Third Sunday of Easter - Misericordias Domini

Psalm 23
St. John 10:11–18

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

No real shepherd dies for his sheep. Imagine the farmer who says, I love my cows. All I want is to see them happy and well-fed, enjoying their pasture. I will let them live a nice, long life… and I will die before I let anyone butcher them. Ridiculous! Foolish. That’s what our God is like.

Jesus says,  I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep. That should sound just as crazy as the farmer who loves his cows and won’t let anyone butcher them. The only reason Jesus’ statement might not sound so strange is that we’re so used to it. But the truth is, the Lord is not like us. He doesn’t think like us. He lays down His life for His sheep. And that makes all the difference.

We know that sheep and cows get marked for slaughter. And we are marked for death. Death is inevitable for us. God’s sentence against Adam applies to all sons of Adam and daughters of Eve: You are dust, and to dust you shall return. We are their offspring and we share their sin. Like father, like son. Like mother, like daughter. Sinful flesh begets sinful flesh. We share that sin—we participate in it.

Jesus does not. He is the only Son of Adam who does not share in sin, the only one who was not marked by death. Death was not inevitable for Him. Nevertheless, the true heavenly Father marked His true beloved Son for death, and Jesus accepted it freely. The Father and the Son have a perfect relationship, a perfect love. God is love. So there is no disagreement or questioning between the Father and the Son. Jesus says, For this reason the Father loves Me, because I lay down My life that I may take it up again. The Father loves His Son and the Son is obedient to His Father. The Father could never stop loving His Son and the Son could never be disobedient to His Father. It’s just the way they are. They are one—perfectly agreed, perfect in love. So also, Jesus has the authority in Himself to die and to rise: No one takes My life from Me, but I lay it down of My own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from My Father. So, the Father’s command for the Son to go and die for the sins of the world and Jesus’ authority to lay down His life and take it up again—the command and the authority—are one, because the Father and the Son are one.

Death was not proper for Jesus, He did not deserve it. Death did not come for Him the way it comes inevitably for you and me. Death had no power to claim Jesus, except that He allowed it to. No one could take Jesus’ life from Him—not the Jews who arrested Him, not the Romans who crucified Him. He freely laid down His life, and freely took it up again. 

That’s what makes Him the “Good” Shepherd. He’s not the competent shepherd, the successful shepherd. In other words, He’s not good at being a shepherd the way we think shepherds should be, because He does not raise His sheep in order to slaughter them. But He is the Good Shepherd as in the Beautiful Shepherd, the Right Shepherd, the Fitting and Glorious Shepherd, because He dies for us, His sheep. This use of the word “Good” is the same as how we call the day of His death: Good Friday. It could just as well be called Beautiful Friday. It is good and right and beautiful because the Good Shepherd was being good and doing good for us.

The Gospel writers record how when Jesus died He cried out with a loud voice. But this was not a loud cry of despair. This was His loud command, calling upon death to come and take Him. To the very last breath, He was in control. Death could not take Him without His submitting to it or allowing it. So, by rights death had no claim on Him. Death could not hold Him. By offering up His life in this way, Jesus conquered death. He beat death at its own game. He trampled down death by death. And so had complete authority still to take His life back up again.

In the classic children’s story, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, four siblings, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy, arrive in a magical land called Narnia. But Edmund betrays his brother and sisters to the usurper, the evil White Witch. But Edmund is rescued and forgiven by the true king of Narnia, the Lion, Aslan. The Witch then comes to claim Edmund’s life—the blood of a traitor belongs to me, she demanded. He must be put to death on the magical Stone Table, where all evildoers are killed. So instead, Aslan exchanges his life for the boy. And the Witch kills the Lion on the Stone Table, leaving his dead body there to be mourned by the two girls, Susan and Lucy. But as the sun rose the next day, the Stone Table broke in half. And there stood Aslan, alive and glorious. The girls were amazed, and when they asked him what this all means, Aslan replied: “When a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards.” (LWW p.160).

That is precisely what our King has done for us, traitors. The willing, innocent victim offered up His life. Death tried to take Him and swallow Him down. And death broke. And now, death works backwards. We don’t go from this life into death, but from death on to resurrection. We merely pass through death into life.

Or consider another analogy I heard one time. A father and son are driving home from a funeral. The boy asks his dad what death is like. As the father struggles to find the right words, he notices a semi approaching them on the road. The huge truck races past, and for a few moments the noise is loud and the shadow of the truck covers the whole car. But then, a moment later, they’re out of the shadow and all is bright and calm again. The father asks his son, “What would’ve happened if that truck had hit us?” “We would’ve been killed, destroyed, hurt really, really bad.” “You’re right, but instead the only thing that touched us was the truck’s shadow. When Jesus died, He took the full force of death for us. The Lord Jesus is our Good Shepherd, so even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for He is with me. Jesus undid the real power of death. We only walk through the shadow of death. It doesn’t hurt us or destroy us. And then we come out on the other side in the full light of life with our Lord.”

Speaking as the Good Shepherd, Jesus also said, “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand. I and the Father are one.” (John 10:27–30). Death could not take Jesus’ life; He laid it down freely. So, death could not hold Jesus. He took His life back up again. And your life is with Jesus. You’re washed with His Name. You’re hearing and following His voice. You’re living on His body and blood. You’re safe in Jesus’ hand. And Jesus is loved by His Father and rests secure in His Father’s hand. So you’re there too, safe and loved. The Father and the Son are one, and you’re there together with them. Death cannot take your life from Jesus or the Father’s hand. Only its shadow passes over you. Death cannot hold you either.

Alleluia! Christ is risen.
He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Second Sunday of Easter - