrelevant to the temple treasury—but not irrelevant to Jesus.

What we see does not tell the whole story—appearances can be deceiving. He says, “This poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box.” What an outrageous claim! Not only are her two small copper coins more than one of those wealthy individuals, it is more than all those combined. This widow, Jesus says, gave “out of her poverty...[she] put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” And that’s all part of the absurdity and outrageousness of Jesus’ words—how could a person live off two pennies?
If I see a nickel or a dime, I may bend over and pick it up—but two small copper coins are barely worth me bending over. Even 35 years ago, two pennies would only buy two small, square pieces of gum out of a gum machine. My mom and dad talk about going to a movie in the 1930’s for a nickel—but nothing for two pennies. Even two thousand years ago, two small copper coins would not pay for her rent. It would not buy her a new coat. It would not even buy her a good meal. She had virtually nothing—but of what she did have, she gave 100%. It’s outrageous. It would be like one of our seniors receiving their social security check in the mail, turning it over, and writing, “Pay to the order of First Saint Paul Lutheran Church” and then putting in the offering plate. That is self-sacrifice in its truest sense and something I would not encourage our seniors to do.

Our hearts goes out to the poor widow—hoping that she had faithful children to care for her—or a community to provide for her needs. But Jesus does not seem worried. Jesus praises her. God receives from the woman what He wants. And what he wants is not her money—or our money for that matter. God doesn’t need our money. It is already his! “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it” (Ps. 24:1). We can conclude from this account that what God wants is proportional giving—to give our time, talents, and treasure to God in proportion to what He has given for us. But God what wants is much more valuable than our proportional giving.

God wants is the widow herself. God wants you and me—he wins our minds, hearts, and souls—just as he won the heart of that widow—who could cheerfully gives all that she has—two small copper coins—because she knew that she was of precious worth to God. She is rich in faith, love, and thanksgiving. Like the widow, none of us are anonymous, nameless, small, copper coins in the eyes of God—we are his treasured possession. Like the widow, Jesus watches over our coming and going with love. Like the widow, he knows our whole story. Like the widow’s life and small gift, Jesus life and gift may appear to be as worth little more than two small copper coins. But it is through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection that He has purchased our forgiveness and our eternal home. Like the widow before him, he gives all that he is and all that he has to us and for us—not with copper, gold or silver, but with his precious Blood.

A widow came with copper coins    
And offered them in praise
They were the last she had to give    
Or save for darker days.

When Jesus saw her costly gift    
And knew she had no more,
He praised a love that spared not self    
And called her rich, though poor.

At last He brought His offering    
And laid it on a tree;
There gave Himself, His life, his love    
For all humanity                      (Hymn: "The Temple Rang with Golden Coins")

“Jesus wept” (John 11:35)

John 11:32-44

 

Pastor Tom Johnson,

November 11, 2015
“Jesus began to weep.” In the New Testament it is two words: “Jesus wept.” It is one of the shortest verses in the Bible. It is a small detail in the story of Jesus’ ministry with profound implications. “Jesus wept.” Literally “Jesus teared.” Or as we might say in English, “Jesus burst into tears.” Jesus wept. What might cause his eyes to well up with tears and spill out over his cheekbones into his beard? His good friend Lazarus is dead. And yet, it isn’t over Lazarus’ death that Jesus weeps but when he sees Mary and the others weeping for their loss. It is then that “he becomes greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” Jesus wept because he empathizes with Mary, Martha, their family, and their friends. Their father and friend had been taken away. Jesus wept because that is the human thing to do. No other creatures weep like we humans do. Jesus wept because of the incarnation—the eternal Son of God became flesh. Jesus of Nazareth’s humanity is fully intact. It makes him a great High Priest “who has passed through the heavens” and is able to sympathize with our infirmities (Heb 4). Jesus wept because Mary, Martha their friends’ tears will calling out for compassion and consolation. When we weep our tears send the message to those around us that we have reached the limit and our hearts have been broken.  Jesus wept for the living. His tears sent the message to Lazarus’ family and friends that he quite literally felt their pain. Some suggest that Jesus wept also for the toll death has on all humanity. He wept for the universal tragedy of loss of life. He wept for the particular loss of the individual Lazarus who was freshly buried. Jesus wept instead of giving platitudes and clichés like, “He’s in a better place.” Or, even more appropriately, “Look at what I’m about to do.” Jesus wept to identify with us. His tears wash away any doubt that our God is One who cares. Light reflects more brightly on a cheek that is drenched in salty tears.

Jesus wept for the same reason you and I shed tears. The body is trying to return to an equilibrium since it overwhelmed with emotional and spiritual pain. Scientists have even detected more stress hormones in tears of grief than normal eye-moistening and lubricating tears. Jesus wept because he bore the full weight of sin and death. Jesus wept to teach us to weep—that grown men and women indeed do cry. It is a call for us to share our burdens with one another. Our tears invite people around us into our invisible pain, loss, and grief. We weep to strengthen the bonds of family and friends and the Body of Christ.  Jesus wept to show us the path of compassion and mercy. Like Adam and Eve before the fall, he calls us to be naked and unashamed—to be transparent about our weakness, our humanity, and our common struggle in life and death.

Jesus wept. His tears are in contrast to our dry tear ducts. Our lack of weeping may reveal our apathy and calloused hearts. Unlike Jesus, we have not adequately mourned the ravaging effects of evil, death, and our own sinfulness. We sometimes deny ourselves the opportunity to share the human struggle with those around us and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Jesus wept to show the adequacy of praying in groans too deep for words. God grieves. The Holy Spirit grieves. The Son of God weeps. Scripture says that even creation itself groans for redemption. And so our Creator is able to receive our tears as prayer—pleas for mercy, grace, and healing without well-articulated words.

