“The House of David” (Luke 1:32; 2 Samuel 7:1-11,16)

Luke 1:26-38
2 Samuel 7:1-11,16

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“The Throne of David” Luke 1:32; 2 Samuel 7:1-11,16

"David" by Michelangelo (1501 - 1504)

Pastor Tom Johnson, December 20, 2020

In Luke’s Gospel, the angel Gabriel ingeniously connects our Old Testament reading from 2 Samuel chapter 7 to Mary’s pregnancy. He tells her it’s the fulfillment of God’s promise her Son will reign on King David’s throne forever. When we look at the Old Testament more carefully, we see that the unexpected is what we should come to expect. David wants to build God a house. You’ll remember that ever since the time of the Exodus, the Ark of the Covenant dwelt in a tabernacle. Tabernacle is just another word for tent. Through the prophet Nathan, God says to David, “Thanks but no thanks.” “When have I ever asked for you to build me a house—a temple made of cedar, precious stones, gold and silver? I have been living in a tent for centuries,” God says. “No, I will build you a house, David.”

The house God promises to build David is one that is not made with human hands or of wood, stone, or metal. It is made through human flesh. God is talking about the descendants of David. He will extend David’s reign forever. This is similar to the way we talk about the White House. It’s a seat of power that is passed down from administration to administration. So, God promises David that he would have sons and grandsons that would rule in his name forever. For centuries after, it seems like God did not fulfill his promise. There are many wicked kings that follow David. The line eventually runs out when conquered by foreign empires—the latest being the Roman Empire. Herod tries to kill off the line of David shortly after Jesus, the descendent of David is born. The Roman Empire eventually destroys the House of God—the Temple in the year 70.

Tragically, this is universal, human nature. In our nation, we are in a current battle for the White House and a majority of seats in the Senate. There is nothing new under the sun. We can complain but our leaders are but a reflection of all of us. We too can be all about our own comfort, maintaining our power and possessions, and want to pass on our wealth and power to those most like us or bear our names. We can fall into the trap of discontentment—unhappy with our homes, relationships, and material possessions. How can there be any peace on earth? How can we be a perfect union? How can we bring joy to the world? How can we accomplish any good if it is every person for themself? How can we if it is all about me and not about we?

The amazing thing in our Old Testament Scripture is that God says he is content to be in a temporary, portable tent. The angel Gabriel is showing us the continuity of who God is from ages ago—even since before the foundation of the world. The Eternal Son of God—the One who has no beginning or end—the one who sits on his eternal throne since before the creation of the universe. This King of kings and Lord of lords leaves his heavenly house to take up residence in the womb of Mary. He exchanges his timeless, eternal reign for a sac of amniotic fluid. He trades a house made of fine stones, gold, silver, and gates of pearl for an abode of flesh—a chamber with a uterine wall. Instead of a heavenly throne, footstool, and scepter; the Son of David will float in amniotic fluid tethered to his mother by an umbilical cord. Instead of being born into privilege and prestige. He will be born in a stable—in the margins—among a suffering people longing for physical and spiritual salvation.

In John’s Gospel, it literally says, “The Word became flesh and tabernacled among us” (1:14). The Alpha and Omega steps out of eternity into time and space. His tent—what Jesus later calls his Temple—is his human body. The house of David is now the Body of Jesus, descended from David, conceived by the Holy Spirit. And if that is not miracle enough—that God would take on our humanity—he does so to make a home for himself in all of our hearts—to dwell richly in each of our lives. And he dies and rises again to purchase a place for us in his heavenly home.  He ascends to the Father and assures us that before he comes back again, he prepares a place for us in his house—there are many mansions—many rooms he says. And as his great grandfather King David said at the end of Psalm 23, “I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” So just like David, we can pray for God to make his home with us permanently. But just as he did with David, God wants to make a home for us. He does both. He makes his home with us. And one day he will bring us to our heavenly home.

O come, Thou Key of David, come,

And open wide our heav’nly home;

Make safe the way that leads on high,

And close the path to misery.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

          (“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” LSB 357 v. 5)

May it be so quickly. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

“My soul proclaims; my spirit rejoices” (Luke 1:46-55)

Luke 1:46-55

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Raphael, The Holy Family with a Lamb, 1507, Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain

Pastor Tom Johnson, December 13, 2020

“My soul magnifies the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” This is the refrain we sang from the Magnificat—or the Song of Mary. Mary sings this in response to Elizabeth’s announcement that she is pregnant with John the Baptist. Elizabeth and her unborn child celebrate the child to be born of Mary. My soul magnifies the Lord—my soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord. My spirit rejoices in God my Savior. Why doesn’t she say, “I proclaim; I rejoice”? Instead, Mary says, “My soul proclaims; my spirit rejoices.” Scripture says, “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12).

Mary speaks from her immaterial core. This praise and joy originates from her soul—her spiritual self. We often speak in terms of our bodies, minds, and spirits. For our purposes, we will not try to distinguish between soul and spirit but simply know that the Word of God has the wisdom and power to do so. Mary’s soul and spirit are stirred by the Word of God, the Holy Spirit, and the Word made flesh in her womb. And because of that stirring deep within her being, she has found her voice and joy. She proclaims the Lord’s greatness. She rejoices in God her Savior. From the core of her being, she proclaims and rejoices in the greatness of God and his salvation. She celebrates how God is a God who turns the world upside down. He humbles the proud and powerful. He lifts up the lowly and feeds the hungry with good things. He causes the rich to experience the poverty of their souls.

Through the birth of this Christ Child, he makes good his promise to deliver his mercy. He is faithful to his people. And now Mary can be assured of a redemptive future because of our redemptive past. This pregnant teenager, whose only excuse for her pregnancy is conception by the Holy Spirit, has the amazing courage to lift up her voice and proclaim God’s greatness and express her joy for God, his ways, and his faithfulness.

But Mary’s voice and joy will be tested. Her faith will be tried. She and her husband Joseph will not be able to find suitable housing after a long journey to Bethlehem for the census—even at the critical time when she gives birth. She will be perplexed by what the shepherds tell her about the angels. She will be astounded by foreign travelers bringing costly gifts. She will be terrorized by King Herod who tries to kill all the toddlers and infants in Bethlehem including baby Jesus. She, Joseph, and their newborn become refugees in Egypt. And yet, through all her difficulty, Scripture says that she “pondered” and “treasured all these things in her heart” (Luke 2:19,51). She kept nurturing her core. She kept feeding her soul with God’s Word, faithfulness, and promises. The Apostle Paul echos Mary’s sentiment when he says, “So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day.” So we have the assurance that our souls can proclaim and our spirits can rejoice even in the midst of physical suffering. God’s joy transcends all.

And what of our current difficulty? How do we navigate the turmoil in our cities, in our nation, and in our world? Have we allowed the power-hungry to devour our joy? Have we let the proud, the rich, and the powerful to bully us and make us feel powerless and voiceless?  

In Mary’s song, might does not make right. The loudest are not the truest. The wealthy may be prospering in body but not necessarily in soul and spirit. Pride and conceit do not lift anyone up but even tear the proud themselves down. Mary is confident that worldliness, evil, and sin cannot rob her of her joy. No one can silence her message of hope and salvation. Mary has found her voice. She has found her joy. Mary is there to lead us. Her song gives us the Word and example we need to find our own voice—our own song—our own joy—no matter our circumstances—no matter what threatens—no matter how loud our adversary—no matter how powerful our enemies—no matter how much evil puffs itself up.

“Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? ...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:35-39).

This is the song of Mary. This is the way of Jesus and the way of the Cross. We live in a sinful and broken world. But God repairs this world one soul at a time. He rebuilds our lives from the inside-out and the bottom-up. Our souls proclaim the greatness of the Lord who conquers sin, evil, and death on the Cross of Calvary—and again when he rises victorious from the dead—and again when he comes back in glory to judge the living and the dead. Our spirits rejoice in God our Savior when he cries out, “It is finished!” and commends his spirit to God his Heavenly Father. Our spirits will rejoice when Jesus comes to renew the heavens and the earth and make all things new. Even so. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

“All people are grass” (Isaiah 40:1-11)

Isaiah 40:1-11

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Pastor Tom Johnson, December 6, 2020

Today we hear a voice crying out in the wilderness. It is Isaiah’s prophetic vision of John the Baptist. It is for the comfort of the people of God. It’s also a call for us to lift our voice up together and be the herald of good tidings. Comfort, O comfort my people...speak tenderly...cry out to her... And what’s the message? “All people are grass their constancy is like the flower of the field. ...The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.”

