“They wrapped him in swaddling cloths”

Luke 2:7,12

“They wrapped him in swaddling cloths,” Luke 2:7,12

Pastor Tom Johnson, December 24, 2012

"They wrapped him in bands of cloth—they wrapped him in swaddling clothes."

I’ll never forget Georgia, our pediatric nurse showing us how to swaddle. She demonstrated how to fold a corner down and place the child’s head on triangle, then pull opposite corner up over child, then wrap one remaining corner snug around child, and then without losing that snug embrace, take the last corner, wrap it and tuck it into a pocket. She told us to wrap the baby up good and tight. She explained how important swaddling is. The swaddling blanket is comforting because of it’s squeeze and added warmth. Swaddling simulates the womb. It protects a baby from exposure, sun, wind, and cold. People swaddle all over the world—in hot and cold climates. Swaddling serves as a second skin. Some parents swaddle their newborns around their bodies. Both parent and child are wrapped up together. They are one—bonded to their parent—sharing warmth and the movement of each other’s bodies.

We have heard these words, “they wrapped him in swaddling clothes,” so many times. But why does Luke, the physician by trade, include these details? And why does Mary, Jesus’ mother treasure this memory in her heart? Maybe it is because the swaddling blanket highlights some marvelous truths about the Christ Child:

First, just as Joseph or Mary wrapped this newborn baby in bands of cloth, so God his Father had just wrapped the eternal Son of God in human skin. The one who has no beginning and no end—the Alpha and Omega—is now born a Human Babe in a manger. How wonderful and beautiful this is —that God would gift-wrap the second Person of the Trinity in bone of our bones and flesh of our flesh. Perhaps that is why we have the tradition of wrapping our gifts at Christmas time—adding mystery to our gift-giving—hiding the true identity of the gift. Likewise, the second Person of the Trinity is hidden the life of the newborn Baby in the manger. Some had the eyes and faith to see. Others would not see.

Second, Jesus, born the King of the Jews who is King of kings and Lord of lords took on himself the sin of the world—all the brokenness of this world. All the things that tempt us and threaten us, will tempt and threaten Jesus. He was wrapped in swaddling clothes because, like you and me, he longed for the embrace of his mother, he felt cold, he hungered, he thirsted, he humbled himself, and was wrapped up in all that it means to be a human being—yet without sin.

Third, just as Jesus would be wrapped in swaddling cloth at his birth, so he would be wrapped in a linen shroud at his death (Luke 23:53). Perhaps, Luke includes this detail as a sober reminder that Jesus being wrapped up in our sin and brokenness would ultimately cost him his life. Here in the manger, we have both the Good Shepherd and the sacrificial Lamb of God who will take away the sin of the world.

And fourth, by Jesus being swaddled by the love, warmth, sin, and even death of our human experience—he has swaddled us in his love. That is also part of the mystery of God’s gift to us in the Christ child. That, for us, a Son is given; for us a Child is born. Underneath the bands of cloth, is Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. This newborn Baby is the One who is wrapped in our humanity in order to extend his arms to embrace us with his love.

We are tightly bound to him by faith. We feel the squeeze of his embrace in the assurance of forgiveness that he won for us on the cross. We feel the warmth of his embrace in the promise of resurrection that he won for us through the empty grave. Like the Christ Child who is received as Joseph and Mary’s own and by the Magi and Shepherds as the King of kings; so God receives us as his own royal daughters and sons. In this little, newborn Child, we are swaddled by God.

“Stirring in the Womb” (Luke 1:39-55)

Luke 1:39-55

Pastor Tom Johnson, 12/23/12

Both Mary and Elizabeth are pregnant. In Elizabeth’s womb, she carries John the Baptizer, the greatest born of humanity who comes in the power of the prophet Elijah. In Mary’s womb, she carries the Messiah who is both God and unborn child. This story has challenged people since the very beginning. When Mary became pregnant, her fiancé Joseph was prepared to break things off. The Law of Moses threatened to take her very life. She might very well have gone to Elizabeth’s house as a kind of first century witness protection program.

Today, our challenge may be the sensational story of two unborn children who are already preaching in the womb before they ever stand in a pulpit. Or it may be because we sing this beautiful song of Mary called “The Magnificat;” we are, after all, the Church who is called the Bride of Christ. But together as God’s people—male and female—adult and child—we find our Gospel femininity. Together, we nurture the Christ child and treasure up in our hearts the developing story of our Savior. And together, we trust in the Mighty One who has done great things for us by the strength of his arm.

In the days of Caesar Augustus, Elizabeth and Mary did not text, facebook, email, or tweet one another. Elizabeth had no warning of Mary’s arrival or pregnancy. So, when Mary greets Elizabeth as two expecting women, they do so with loud cries of delight. Mary enters Elizabeth’s house, probably saying the customary greeting, “Shalom…peace, Elizabeth!” And, her voice startles both Elizabeth and her in utero child. And Elizabeth says that John was not merely surprised by the sound that reverberated in John’s amniotic sac. No, John sensed the exhilaration of his mother. Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and the Holy Spirit saturated her unborn son. And like the prophet he was conceived to be, he preached his first sermon without words.

That was something I learned about being a parent. There is a lot of personality developing weeks before children are born. You can sometimes tell if a person is a night owl or an early bird long before they are placed in a crib. One baby already likes to sleep in hours after mom is up and moving around. Another child gets up at the crack of dawn and wakes the mother up. Another child already shows their love for kicks and punches on the uteran wall. Linguists will tell you that children already recognize their native language and the voice of their parents—especially the voice of their mother. Children are born with trusting hearts and immediately look in faith toward their mothers for nurture and milk.

If newborns trust in their earthly parent from the womb, why is it difficult for us to imagine their trusting in their heavenly parent? Rather than underestimate their potential for a relationship with God at such an early age, Jesus says, holding an infant in his arms, “Unless you become as this little child, you will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven” (Luke 18:15-17).

The angel said in the first chapter of Luke that John “will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother’s womb.” It is why we believe that infant baptism so epitomizes the Gospel—what better reveals the Good News of Jesus Christ than a baby who is forgiven, adopted, and full of God’s potential and promise. There is a stirring of the womb of Christ’s Church when we witness the new birth of a child of God. There is a stirring of the womb of the Bride of Christ when we have a little taste of the great feast to come at the Lord’s Table. There is a stirring of the womb when we realize that Christ was born two thousand years ago so that he would come into our hearts and be born into our lives today. It’s in our individual lives, and our lives together as the Body of Christ, that he is conceived by the word, water, and Spirit of Holy Baptism. And like Mary who carried her Son and the Eternal Son of the Father, so we too are united with Christ in our life together as Christians. And like the unborn prophet and unborn Messiah who were already impacting the world around them, so Christ in our hearts makes an impact on the world around us.