Jesus wept to baptize us into the path of life and immerse us into the death of death. He is the forerunner who leads us. He quietly and tearfully assures us that we can reach out with our tears and care even though we may be at a loss for words. Jesus wept. His tears were not for Lazarus but for those of us who are left behind to struggle with our losses. Jesus wept even though he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead. We can weep even though we know there is the resurrection of the dead and a company of the living that no one can number.

Jesus wept to raise the spirits and hopes of those around him. Jesus wept to remind us that he gives us victory through the baptism of his death. Jesus wept to foreshadow his anguish in the garden on the night he will be betrayed when “his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down on the ground.” Jesus wept. Jesus shed his tears because he would soon shed his blood. His tears remind us of his love for us and the joy set before him. Jesus wept to reassure us that our forgiveness flows out of his mercy and grace. Jesus wept because there is “a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” Jesus weeps until he raises Lazarus from the dead. He gives us permission to burst into tears even though we know one day we will be raised to eternal joy—tears now—until our laughing and dancing are reborn.


Jesus wept
Not for Lazarus
But for us
His friends and family
And sin and death’s
Treachery.

Jesus wept
Not for the dead
But for the living
Whose hearts are broken
And the faithful
Who need mercy’s token.

Jesus wept
Not for the end
But the promise
Of our beginning Jesus kept
For our life and resurrection
Jesus wept.

“Our God, a Refuge” (Psalm 46)

Psalm 46

 

Pastor Tom Johnson, October 25, 2015

In almost every instance, the evidence we have for any civilization that has existed are the fortresses and walls that protected her people. Remember the Alamo? You can still visit its fortified walls and buildings today. They say you can see the Great Wall of China from space. It served to protect millions of people from foreign raiders. The Morro fortress in San Juan Puerto Rico was constructed by the Spanish to preserve and defend lives within from threats by land and water. Its walls can withstand cannon blasts. Jericho is the oldest fortified city. They have found layer after layer of different generations and peoples who worked hard to protect their lives and possessions. And then there is Jerusalem, which our Psalm talks about, which has some of the largest stones in her walls the world has ever seen. One stone in particular is called “The western stone.” It is considered by some to be one of the wonders of the world. It is one of the heaviest objects ever lifted by human beings without powered machinery. It is 517 tons and 13.6 by 3 by 3 meters. How bit is that? It is about as wide as the distance between the Pulpit and Altar. It is about as high from the floor to the bottom of the Cross on the wall. And it is about as long as from the Chancel wall to the last row in our sanctuary.

Jerusalem was a fortress. It was a refuge for God’s people. It was a stronghold to find protection from the enemy attacks that would last for weeks and months. Hezekiah constructed a secret tunnel to channel water from a spring into the city so that people could survive a long siege—“a river whose streams make glad the city of God.” Jesus predicts a time when those Jerusalem walls would fail and fall. And, in a few decades it did.

By the 15th century the Ottomans found a way to blast through even thick, stone walls when they sieged Constantinople with cannons. Today we still talk much about building walls. Whether they are the barbed wire trying to keep Syrian refugees out of Hungary, the fence on the Mexican-United States border to keep immigrants out, or the cement wall going right through Palestinian communities in modern day Israel; we still build refuges and fortresses. These castles, walls, and moats are a constant reminder of evil in the world—or, at least, our fear of evil in the world. Since 9/11 we have Homeland Security. Its goal is simple and clear—to keep America safe. And on a smaller scale, we lock our doors, install security alarms and cameras in our homes, and we pay law enforcement to work day and night so that we can lie down at night in relative peace.

The gift and beauty of the Reformation is that Luther clearly defined who the true enemy is and where our true refuge is found. Luther found in Psalm 46 the words and the prophetic vision of a true fortress against a formidable adversary. “Our God is a refuge and strength.” A refuge and strength against whom? Foreign nations are not the enemy. In fact, the psalm celebrates the reconciliation of the peoples of the world: “I will be exalted among the nations; I will be exalted in the earth.” Martin Luther’s hymn takes it a step further and identifies the enemy: the enemy is us, our own captivity to sin, the nameless spiritual evil that is a universal threat to all peoples—loss of possessions, reputation, loved ones, and death itself. With this Psalm and Luther’s hymn, we celebrate the assurance of grace. We call it the Gospel or Good News, the reassurance that we need.

Our God accepts us. He loves us. He cares for us. And he sent his Son Jesus to fortify our salvation in him. Our sin has been washed away by the water, Word, and Spirit that flows through the city of God. We are made glad as we are now clothed in the righteousness of Jesus of Nazareth. He will safely take us through the veil of tears into the New Jerusalem whose River of Life flows from the Lamb. Christ has overcome the threat of death on every side by his death outside the city gates and walls of Jerusalem. He has buttressed and reinforced our eternal life by his rising from the dead from a tomb hewn out of solid rock. And even more than that, he gives us a vision of his goal for this world that he loves: “he will make wars cease in all the world. He breaks the bow, and shatters the spear, and burns the shields with fire.” He will reconcile the nations, peoples, and tribes of the entire planet. He will bring an end to nuclear proliferation and complete disarmament. He will melt down lead bullets, brass canisters, and firearms. He will shatter security cameras and tear down walls, fences, and barbed wire.

A mighty fortress is our God, A trusty shield and weapon;
He helps us free from ev’ry need That hath us o’ertaken,
The old evil foe Now means deadly woe;
Deep guile and great might Are his dread arms in fight;
On earth is not his equal.

With might of ours can naught be done, Soon were our loss effected;
But for us fights the valiant One, Whom God Himself elected.
Ask ye, Who is this? Jesus Christ it is,
Of Sabaoth Lord, And there’s none other God;
He holds the field forever.

“The fullness thereof” (Mark 10:35-45; Psalm 24:1)

Mark 10:35-45

 

Pastor Tom Johnson, October 18, 2015

James and John want prominence and prestige in the Kingdom of God. One wants to be the right-hand man of the Messiah and the other the left-hand man of the King of Glory. This is not unlike people who work hard to get a candidate elected; and, when the candidate wins, the campaigners expect to get one of those sweet appointments. This, of course, makes the other ten disciples angry with James and John. A turf war has begun. Who will have the greatest stature, recognition, and honored place in the eternal Kingdom of God?

Jesus rebukes all twelve. This is the way the world operates. Who has better poll numbers and greater popularity? Who is drawing out the bigger crowds and excitement? This is worldly fulfillment.
It is the kind of fullness that feeds your ego but not your soul. It may bring momentary euphoria and satisfaction but it will not bring the kind of joy that will endure into the eternal kingdom. Jesus’ insight into heart of humanity is impossible to deny. At our core, we crave recognition, acceptance, stature, places of honor, and significance. It is in our nature to compete and win. We are starving for fulfillment. We want more stuff. We want to upgrade our stuff. We want to be admired and validated. Marketers know this. Advertisers get this.

Just as I was preparing these words, I received an email from my phone provider that said, “Why wait? Upgrade your phone. You deserve the best!” Yes! I do! I am entitled to the best! I have earned it. I have paid my due with that old smartphone for far too many months! I have been held back from fulfilling my fantasies of technological bliss. Now is the time of fulfillment. “No, Johnson!” Jesus says, “There is no enduring fullness or fulfillment in the things of the world.” There is no satisfaction in our rat race for significance and pursuit of power. He is kind to unmask the face of prestige. And underneath that mask of prominence is an insecure little child looking for approval.

“Even the Son of Man—even the Messiah—did not come to be served but to serve and give his life a ransom for many,” Jesus says. “Even I,” Jesus reminds us, “even I never expected worldly fulfillment, recognition, or prominence.” Jesus did not come to receive fullness from the world. He came to deliver fullness to the world. He came to serve. He came to give. And his gift is himself. And he did not just give a portion. He have his whole life—his time, his talent, his treasure. As Jesus will later say, “It is better to give than to receive.” We work hard to acquire stuff and fulfillment in our pursuits. Jesus gives his whole being to pursue and acquire us.

“He gave his life as a ransom for many.” He paid our ransom, not with gold or silver, but with his precious Blood on the cross. That word ransom means that Jesus paid the price for our freedom. We have been kidnapped by our own sin and pursuit of worldly significance. We are slaves to our own appetite for more…for better…for greater. In Christ’s paid ransom, “the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein.” We are the property of Creator of heaven and earth! We are the apple of his eye. We have been bought with a price. We are his. We are God’s. Our fulfillment is in him. And Jesus invites us take on his servant heart for people. He wants us to join his mission of giving ourselves for his Kingdom. This is true greatness, Jesus reminds us, not to be served but to serve—to give of all that we have and all that we are—for the Kingdom of God as it breaks out to those around us into all eternity.

This week I met with one of our new frequent visitors. She said that during the week the pursuit of significance begins to exhaust her and drag her down. Striving for worldly fulfillment is draining to the soul. Coming to First Saint Paul’s on Sunday morning resets her thinking and brings her back to Kingdom reality. “I am reminded of who I am. I am reminded of whose I am.” I was shocked. “You are preaching my sermon for this Sunday!” I told her. And I showed her my notes and asked permission to share her powerful words. “I am reminded of who I am. I am reminded of whose I am.” We are the Lord’s! The entire sphere and all her inhabitants are his! “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein.”

Lord, whose love through humble service
Bore the weight of human need,
Who upon the cross, forsaken,
Offered mercy’s perfect deed,
We, Your servants, bring the worship
Not of voice alone, but heart
Consecrating to Your Purpose
Ev’ry gift that You impart.       ("Lord, Whose Love in Humble Service," v. 1)

“We enter fullness like children” (Mark 10:2-16)

Mark 10:2-16

 

Pastor Tom Johnson, October 4, 2015

Jesus has difficult words for adults whose hearts become hardened and calloused toward one another even in the most intimate of relationships: marriage. In contrast, Jesus has surprising things to say about children—whose hearts are still tender and vulnerable. Jesus’ disciples assume Jesus is too busy for little children. They assume the children are not important enough to gain the attention of their Master. Was it that they are not big enough, not strong enough, not knowledgeable enough, or not productive enough? I have been trying to boil down the essence of what it means to be a little child. They are “little”—smaller. And being smaller, we assume the child younger. And if younger, not able to provide for themselves. They do not yet have the knowledge or mental capacity to figure things out. Little children—infants, babies, and toddlers are little people. They are small, weak, ignorant, and needy. They are small creatures—fearfully and wonderfully made—but not yet able—not yet competent—not yet capable—not yet...not yet…

Today, I must give a shout out for all the other creatures of our King who are fearfully and wonderfully made. It is St. Francis of Assisi Day—the pastor who said to preach the Gospel, and use words when necessary—the pastor who preached to the birds in the trees and the creatures crawling on the ground.