The word grass here is not referring to a specific type of field grass but vegetation in general. The class of vegetation are called ephemerals. They are any short-lived plant. They sprout up, grow, blossom, and die in a matter of weeks. In contrast, perennials are plants that live for two or more years. They survive through all the seasons and severe weather conditions such as freezing temperatures, the hot and dry sun, flood, and drought. The prophet reminds us of our ephemeral nature. Compared to the lifespan of a human being, ephemerals have a very fleeting life. Their vitality lasts only for a short season. Their floral beauty only lasts for days.

As a very young child, I have vivid memories of a large field down the street from my home. In the spring, golden yellow flowers would blossom. The field became a deep, green canvas with lots of yellow brush strokes all over. But then in just a matter of days, the yellows turned to grays and whites. As I walked into the field and plucked up the dead flowers, I enjoyed blowing the seeds away. Each seed had a miniature cotton parachute. By my breath, the little white helicopters would fly away in a tight formation. Even as a child, I seemed to stand outside and loom large over the short lifespan of this flower turned flying-cotton seeds.

Compared to the lifespan of God’s Word, humanity has a very fleeting life. Scripture says, “With the Lord day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day” (2 Peter 3:8). God stands outside creation and sees the whole of human history in a glance. He sees empires rise and fall...generations of families come and go like the dandelions that blossom into golden flowers that just days later fly away in grays and whites. Sadly, in these last months, we are reminded more than ever of our ephemeral nature. The pandemic is claiming record numbers of lives. We have already seen multiple seasons of surges and flattening.  In addition to that, we still continue to have even more deaths due to heart disease and cancer. But because of the pandemic in these last months, we seem to stare at death more candidly. We are more keenly aware of our temporal and mortal nature. As children of God, we also remember that we are all plagued not only by death but also by sin and evil. And so, as the prophet Isaiah foreshadowed, John the Baptist cries out comfort and a reckoning for our sin, evil, and death in the world.

God does not wants us to live in denial of death but to recognize its reality in light of his grace. This is wisdom. By recognizing life’s brevity and frailty, we cherish our lives all the more. We step back and consider how our lives fit into God’s eternal plan. We repent; which means God changes our life’s path for the better. God wants us to redeem our lives and our time now. Our text from Isaiah says, God  wants to gather us like lambs into his arms today, carry us in his embrace, and gently lead us as our Good Shepherd into our eternal future with him. Through John the Baptist, God calls us to the water, the river Jordan. By the washing of the water and the Word, we receive forgiveness, cleansing, and a fresh start. This new life is not a fleeting one of just water as John himself says but points to the baptism of Jesus who infuses new and eternal life by the Holy Spirit. 

So the prophet Isaiah hears God’s cry out of comfort: “The grass withers, the flower fades but the word of our God will stand forever.” The Word of God is the seed God plants into the soil of our hearts. It is the tree in Psalm 1 that is planted by streams of water...“whose leaves do not wither and in whatever we do by the strength of the Word prospers us.” 

The Word of God is the Word made flesh. He is the eternal Son of God, uncreated, without beginning, and will have no end. He is the One born of Mary in a stable. He was planted in Galilean soil and grew in stature before God and humanity. He is the one who is mightier than John the Baptist and more powerful than any mere mortal. He is the enfleshed Word who stands forever. And not only that, he is the One who hold us up and causes us to stand. As Scripture says in Romans 14, “[we] will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make [us] stand” (v. 4). And so we stand and live now by the Word made flesh in the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.

We hail Thee as our Savior, Lord,
Our refuge and our great reward;
Without Thy grace we waste away
Like flow’rs that wither and decay.

Lay on the sick Thy healing hand
And make the fallen strong to stand;
Show us the glory of Thy face
Till beauty springs in ev’ry place.
          ("On Jordan’s Bank the Baptist’s Cry," LSB 344, vv. 3-4)

May it be so quickly. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.