"Who touched me?" (Mark 5:24-35)

Mark 5:24-35

 


Pastor Tom Johnson, June 28, 2015

Jesus is on an emergency mission. Jairus begs on his knees for Jesus to come and lay hands on his daughter who is about to die. The time is short. The sense of urgency is felt by the crowd as they begin a stampede toward the young, dying girl. “When one part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers with it” (1 Cor 12:26). That’s when the woman with a hemorrhage makes her move. She doesn’t want to stop Jesus. She does not want to disturb or delay him. But here he is within arms’ reach. Now is her chance to experience the healing she has so longed for. Her suffering has gone on for twelve long, agonizing years. For people familiar with religious law, they would understand just how lonely and desperate she has become. It is all written in the last half of Leviticus chapter 15.

It is the ceremonial law of the land. It is the law designed to keep the tabernacle and temple free from contamination and defilement. It’s written to protect the rest of God’s people from uncleanliness. As long as a woman experiences a hemorrhage, she cannot even touch someone. If she does, she makes that person unclean. They must take a bath. They must wash their clothes. They must quarantine themselves until the end of the day. If you even touch the woman’s stuff, her clothing, her bed, her chair—anything she has come into contact with—it will prevent you from entering the temple. She cannot enter God’s house of worship. 

It is also noteworthy that Mark mentions that she had endured much suffering under many physicians, spent all the money she had—went bankrupt for her healthcare costs and was not any better. In Luke’s Gospel—who is a physician by trade—he leaves out that little detail. Apparently, it is bad for business. What I like about the way this story—and how Mark writes it—is that we are given many reasons why the woman with the hemorrhage should be the last person to gain the attention of Jesus.

Jesus is busy. He is answering a 911 call to prevent the death of a young person. A crowd is pressing and driving him forward. Somehow this woman gets the idea that she can be healed her condition. It has been hard enough carrying her burden alone. And so, she boldly moves through the crowd toward Jesus—coming into contact with dozens of other people. She reaches out her hand, stretches her harm as far as it will go, and touches Jesus’ clothing. The woman immediately experiences a wave of healing. She can feel her body made whole and well again. The hemorrhage stops. The nerve cells hidden deep within her body sent a message to her brain that she is healed. That is when Jesus turns around in the crowd. His sudden stop likely causes people to bump into each other even more. And he asks, “Who touched my clothes?”

There are two wonderful reasons why Jesus asks such a ridiculous question. The first is to laugh our way into a fuller understanding and trust in Jesus. His question is a humorous way of highlighting the life-transforming power of the Son of God. The disciples get it. “How can you say, ‘Who touched me?’ There are people pressing on you from all sides. Dozens and dozens have touched you. Who on earth can sense one unique touch out of hundreds? Do you have nerve endings on your clothing, Jesus? No one can feel their clothing being touched. Do you remember David cutting off the hem of Saul’s robe while he was sleeping? He didn’t feel a thing. He didn’t even wake up.”

The second reason for his ridiculous question is that it gives the woman an opportunity to tell her own story. “She tells him the whole truth,” our text says. Maybe one of the great miracles of this story is that we end up listening; we empathize with this poor woman; we to celebrate her healing. Even better, we get to celebrate Jesus, the healer. He knows the secret burdens we carry. He sees the bleeding hidden deep within our hearts. He cares about our profound loneliness, isolation, and despair we experience. He gives us courage to tell our stories. And when we hear how he heals and restores, we grow in faith and trust in God’s power through his Son Jesus Christ. Like the woman who feels healing in her body, Jesus senses brokenness in the greater body of his people and sends out healing power. “When one part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers with it.” So, he asks, “Who touched me?” 

“Who has reached out to me in such a unique way?” he asks. “Who has prayed that desperate prayer?” “Who has reached the end of their rope in despair and loneliness?” “Who has cried, ‘Hear my prayer.’” “Step forward,” Jesus says, “tell your story. I sense your touch. I know your condition. I forgive the vilest act. I deliver from the most captive sin. In my public bleeding on the cross, I heal the secret bleeding of all humanity. My Body is not limited to the flesh and blood you see. Like clothing is an extension of myself, so you are an extension of my Body. I will ask, ‘Who touched me?’ so that you will ask, ‘Who touched me? It is I, Jesus, healer, forgiver, restorer, and guaranteer of eternal life.’ Your reaching out to me is really my drawing you in.”