Christmas is the day after tomorrow for us. For Elizabeth and Mary, it was weeks away. But already, the Christ Child was bringing hope, joy, and light to the people of God. In the Christmas season, we also anticipate the day when Jesus will come back again…not through Mary’s birth canal…but in the clouds. But he is not absent. Christ is with us. He is fully present and growing in the hearts and lives of his people. He is stirring in the womb of the Bride of Christ. And soon he will be born in the clouds to make all things new. And, like John, we leap for joy when we hear the Word. We don’t underestimate what God can do through little people—even the unborn. And we anticipate God doing great things. And so we pray, “Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

"Make straight his path"

Luke 3:1-6



Pastor Tom Johnson, 12/9/12

There are five rulers and six regions mentioned in our Gospel reading. Emperor Tiberius who ruled over the Roman Empire, Pontius Pilate who was governor of Judea, Herod who ruled over Galilee, Philip who ruled over Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias who ruled over Abilene. It is interesting that Luke mentions all the regions that bordered the banks of a river—the river Jordan. When John preached, he could always be found near the Jordan River. Our Gospel says he was in “the region around the Jordan.” In other words, John was crossing from earthly kingdom to kingdom—crossing international boundaries—inviting people from every tribe, nation and region to receive forgiveness from God through the water and the Word of Baptism.

John was stirring up trouble. As he stood in the river, he had his right foot in one region and his left foot in another. It was as if to say, “I am no respector of regions and rulers. I am the prophet and preparer of the Messiah.” Just as my feet defy worldly borders, so God’s Kingdom transcends every nation. The river was a natural, international boundry between these earthy rulers. People were coming from all directions down to the river. Every path to every river is a winding one. There are no strait and level paths to rivers. John was making way for the King of kings and Lord of lords—the one whose Kingdom has no borders. John was making way for the King up and down the banks of the river Jordan—a place that had countless ancient paths. Just like near our home, the Des Plaines river has ancient paths first made by deer and other large animals. The Native American peoples followed these trails and even lived near an area I walked by recently.

Ancient trails hug landscapes all over the world—winding through hills, valleys, riverbanks, and shorelines. There is beauty to modern paths like Highway One in California with its twists and turns, ups and downs, and views of crashing waves against the rocks. Even this highway has ancient roots. It was the Romans, however, that didn’t like paths that took indirect routes around mountains in order to ease the journey. They took out a strait edge from one place to another and drew a straight line. I’ve been on one of these rocky roads in Spain, near the border of France in the Pyrenees Mountains. The road goes as straight as an arrow. The incline and decline can sometimes be very dramatic. It didn’t matter; the more direct route always won. It wasn’t until about a two hundred years ago that we started to use dynamite to blow holes through mountains or level them so that trains could find a more efficient way to their destination. Perhaps engineers took their cue from John.

He says “Prepare the way of the Lord! Make his paths straight! Fill in the valleys; make the mountains low so that they are all level! Straighten up the winding paths! Smooth the rough services!”

A few months ago, my family and I were driving down the Expressway. We saw unmarked and marked police cars at each entrance ramp and exit ramp. We saw uniformed and plain clothes officers on top of buildings monitoring the highway. We didn’t know it at the time, but President Obama was expected to land at O’Hare soon and they were preparing the highway for him. They were ensuring that his journey would be safe, unhindered, and as efficient as possible. And that is really the message that John preached to the people at his time. And that is the message of this season of Advent today.

John the Baptist challenged the people of his day—and our day—to make way for the Lord—in our hearts, minds, words, and prayers. God wants us to live out that prayer that Jesus taught us to pray, “Thy Kingdom come.” John calls us to partner with God in making way for the King to come. I love what Martin Luther says about this. He says, “The kingdom of God certainly comes  without our prayer, but we pray in this petition that it may come to us also.” Just like people during John the Baptist’s day, who came from many different ethnic groups and regions, God calls us to ready ourselves for the Kingdom. Just like those people who took many different, winding, and hilly paths to the river, so our journey to prepare ourselves can have its ups and downs and twists and turns.

But when we come to the river—when we come to the baptismal font—when we come to the water, God washes away all our sins. It is there—in Holy Baptism—that God streamlines his grace. Whether we were baptized yesterday or 92 years ago, God’s Kingdom makes a beeline to us, adopts us, and makes us citizens. The path toward the river of God’s mercy may have crooked, rough, and disorienting. But the path toward the Kingdom—and the Kingdom toward us—is now strait and smooth. Forgiveness and eternal life come now. One day, the King will come in even greater glory. “Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

“Stand up and raise your heads”

Luke 21:25-36


  

Pastor Tom Johnson, 12/2/12

Jesus is describing a pretty frightening picture. Perplexing things are happening to the sun, moon, and stars. The nations are in a state of confusion. The ocean waves are threatening those venturing out into the water and those in the coastal areas. Jesus is describing the time leading up to his glorious return—the time he appears in the clouds to usher in a new creation—a time when he will make all things new. That day, Jesus will reveal his full power and authority over heaven and earth. Our Gospel reading from Luke says that people will faint from fear and foreboding at what they see—even before Jesus comes back. That sense of dread and anticipation of harm will be so intense and profound that people will pass out.

This is a very real and legitimate reaction. To go unconscious or in the face of danger is a proven survival technique. The brain stem perceives the threat and then cuts off the flow of information to the rest of the brain. This can be very useful because some predators will only kill and eat live game. Perhaps predators think that the animal they’re pursuing is sick or already decomposing and not a very good meal. Nevertheless, to pass out in the face of danger is to be overcome by fear—the body, mind, and spirit are literally paralyzed and held captive to the imminent threat. Fear is a powerful thing. It can stop you in your tracks. It can keep you from experiencing life to the fullest. It can knock you down. Fear can render you spiritually unconscious—it can leave you as good as dead.

But Jesus is not coming back to threaten us—he is coming to redeem us. “Now when these things begin to take place,” Jesus says, “stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

“Stand up and raise your heads.”

I’ll never forget the days and weeks following the tragic and terrifying events on September 11, 2001. The flight I had booked was just a week or so later. There were so few people on the flight that we all sat near each other and just talked—even the flight attendants joined us in a conversation. My family and I had already planned on going back to my hometown for Thanksgiving. My brother-in-law got everyone excellent tickets for a football game at Purdue University. Even though I grew up going to these games, everything seemed different. I felt vulnerable around so many people. To make matters worse, the police were checking bags at the ticket gate—that was also a new experience. There was something very different about singing the national anthem that day, and something different about hearing the patriotic poem that I had heard hundreds of times before. And while I was taking it all in, in the quiet thoughts of my mind, that is when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Two fighter jets appeared out of nowhere—without warning or sound to give you a heads up. And then, as if the jets were pulling a long invisible cord with a payload of thunder, the sound of the roar of jet engines filled the stadium with a deafening noise. It was a rush. And I have to say, it was pretty awesome—and terrifying at the same time. I did not see anyone around me faint our pass out because of the display of power over our heads. We all lifted up our heads—we all stood up even more proudly to be under the protection of such remarkable machines of war. I have to believe that those pilots wanted to lift the spirits of those eyes that were downcast and those bodies that were bent over in a sense of defeat and depression.

And so it is with Jesus when he comes, and the time leading up to his coming. Already, it is pretty frightful what the waves and sea have done to the New York City area with hurricane Sandy. It is scary to read about the surge in violent crimes in the Chicago area. It’s disturbing that more people do not have hope for the future but more of a sense of dread. Jesus does not want us to faint with fear and foreboding. He doesn’t want us to be overcome with sense of dread and danger so intense—so profound that we lose all hope. He wants to free us from the paralysis of fear. He wants to fill us with reassurance that our redemption draws near. He’s not coming to threaten us; he is coming to save us. He’s not coming to harm us; he comes to heal us. Don’t recoil and shrink back in fear.

Stand up and raise your heads on the solid ground and rock of Calvary. He stood up on the cross and raised his head toward heaven and declared, “It is finished!” He overcame sin, evil, and death itself. Stand up and raise your heads in the confidence that because he lives, we will live also. Early on the third day, Jesus stood up and raised his head in triumph over the empty grave. He has given us the victory. So, stand up strait! Lift your heads up! Stand tall! Keep your chins up! You are a royal daughter of the Lord of lords—you are a royal son of the King of kings. He’s coming for you! “Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.” 

“Alpha and Omega”

Revelation 1:4-8

Pastor Tom Johnson, 11/25/12

There is a lot of unique language used to describe Jesus in our Scripture this morning. We have heard those words read, we have sung them, and we have listened. This is Christ the King Sunday. We herald Jesus as the risen and reigning Savior of the world. We call him “King of the Jews,” “the Ancient One,” “the Lord who dwells on high,” “the Messiah,” “Faithful Witness,” and “Ruler of the kings of the earth.”

But then there is this very odd language. It is as strange, and sometimes ungrammatical, in English as it is in the original biblical languages. For a moment, hear and ponder these titles and descriptions of Jesus: He is called, “the firstborn of the dead.” In the first chapter of Colossians, St. Paul calls Jesus, “the firstborn of creation.” From God’s point of view—which is outside our time and space continuum—Jesus is the firstborn of creation and of the dead. He is our “forerunner,” the writer of Hebrews says. He is the One who was born in Bethlehem two thousand years ago—but whose birth changed the course of history—not only of the time following his birth but also preceding his birth. He has “freed us from our sins by his blood.” All the blood sacrifices of animals that the Hebrew people offered pointed to the true source of forgiveness—the blood of Jesus that releases us from the guilt and power of sin. He has “made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father.” From Abraham and Sarah’s call to become the father and mother of a new kingdom millennia ago—to Christians today from every tribe, nation, language, and ethnicity—we are called to be God’s people, citizens of the Kingdom of heaven. “To [Jesus],” our Scripture says, “be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.” From Scripture’s point of view, Jesus has been on his throne and reigned from eternity’s past and will into eternity’s future.

But the day is coming when he will reveal his power and reign to the whole world. He is “coming with the clouds” in glory. And here is when it gets a little strange—he will come as the one who has been pierced—still showing his scars from the nails in his hands and feet and spear in his side. This suggests that Jesus comes as the one who has already conquered death and the grave. The marks on his hands and side cry out his authority and victory over evil, sin, and even death itself. He is truly the “Firstborn of the dead” the one whose death and resurrection has given eternal life to generations of people.

And finally, he is the “Alpha and Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” This perhaps the most profound title of them all. He is the Alpha and Omega—the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet. As our Psalm from this morning beautiful says, “Ever since the world began, your throne has been established; you are from everlasting” (Ps 93:3). As another Psalm says, “From everlasting to everlasting you are God” (Ps 90:2) He is the beginning and end of all things. He is at the center of the timeline of human history.

Maybe instead of seeing time as one continuous line as we experience it, we should look at time as a great circle that begins and ends with Jesus, the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and end of all things. Jesus is also at the center of this circle. He is like the hub of the great wheel of human history. And we see the spokes of his activity as points along this timeline. He is the One “who is and who was and who is to come.” As the Alpha and Omega, he is able to intervene and bless us at any time in the past, present, and future. Ironically, he has no beginning and no end. But from our point of view, that is who he is.

Some might say that we speak too much and too highly of Jesus. But, the reality is that we cannot speak highly of him enough. Human language struggles to convey the grandeur and of who Jesus is. It surpasses human comprehension. Time, history, and Christ the King at the center is a like a colossal funnel drawing all things to himself. On that last day—which is the first day of a New Creation—Jesus will renew all things.

And as we approach that day, he draws us together and unites us to prepare us for what is, was, and will always be true—that he is King of heaven and earth. We are citizens and ambassadors of his Kingdom.  We look forward to more and more people coming underneath this glorious and gentle rule of Jesus. “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, Christ our King!”

“Waking up to a Bright, Eternal Day”

Daniel 12:1-3

Pastor Tom Johnson, 11/18/12

Today’s appointed Old Testament reading just happened to be about sleep and wakefulness. And today also happens to be the last Sunday of our Bible study on sleep and wakefulness during our Adult Education Hour. Daniel has a vision of the beginning of eternity. He sees the coming of the Kingdom of God. He sees the end of war and the ushering of final peace. He sees the radical and permanent transformation of God’s people. He sees the end and beginning of all things through the lens of something we all experience: sleep. He writes, “Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.” Our eternal future will begin like something we are very familiar with: getting up after a night’s rest.

We should keep in mind that Daniel’s original audience was a displaced and persecuted people. Daniel was speaking to people who saw the destruction of their capital city, Jerusalem. Many of them were carried off as spoils of war into Assyria and Babylon. They saw unspeakable violence and death. They witnessed a tragic blow to their homeland. They felt the disappointment of their kingdom’s fall. Daniel wants to give them a peak into the Kingdom to come. He wants to give them hope of a brighter future. He wants to comfort them just as we comfort our children as we tuck them in—assuring them that they will safely journey through the darkness to the brightness of a new day. Others, sadly, wake up to “shame and everlasting contempt.” This rude awakening happens when they finally realize the enormity of their sin. In both Daniel’s and John’s visions, these are especially those people who aligned themselves with evil and wickedness. They may have triumphed before the night, but they wake up to the greater reality of who has the victory.

Daniel sees the angel and great prince of angels, Michael, arriving for duty. His job is “Protector of God’s People.” He is Guardian Angel to the believer. He is invisible to our eye but puts a hedge of protection around us. In the Catechism, Luther instructs us to pray as a reminder to ourselves and a request to God, “Let your holy angel be with me, that the evil foe may have no power over me.” God has answers our prayers. Michael sets up a security perimeter around our beds, our homes, and our lives. We lay our heads down on our pillows with a deep sigh of relief knowing that as we fall asleep, Michael and his army of angels are working the nightshift. Even though the world outside may be in a time of distress, we are secure in the strong hands of God. We close our eyelids and we fall asleep. We let go of the worries and troubles of the world. We rest in the guarantee that the day of salvation and deliverance will come. It is so certain, that our names are written in a book.

John’s vision in the book of Revelation is almost identical. Believers who die have simply fallen asleep. They have not vanished or ceased to be. From our perspective in time and space, they are sleeping. They are asleep in Jesus. They have been washed and forgiven by the blood of the Lamb, Jesus Christ. Believers rest in the finished work of Jesus who was died and rose again. We are secure in faith and trust in his labors on our behalf. We also lay our heads on our pillows with the promise and assurance of a new day. “Weeping may tarry for the night,” scriptures says, “but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). We are simply on the darker side of the earth. The sun will arise just as surely as Jesus rose from his empty grave. And like the sun, which overcomes the darkness of the night, Jesus too will shine brightly when he comes to wake us up. With a trumpet blast and shout of command, we wake up to everlasting life.

And when we wake up, it is a startling realization. We open our eyes to everlasting life. And before we too quickly gloss over those words, “everlasting life,” we should understand that it does not merely mean “never ending” or “eternal.” It means life on a scale and life to a degree that far surpasses life as we experience it today. It is “everlasting” just as the Hebrew Bible describes the care God gives as his “everlasting arms” and the concern he has for us as his “everlasting love.” Everlasting life is the divine, magnanimous life of God.

From our perspective in time and space, we fall asleep in this life. But from God’s perspective, when we close our eyes here, we open them to this new and greater reality in eternity. We are clothed with Christ himself—dressed up in his righteousness—and we shine more brightly than the stars of heaven. Our Scripture says, “Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever.” The wise are those who trust God—those who listen to the Word of God—those who put their confidence in the great Sleeper and Ariser in history, Jesus Christ.

He fell asleep on the cross of Calvary. He lay on a stone bed hewn out of rock. He was tucked in with linen cloth and spice. He rested from all his labors on our behalf. And then, early on the third day, just before the sun began to rise, Jesus woke up and got up in victory. Death no longer has the final word. For those who trust in God, death is simply a brief nap before a bright, and eternal day.

Sermon from Concordia University Chicago: “Empty Vessels/Rich Supply"

1 Kings 17:8-16

When we think about the widow of Zarephath, we may picture an old lady, with gray hair, with her back aching as she picked up sticks to cook her final meal for herself and her son. But she and her son are a classic example of what the Bible refers to as the widows and orphans—literally, “the widow and fatherless.” The widow and the fatherless are a unit. They are single mothers with young children who have been bereaved of husband and father—at a time and in a culture where husband and father was the bread winner. This young woman with a young son at home has been overcome by despair and hopelessness. The Hebrew Scriptures over and over again remind us of the vulnerability of single moms who are overwhelmed with raising young children with no husband or extended family to help. The entire nation is experiencing a drought and famine. And like any society in hard economic times, this single mom and her son feel it the most. She is preparing the last meal they will have together before inevitable starvation and death. In the New Testament, James says, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction” (James 1:27).

 

It is why it is so strange that God would send Elijah to be fed and sustained by someone who had nothing to give or even to sustain herself. It was strange enough that God would feed Elijah in the previous verses by a flock of wild ravens. Now God sends a starving and hopeless young woman to nourish Elijah through the remainder of the famine. The vessel with flour is nearly empty. The vessel of oil is nearly empty. And yet, by the Word and promise of God, the empty vessels become a rich source of food and sustenance. The vessels never become full. But they fully satisfy their need.

This passage should remind us of how God sustained his people in the forty years in the wilderness where there was no water or bread. God sent bread from heaven in short supply every day. They were to gather only as much as they needed and not on the Sabbath. Some gathered more than others. But it was always enough. Scripture says of that time in Deuteronomy 8 (v. 3), “[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 man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.” And so God continues to works in our lives. We may find ourselves on our precipice of despair and hopelessness—physical, emotional, relational, and spiritual bankruptcy. It may seem that God meets our cry of desperation in short supply...like two nearly empty jars of flour and oil...like a dew of manna on the wilderness floor...like a fistful of water splashed on an infant's head...like a quarter-sized piece of bread and a sip of wine...like a friend who comes alongside who has their own problems.

But with the Word and promise of God, the empty jars are a rich supply. The dew of manna is the bread of heaven. Plain water is a holy Baptism that washes away our guilt and sin. Ordinary bread and wine are the Body and Blood of Jesus that strengthen and preserve us body and soul to eternal life. And our fallible Christian friend sticks closer than a brother. And so Jesus tells us in John 14, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God. Believe also in me...I will not leave you as orphans. I will come to you...because I live, you will live also.”

New Consecration Sunday sermon by President Dan Gilbert

Mark 12:41-44

This is our annual Stewardship Sunday sermon preached by the President of the Northern Illinois District of the LCMS, Pastor Dan Gilbert.

"The Earth Is the Lord's"

Psalm 24

We sang the words of Psalm 24: “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it the world and all who dwell therein!” From the earth’s molten core to its highest stratosphere, it is the Lord’s. From her subterranean caves to her mountain summits; it is the Lord’s. From her polar ice caps to her red hot lava; it is the Lord’s. It is God who put diamonds, gold, and silver into the crevices of rock. It is God who stockpiled oil, coal, and natural gas into her subterranean coffers. It is God who set the sun in its place to bathe our spherical home with energy and light. “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it.” It is the Lord who gives seed to the sower and bread to the eater. It is the Lord who provides house and home. It is the Lord who opens doors to employment. It is the Lord who brings families together. It is the Lord who makes a friend stick closer than a sister or brother.

When we receive a birthday present—when our paycheck is deposited into our account—when our child is born—when we sit down to eat a meal, we receive everything as a gift from God. “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it.” As Psalm 145 (v. 16) says, “You open up your hand, O Lord, you satisfy the desire of every living thing.” As James says in his letter, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights” (1:17).

“The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world and all who dwell therein!” The fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and land creatures are the Lord’s. Young children, the mature, you, and I are the Lord’s. All humanity is the Lord’s. At first, it may seem overstated. But God is Creator and sustainer of the universe. Scripture says in Romans 11:36: “For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.” And so Psalmist praises God, “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well” (Ps 139:13,14).

It might seem like God has laid claim to everything in order to put us in our rightful place—to rob us of our stuff—or deny us the enjoyment of our things. But that isn’t the point at all. Our text says, “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world and all who dwell therein!” But it also includes the refrain we sang, “They shall receive a blessing from the LORD and a just reward from the God of their salvation.” God is not just divine Owner of everything in the universe. He is divine Giver. He has everything but he also gives it all away. “We shall receive a blessing from the God of our salvation.” He gives blessings. He gives us his stuff—his things. As Luther says in the Catechism, “I believe that God has made me and all creatures; that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still takes care of them. He also gives me clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, spouse and children, land, animals, and all I have. He richly and daily provides me with all that I need to support this body and life.” He gives us all these things. But they are all stuff on loan. They may be in our possession now, but we cannot pack them into our suitcases and take them to our eternal home. There is no carry on luggage allowed on our journey to heaven.

The people God brings into our lives will no doubt bless us into eternity—our fellowship as Christians will never come to an end. Relationships are eternal. And because the things we enjoy are evidence that God cares for us, we should be as generous and as caring with our stuff as he is. We should view money, things, and relationships all as part of God’s activity to love and support human lives. God uses our stewardship to provide for others. He uses our stuff as a means to his ends.

He not only wants us to love and support us through this life. He wants to love and support us into eternity. And so he gives us his most cherished and valuable possession—his Son, Jesus Christ. This gift is not a loaner. He has given the eternal Son of God in his birth in Bethlehem and the incarnation. He has given himself in his teaching, healing, and revealing the Kingdom of Heaven. He has blessed us by enduring the crucifixion and triumphing over the grave. He is our greatest treasured possession. We are in Christ. And he is in us. He has not only given his Son as the greatest gift. He has also made us his own at an even deeper level.

Scripture asks, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price.” (1 Cor 6:19,20). He purchased us with his life and blood. We are his treasured possession. He has adopted us in our baptism—sealing the transaction with water, Word, and Holy Spirit. We are brought into God’s family by the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We are his. He is ours. And together we give, we draw people in, and we look forward to a bright and blessed future together in his eternal care.

“Judge and Defense Attorney,” Romans 3:19-28

Romans 3:19-28

We have been summoned to God’s judicial system. We are in God’s court because we have violated divine law—just as we have already confessed—by our thoughts, words, and deeds—by what we have done and by what we have left undone. The summons we have received is pretty clear. As Paul writes earlier in Romans 3 “None is righteous, no, not one (3:10) and “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (3:23). Under God’s jurisdiction—which is the whole world—all are perpetrators because none of us have behaved, or lived our lives, perfectly. When we enter the courtroom, we see that God is our Judge. He already has reviewed all the evidence—the data, documentation, and the survelaince footage. Nothing we have done has escaped his notice. This Judge not only knows all the things we have done in secret, he also knows the thoughts and intentions of the human heart. Unlike our judicial system, the Judge is also the author of the law. He gave Moses the Ten Commandments: “You shall have no other Gods. You shall not take his name in vain. Remember the Sabbath day. Honor your parents. Don’t murder, commit adultery, steal, lie, or even desire what is not yours.” The Judge begins his deliberation by a disturbing announcement. We are all guilty. “No human being will be justified in his sight.” And perfect obedience to the Law is impossible. There is no innocence until proven guilty. So the Law clearly states that we are all lawbreakers.

But, it gets even worse. There is a prosecutor. And his name is the Accuser. He is there to make sure the Judge and those in the courtroom all hear about how hopeless you and I all are. The voice of the accuser can be heard audibly echoing down the halls of justice. The accuser’s voice is troubling because a lot of what he says is true. He tells us we are sinners. He tells us we have failed. And we have. But he also tells us lies—that we are worthless—that we are unloved—that we are beyond all hope—that there is no escape—that no one cares—that the Law has the final word about our dignity—that God has already given up on us. The accuser’s voice can be heard in any religious system that tells us that we can purchase God’s love if we just do enough to satisfy his demands. His lies can be heard in any message that says we must earn or deserve forgiveness and a fresh start. The accuser’s voice can even be heard in our own conciences—that voice in our own heads that says, “Try harder and you might be loved. Give more and do more and it may be enough.”

Thank God for our Advocate, the defensive attorney! He is not only our Advocate but also the Judge’s Son. He is the eternal Son of God—and he not only shares the Judge’s divinity but our humanity. And yet, he has done what no other human has ever done—he has perfectly obeyed the Law. And he comes to court already with a treasure trove of good deeds. He has gone beyond the requirements of the Law and outperformed the Law’s demands. He has loved God, his Father with his whole being. He has loved his neighbor with the ultimate price—his very life. On the cross of Calvary, the Advocate Jesus has silenced the accuser—the prosecuter who would have us pay the full price for all of our wrongdoings. And by Christ’s death on the cross, he has paid the full debt all our sins. And so, when the Advocate speaks in the courtroom, he is speaking with truth, authority, and love. He has cried out, “It is finished—paid in full.” “Although this child has sinned and broken all of God’s commands, there is now no condemnation.” There is something greater than the Law and all its demands—that is the righteousness of God—the positive love, acceptance, and forgiveness that comes through his Son, Jesus Christ.

The Advocate has made his plea before the Judge on our behalf. He has officially made his case that we should leave the courtroom free of guilt with full assurance of forgiveness and eternal life. All of this is for free. The Advocate’s work for us is pro bono. The only thing that remains is for us to trust his plea for our mercy. The paperwork has been filled out. Everything is in order. The accuser is silenced. His objections and accusations are out of order and are being ignored. The Judge lifts his eyebrows and betrays his impartial love for you and me with a smile. It turns out that the Judge was on our side all along.

What else needs to be done? Do we need to try harder to earn the Judge’s approval? No, it has already has been earned by his Son, our Advocate. Do we need to do perform great acts of kindness to deserve or purchase his love? No, it has already been accomplished by his Son, Jesus Christ. This is the great message of the Reformation—that we are justified by grace through faith. It is free. And we only need trust in Jesus. We only need believe God’s declaration that we are righteous, forgiven, and free from condemnation. It is unlike any judicial system we see on earth. If we had to earn God’s love through obedience, our lives would be a never-ending pursuit of the unattainable. But it has been earned by Jesus and delivered to us for free. Our lives are now a never-ending song of praise. Our good works flow out of hearts of thanksgiving—not to sway the opinion of the Judge—but to show our gratitude for his love and his Son.

“Able to deal gently with the ignorant and wayward,” Hebrews 5:1-10

Hebrews 5:1-10

Our epistle reading is a wonderful description of effective servants of the people of God. It’s a beautiful description of the high priest thousands of years ago in the Israelite temple—the high priest is able to deal gently with the ignorant and wayward. The author of Hebrews is talking about the ideal high priest—ideal because not all were so gentle. I’m thinking of Caiaphas, the high priest that condemned Jesus—the leader of a judgmental, legalistic, and fundamentalistic religious group called Pharisees. These were the kind of people that caught the woman in the very act of adultery and wanted to stone her, but apparently let the offending male escape with little to no consequences that we know of. Caiaphas wanted to put Jesus to death because he believed he was wayward and the ignorant would follow him. These priests were obsessed with rules, not provoking an angry god, and living up to the expectations of a pious community. And, of course, this is not just about high priests. Religious leaders would have no authority without a following; they would not be able to misuse their power unless they had sufficient support from the community. The high priests, council of priests, and those who followed them were all part of a relentless and unforgiving religious system that resulted in the unjust execution of Jesus, the stoning of Stephen, and the persecution of the early Christians.