Did you hear about Zachary born on September 23rd at the Brookfield Zoo? He is part of an endangered branch of western lowland gorillas. It struck me at looking at his pictures how frail he is, dependent on his mother, not even the strength to crawl up his mother’s lap to nurse. He looks like a little old man with wrinkles all over his body with beautiful wide-nostrils and deep and dark eyes which mom proudly cleans with her tongue. The way she holds and grooms him says more than words. Mom is so proud. She loves her tiny, wobbly, sleepy, and fragile newborn. A word to the wise, humans: don’t mess with Zachary. You will see the—excuse the mix of metaphors—you will see tiger mom come out. And I understand that an angry gorilla is not easily negotiated with.

That brings me back to Jesus. Don’t prevent his little children from coming to him. He becomes indignant—that means angry for the right reasons. Don’t mess them. “Get your gorilla paws off my babies,” Jesus says! “Let the little ones come to be! Do not prevent them! What on God’s green and blue earth are you thinking?! These tiny seeds of humanity epitomize the Kingdom.” In other words, do you want to know what a citizen of God’s invisible Kingdom really looks like—look at an infant being received into the hands of her Messiah to get blessed. Look at the baby at the baptismal font. Watch a helpless, tiny, oblivious, person adopted into God’s family only for the love of Christ! It is through these eyes and through this childlike lens that we see the fullness of God’s grace, mercy, and love he has for all creation. This is how we should think of our relationship with God—as children—as little Zachary brought up into the arms of his mother to feed and groomed out of sheer love—nothing else.

Last week I heard an interview with two Jesuit priests who work in the Vatican’s Observatory. One specializes in the death and birth of stars and the other in asteroids. They talked about the similarities and differences of science and the Christian faith. I have posted a link on Facebook this morning if you care to listen to it yourself. Or ask me, and I’ll send you a link. This is what I took away from what they said about science and faith in Jesus: we must celebrate and find joy in our ignorance. Let me say that again. We must celebrate and find joy in our ignorance. Childlike ignorance brings us into fullness. Science is not really knowledge as the word suggests but the discovery of more questions and things we don’t understand. In other words, being an adult is overrated. We should be more like children who ask, “Why?”

When a child asks “Why?” they are not looking for a final answer. They are saying, “Tell me more! This is fun stuff! Life is an interesting exciting journey. My ignorance tells me just how much fullness there is out there to discover!” Children are true philosophers—they embody the meaning of that word—lovers of knowledge. How boring studying the world would be if there were no surprises! How uninteresting the Scriptures would be if we reduced faith in God into a formula! Being like a child in our faith and trust in Jesus will remind us that we are not big enough, not strong enough, not knowledgeable enough, nor productive enough. But that is exactly where God wants us to be. To us children he says, “Come on! Join the family! Enjoy the fullness of the Kingdom! It is tailored made for children just like you!”

“We multiply fullness” (Mark 9:38-40)

Mark 9:38-40

Pastor Tom Johnson, September 27, 2015

Today in our Gospel reading, an outsider shows up. He comes alongside desperate people to help them confront their demons. He speaks of Jesus. He works under the authority of this Rabbi from Nazareth. But the disciples do not recognize him. The disciples do what is natural to anyone whose turf is tread upon; they try to stop the intruder. The person is unknown. The outcome is unknown. It is risky to allow outsiders to continue to do ministry in the name of Jesus when we do not have the assurance that the person even knows Jesus.

When I was ordained in the Presbyterian church, we held the service in the Episcopal church because we did not have a building. We were a church-plant or a mission church without a space of our own to worship in. At the point of laying on of hands, the pastor who led the service of my ordination invited all the ordained clergy forward to join the solemn ceremony. He did not say "all ordained Presbyterians just those who were ordained. The Rector of the Episcopal church, being ordained clergy came forward. Each pastor gave their blessing and a word of encouragement. The Episcopal priest, not hearing what he was waiting to hear proceeded to call on the Holy Spirit and invoke Apostolic Succession on me. That is to say, he later told me, he was waiting for someone to certify my ordination with the assurance that I was in direct line with the Apostles and part of a two-thousand year chain of pastors whose branches go back to the Apostle Peter and Jesus himself. The Episcopal priest was looking out for this closet Lutheran being ordained in the Presbyterian church! I’d like to think this was God’s sense of humor filtering through my own story. But that is essentially what the disciples want—to be assured that whoever does ministry in Jesus’ name be part of their chain.

We should remember that all four Gospels were written years after the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Mark includes this story in his account clearly for a young church that might find themselves in a similar situation. What do you do when people start treading on your turf? What do you do when someone is not part of our succession? How do you know that a person is not leading others astray? How can we allow a questionable source with even more questionable results? What do we do with the many pastors, priests, and clergy just blocks away from this building—those confronting demons in peoples’ lives in Jesus’ name but not the name of Luther? They may be doing so in unfamiliar languages and music. What do we do when they speak about Jesus but don’t sound like us? It is clear they aren’t following us through our trustworthy Confessions and tradition. We do have a treasure in our clear doctrine of Grace. We are spiritual descendants of a 16^th century German monk who had the courage to speak truth in defiance of religious authority who was abusing its power. They asked that he would stop preaching in Jesus' name. It's ironic that we now ask, "Who does this Pope fellow think he is to come to New York City and Washington and bring our congressmen and women to tears?"