"Through the Storm" (Mark 4:35-41)

Mark 4:35-41

Pastor Tom Johnson, June 21, 2015

To be in a storm on the water is terrifying. The threat comes from all directions. The wind pushes and pulls. The water underneath lifts and drops. The waves crash and bang. The clouds flash and thunder. We may have felt safe before in our little boat. But now that is even failing. We can’t scoop up the water fast enough. There is more water coming in from the rain and the waves than what we can manage to throw overboard. The boat that once safely lifted us up out of the water is now slowly becoming a small pool itself. And soon—inch by inch—the boat will disappear into the dark waters. And then the water will churn and try to swallow us alive as well.

Maybe it isn’t the wind. Maybe it’s deadlines, late nights, early mornings, burdens that keep trying to knock you over. We feel tossed and abused. Maybe it is the ruthless reign of time—“Time, like an ever rolling stream, Bears all its sons away; They fly, forgotten, as a dream Dies at the opening day.” Maybe it isn’t the water. Maybe it’s the need to perform better, close more deals, to rise to a standard that seems to be set too high. The weight of it is on your chest. You feel like you cannot breathe. You wonder when you are going to be able to draw in a full and satisfying breath deep into your lungs. Maybe it isn’t the waves. Maybe it’s the verbal abuse of your adversaries beating you down. Words of criticism. Accusations of the evil one. Even our own conscience constantly assaulted by guilt and the rhythmic beatings of despair. Maybe it isn’t the clouds. Maybe it is the future that looks so menacing and dark. Maybe it is financial, medical, or emotional. Maybe it is the news of 9 brothers and sisters in Christ gathered for Bible study in Charleston, South Carolina—two of whom were graduates of a Lutheran seminary. Maybe it’s the news that ISIS is escalating the violence against Assyrian Christians in Syria and Coptic Christians in Egypt or Boco Haram’s continued targeting of young girls. When one part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers. Tragically, there seems to be many things that shroud the sun, the moon, the stars, and the blue sky with darkness without any hint of passing by.

The flash of lightning we see is not there to guide us but to blind us. The crack of thunder we hear will not call us out of the storm but further paralyze us in fear. The fear of these disciples—many of whom are professional fishermen—those who spent their lives on the water like Peter, James, and John—their fear is legitimate. We may have never put our faith in a Galilean fisherman’s boat. But whatever we have placed our faith in can be rocked violently—whether it is our well-constructed theology, our confidence in God to assure us, or promise to bear us up.

It isn’t just the boat that seems to be failing but our Savior as well. Even Jesus appears to be rocked in the stern of our failing vessels. He seems oblivious to the danger, asleep in the stern, not even aware that he too will soon be under the deadly waters. Or even worse, we don’t see an unconscious Jesus. We don’t see God at all. There is no one even to cry out to: “Wake up!” There is no shoulder to grab and shake. Like one pastor said in South Carolina (Bishop Herman Yoos), “In Psalm 130 we read ‘out of the depths do we cry unto you…’ It is out of the depth of our human sinfulness that we look not to ourselves for answers but to our crucified Lord Jesus and his outstretched arms of mercy and forgiveness.” Out of the depths of the stormy sea, the disciples cry out, “Do you not care that we are perishing?” It seems disrespectful, unfaithful, or blasphemous. But once again, Jesus leads the way when out of the depths of death on the cross he cries out and pours out his soul when he says, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”

 “Do you care? Do you notice our suffering? Do you even exist?”

These are the prayers of the faithful. This is the obedient response to God, our Creator, who taught us to pray, “Deliver us from evil.” It is the answer to Scripture’s challenge “to cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you” (1 Pet 5:7).

Jesus’ response in the boat, “Peace! Be still!” is directed to the wind, the rain, the waves, and the stormy clouds. He does not rebuke the disciples for their accusing him of not caring. He rebukes the wind and the sea. He rebukes the power of sin, evil, and death. Like the “dead calm” after the disciples’ raging storm, in Jesus we have a dead calm. We have the forgiveness of sin, the victory over evil, and the death of death. Maybe the disciples were so bold to cry out to God because they were challenging Jesus to keep his word and fulfill his promise when they began his journey—when he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” And that he does; he takes them to the other side through trial and danger but safely through the storm.

In thine arms I rest me; Foes who would molest me Cannot reach me here.
The the earth be shaking, Ev’ry heart be quaking, Jesus Calms my fear.
Lightnings flash And thunders crash; Yet, though sin and hell assail me,
Jesus will not fail me.

