“Craving” (Genesis 3.1-19 1 Peter 2.1-3 Matthew 18.1-4)

Genesis 3.1-19

1 Peter 2.1-3

Matthew 18.1-4

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Pastor Tom Johnson, February 24, 2021

Eve and Adam were not hungry in the Garden of Eden. They could eat from any plant or tree except for the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The serpent tempted them—not with hunger—but to crave what God had forbidden. Satan craved the fracture of our intimate relationship with God. And so he sweetened humanity’s fall into sin with a lie—the lie that we would not die but become like gods.

Craving food that we are not permitted to eat is a transgression of the tenth commandment—you shall not covet. Eve “saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise.” First she coveted or craved. Then “she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate.” Just as Jesus warns that adultery does not begin with the act but the eye and heart that lusts, so stealing this fruit from God’s garden begins with the heart and stomach that crave. Like our first parents, we also crave what God has not given to us. 

You will remember that when God delivered the Israelites out of 400 years of slavery, God fed them the bread from heaven. The hunger was satisfied. But their cravings were not. They longed for the meat pots and great variety of food back in Egypt when they were slaves. Their craving and lack of gratitude for what God had given them threatened to fracture their relationship and covenant with God. These Scriptures remind us that craving is not the same thing as hunger. Craving is a desire to have certain foods that taste good or make us feel good. We can confuse craving with hunger. Especially for those of us of privilege who have rarely missed a meal, craving can be easy to confuse with hunger. 

True hunger is when the body has started to deplete its reserves. We can crave chocolate but we are not really hungry for chocolate. We just want our taste buds to tingle. We can crave coffee or tea but what we may really want is the caffeine. Or we crave alcohol or drugs—not because they will sustain us bodily—but we want to self-medicate. When our craving is out of control or when our craving controls us we call that addiction. This teaches us something about sin and what God wants for us in our lives. He wants us to be free from the power and seduction of the things of this world. There may not be anything wrong with many of the things we crave or desire. The danger is when the pursuit of those things begins to consume us. 

One great way to discipline the cravings of the body is through fasting. We can reprogram our minds and bodies to realize that we really do not need all the things we crave. We can discover—through true hunger—a more essential and basic need. When we are truly hungry, we are not picky. We realize our need for nutrition, to rebuild cells, and give us the energy our bodies need to live. And so God wants us to cultivate a taste for his Word—as 1 Peter chapter 2 says, “Like newborn infants, long for the pure, spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow into salvation—if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.” 

I remember not liking some of the food that my parents enjoyed. When I asked them about it they said, “When you get older, you develop a taste and a palate for different foods.” I’ve told my kids the same thing. Here Scripture is telling us—not to cultivate an adult palate—but an infant palate—to crave our mother’s milk. Just as Jesus tells us that we must become like little children to enter the Kingdom, so we must become like infants to grow in the Kingdom. The Holy Spirit works to to develop our palates for Word and Sacrament.

God wants us to come to him like infants who long for their mother’s milk. Infants intuitively know that their mother’s milk provides all that they need to sustain their bodies and grow. And so, like God’s newborns, we come to trust God knowing—like all good mothers—God gives us all that we need to grow into the people he wants us to be.  God craves a relationship with each of us. Jesus craves our forgiveness and eternal life so much so that he tasted death for us. The Holy Spirit craves that we cultivate a taste for nurture and growth in his Kingdom until we all celebrate the marriage feast of the Lamb in his Kingdom that will have no end. And so we taste and see that the Lord is good.

“the wilderness” (Mark 1:9-15)

Mark 1:9-15

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Pastor Tom Johnson, February 21, 2021

Mark says “the Spirit drove [Jesus] out into the wilderness.” It could be translated as “the Spirit threw Jesus out toward the wilderness” or “was cast into the wilderness.” It’s different from Luke and Matthew who both say “Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness.” The contrast is between a shepherd who leads his sheep and willingly follow, on the one hand, and a shepherd who must motivate his sheep to go where they don’t want to go, on the other—they are driven.  Jesus will again “be driven by the Spirit” to the garden before his betrayal, arrest, and crucifixion. He prays, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I will, but what you will.” 

Mark, as he often does, speeds the story of Jesus along. He rapidly moves from scene to scene. And here, he chooses to tell the story of how Jesus enters into his temptation with an emphasis on Jesus’ humanity. Yes, Jesus faithfully follows the Spirit’s leading as God’s faithful and divine Son. Mark reminds us he also has the Spirit’s urging and push because he is also human. Just before this, God the Father identifies Jesus as his beloved Son and says he is well-pleased with him. The Spirit who just descended as a dove now drives him from the water to the wilderness. It’s a coordinated plan and mission flowing out of his Baptism. Mark wants us to feel the tension now that we are also Jesus’ disciples. Jesus does not eat or drink for forty days. He is in uninhabitable territory. He is among wild animals. He is tempted by the adversary and the accuser. We remember that, like Jesus, the Israelites spent not 40 days but 40 years in the wilderness. They were also hungry and thirsty but they did not keep their oaths. They also lived in inhospitable land but they accused God of abandonment. They also were tempted in the wild, but they fell into sin over and over again.

This is the tension of all the baptized. God washes our sin away in his Triune Name. In Baptism, we are united with Jesus. He adopts us his children. He claims us as his own. We are now clothed with the righteousness of Jesus. We are his beloved children. And we too leave the font and enter the wilderness of this world. The Holy Spirit and the Good Shepherd lead us. And like Jesus in his humanity, we also need some prodding and urging to get through dangerous and difficult territory. Like Jesus, we don’t enjoy the pressures and temptations of this world that drag us down. Like Jesus, we don’t want to live under the threat of death. 

We share our humanity with Jesus. Or perhaps more accurately, Jesus shows us what it means to be human. Jesus is not punished or abandoned when he is driven out into the wilderness.  And just because the Spirit prompts him to head toward a difficult experience also does not mean that Jesus is opposed to God’s plan. He himself taught us to pray, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” 

It is also encouraging because he does not end up in the wilderness by accident. He is exactly where God wants him to be. He is not forsaken. The Father has a plan for Jesus in the wilderness, through the wilderness, and beyond the wilderness. The Holy Spirit partners with the Father and Jesus to fulfill that plan. And so we can be assured of God’s presence with us in our very human struggle. If we find ourselves in difficultly, we are not here by accident. We have the comfort of knowing that God has not momentarily lost sight of us. As Jesus himself said, “I will never forsake you. I will not abandon you as orphans.” 

Jesus was not alone. The Holy Spirit drove him and led him. Our text says that angels also waited on him. The angels are also led and driven by the Spirit to strengthen, encourage, and serve Jesus. It’s a remarkable thing: Jesus humbles himself not yet to the point of the Cross but reveals our humanity when he benefits from the presence of angels. Was it their words? Was it their touch? Was it merely their companionship? Were the angels strangers that showed him kindness after 40 excruciating days? Did they feed him? Give him drink? Remind him of God’s Word, his promises, the assurance of God’s plan for him? 

In the Bible, there are often blurred lines between showing hospitality to strangers and entertaining angels unawares. The word “angel” simply means “messenger.” Were these supernatural creatures or also people serving Jesus in his bodily needs? Jesus himself says that when we serve one another, we are serving him. We serve the body of Christ when we give each other a cold cup of water, break bread together, and speak words of encouragement and wisdom. I believe this is important for us to think about—especially during times of shared trial and temptation like we’ve seen in the wilderness of this last year. How can we be driven and led by the Spirit to be each other’s angels—messengers of comfort, companionship, and strengthen one another by the Word and Spirit of God—while at the same time validating our shared humanity?

We should be encouraged by Jesus’ experience in the wilderness. When we are in difficult chapters in our lives, we can draw comfort knowing that the Spirit drives and leads us. We may not be where we want to be. But we can surrender ourselves to God’s care with his prayer, “Thy will be done on earth as it done in heaven.” There may not be a whole lot of things around us to give us the assurance that God is with us. The landscape may seem waterless and barren and harsh. The untamed threaten us. The adversary accuses and tempts us. But we have the assurance, promise, and example of Jesus. He will bring us safely through to the other side. 

Though devils all the world should fill,

All eager to devour us.

We tremble not, we fear no ill;

They shall not overpow’r us.

This world’s prince may still

Scowl fierce as he will,

He can harm us none.

He’s judged; the deed is done;

One little word can fell him.

          (“A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” LSB 656, v. 3)

“Fasting” (Matthew 6:1-6,16-21)

Matthew 6:1-6,16-21

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Pastor Tom Johnson, February 17, 2021

Jesus does not say to His disciples, “If you fast.” He says, “When you fast.” When the disciples of John the Baptist ask Jesus why His disciples do not fast, Jesus replies, “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast” (Matthew 9:15). There is no command to fast in the New Testament. “Thou shalt fast” is not the eleventh commandment. And yet, Christians have practiced the discipline of fasting ever since the end of Christ’s earthly ministry. Fasting isn’t unique to Christians. Buddhists, Hindus, and Jews all fast. Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset for the whole month of Ramadan. As Christians, our understanding of fasting is unique since it comes from the words of Jesus.

When we fast, we hunger for Jesus. We fast as wedding guests bereaved of the Bridegroom and longing for our reunion to come. We bring our stomachs into conformity with our spiritual longing for Jesus. Just as our stomachs pang for food so we have spiritual hunger and thirst for Christ. We feel the emptiness in our stomachs and loss of strength in our members. Weakness and hunger urge us to take and eat. As the Psalmist in Psalm 42 says, “As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?” (Psalm 42:1-2).

Fasting cultivates spiritual discipline. For in denying our bodies of food or whatever else that we crave, we are doing something the devil, the world, and our flesh despise—we say “No.” We say—“You cannot have what you want.” We say “No” on a very fundamental level. For what more basic desire do we have than to eat? When we deny our stomachs, the body has no choice but to start going into reserves and consuming stored energy. That’s why fasting weakens the body. The body is no longer taking in the fuel and resources it needs. And so it now must consume its own resources—beginning with fat cells and then even consuming muscle cells. All the while, the body says, “I am not happy…feed me!”

But isn’t that Jesus’ point? The human body, until we receive our resurrected bodies, is not where our treasure is. In our denying the body, we are saying “Amen” to the Word of God. “Yes, Lord. My treasure is not in this earthen vessel but in heaven.” “I know that any pleasures in this life do not compare with the Treasure that awaits me in heaven—and that Treasure is You, Lord Jesus.” By fasting, we admit something few of us dare to admit: that our flesh—our sinful nature—the Old Self within me—my sinful alter ego—whatever we want to call it—that part of me is the very place where “moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal.” We admit that we are sick. We are poor. We are starving and thirsting to death. On Ash Wednesday we sum it up with the words after the fall in Genesis: “We are dust, and to dust we shall return.”

The awareness of our starving souls is a blessing. In Deuteronomy, Moses tells the Israelites that their hunger in the wilderness was all part of God’s plan. He uses hunger to mold and shape them into the people of God he wanted them to be. He says, “[God] humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that one does not live by bread alone, but one lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.” If we follow where this spiritual hunger leads us, the Spirit will tell us where to go for food—to the Word of God—to the Word made flesh—to the Living Water—to the Bread of Heaven—the true Manna—Jesus Christ. In Jesus’ prayer in John 17, we hear how much Jesus longs for us—how he hungers and thirsts for our company—how he treasures you and. He prays, “Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world” (John 17:24).

And so we fast. We hunger. We thirst. We long to take, eat, and drink of our Lord Jesus Christ. Luther’s Small Catechism even affirms that fasting is “fine, outward training” when preparing to receive the Lord’s Supper—his true Body and Blood. What better occasion do we have to satisfy our longing for Jesus? For in the Lord’s Supper we receive true heavenly Food into our mouths. And so our spiritual hunger and thirst for him is satisfied. We taste and see that the Lord is good. We feast upon him who died and rose for us. We have a foretaste of what is to come. We look forward to that day when Jesus ushers us into the marriage feast of the Lamb in his Kingdom which will have no end. He spreads a table before us. Our cups overflows.  We will take from the twelve fruits of the Tree of Life which is for all the nations. We will be filled and satisfied. And we will celebrate the Feast forever. We will hunger and thirst no more.

“Vision of Christ” (Mark 9:2-9; 2 Corinthians 4:3-6)

Mark 9:2-9
2 Corinthians 4:3-6

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Pastor Tom Johnson, February 14, 2021

Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up the mountain to witness the unveiling of his glory. The other nine disciples are excluded from this vision of Christ. Jesus’ clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear and talk to Jesus. Peter suggests setting up camp and extending Moses and Elijah’s stay. Peter does not say this because it’s a great idea. In fact, he says this because he does not know what to say. Our text says that Peter, James, and John are terrified. Ironically, even though they witness this sensational event, their vision of it is limited. Fear has prevented them from thinking clearly. Jesus tells the selective three not to say anything until he has risen from the dead. Later they discuss between themselves what “rising from the dead” means. We should find their confusion encouraging. Even if we were there with Jesus on the mountain, it would not necessarily mean that we would have a clearer vision of Jesus—who he is and what he came to do. We too might be overwhelmed by what we experienced, tongue tied, and confused.

Jesus challenges Peter, James, and John to look beyond all the suffering, chaos, and confusion that they will soon experience and to fix their eyes on the time when they will proclaim Jesus’ victory over death and his rising from the dead. But they are not there yet. They need more time to learn and grow in their faith. Jesus challenges them to see beyond this glorious event on the mountain and beyond the turmoil about to unfold when he is betrayed, arrested, crucified, and buried. He has faith in them to eventually understand and boldly proclaim the resurrection.

Lent begins with our descent from the mount of Transfiguration to Ash Wednesday. It ends with our ascent up to Mt. Zion where Jesus is crucified on the hill called Calvary and buried at the bottom of that same mountain. Lent is a journey between these two mountains. And like any journey between two peaks, it can be difficult to clearly see while we are in the valley below. It can be hard for any of us to maintain a clear vision of the risen Christ—to fix our eyes on Jesus the Author and Perfecter of our faith.

In our prayer today, we pray that God would give us the vision to see beyond the turmoil of our world and to behold the King in all his glory. I doubt I need to convince you of the turmoil of our world we have all experienced in the last year: Political turmoil, pandemic turmoil, economic turmoil to name a few. In addition to that we have our own personal turmoil. The upheaval of our lives due to personal tragedies, loss of friends and family, loss of jobs, broken relationships, our own captivity to sin, and the seductive power of evil. I must admit how difficult it is for me to see beyond the turmoil of our world. It’s so easy to wake up, check the headlines, and feel the paralyzing effects of anxiety it creates within me. 

A few days ago, I heard a mental health professional on the radio say that “the saliency of politics is too high.” That is to say, when we consume social and news media, we allow it to consume us. We vote certain people into positions of authority. But after that, we allow what is out of our control to consume us.  We feel rage toward certain politicians and political parties when things don’t go our way. We unfriend people on social media who cannot be civil and kind. We are no longer on speaking terms with friends and even family because it is just too divisive and explosive. Even in the Christ’s Church we see this. We have not infiltrated the world with the edifying language of hope, peace, love, forgiveness, and eternal life through Jesus. Instead, we have let the destructive language of divisiveness, fear, and pride infiltrate the church and our faith lives. We no longer see beyond the turmoil of this world. We have instead allowed the turmoil of this world to cloud our vision, our judgment, and our callings. Jesus calls us to see beyond what is immediately before us. He calls us to envision the world the way he is re-creating it.

Our Scripture from 2 Corinthians (4:6) says that “it is the God who said, ‘Let the light shine out of darkness,’ who has [also] shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” Christ shines on the Mount of Transfiguration. But he also shines in our hearts. He has given us a vision of his glory by bring light to our darkness—by creating faith and love in us by his Word and Spirit. This vision of Christ unclouds our thinking about creation and our re-creation. It calls us to fix our eyes on Jesus the Author and Perfecter of our faith—to believe that he who began a good work in us will bring it to completion at the day of our Lord, Jesus Christ. He enables us to look beyond the turmoil of this world. It’s not that the turmoil is not real—or that we should live in denial of disappointment, pain, and suffering—but that we see beyond the turmoil. Jesus tells us on the way down the mountain that the turmoil will pale in comparison to the blinding beauty of Christ who conquers death, sin, and all evil. It’s this looking beyond by the vision of Christ that makes the psalmist say, “yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” “Surely goodness and mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever” (Psalm 23).

With shining face and bright array
Christ deigns to manifest today
What glory shall be theirs above
Who joy in God with perfect love.
          (“O Wondrous Type! O Vision Fair,” LSB 413 v. 3)

“The Lord heals the brokenhearted” (Isaiah 40:21-31; Psalm 147)

Psalm 147:1-11
Isaiah 40:21-31

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Baxter State Park, Maine. September 14, 2020

Pastor Tom Johnson, February 7, 2021

The core of our reading from Isaiah is lament—the shared sorrow of the people of God. They are in exile in Babylon—marched out of their ancestral land into captivity and slavery to a foreign power. These terrible things happened to the nation of Israel whom God promised Abraham would outnumber the stars. And now it seems that God has lost sight of them. And their stars are falling out of the sky—neglected and unnoticed. Their dreams of a life in their homeland is shattered. Their hope to be set free from their bondage and return home is crushed. Their hearts and their spirits are broken. Like the Hebrew slaves in Egypt their cry goes out. They express despair and doubt. “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” “God does not see my suffering,” they complain. “He does not hear our cries. God the Father is neglecting his covenantal children. Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.” I admire their courage to name their sorrows and fears. They could have buried them down deep and neglected them just as they were accusing their Creator of doing. It is not only okay but it is a form of prayer—lament—collective grief and yearning for God to acknowledge our pain.

Health professionals already see a collective PTSD as we come out of this global pandemic. Today we realize perhaps more than ever that all humanity shares a common enemy. We’ve lost friends and loved ones. We’ve lost jobs, businesses, and the pleasure of gathering at museums, for concerts, or for socializing.  But even before the pandemic—and, sadly, after—there were and there will be losses in this life. There will be unrealized dreams. There will be times of loneliness and feelings of abandonment. Jesus said, “In this world, you will have troubles” (Jn 16:33). As Scripture says, “We walk by faith not by sight.” There’s comfort knowing our struggle is common, if not universal. It’s normal to feel disappointment with God. It’s not new for Christians to doubt. God is not surprised when he hears our hearts ache and sees our hearts break. He is not offended by our lament that he would allow the world to disappoint us and wound us. He is not scandalized by our outcry and our feelings that he does not care or notice our struggles. 

Our Psalm says, “The Lord heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Just as there must be faith and mystery in God who allows troubles. So there is faith and mystery in God who heals. God does not say how he heals the brokenhearted. He tells us that he heals the brokenhearted.  Both our Psalm and our text from Isaiah give us the same vision of the assurance of God’s grace. Both begin by telling us to look at the stars. Both end with the promise of healing for those who wait for the Lord. Our passage from Isaiah is clearly a sermon based on Psalm 147. And Psalm 147 is clearly a song based Genesis 15 when God brings Abraham outside and says, “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.” God says to Abraham, “So shall your descendants be.”

Because of light pollution, most are at a great disadvantage. Last summer, I had the privilege of being under the dark, clear skies of Baxter State Park in Maine. I was awestruck by the Milky Way, stars, planets, and meteorites. I have pictures to share. There are a mere 7.6 billion people living today. Scientists estimate between 100 and 400 billion stars in our galaxy alone. That is a pretty big range! We just don’t know! With the naked eye or with the most powerful telescopes there is no way to count the stars—let alone name them all. Just last week, scientists discovered a solar system with not one but six stars. There are three pairs of stars that orbit each other. We could not see all of them because in the first pictures they were eclipsing each other. This is unexpected. This is new for us. But not for God. This is a mystery to us. But not to God. God knows the full count of stars in our galaxy and the estimated 200 billion galaxies in the universe. He knows the unique size, color, average temperature, and age of each star. He has given each a name. He has not shared with us his alphabetical directory of billions upon billions of stars. That would be quite a read. “His understanding is” as our text says, “unsearchable.” “Great is our Lord and mighty in power; there is no limit to God’s wisdom.” He knows our billions upon billions of thoughts, worries, hurts, and broken hearts. 

God has known us intimately since before creation. He knows us each by name. He knows the number of hairs on our heads and the number of our days. He takes every tear we shed and treasures it in a bottle.  Just like we cannot know the stars in the heavens like God does, so we will never fully know how he heals the brokenhearted. I love how our scripture puts it to question twice: “Do you not know? Have you not heard?” Yes. We know. We have heard. He is creator of heaven and earth. For him the vast universe is like a window curtain he hangs up with ease. He assures us that “he gives power to the faint and strengthens the powerless.”  “Those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,” he says, “they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, the shall walk and not faint.” “The Lord heals the brokenhearted.” He soothes our fears. He gives us a peace that transcends all understanding. It is still a mystery. But he calls us to wait—to trust. He will bring healing and wholeness to our shattered spirits. In our hymn today, we are reminded of what the prophet Jeremiah asks as a question—“is there a balm for us in Gilead?” African American slaves in the midst of their slavery and suffering put into a bold statement of faith and confidence in the Lord who heals the brokenhearted. 

There is a balm in Gilead,

To make the wounded whole;

There is a balm in Gilead

To heal the sin-sick soul.

