“The Rainbow”

Genesis 9.8-17

Pastor Tom Johnson, February 26, 2012

 

Tom Johnson, February 26, 2012

Things became so bad on earth—the plight of humanity became so violent that God is ready to completely give up on us. That is, until Noah finds favor with God. God preserves the human race and all creatures by his grace through water. Never again will God send such devastating destruction. Never again will there be a flood, he promises. When the ark comes to rest—when the water has receded—when the dark clouds have parted, there would be a sign. That sign is a rainbow. There will be a bow or an arch in the sky. Every time we see a rainbow God wants us to remember his promise to all species of creatures—that he will deal with us mercifully.

It does not happen every day. When it happens, it usually follows a storm. The rain stops where you are. Behind you the sun peaks through the clouds. On the other side of the horizon the rain still falls. The conditions are just right. That’s when you see it—the red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple all in their spectral beauty—coming down from the sky above to the earth below in a perfect angle.

Last time I saw a rainbow, I was in the car with my children. We saw—not one—but two rainbows. Two concentric circles in the heavens. One rainbow was loud and clear. The other one looked like a faint echo of the first. I wasn’t the only one taking pictures while driving. The picture doesn’t do it justice. It was far more breathtaking in real life. Maybe you discovered as a kid—like I did—how to make rainbows by spraying the garden hose into the air. Or maybe your grandmother also had crystal in her window that sprayed beams of color into the room.

That is exactly what a rainbow is. It’s sunlight refracting as it bends in the prism of water particles. As I read about rainbows, scientists say it is simple optics. I’m still amazed. How can we so easily explain away the perfect geometry and order of rainbows? Rainbows reveal the color that is always there. The clouds may hide the sun. But the sun is always there. Sunlight may look colorless. But when sunlight hits the water, its secrets are revealed. The veil is lifted and we see the full spectrum of light.

God tells Noah that the rainbow is a sign for all future generations—including you and me. God wants us to hear this sermon that he preaches in the sky: Things may appear to be dark, colorless, and gloomy. There are storms in this life. But evil will not overcome us. Remember the rainbow—that bow in the clouds. That colorful arch in the sky reminds us that God has not abandoned us in darkness. The full spectrum of the light of the world is there even though we cannot always see it.

Yes, the Son—S-O-N—may be hidden from our eyes. The world around us may seem to be engulfed in grays and shadows. But the Light of the World is always with us. God calls us to live by faith, not by sight. In our Gospel reading, the Son—the Light of the World—hits the waters of Baptism. Jesus comes to the river Jordan. The heavens are torn apart. The Spirit descends on Jesus. The voice of his Father also comes out from the clouds. The Light of the World hits the baptismal waters and the full spectrum of God is revealed—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And God the Father says, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And in him, we too are adopted as daughters and sons through the water. The Light of the World shines brightly into the baptismal waters. And in the prism of Jesus’ life we see the full spectrum of our salvation:

          Purple for the mock trial and bruises of the rod.
          Purple for the King of kings, Lord of lords, Son of God.


          Blue the water that washes the stain of sin.
          Blue the sky where he comes back again.


          Green the grass and life which fade so fast.
          Green the Tree of Life which feeds the nations at last.


          Yellow the fear of Judas, Peter, and all who stray.
          Yellow the dawn of mercy that is new each day.


          Orange the rooster which crows our betrayal.
          Orange the empty tomb and new life which prevail.


          Red the blood of Jesus on the hill of Calvary.
          Red the lips of the forgiven which shout the victory.

"Farewell to Alleluia"

Pastor Tom Johnson, February 21, 2012

 

Concordia University Chapel

Hallelujah. It’s not entirely clear how this expression developed. It’s an unusual word in Hebrew. It appears to be a combination of two words: hālal “to praise” and a shortened form of the tetragrammaton YHWH. And so we believe it means “Praise the Lord.” Hallelujah rang in the ears so clearly in Hebrew that the Greeks simply adopted it as their own—not bothering to translate it but use this Hebrew word in Greek worship. The Roman Christians also adopted this word into their Latin scriptures and worship. Hallelujah with an h is a good Germanic transliteration and Alleluia with no h is the Latin form it takes. Hallelujah is even the song of angels in heaven, who day and night without ceasing shield their eyes to the light of the glory of Christ and eternally praise our resurrected Lord. “Hallelujah,” they cry. They call heaven and earth to join our voices together in worship.

This morning we’re saying “farewell” to both forms of the word. But if we are consistent, we should also say farewell to the phrase “Praise the Lord.” But why? Why send our Alleluias on a lententide sabbatical? Why lay Alleluia to rest for a while?