What made them unable to empathize with those they deemed ignorant? Why weren’t they compasionate toward those they believed were going down a wayward path? What makes us heartless, legalistic, and uncaring toward people around us? The writer of Hebrews makes it clear: it is because we do not understand the heart of God. We do not really know the love of God so beautifully revealed in his Son, Jesus Christ. We do not understand something as basic and profound as forgiveness.  Our text says, “Every high priest…is put in charge of things pertaining to God on their behalf, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. He is able to deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is subject to weakness; and because of this he must offer sacrifice for his own sins as well as for those of the people.”

What qualifies the priest to be in his honored position? What makes him an effective servant of God and his people? A qualified priest is one who knows he also is a sinner; henows what it is to be broken and restored through forgiveness. The high priest who assures God’s people of forgiveness intimately knows that same forgiveness. He is a beggar telling other beggars where to find bread. He is a patient recommending a Physician to someone who has the same sickness. The Apostle Paul, who was so effective in preaching forgiveness in Jesus Christ said it this way: “I am the chief of sinners” (1 Tim 1:15). St. Patrick, who brought the assurance of God’s love and grace to thousands of the Irish begins his autobiography with two words in Latin: “Patricius peccator,” “Patrick, a sinner.” Martin Luther said of his own faith journey, “Though I lived as a monk without reproach, I felt that I was a sinner before God with an extremely disturbed conscience. I could not believe that he was placated by my satisfaction. I did not love, yes, I hated the righteous God who punishes sinners, and secretly, if not blasphemously, certainly murmuring greatly, I was angry with God.”

The Apostle Paul, St. Patrick, and Martin Luther all witnessed huge growth in the Kingdom. Many people came to believe in the Gospel through their ministries. Whole communities were transformed by the radical message of forgiveness and eternal life through faith in the Person and Work of Jesus. I believe God mightily used them for the same reason he used the high priest described in our reading from Hebrews: they deal “gently with the ignorant and wayward, since [they themselves were] subject to weakness.”

What a challenging lesson for all of us who want to see Kingdom growth—to see believers grow in faith and assurance of their salvation—to see people move from ignorance to an intimate knowledge of God’s love in his Son Jesus. This text challenges us to do something that may seem counterintuitive to church growth—to be mindful that we all live under the cross. We share the good news of Jesus to those around us remembering our own struggle with sin. We know the human struggle of being haunted, bound, and guiltridden by our own thoughts, words, and deeds. We are compassionate and deal gently with those around us; because we share the struggle. We all live under the cross that covers our sin. We are all part of the same spiritual family with a heavenly Father who unconditionally loves us and forgives us.

The amazing thing is not the quality of the individuals that carry this message of God’s grace. The amazing thing is the One to whom they pointed. What is amazing is Jesus Christ himself—the true and living High Priest over all creation. He deals gently with the ignorant and the wayward because he is God. He is human and was tempted in every way we are, yet without sin (Heb 4:15). He knows the burden of dealing with the lure and deceptive nature of sin. And yet, even though he never gave in to sin—though he is perfect—it did not lead to pride and a judgmental spirit. It led him to the cross, through the grave, and rising from the dead to deliver forgiveness, love, and a sure and certain path that leads to eternal life. He lives to restore this broken world.

“Bone of My Bones, Flesh of My Flesh,” Genesis 2:18-24

Genesis 2:18-24

“And God said, ‘Let there be light.’ And God saw that the light was good. … And God said, ‘Let there be an expanse…’ …‘let the dry land appear… vegetation fruit’… ‘let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens’ … ‘let the waters swarm with swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the heavens’ At the end of each day, the Genesis account says, “God saw that it was good.” When God made the first human being, He made him in His own image—“in the image of God He created him, male and female he created them.” And after all His creative acts, “God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good.” (Gen. 1:3-31) Sin had not entered the world. Animals were not preying upon eachother. There was no drought. Mosquitoes had no appetite for blood. Our planet was a garden of paradise. God said it was “good” multiple times and then “very good.”

And then God says that something is not good—“It is not good that the man should be alone.” Even in a perfect world—the uncorrupted paradise of Eden—even in that blissful state of sinlessness—it was not good to be alone. Human beings are not meant to be loners. Adam may have not been completely aware of what he was missing. He did not know any different. But God’s observation was that it was not good for Adam to be an ineligible bachelor for the rest of his life. God has created to be social beings. We need relationships, companionship, friendship, and family. When we live our lives before God without meaningful human interaction, God looks upon us with compassion. As He looked on Adam alone in the Garden of Eden—He looks at us in our solitude and loneliness and He says, “It is not good.” It is not good for us to live out our lives in isolation. It is not good for us to journey through this life on our own.

A recent Gallup poll revealed that 36% of Americans are lonelyover 1 in 3 Americans. A recent study came out in March that suggests loneliness contributes to greater depression and poorer health. Even science is telling us that it is not good that we should be alone. It is at this realization that God says of Adam, “I will make him a partner fit for him.” Human companionship was God’s idea. Family was God’s design. Marriage was instituted by God. As a divine anesthetist God causes Adam to undergo a deep sleep. As divine surgeon, God removes bone and flesh from the side of Adam and as genetic engineer, He creates a woman. She is partner, companion, friend, family, and wife.

The first words recorded out of a human’s mouth is recorded here in our text. And they are astoundingly beautiful words—romantic, poetic—a prayer of thanksgiving to God: “This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh.” For Adam, Eve is not just another creature to help tend the garden—she is his flesh and blood. She is family, his companion, and his true love. And, according to Jesus, this work of Him finding us a cure for our loneliness still goes on. Of marriage, Jesus says, “What God has brought together, let no one separate” (Mark 10:9). God brings us together.  For Adam and Eve, God brought together our first parents—great grandparents of humanity. Eve was a gift to Adam and Adam was a gift to Eve. Adam and Eve were gifts, companions, family, and parents to their children. Their children were gifts, companions, and family to them.

I don’t believe that either Genesis or Jesus’ words promises marriage for each individual—or that we all make the best choices in our relationships. But what it does say clearly is that God is at work in our relationships—and He is at work to draw us together and keep us together. Marriage is not the only institution that God has created for our benefit. He has given us parents, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents—all part of our network of bone and flesh—not just a genetic bond—but life companions with a shared heritage bonded in love. God gives us friends that become our family—as the proverb says, “A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother” (Proverbs 18:24). And for the church—God has given us one another—sisters and brothers in the family of faith. Scripture calls us “the body of Christ”—we are the bone of Jesus’ bone and flesh of his flesh—we are connected to one another in a profound and real way. We are given the privilege, joy, and charge to uphold one another in prayer, companionship, and love. We are the family of God. No one should be left behind. No one should feel alone.