          ("There Is a Balm in Gilead," LSB 749, refrain)

“Our demons” (Mark 1.21-28)

Mark 1.21-28

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The Temptation of St. Anthony by Martin Schöngauer, c. 1470-75

Pastor Tom Johnson, January 31, 2021

The healing of the man with the unclean spirit reminds us that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood...but against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph 6:12). Those who heard Jesus teach were already astounded. Because he taught with authority—not like the scribes. He had a commanding presence and delivery. But even more than that, his teaching transformed the lives of those who heard him. But this is just the beginning. Jesus will lead them from astonishment by his teaching to amazement by his cleansing of a man from an oppressive spirit. He shows by his teaching and now his healing that his reign extends to the world of ideas, thoughts, the tangible world around us, and even the world that is unseen.

They are all in the synagogue on the sabbath. For us, this would be for all to be in church on Sunday. They were enjoying Jesus’ teaching and worshiping God when the door flings open and a loud intruder interrupts Jesus. He cries out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God!” Jesus responds, “Shut it. Put a muzzle on it. Come out of him. Withdraw your defiling presence.” The demon convulses the man and loudly cries out. The man is purged and cleansed. Those who witness this exorcism were already amazed by Jesus’ teaching. Now they are astonished that his authority extends beyond the world of ideas into world around them—even those things which are hidden from our sight. Jesus heals us—body, mind, and spirit. Soon, their astonishment leads to faith. That same evening, they bring all their sick with various diseases as well as those oppressed by demons. They realize that there is no limit to Jesus’ healing power. His reign extends to those ailments that plague us which are seen and unseen—material and immaterial—physical and spiritual.

Notice the lie shrouded in half truth: “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God!” The unclean spirit wants Jesus to question his own reality.  The unclean spirit rightly identifies Jesus. But it is mere intellectual assent. It falls short since the spirit has no faith. He does not trust in Jesus. He fears Jesus. He knows his time is short. And his power over this man will soon be broken. We do not know much about the unclean spirit that oppressed the man. But the words “unclean spirit” tell us what we need to know. It was a spirit of lies that defiled the man mentally, physically, and spiritually. Just he intrudes into the synagogue on the sabbath and interrupts the Word of Jesus. So the spirit intruded the temple of this man’s body and mind. He showed up to distract him from the truth, to believe a lie, and to prevent the Word of Christ being preached to his soul. And that is what demons do. They gain a foothold. Their unwelcome voices intrude our lives, our minds, our bodies, and our communities of worship. They would like for us to question our own reality and prevent us from hearing the Word of Christ. They use lies shrouded in truth and half-truths. 

What are the false beliefs that hold you captive? What are the lies you hear inside your head? Is it that you are not worthy of God’s love or any love at all? Is it that you will never be good enough? Is it that what you have done can never be forgiven? Is it that the power of Christ may be for others but not for you? The reformer Martin Luther had a spiritual battle when he was translating the Word of God into common German. The unclean spirits oppressed him mentally, physically, and spiritually. A few years ago, I had the privilege of standing in the room where it happened—in the Wartburg Castle in Eisenach, Germany. But I did not need to be in that room to understand this spiritual battle. It happens every week as I study and prepare sermons and Bible studies. It happens in my own mind as I battle to believe that this Gospel is actually for me. There is that sinister, self-defeating voice of the adversary—the accuser—who can only be shut up and purged by the power of the risen Christ.

In Luther’s service of baptism, he says, “the Word of God also teaches that we are all conceived and born sinful and are under the power of the devil until Christ claims us as his own. Therefore, depart, you unclean spirit, and make room for the Holy Spirit.” It is so easy to fall into the demonic trap of intellectually assent of the Word of God. As James says, “You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder!” (James 2:19). God not only wants us to cognitively understand the Gospel. He wants us to experience it to the very core of our being.

The word “unclean” in our text is where we get the word “cathartic.” It means “cleansing.” This “unclean” spirit is anti-cathartic. It defiles, corrupts, and poisons what God wants to do in the Gospel. These evil spirits and false beliefs are toxic to our minds, bodies, and souls. Like the the man in our text, we need to be purged of our demons. Otherwise they will prevent us from receiving God’s Word and to grow into the joyful and free people God intends us to be. 

So Christ by his Word purges the lies we believe out of us. He cleanses us of half-truths. When we encounter him in his Word, he gives us a cathartic experience. We can finally shed the old skin of our fears and false beliefs. This means you and I experience exorcism every time we hear the Word of of God. We purge the deceptive lies of unclean spirits when we make the sign of the Cross and remember our Baptism—that we are royal daughters and sons of the Heavenly Father. We are forgiven. We have been washed in the blood of the Lamb. As Scripture says, “Little children, you are from God, and have conquered them all; for the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.”