Our farewell to Alleluia is a kind of liturgical “see you later.” It’s a traditional discipline that helps highlight Resurrection Sunday. We lay our hallelujah to rest with full confidence and anticipation that our hallelujah will come out of its liturgical grave with renewed vigor and power. By our fasting from our alleluias, we recognize the fact that our sin, this broken world, the devil, and death all remain obstacles to the praise our Lord deserves. The reality is that we say farewell to alleluia every time we sin. Our thoughts, words, or deeds are often obstacles to us living lives of praise. Every time we pray the Lord’s Prayer we acknowledge this. We pray “Hallowed be thy name.” We pray for our lips to open in praise to the Lord. We pray that our sinful farewell to alleluia would come to an end. We pray that a renewed hallowing of his name and praising the Lord would be reborn in our hearts and mouths.

And, so, alleluia, we bid “adieu” and “fare thee well.” We will miss you. But we know we will see you again. Like a faithful, old friend we know that you will return. We sow you into the ground but we know you will spring up again. We now commit our alleluias to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through Jesus Christ, our Lord, who will change our cries of repentance into shouts of praise to the Lord, by the power that enables him to subdue all things to himself. We fare you well, Alleluia, knowing that weeping may tarry for the night but joy comes in the morning.

"Listen to him"

Mark 9.2-10

Pastor Tom Johnson, February 19, 2012

 

Only three of the twelve disciples were witnesses of this extraordinary vision—the Transfiguration of Jesus. Jesus leads them into an ear-popping altitude. His clothes become more dazzling white than any launderer on earth—or even Photoshop—could make them. Two of the greatest people of biblical history—Moses and Elijah—also show up. These two great prophets counsel with Jesus. In contrast, Peter, does not know what to say. He suggests the random idea that they pitch three tents so that they can house this Kingdom presence. Peter, James, and John are absolutely stricken with terror. Imagine how much more fear came over them when the cloud overshadowed them and a voice spoke from the heavens: “This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him!”

I wonder…how would Andrew, Thomas, Matthew, Judas, and the other disciples feel about not being included in this mountain top experience? Were they denied a full revelation of who Jesus is? Would they feel cheated by missing this sensational experience? Have you ever felt left out in the doldrums of the valley while family and friends share their stories of God leading them up a spiritual mountain? Have you heard extraordinary stories of how God has made himself known in their lives; but you have yet to experience such compelling evidence?

I believe that one of the greatest moments in this passage of holy Scripture is the interruption of this mountain top experience and abrupt plunge back to normal altitude where we all live—the normal, seemingly ordinary Christian life. As soon as God speaks from heaven, Moses and Elijah disappear, the cloud vanishes, and Jesus’ clothes are back to normal, earthly colors. Just when their vision reaches the height of sensationalism, things quickly go back to normal.

Why were only three chosen for this moment? And why was the vision so brief and fleeting? Why couldn’t this vision be a permanent and convincing argument for the reality and presence of the Kingdom? Why can’t God always speak to us audibly from the heavens? Why doesn’t God just write the Gospel in the sky?

God simply says, “This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him!” “This Jesus is the promised Messiah,” God says, “and the eternal Son of God. He is my chosen One. He is the object and the conduit of my love. Listen to him. Draw strength from his words. Let his Word be a lamp to your feet and a light to your path.”

The very first words out of Jesus’ mouth for them to listen to are words about resurrection—not to tell anyone about what they had seen but to wait until he had risen from the dead. And as they come down from the mountain, they question—they ponder—they wonder “what this rising from the dead could mean.” They hear Jesus’ words. But they do not completely understand. There are still unanswered questions. But his words have stuck. His words about rising from the dead have been planted into their hearts. And they are letting that Word take root—even though it is mysterious and their understanding is incomplete.

I think this means that Peter, James, and John have done exactly what God has told them to do—to listen. To listen means to hear and take it to heart. To listen is what Mary did when the Shepherds told her of their vision of angels and said her Son is the Savior, Messiah, and Lord. She treasured those words and pondered them in her heart. To listen to Jesus is to live our lives by the light of his Word. Listening sometimes results in more unanswered questions. Listening may include struggling with what God is saying. It is not always easy to understand Jesus’ Word—but it nevertheless gives strength, meaning, and comfort.