Satan, I defy thee; Death, I now decry thee; Fear, I bid thee cease.
World, thou shalt not harm me Nor thy threats alarm me While I sing of peace.
God’s great pow’r Guards ev’ry hour; Earth and all its depths adore Him,
Silent bow before Him.

"The Kingdom is like a mustard seed" (Mark 4:30-34)

Mark 4:30-34



Pastor Tom Johnson, June 14, 2015

How do you spell mustard seed? Well I tried to figure that out. The truth is I couldn’t figure it out no matter how much I googled it. I’m not talking about how to spell it in English but in the language of creation. For us English speakers it is eleven letters separated by a space. We have 26 letters to choose from. I can spell it out in 5 seconds. I can type it out in less than 3 seconds. M-U-S-T-A-R-D [space] S-E-E-D To spell mustard seed in the language of God’s creation, DNA, there are four letters to choose from. If it is anything like the Norway spruce tree, to spell mustard seed would take 21 billion letters. It would stretch 35,000 miles long. It would fill 7 million pages. 35,000 books would stake 14 stories high. If one would read mustard seed—and take 24 hours a day to do so—it would take about 700 years. In a surprising twist, the human genome can have a lot less information than a tree—up to seven times shorter—taking a mere 50 years to type and a hundred years to read. All that information—all those instructions on building life from the ground up are in one stand of DNA. A strand of DNA is about 3 meters high. But it is so thin that it can only be seen with an electron microscope. Unraveled completely it would stretch to the moon. We humans are so proud of microchips. We have nothing on God’s creation. And that really is the point of all of this—to learn about God through his creation.

Jesus said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” How can we begin to understand the Kingdom of God? Jesus says, look at how God’s creations packs in 21 billion letters into a little seed—not just into the seed but one cell of that seed—a seed so small that it takes concentration to hold it between your thumb and index finger—a cell so small it can be only seen through a microscope. Jesus says, great things do come in small packages. All that information—all the instructions—everything a tiny seed needs from the ground up is contained in that little string of data. Even though it is one of the tiniest seeds, it become one of the greatest shrubs. It will grow so large that it can become a home for a family of birds.

The Kingdom of God works the same way. Planting a mustard seed can teach us an important lesson about God’s reign in and through his creation. Do not underestimate the potential of little seeds of love and kindness. We pray “Thy Kingdom come” and God’s Kingdom comes in small packages, Jesus says. Later in Mark Jesus will say that “Whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you belong to Christ will by no means lose his reward” (Mark 9:41). With this parable, Jesus is giving us an enormous gift. Jesus us something to believe in—Someone to trust—confidence in God’s work in our lives—encouragement to nurture God’s work through our lives.

Do not underestimate small acts of kindness sown into the lives of your neighbor, coworker, friend, or family. That little note—that brief phone call—that text message of encouragement may seem insignificant and little but it may be exactly what a person needs to help them through the night to the promise of a new day. Think of all the small seeds packed with the power of the kingdom of God: a word of forgiveness, an affirmation of acceptance, a gesture of appreciation. Little words with divine power: “The peace of the Lord.” “You are forgiven.” “You are part of God’s family.” “God has given you gifts to share.” Jesus at one time was conceived by the Holy Spirit of the virgin Mary. He began his journey as the Word made flesh as a human embryo—a tiny seed of humanity growing in the womb of his mother. And yet, he was, he is, and he will forever be the King of kings and Lord of lords.

He spent his life sowing little seeds of encouragement, healing, and forgiveness into the lives of little people like you and me. And he said that to fully appreciate his work and become great, we must become as little children (Mark 9,10). Jesus planted his life into the soil of the earth. He gave himself up on the tree of the cross of Calvary to defeat the power of evil, sin, and death. He sowed his body into the tomb in the ground and three days later sprang to new life. Jesus is now the Tree of Life where we can make our nests and find our eternal home. With a little splash of water in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit you and are adopted, spiritual cleansed, and made royal daughters and sons. With a little bread and a little fruit of the vine we receive Christ’s Body and Blood to forgive, assure, and strengthen us for our journey ahead. For you—for me—for all the world, great and wonderful things indeed come in small packages.