For this reason, God sent His Son. Just as Eve was created from Adam’s flesh and bone, so Jesus became human through Mary’s flesh and bone. In His coming to us as our Savior, His actions speak louder than words—“You are bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh” On the cross of Calvary, your bone and flesh—my bone and flesh were crucified—for us He purchased forgiveness, life and salvation. Our flesh and bone are lifted up in the resurrection, and He says, “Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

Like Jesus, the best way to find companionship is to offer ourselves as companions, friends, and family to others. We offer it to one another in faith—believing that what connects us together is thicker than blood—we are bound to one another in the flesh and bone of Jesus, the Body of Christ. In our marriages, families, church life, and friendships—we relate to one another in faith—we believe that our relationships are a gift from God—what we need to have a sense of belonging, support, companionship, love, and family. We ought to be able to look at our husbands, wives, children, parents, friends, and church family and say, “You are bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.” What happens to you matters profoundly to me—just as what happens to us matters profoundly to God. And he has assured us of forgiveness and an eternal home.

“The power of the enemy and the power of the Blood of the Lamb”

Revelation 12:7-12
Luke 10:17-20

Tom Johnson, September 30, 2012

The angelic world is an invisible reality. The spiritual realm is, in large part, hidden from our eyes. As a result, some of us conclude it’s fictional or fantasy. “Humans invented angels to explain things that we can now explain scientifically,” they say. For example, the reason we call some alcoholic beverages “spirits” is because there was no other way to explain the fermentation process. It appears that someone is stirring to pot and boiling because of all the foam and bubbles; but there is no heat. Now, we now know that yeast is consuming sugar and producing carbon dioxide. Some of us live under the weight of constant fear—as if we are constantly exposed and vulnerable to forces that would harm and destroy us. And so we hang garlic from our windows, hang trolls and religious icons on our rearview mirrors, and knock on wood all in attempt to hold satanic powers at bay.

There are two ditches on either side of the road when we consider these things. On one side, we make the error of dismissing the existence of pervasive, palpable evil. On the other side, we make the error of sensationalizing or overestimating evil. It seems that we either are in denial that evil exists or see a devil behind every bush. Our readings from Michael and All Angels today provide the antidote for each extreme and shed light on a safe path to navigate such a difficult terrain.

Jesus legitimizes our nightmares in a way. He speaks to our primordial fears speaking of snakes, scorpions, and the power of the enemy. There is a battle, Jesus tells us, a battle being fought everyday between good and evil. Jesus was there when it all began. Just as if it happened the day before, Jesus says, “I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning.” Satan—the Accuser—was evicted from God’s presence and favor at the speed of light leaving only a blur of his path before those who witnessed it. In a blink of an eye, the Devil left his service to his Creator and became an entrepreneur of sin and death. This raises so many questions. And yet, it seems as if Jesus does not want to concern us with the demonic realm. Jesus and Scripture are silent about Satan’s past, the origin of evil, and the precise reasons for his excommunication.

The seventy-two disciples are amazed that the Name of Jesus is able to restrain and defeat our evil foes. At the Name of Jesus, the demonic forces of evil bow the knee to the good and gracious will of God to forgive, heal, and restore human lives. The sober truth of our Scripture is that there really is a subversive power in the world. Evil entered the world like a flash of lightning and, while it may be invisible to the human eye, its effects and destructive influence is as obvious as the headlines in the news and our own vulnerability in the face of temptation.

In these Bible passages, God invites us into this strange and unseen world. He gives us a glimpse of the powers and principalities of the darkness. But he does not do so to increase our fear but overcome our fears. Look at Michael and his angelic army! God invites us to survey the battle between good and evil—between holy angels led by General Michael and fallen angels led by Satan, the serpent of old. But there is no stalemate in this conflict—no way! Good and evil are not two sides to the same coin; the opposing armies are not equal. They may be equal in number. They may be equals in nature as angelic beings. But Michael and his army have a weapon that no power can match—the Blood of the Lamb. This is the ultimate weapon. This is the smart artillery that can surgically remove this world’s cancer—the Blood of Jesus. Our Scripture says that the Archangel Michael and his angelic host “have conquered [the devil] by the blood of the Lamb and by the Word.” Likewise, the disciples experience that same power by the Word and Name of Jesus—the one who will give his life and blood on the Cross of Calvary—the one who rose victoriously from the grave. The disciples are amazed by the power of Jesus to defeat the most frightening of foes.

When the disciples safely navigate their lives and ministry through a pit of scorpions, snakes, and the power of the enemy, they are overjoyed. But Jesus tells them, that their joy should not be found in victory in battle. For it is not their victory. It is the Lord’s. “Do not rejoice at this,” Jesus says. “Don’t get all excited about the defeat of the devil and his kingdom. Don’t gloat over your enemies. It really is no big deal. They were doomed from the beginning. It’s only a matter of time until their end.” “Don’t rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” In other words, the blood and Name of Jesus have not defeated our enemies so we would celebrate their destruction but our salvation. Jesus wants us to live our lives in the joy, comfort, and security of eternal life.

Our names are written in heaven. Jesus has called in to hotel heaven and reserved each of us a room—not for just a few days or a week but for all eternity. By his Blood and Word, Jesus has permanently chiseled our names into the marble walls of our eternal home—not as memorials but in the assurance of secure future with him and a great reunion that is to come. “Jesus came, this word fulfilling, Trampled Satan, death defied; Bore the brunt of our temptation, On the wretched tree he died. Yet to life was raised victorious; By his life our life supplied.” (“Christ, the Lord of Hosts, Unshaken” LSB #521, v.4).

“Who is the greatest?”

Mark 9:33-37

Tom Johnson, September 23, 2012

Jesus question in our Gospel reading is similar to the question asked in Genesis right after Adam and Eve eat the forbidden fruit. “Where are you?” the Lord asks. “Who told you that you’re are naked?” “Did you eat of the tree I told you not to?” He knows what happened. Yet Jesus asks the disciples, “What were you arguing about back there…as you trailing behind me…well out of earshot?” The disciples were silent because they were busted. It’s not easy keeping things from the Lord who knows the thoughts and intentions of the human heart. They didn’t say a word to Jesus—that they were having an argument about who was the greatest. It’s kind of embarrassing. It’s kind of silly, isn’t it? I don’t think I’d say anything either. What could they have said? “Jesus, I was just telling the guys that either John or James was the greatest because you nicknamed them “the Sons of Thunder—the Thunderous Ones.” “Jesus, I argued Peter is because you called him “the Rock.” They said nothing in response to Jesus—not even a description of their disagreement about which one of them was most important of all. Perhaps because when Jesus asked them to give an account of their actions, they realized how childish they were acting.

Did you have arguments in elementary school about whose dad had the biggest muscles, whose mom had the most expensive jewelry, or which family had the nicest car or house? What the disciples’ argument reveals is our human nature to measure one human being against another—to classify people according to our standards of importance—to rate people on scale of worldly significance. Greatness is often measured by what the word implies—great-ness—that more is always better—that outnumbering perceived opponents makes a person a winner. Greatness can also be measured by possessions, reputation, or performance.