Jesus says, “Do not stop him; no one will do good in my name and later speak evil in my name. Whoever is not against us is for us.” In other words, if others are not clearly opposing the Gospel, don’t oppose them. Assume you are on the same team. Quit thinking so small about what God is doing. If you try to silence God’s people, even the stones will cry out. Broaden your vision of the Kingdom. Look for God’s activity in unexpected places. The fullness of God and his Kingdom will not be exclusively channeled through us. There will be unforeseen and unanticipated people doing good things in the name of Jesus for God’s greater kingdom. It is clear that no human being can cause the Kingdom of God to grow in our world. Paul says, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God caused the growth.” But I think it is just as clear that we can be an obstacle to Kingdom growth.

We cannot stop the reign of God from impacting the lives around us. But we can exclude ourselves from participating in what God is doing. Or to put it another way, God will do what he will do in spite of us or through us. God helping, healing, and assuring the world through us—sounds like a much better plan. You’ll remember that John the Baptist heard the complaint of his disciples and how Jesus’ disciples started to baptize. John wasn’t offended. Referring to Jesus, he said, “He must increase, I must decrease.” And Moses himself said, “Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets, and that the Lord would put his spirit on them.” In other words, sometimes we need to catch up with just how full to overflowing the fullness of God is in the world. God calls us to be pleasantly surprised by his activity through unlikely sources. Maybe we could show a bit of self-deprecating humor and say, “I am one of those unlikely sources.”

Cure Your children’s warring madness; Bend our pride to Your control;
Shame our wanton, selfish gladness, Rich in things and poor in soul.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage Lest we miss Your kingdom’s goal,
Lest we miss Your Kingdom’s goal. (from the hymn "God of Grace and God of Glory")

Visiting Pastor Clausing on our mission as Christ's Church (Rev. 7:9-17)

Revelation 7:9-17

 


Rev. Jonathan and Anita Clausing serve the Lord as career missionaries through The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod (LCMS) in Eastern Africa, based in Kenya. As the coordinator of this area’s Mission Training Center (MTC) programs, Jonathan supports existing MTC programs by teaching lay leaders, evangelists and trainers and providing oversight and encouragement to local coordinators. He also cultivates new requests for MTCs into functioning projects and maintains, develops and provides translation supervision for the MTC curriculum.

“God wakens us to fullness” (Isaiah 50:4-9a)

Isaiah 50:4-9

 

Pastor Tom Johnson, September 13, 2015

Isaiah gives a beautiful picture of how God led him to greater spiritual awareness and a more meaningful journey of faith. God is at work, Isaiah tells us, in such a profound way that he reaches deep into our subconscious.“Morning by morning he wakens—wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught.” Morning by morning—day after day God speaks gently to Isaiah, “Isaiah, wake up. It’s time to open your ears. It’s time to open all your senses to the reality of a new day. This is the day that the Lord has made. Rejoice and be glad in it.”

Leave the false dreams and nightmares behind. Let go of the deadening of your senses that calls you back to slumber. Don’t let the gravity of sleep pull you back deep under cover. God has taken the initiative. He draws you into the promise of a new day. He rouses us out of spiritual unconsciousness. He opens our senses to take in the fullness of life. He opens our receptors and minds to wisdom. He gives us a wider, deeper, and higher worldview. We are wakened to the fullness of who God is, his creation, and our re-creation.

Sometimes that gentle rousing comes through difficulty, trials, and suffering as we see in our Scripture this morning. Isaiah says he gave his back to those who struck him, his cheeks to those who pulled violently on his beard, and his face to those who insulted him and spit upon him. It is morning by morning on those difficult days that God keeps pursuing Isaiah’s ear. By his Spirit and his Word, God wakes Isaiah up to his goodness. “I will not leave you as an orphan to wake up on your own and find yourself abandoned. I will come to you (Jn 14:18),” God says, “and bring you into my fullness.” We may be beaten up by the world. We may be in the midst in a battle. It may be a battle with illness or the abuse of others. We may held captive by our sin, addiction, apathy, or laziness; this is a kind of evil sleep and drowsiness.

But God is there morning by morning to awaken our spiritual ears to him. It reminds me when Elijah hears God’s voice: “God says, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.’ Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence”—a still small voice—a whisper” (1 Kings 19:11,12). It is another reminder that even in the midst of destructive wind, earthquakes, and fire, God’s voice still speaks and can still be heard. Isaiah goes out into the world wide awake and more aware of the fullness of God’s acceptance and presence.

Last week, a beautiful picture of a sailboat on Lake Michigan appeared on my Facebook feed. The deep blue water and skies and the white clouds and sails awakened my eyes to the beauty of the lake that is always nearby. The photo was taken by First Saint Paul’s own Jen Masengarb. And this is what she wrote, “This. This is what cancer teaches you, my friends… When your 4pm meeting on Navy Pier ends early, and you have an hour to spare, and a tall ship with beautiful white sails is waiting on the dock, and it’s 92F and sunny…you hop on and head out to the lake.”

“Morning by morning he wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught.” Day by day God molds and shapes us by his Spirit and his Word. And when we are awakened to his fullness, we step out boldly into life with a quiet confidence.  “The Lord God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced;” Isaiah says, “…I know that I shall not be put to shame. [God] who vindicates me is near. Who will contend with me? Let us stand up together. Who are my adversaries? Let them confront me. It is the Lord God who helps me; who will declare me guilty?”

“Morning by morning he wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught.”