“The First Pursuit of the Fallen” (Gen 3:8-15)

Genesis 3:8-15

Pastor Tom Johnson, June 7, 2015

Before Adam and Eve’s disobedience they were not ashamed of their bodies. They never hungered. They enjoyed perfect fellowship with their Creator. There were in marital bliss. They enjoyed perfect communion with God’s creation. But all that ended. They ate the forbidden fruit. And the one who tempted and deceived them was the serpent of old. John writes in his Revelation that the “ancient serpent” is “the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world” (Rev 12:9). The Devil’s fall from grace preceded ours. And yet, we do not know when Satan and his demons began their rebellion. Satan and his demons will lose the war. But there will be many battles. The Devil will not tolerate one righteous generation of humanity. And so he tempts Adam and Eve to throw all of God’s blessings away for a lie—the lie that they can become gods themselves.

But the Lord God doesn’t waste any time either. He pursues Adam and Eve immediately. He does not pursue them as a police officer to arrest them. He does not come as a lawyer to prosecute them. He does not come as judge to condemn them. He does not come for the righteous but for sinners. He comes to seek and save that which has been lost. God walks in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve are the ones who run away and hide. And here is really a hilarious thing. God is willing to play hide and seek. “Where are you?” he asks. Adam says he is now afraid of God. Adam and Eve feel exposed now. They feel vulnerable. They are ashamed of their bodies that God created himself. But God continues to play along and asks, “Who told you that you were naked?” “Did you eat from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” Adam blames his wife Eve. Eve blames the serpent. And God holds them all accountable. But for Adam and Eve he issues a promise. And this promise is attached to the seed—or offspring—of Eve. This son of Eve “shall strike [Satan’s] head, and [Satan] shall strike the son of Eve’s heel.”

This makes a lot more sense to us on this side of the cross than it did perhaps to those before. The death-blow to the serpent’s head is a prophecy of Satan’s ultimate defeat. The striking of the Son’s heel is a reference to the crucifixion of Christ. Paul makes this clear when he encourages believers at the end of his letter to Rome. He writes, “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet” (Rom 16:20). From the very beginning God pursues the fallen. He seeks and save his people through Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Moses. Generation after generation, God builds on his promise to send the Son. We live in a period of this promise. Adam and Eve lived the rest of their lives with God’s promise. And like all humanity, it is a promise which has not yet been fulfilled. We still live in a time of struggle between good and evil. 

Until Jesus comes in his fullness, there will continue to be times of strife, pain, doubt, temptation, and death because evil has not yet been finally done away with. But we know that good and evil are not equal opposing forces. this son of Eve “shall crush [Satan’s] head, and [Satan] shall strike his heel.” The Son will rise from his mortal wounds. For us he is risen indeed. But for the serpent there will be a day when he will never rise again. But what I really want us to see and celebrate in this passage is the love of God and his relentless pursuit of the fallen. And it is bound up in one little question: “Where are you?”

“Where are you?” he asks. For a time God may let us think that we can run and hide from him. But he knows he is not speaking in vain. “Where are you?” “Can you tell me where you are? Can you be vulnerable and let me into your world?” “Where are you?” he asks. He knows that we can sometimes be in a dark and shameful place. But then we hear him call, “Where are you?” And we can be assured he is coming for us. He is coming for us. “Where are you?” he asks. He calls us to stop pretending that we can hide from him. “Where are you?” he asks. He invites us to stop trusting ourselves and taking ourselves so seriously as if we can pull a fast one over God. “Where are you?” he asks. He initiates a relationship and gives us courage to be vulnerable to him—to know that we are accepted and worth being pursued by his amazing grace. “Where are you?” he asks. He opens our world up to forgiveness. “Where are you?” names the battles we have lost. “Where are you?” reveals the victory we have in the promised Son who was born, lived, died, and rose again for our salvation.

Watch against yourself, my soul,
Lest with grace you trifle;
Let not self your thoughts control
Nor God’s mercy stifle.
Pride and sin
Lurk within,
All your hopes to shatter;
Heed not when they flatter.

But while watching, also pray
To the Lord unceasing.
God protects you day by day,
Strength and faith increasing,
So that still
Mind and will
Shall unite to serve Him
And forever love him.