This is the curse of comparison—to constantly live under the watchful eye of judgment. It may be self-imposed. We may find that we needlessly live under the burden of comparison because of our insecurities—because our security is not grounded in the unconditional love and worth that we have from God. When we look over the fence and see a newer car—or a beautiful lake view—or the proverbial greener grass—we actually aren’t being thankful for the things that God has provided for us. And maybe we have forgotten that we aren’t owners but stewards mere caretakers of the things we have.

What I love about Jesus in this text is how much he communicates without saying anything at all. Remember, the disciples never fess up to their argument about who is the greatest. They are silent. And for the moment Jesus is silent too. Our text says, “he sat down.” He diminished his standing among his companions. He lowers himself toward the ground and calls the twelve to him to hear a sermon with a visual illustration. He welcomes them around him with the words, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” He then takes a little child—an infant or a toddler I suppose who just happened to be nearby. He puts the child among them—he puts a tiny human being next to twelve full-grown ones. And I’m sure that they looked enormous next to such a little one. And then he gathers the little one in his arms and says, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the One who sent me.” It is a brilliant illustration. And it is a beautiful message.

Greatness is not measured in the ridiculousness of comparing one person standing in the company of others—like a little person in the company of grown-ups towering over them. Greatness is measured by compassion, hospitality, and the unconditional love of receiving a person for who they are. Our greatness is not found by self-promotion, Jesus tells us, but the promotion of the worth of every human soul. Our security is not found in external comparison and praise but by acceptance and hearts that always have room for another friend.

“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me,” Jesus says, “and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the One who sent me.” In other words, we are living out the Gospel when we accept and love others as God has accepted and loved us. Later in Mark’s Gospel, in chapter 10 verse 45, Jesus will say, “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” It is by Jesus coming down from his heavenly throne—diminishing his standing among the angels and archangels that he lowers himself by taking on human flesh and giving himself to purchase forgiveness and eternal life for all humanity. Even though we are little in the eyes of an eternal and almighty God and cannot stand before him sinless or without blame—even though we have nothing to give to him—he reaches down and gathers us up into his arms and welcomes us. He came to proclaim and deliver—not the greatness of his incommunicable attributes—but to proclaim and deliver the greatness of his love and acceptance of every human being—giving his life on the cross to secure us as members of his eternal and loving family.

“The Tongue Is a Fire”

Ephesians 2:11-22

Pastor Tom Johnson, Sept. 16, 2012

Sticks and stones will break my bones

But words will set me on fire.

“The tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness…setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell.”

It was the fiery tongue of the serpent in the garden of Eden. It was the words coming from its tongue that deceived Eve and Adam. The serpent’s tongue set a spark—and caused a fire to spread to our first parents and to every human soul. It was the blazing tongue of Pharaoh that gave the order to kill all the Israelite infant sons. A twisted, evil fear overcame the king and ruler of Egypt and ignited mass murder through his tongue. It was the flaming tongue of the Caiaphas, the High Priest of Israel that ignited a course of death before Jesus. He said that it was better for one person to die for the nation than for the whole people to perish. It was the burning tongue of Judas that betrayed our Lord for 30 pieces of silver. It was the smoldering tongue of Peter that denied Him three times. It was the red hot tongue of Pontius Pilate that gave orders for Jesus to be scourged and crucified—sparking a fiery course to the capital punishment of an innocent man. It’s the same fire that kindled in tongues in our lifetimes which has called whole nations to war and terrorism—killing of hundreds of thousands of innocent people—tongues ignited with lies, deception, and misinformation.

James says, “every kind of beast and bird, or reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil.” No one is free from the evil that is trying to ignite our tongues. According to James, all of us are pyromaniacs—it is in our broken, human nature to play with fire. We are all, each of us, guilty of arson—starting little fires around us. We may not intend for the fire to be fed and grow—but that is the nature of fire—to consume everything in its path—beginning with ourselves.

About 12 years ago, when Johanna and I were living in Dallas, we had a little fireplace in our apartment. You couldn’t burn real wood in it because it was too small and not well insulated. So, we would buy artificial logs which only needed a lighted match. It looked nice. Our cat would bath herself in the heat. One cold day I put one of our artificial logs into the fireplace and lit it. After it was done and nothing was left but dust, I put the ashes into a paper bag, and took it out in the dumpster. A few hours later, we heard sirens like we often did in inner city Dallas. But this time the sirens grew more loudly than ever…pulling right up to the dumpster behind our building. I think my response to Johanna was, “You don’t think that was me who did that, do you?” It could have burned down the whole apartment building. Mrs. O’Leary’s cow that kicked over the lantern may have started the Chicago fire. But any spark could have started that fire that consumed the whole city in flames.

As James says, “How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire…setting on fire the entire course of life!” What may seem like a little, harmless gossip flicked out of our mouths like a cigarette out the car window—it’s all that’s necessary to ruin a person’s reputation—to bring their social life down in flames. We live in a time when the mere accusation of misconduct is all the spark that is needed for a person to lose their job—their livelihood and vocation up in flames. Sometimes we are not aware of the fires we set with our words—that the fire of hell itself wants to spread its death by using our tongues as an accelerant.

Think about how we gossip in the name of prayer. “We need to pray for so and so.” We suggest prayer for someone—but in our telling of why they need prayer, we may betray the person’s trust or reveal too much information. Or we cloak hurtful, burning words with humor—thinking that if we chuckle or laugh that we remove the harm that has been done. As the proverb says, “Like a madman who throws firebrands, arrows, and death is the man who deceives his neighbor and says, ‘I am only joking!’” (Proverbs 26:18-19). “No human being can tame the tongue,” James says. And so, what we need is not to tame or reform the tongue—but to give it a new Fire Marshal. We cannot put out the fires of hell that ignite our tongues. But we can pray that our tongues become instruments of the true and living God.

And so the Psalmist prays, “Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips!” (Psalm 141:3). “Deliver me, O Lord, from lying lips, from a deceitful tongue” (Psalm 120:2).

 

On Pentecost, God sends the Holy Spirit—tongues of fire come and rest on each of his people. Peter’s tongue, the same tongue that denied Jesus, now proclaims forgiveness, life, and salvation for every tribe, nation, language, and people. What Jesus had promised early in His ministry has now come to pass—John the Baptist baptized with water but Jesus will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire! In Holy Baptism, God’s Spirit drowns the old fire that ignites our tongues. He smothers out the flames of hell itself by his death on the Cross. And by his resurrection, he ignites a new and holy fire. Instead of a destructive fire, our tongues are now burning with the Good News of Jesus Christ. God has ignited a good word on our tongues—news of forgiveness, reconciliation, and peace. Our tongues are used now not to curse, but to bless—not to gossip, but to pray—not to deceive but to praise and give thanks to our Heavenly Father.

He breaks the pow’r of canceled sin;

He sets the pris’ner free.

His blood can make the foulest clean;

His blood avails for me.

Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing

My great Redeemer’s praise,

The glories of my God and King,

The triumphs of His grace!