And  what was Isaiah taught? What did he learn? That he could hold his head up high. That greater is he who is within us than he who is in the world (1 Jn 4:4). He learned the power of standing up together—that a cord of three strands is not easily broken (Eccl 4:12). He learned that we have an advocate with the Father and that nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus (Rom 8). He learned that the enemy may accuse and condemn us. The evil foe wants us to carry the heavy burden of guilt and shame. But God is the one who justifies. And he has declared us “forgiven” and “a new creation” because of the death and resurrection of his Son, our Savior Jesus Christ.

God wakes us up to journey forward ever more mindful—sober and awakened to the fullness of God’s creation around us that we experience with our senses and also to his Word and Spirit that we hear with the ears of faith. Wake up. It’s time to get up. The fullness of a new day is upon you. God awakens us and is ready to quietly lead us forward in his confidence and strength. “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it” (Ps 118:24).

"Faith Works" (James 2:14-17)

James 2:14-17

Pastor Tom Johnson, September 6, 2015

James cries foul. He identifies a phony faith. James is a straight shooter. He calls them as he sees them. And he has little tolerance for someone who says they believe but have nothing to show for it. He gives us a good scolding and rebuke with a rhetorical question: “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works?” What use is a profession with no work ethic? What worth is a religion that does not make you a more caring and empathetic person? What a waste of breath to speak golden words but do nothing with your hands and feet! “Can faith save you?” The question is better translated, “Can that faith save you?” as many English translations render it. “Can such a fruitless faith liberate you to do the works of God?” No, of course not. Empty faith is empty of works.

Just in case you miss his point, he gives a very concrete example: “If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food,  and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,’ and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?” Saying you have faith and no works to demonstrate your faith is as ridiculous as saying, “Go in peace anxious one! Bundle up my naked friend! Bon appetite my starving comrade!” They are faith-filled words but faithless because they are not followed up by action. They are words that are completely useless to anyone. People don't care what you know; they want to know that you care.  “So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.”

In other words, genuine faith works. Authentic faith produces good results. The pitfall that James wants us to avoid is what we have already confessed in our worship service: “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” In other words, this Scripture wants us to not be self-deceived—to be duped by our own phony religiosity—to find false security in our own well-spoken words but have no action to back them up. Several years ago, guest Pastor Allan Buss reminded us that “We are saved by grace through faith alone that it is a faith is not alone.” In other words, genuine faith does not exist in isolation. Faith manifests itself through faithful deeds.

Let’s be clear. James does not expect perfect faith here. He wants us to have authentic faith. He does not say that we generate our own faith. Faith is a gift. Faith is born into our lives through Baptism. Faith is part of the package that God gives with forgiveness and the assurance of eternal life. We may feel stronger in faith one day over another—even one minute over another. Faith is nurtured by the Holy Spirit, the Word of God, our fellowship, and prayer.

Faith can be small like a mustard seed but will grow into a tree. Authentic faith is just that—like a healthy tree. Healthy trees sprout leaves, flowers, and fruit. As Jesus himself says, “every good tree bears good fruit” (Matt 7:17). Faith works. “What God has begun in us he will bring to completion.” Faith is our trusting in God to transform our lives through forgiveness and the promise of eternal life. Faith is the belief that God renews our lives where we grow in our love for him and one another. Faith leads us on a path to not only speak but also do acts of mercy, love, and grace. Faith creates empathy and compassion for others. Knowing that we have been so unconditionally and freely loved and accepted leads us to extend that same love and acceptance to others.

The world today—perhaps more than ever—has no patience for empty and phony religiosity. People want to experience authentic faith. We want to be part of something that genuinely makes a difference in peoples’ lives. As we gather here this Sunday morning, tens of thousands of refugees are leaving Syria and making a long journey into Europe. Not all nations and people are welcoming them. But many are. Mayors of cities have promised food and housing. The Pope is urging his church to show mercy and offer shelter—even two families at the Vatican itself. Our partner church in Germany called SELK has offered a home to Christian and Muslim refugees; and in return, many Muslims have made their home in the Christian faith. One congregation in Berlin has grown from 150 to 600 many of whom were baptized in that same congregation. Hospitality works. Because what we see is faith at work. Faith works. Our community meals ministry here at First Saint Paul’s, where we provide a hot meal every Saturday, does not earn us God’s love and grace. We feed the hungry out of God’s love and grace.

God says to us, “Go in peace—go out into the world with the assurance and message of peace. Be warm—be clothed in the perfect righteousness of Christ which covers all your sin. Be filled—take, eat the body given and the blood shed for you.” God believes in us that we can experience this life-transformation. “Go in peace, be warm, be filled.” Our faith compels us. We get to extend that same love and mercy to others. We have the privilege of being both beneficiaries and conduits of the love of God.

"The Mirror" (James 1:22-25)

James 1:22-25

Pastor Tom Johnson, August 30, 2015

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

“Thou, O Queen, are the fairest in the land.” 

And then later on, the mirror says, “Snow White, O Queen, is the fairest of them all.” 

This sends the queen into a rage. So the Law can offend us. Mirrors, in fact, do speak. The picture they give, as the cliché goes, is worth a thousand words. Mirrors reflect light back. If the surface of the mirror is curved like it is at the carnival, it will send you a distorted image; you may look taller, shorter, wider, or narrower. The mirror we are talking about is no carnival attraction. There is no nick, bump, kink, or a spot on its surface. It is perfectly plane and completely flat. Its silver-coated glass is spotless. It sends a perfect image back. This mirror has been hand-crafted by no earthly craftsman but the Creator and the eternal Word himself. It is a window into our own souls. To look into this mirror is to see the naked self—the true and unfiltered me. This mirror is the Law.