(LSB hymn 663 "Rise, My Soul, to Watch and Pray" vv. 4-5)

“For God So Loved the World”

John 3:1-17

Tom Johnson, May 31, 2015

Ginger was our yellow lab. When we first met her in Kansas, she was the first dog to greet us at the rescue. She had large wound on her ear. It took weeks to heal. The people at the rescue said that it was from a gun blast while her previous owner was hunting. At first, Ginger did not trust me. In fact, she did not like men in general. I had to earn her trust—speaking to her, feeding her, playing with her, taking her into the garage during storms and the cold. Soon, Ginger wagged her tail in excitement when I came home. She trusted me. She believed that I was on her side. She had faith that I wanted her to live and live well. She loved the kids and Johanna. She was excited to greet women but she was always distrustful of men and saw them as a threat and would bark and growl. And so, we painted a portrait of Ginger’s former owner in our minds. He must have been an unloving master. He carelessly used shotguns around her. He must have abused her because she so consistently distrusted adult males.

As Christians and as members of the Church, we may have been responsible for how the world outside thinks of God, the Master of Creation. Is our message that God is Judge and that his plan is to pour down his wrath upon sinners? Do we portray God as Supreme Being who is deeply disappointed in humanity, and has a fiery furnace burning for the vast majority of us? Have we painted a portrait of God as passive aggressive—carelessly waiting on us to seek him out—giving us the silent treatment until we make the first move toward life change—wondering when we will repair our broken lives before he takes notice? Have we promoted a concept of God as the cosmic police officer—waiting on the side of life’s road to catch us in our next move, ready to wave us by with a blessing when we’re good or stop and punish us when we are bad—a god who always looks at the world with a critical eye—not ever fully happy with us sinners down here on planet earth?

May I vent some of my frustration to you this morning? Is that ok? I need to express my deep disappointment in our beloved church body in recent days. It seems to be more and more popular to express our fear of the sinful world around us. “The world’s sin will encroach upon our lives and religious freedoms!” we cry. “We must hire lawyers! We must fight them—the dreaded they—those whose behavior is despised by God—those who are not us but them—those who do not value life like we do.” Perhaps we are not aware that out of our fear we have rewritten redemptive history. We have perverted Jesus’ mission to the cosmos. We have twisted God’s vision of what he intends to do for this world. And we have made the world an enemy of God and us. If we were to write John 3:16 today, perhaps it would sound like this: “For God so distrusted the world—for God so feared potential for evil in the world—for God was so disgusted with the world that he sent his Son as a wager: “turn or burn,” “don’t infringe upon the rights of my people,” “leave my people alone,” “you need to change to accommodate me and my people and then we may accommodate you!”

No, no, no: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

Jesus’ words remind us that God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit are all united in their love for the cosmos. Our Triune God loves the world. And his love is not mere warm feelings but action—he sent the Son. He sent his Son as pure Gospel—100% good news—out of deep love and concern for his creation and his creatures. God has taken the initiative to mend our lives and relationships. He sent his Son—not to judge or to condemn—but forgive us and assure us of eternal life. It sounds like to me that God even likes the world. He is a friend of sinners, Scripture says.

The time was soon approaching to move from Kansas to the Chicago area. We needed two bids from movers. A man came from the first moving company came in the front door, looked over all our stuff, and then asked to go out through the garage. I warned him about our dog. I took her into her kennel. And sure enough she growled and barked at him as he passed by. The next day, a man from the second mover came. He also came in the front door, looked over all our stuff, and then asked to go out through the garage. I gave him the same warning about our dog’s dislike for adult, human males. No matter what I said, the mover insisted it was ok. He was a life-long dog lover, he said. I was more nervous than he was as we walked out through the garage. Without a growl or a bark, our dog walked up to the man calmly, slowly, and put her cheek and head against his thigh adoringly. I was shocked. The man looked down at her and said, “Ginger?” “How do you know her name?” I asked. “When did you get her?” he asked back. Soon we put our stories together and he said, “Ginger was our dog since she was a puppy.”

He explained how she kept breaking free of her kennel while he was away at work. After she broke free and tore her ear on the fence and was hit by a car, he felt he had no choice but to surrender her because he could no longer ensure her safety or the other dogs at his home. He hoped Ginger would find a good and caring home. We both were stunned at the intersection of our stories. I was blown away by the realization that the animal rescue and I had it all wrong about Ginger’s former master. The kids asked what her middle name was and he said she had none. He called the next day to say that his children gave her the middle name “Snap.” Neither of us could figure out why Ginger always distrusted men. But one thing is for sure: it wasn’t because of this adult human male who had previously owned her. That is for certain. He was a dog-lover after all.

There is a lesson here in these words of Jesus. He wants us to join him in stunning the world—to blow those around us away with the good news: the triune God has acted in love. His plan is to heal, forgive, restore, and build us up. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” He is a loving Creator. He is a people-lover after all.