Listening to Jesus’ Word may not be as sensational as mountaintop experiences and as extraordinary as a vision of the Messiah and Prophets in their glorified bodies. But it is no less a work of God. God’s Word goes out as a sure and certain message and means of his grace. Listening to the Word is where our heavenly Father directs our attention—not to great visions and breathtaking experiences—but down here in the lower altitude with the Word of God.

As Psalm 23 says, “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. I will fear no evil. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” The rod and staff of Jesus and his Word are always with us—to guide and protect our spiritual lives. As Peter later says after hearing many of Jesus’ words, “Lord, to whom shall we go, you have the words of eternal life.” To listen to the Word is a spiritual journey of trust in God’s Son—who died and rose again for us. “This rising from the dead” was for us and where our journey and ends and begins.

“A young captive girl and a scrawny river”

2 Kings 5.1-14

Pastor Tom Johnson, February 12, 2012

 

She was a young, captive girl. She maybe saw her friends and family killed in violent raids. She was torn from her home, family, and nation. She was led into captivity by Naaman, the commander of the army. Our text describes Naaman as “a great man in high favor” and his slave as “a young captive girl.” She is his wife’s personal servant brought home as a spoil of war. She had every right to feel dehumanized, angry, and overcome with bitterness toward her master and his wife. But instead of celebrating Naaman’s leprosy, her heart is filled with compassion. She lets her prayer be heard by his wife. “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” She is a young captive girl. But she is a great prayer warrior. She is a little girl. But she has a huge heart. She has a low status in life. But she has great faith in God who can heal even her enemies. As the Psalmist (Ps 8) says, “Out of the mouths of babes and nursing infants you have ordained strength.”

And so, at the word of this young girl, the great commander of the king’s army goes to find this prophet. Naaman brings with him somewhere between a quarter of a million—and as much as 4 million—dollars worth of silver and gold. The great man has deep pockets. And it seems that he intends to buy his healing. The letter the king of Israel receives a letter from the king of Syria—the same king that defeated him in battle. And the idea of Naaman coming down for healing strikes him with terror. He tears his clothing and is frozen in fear. It is just as Jesus said, “Unless you become as a little child, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 18:3). It is the faith of a child—the confidence in a strong and loving God—that put Naaman in the right direction.

Naaman goes to Elisha’s house and parks his horses and chariots at the front door. That would be like a general of a foreign army parking their tanks and armored vehicles in front of one of our homes. But like the young captive girl, Elisha is not filled with fear but faith in God who restores the lives of even our enemies. In fact, Elisha is so confident in God’s healing power, that he doesn’t even bother to answer the door himself. Elisha sends a messenger to Naaman to go wash in the Jordan river seven times to be cleansed of his leprosy. Elisha tells Naaman to go take a bath in the river—as if to say that Naaman had a skin disease because of a lack of personal hygiene. Naaman turns around and heads back home in a rage. “It does not make sense. This prophet is nothing like I envisioned he would be. I thought he would come out and show me the respect that a man like me deserves, wave his hand over the spot on my skin, and the spot of leprosy would disappear.” “Wash and be clean?! I’ve seen this river Jordan. It is nothing more than a creek—a far cry from the rivers where I come from—deep and broad rivers—why couldn’t I have just washed in those rather than come all the way here.

Martin Luther, in his catechism asks a similar question about water Baptism. “How can water do such great things?” How can water work forgiveness, life, and salvation? How can water wash away sins? “Certainly not just water,” Luther says, “but the word of God in and with the water…along with faith…and new birth by the Holy Spirit.” The Jordan river may be a scrawny river compared to the rivers of Damascus—but this water has the seal of God’s Word and promise to do what God says it can do.

Naaman’s servants get it. And they calm Naaman down with words of wisdom: “If Elisha asked you to do a difficult thing, wouldn’t you have done it? How much more willing shouldn’t you be to do such a simple thing as ‘Wash and be clean’?” Again, it is just as Jesus said, “Unless you become as a little child, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 18:3). It is the simple—but profound—faith of a child that puts Naaman in the right direction. He washes and he is clean. Our text says, “His skin is restored to the skin of a young boy.” And so Naaman quite literally becomes as a little child.

God’s delivers his promise through the faith of a young captive girl. God’s delivers his power through the water and the word. How true the Scripture—“But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong” (1 Corinthians 1:27).

And so this morning we have the privilege of celebrating God’s promise through young children and God’s power through the water of Holy Baptism—that water, Word, and Spirit infused with the power of Jesus Christ and his Baptism into death and resurrection—a Baptism that cleanses us and sets us free from the power of sin and death. God powerfully works through the faith of a little captive girl, infant twins, and all who have a childlike confidence in him. God powerfully works through a scrawny river, the water along with the Word and Holy Spirit. And he freely and lovingly makes us his sons and daughters.

“He cured many”

Mark 1.29-39

Pastor Tom Johnson, February 5, 2012

 

Right after synogogue—right after public worship service, Jesus goes to Simon Peter and Andrew’s home for a meal. James and John are also invited. These former fishermen—now fishers for people—are staying close together. Peter’s mother-in-law is unable to show them her normal hospitality. She is lying in bed. She is so weak that she cannot even get up to properly greet them. She has a fever. Her body’s immune system is fighting some kind of bug or infection. “By the way, Jesus,” Peter says, “my mother-in-law wasn’t at synagogue today and will not be able to help out with dinner. She’s in the other room flat on her back. I felt her forehead earlier this morning and she is burning up.”

Jesus does not say, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” He does not say a word but goes directly to her bedside. He grabs her hand and simply pulls her to her feet, as if to say, “Today, we are not going to do without your wonderful hospitality!” Peter’s mother-in-law immediately gets up and serves them a meal. It was Jesus’ initiative, his idea, and his insistence that she get up that seemed to heal her—even without her prayer.

Later that evening—as the sun is disappearing into the horizon—word gets out. The growing darkness and beauty of the sunset parallel the growing darkness of people who are sick and spiritually oppressed and the beauty of the Son who heals. News went out quickly of Peter’s mother-in-law. It seems that all at once everybody is at the door wanting to get a piece of Jesus’ healing power. Now it is because of their initiative, their need, and their insistence that Jesus meets them at the door. He answers their prayer just as they had hoped. He cures many who were sick—with all sorts of sicknesses.

Even those people with unspeakable and unnamed mental and spiritual oppression come to Jesus. People were unafraid and unashamed to come to Jesus even with their nightmares and disturbing stories of the spiritual forces of evil. This is the kind of stuff you don’t want to hear about—the kind of stuff of horror movies and the sensationalism of late night television. And, do you know what is just as strange as the stories? The voices of these oppressive spirits seem to know exactly who Jesus is—even better than his disciples and the people getting healed. These diabolical voices and spirits who showed no mercy even to the smallest child that they tormented had to shut up. They had to go away by the power and authority of his Word. This authority goes far beyond the healing of the body. His healing extends to the strange and unknown realms of mental and spiritual illness.

Jesus is up into the middle of the night healing and delivering people—mind, body, and soul. You would think that Jesus would need to rest. But instead, Jesus gets up well before the morning twilight and disappears. Just when Jesus’ healing is most palpable and most extraordinary and most immediate and present—he vanishes as quickly and abruptly as he appeared. Why would Jesus appear to be absent when people are seeking his healing? Simon Peter leads a group who went on a hunt for Jesus. They search for Jesus in the pitch black of the early morning hours. And when they find Jesus, he is praying. He is praying in a desolate place.

If the Healer feels the need to pray, how much more do we need to pray who seek his healing power? If Jesus, who had so much authority over illness and the spiritual forces of darkness, draws near to his heavenly Father for strength, how much more do we who are weak need to draw near to our heavenly Father?

“Everyone is searching for you,” they said. “There are so many people that need your healing, Jesus. There is so much brokenness and suffering and death around us. It’s confusing that you would sometimes seem absent at such a time of need. You can heal until the middle of the night. You display the grandeur of your glory and the glory of God the Father. Why hide that glory at other times?” “So let’s go to the neighboring towns,” Jesus says. “This is why I came, to tell all the world the good news.” And so Jesus continues to go from town to town preaching and healing people—mind, body, and spirit.

Jesus invites us to pursue and even hunt for him in the darkness of our nights. Sometimes he seems absent. But we will find that his prayer for us is more faithful than our prayer for ourselves. He shows no limits to the extent of his healing power. He takes fevers away. He cures all diseases. He drives away the spiritual forces of evil and darkness. Jesus always heals. But, as we see in our Gospel reading, Jesus keeps his own schedule. He does things in his way and in his own time. It may seem that our hunting for him in the night comes up empty. It may seem that our prayers for healing and deliverance are unanswered. But the truth is that when we find him, he is interceding for us day and night—always praying for our protection and well being.

This is why he came. He came for our well being. By his death, he overcame death. And by his rising from the empty tomb, he gives us eternal life. Even if it seems like sickness and evil have won the day, God has simply called us home. There he binds up our wounds, cures our diseases, and delivers us from evil once for all. That day Jesus cured many who sought him. One day, he will cure all.