When we look into this mirror, our imperfections stare back at us—the wear and tear of time—the scars and blemishes—the ravages of living in fallen world. We are confronted with what the Law tells us to do and how we have failed: We have served other gods, taken God’s name in vain, neglected his Word and worship, not honored our parents, done bodily and emotional harm to one another, been unfaithful, taken what is not ours, gossiped and slandered, and been jealous of one another. We have broken each of the Ten Commandments.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all.” 
“Thou, O Sinner, are most certainly not,” the Law says,

“You are, by your fallen nature, sinful and unclean. You have sinned in thought, word, and deed, by what you have done and by what you have left undone. You have not loved God with your whole heart; you have not loved your neighbor as yourselves. You justly deserve God’s present and eternal punishment.”

It is a courageous and bold thing to do—to look into this mirror and confront the reality of our failures. But that is exactly what this Scripture is calling us to do—to look into the mirror and remember what we see—to be mindful of how we need to grow—that God wants us to mature and grow into Christ-likeness. Looking into this mirror and forgetting what we look like is, perhaps, like how we Photoshop our pictures. We erase the memory of those blemishes, that waist-line, the wrinkles under our eyes and upon our brows. We create a false image where even supermodels no longer look like the supermodels.

It is a common thing for actors to not want to see themselves on the screen and to take off their headphones in a radio interview so that they don’t have to even listen to themselves speak. They painfully see and hear—as through a mirror—their imperfections. Charles Spurgeon, a 19^th century English Baptist preacher, was one of the first people to have his voice recorded and played back on a cylinder audio recorder. He said, “The worst punishment for preachers would be to listen to their own sermons. After hearing themselves preach, they would say with Cain of old, ‘My punishment is too great for me to bear!’”

The Law is a schoolmaster, Scripture says, that leads us to Christ (Gal 3:4). It is like one of those nannies you see with small children leading them to the grade school of the Gospel. There is order. There is direction. There is discipline. One preacher said, “You may take a piece of silk thread, and try to sew with it as long as you like, but you will do nothing with it alone. You want a sharp, piercing needle to go first, and that will draw the silken thread after it. So, the needle of the Law prepares the way for the thread of the gospel” (Robbie Flockhart).

There is great power and promise in this difficult gaze into the mirror. Because God’s purpose is not to humiliate us or condemn us but lead us to the cleansing waters of Baptism and dress ourselves in the perfect righteousness of Christ. This is what it means to be a “doer of the Word”—to experience the life-transforming grace of the Gospel—to realize one’s need for forgiveness and to realize its promise through Christ. Scripture says that we are God’s mirrors of Christ to the world. We radiate Christ into all eternity more brightly than the midday sun. “All of us,” one Scripture says, “with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image” (2 Cor 3:18).

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” 

“Snow White is the fairest of them all”
—the spotless Lamb of God—our sacrifice without blemish, our Savior without sin—who gave his life and rose again to give us a makeover.

It begins with a hard look in the mirror. It ends with us radiating his glory forever.

"Lord, to whom shall we go?" (John 6:56-69)

John 6:56-69

 

Pastor Tom Johnson, August 23, 2015

There could be several reasons why the disciples took offense at Jesus and decided to stop following him. It may have been offering his body and blood as bread and drink. It may have been his assertion that our faith is a work of God—that God grants and gives faith. They are offended. Jesus’ sayings have become too strange and difficult. They turn away and leave. These who were once disciples—pupils—students of Jesus no longer wish to learn from this Master. It just does not seem worth it anymore.

To whom did they go?. Did they go to their synagogues and communities of faith to search the Scriptures to see if what Jesus taught was true? Did they look for prophet that would scratch their itching ears? Or did they go to the safe and predictable world of their own natural, day-to-day thinking? Jesus does not seem surprised. He even turns to the remaining twelve disciples and asks them, “Do you also wish to go away?” Jesus’ candor and transparency here is unsettling—as unsettling as  what caused the offense in the first place.

Do you ever feel like packing your bags and calling it quits? Have you burned out from the life of a disciple whose world is frequently turned upside down? Are you just tired of it all—ready to throw in your towel—and give up the good fight? “Do you also wish to go away?” “Be honest,” Jesus says. “Just let it out. I won’t be surprised.” Jesus wants to draw out those hidden and unspoken thoughts. He wants to bring them into the light. Sometimes it is cleansing just to speak from our hearts. Why should any of us blindly ride the coattails of our parents or those who encouraged us in the faith? What is wrong with turning away to the world with all of its diversity and alternatives to the Christian faith? Do you and I also wish to just go away at times? Maybe it is the mystery of the bread and the wine and how it is also the Body and Blood of Jesus. Perhaps it is the profound doctrine of God’s foreknowledge and his supreme reign even over our hearts and minds. Or maybe it is something else. Is it the hypocrisy of the Church? Is it the lack of love and judgment we find in our communities of faith? To put it bluntly, why is Christianity on the decline in the West? Or are people just more honest with themselves these days and courageous enough to say enough is enough?

Jesus is not panicking here in this text even though most of his followers just decided to go their separate ways. By turning to the disciples and asking them if they want to join them, he is giving them space and time to make their journey their own. He gives them freedom to explore and struggle on our own. “Do you also wish to go away?” Peter answers, “To whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” Jesus, we have strayed away in our hearts. We have explored this wilderness for another flower. We have tasted the world’s bread and sipped on its wine. We have considered an outlook on life that lacks the mystery and transcendence of your teaching. And they have all come up short. You are the rose of Sharon in the desert. We have come to believe and know—our journey has led us here. We have come far. There is still uncertainty ahead. But your words are eternal life. And you are the Holy One of God. You are our last hope for truth. You are the only assurance of God’s grace. You are the only reliable revelation of the love of God. You are the only light for those who grope in the dark.

I love those words of Peter: “We have come to believe and know…” Following Jesus is a mysterious journey. It gives room to our individual stories. We have the freedom to question, explore, and consider the claims of Jesus of Nazareth. We discover for ourselves that following Jesus will always stand up as the best alternative in life’s journey. He is the way, the truth, and the life. He most beautifully and most truly reveals the love God has for the world.

Just think about Peter’s journey from here. To whom does he go when Jesus is arrested? He goes to his sword to cut of the ear of a servant. To whom does he go when they take Jesus away? He runs away along with the other disciples. To whom does he go when Jesus is being wrongly tried and crucified? He goes to warm himself around a fire and denies Jesus three times and returns to his former life as a fisherman. To whom does he go after all his failings, sin, and tears when he recognizes the resurrected Jesus on shore? Peter dives in the water toward the One who forgives, restores, and assures us of eternal life.

To whom shall we go? He invites us to follow. He gives room to our journey. He assure us that he is the Holy One of God—true Messiah—faithful Teacher with words of eternal life. He is most beautiful Revealer of the love of God for his creation.

Yet is God here? 
O, yes! By Word and promise clear, 
In mouth and soul 
He makes us whole—
Christ, truly present in this meal. 
O taste and see—the Lord is real.
(from hymn "What Is This Bread" v. 4)

"Wisdom's Feast" (Prov 9:1-6)

Proverbs 9:1-6

Pastor Tom Johnson, August 16, 2015

Wisdom has built her house. She has constructed a mansion in our community. She has built her palace on the firm foundation seven pillars cut out of solid rock. And today is open house. She has prepared a feast. Her roasting fire is burning, her ovens are baking. She has mixed her wines to maximize their aroma, flavor, and balance of taste. She has adorned her table with the finest linen and utensils in her home. She sends out her servant-girls. They have finished their work in the house. They are now have a mission to do outside. They are evangelists sent out to proclaim the word of wisdom and an invitation to join the party:

“You that are simple—you without sense, come in and eat! Come and drink! Leave your immaturity and foolishness behind and live. Have wisdom as your companion on life’s journey. Wisdom will be a lamp to your feet and a light to your path.”

She is so generous! But also and odd and strange! Wisdom does not invite the wise. She does not invite the perceptive. She does not invite the mature. She invites those who are poor in spirit. She invites those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Those who hear her call answer—only answer—because they see themselves as poor, hungry, and thirsty souls. Pride gets in the way of answering this call for “God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong” (1 Cor 1:27). This call goes out to those who are teachable—to those who are receptive to free and extravagant gifts—to those who have a sober self-assessment—to those who are humble enough to admit that we often live our lives aimlessly and without purpose and meaning.

How many times have we gotten out of bed in the morning without a sense of mission? How often have we done what the world tells us to do and followed our own noses? Sadly we often speak and act before we think. We lack a moral compass when we do not filter our words and actions with wisdom. But wisdom calls. Wisdom convicts us, “What can you learn today about life, about others, and about yourself? How can you grow to be a better and more loving person toward God and your neighbor? Are you willing to receive God’s lavish and loving gifts?” Wisdom challenges us to live: “Will you take a courageous step forward? Will you admit you shortcomings, your weaknesses, your neediness, and failure to do what God commands? When you hear the servant girls call out the simple, the immature, the hungry, and the thirsty; do you say, ‘Here am I. Send me!’”

To accept the servant girl’s invitation is to believe in grace—God’s undeserved, unmerited, unearned gift—wisdom for the immature, food for the hungry, and wine for the thirsty. To go to Wisdom’s party is to celebrate the Gospel! In joy, we set our face like flint toward the home built on seven rock-hewn pillars. Yes, our thinking is clouded, our stomachs growling, and our mouths parched with thirst. But can you smell the smoke from wisdom’s kitchen? Can you hear the utensils being set on the table? Wisdom is about to be served. She calls you and me. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”

Wisdom sends out her servant-girl Mary. “My soul magnifies the Lord,” she calls out, “and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name…He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” Wisdom sends out her servant-girl Anna to the temple. Anna grows mature, in years, and in wisdom as she tells others of the upcoming feast. She encourages those who were hungry and thirsty to be open and receptive. She calls us to wisdom made flesh, Jesus. Wisdom sends out her servant-girls Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome. They go to anoint Jesus’ dead body but instead find an angel and an empty grave. Wisdom sends them out to the disciples with the message “He is risen and gone before us into Galilee. We will see him just as he told us.”

Wisdom sends us out as her servant-girls. You and I go to the highways and byways to invite the undeserving, the immature, the sinful, the starved and parched. We invite the whole world to a lavish feast. We get to participate in the work and gift of wisdom. We don’t deserve it. We haven’t earned it. That should bring a smile and joy to our hearts as we give thanks for all his benefits and go out to the world with an honest message about who we truly are and how great God’s gifts in Jesus Christ truly are. Jesus is our feast. He says “Believe in God believe also in me. In my house are many rooms. I go to prepare a place for you—your heavenly home built on the rock-hewn pillars of my death and resurrection—my triumph over the devil and the grave. I give my Body for bread and my Blood for wine. Wisdom invites you. Take, eat; drink of it all of you. Grow in humility, dependence, and faith. Feast on my Word and promise to fill the hungry and satisfy the thirsty. Taste and see that the Lord is good.”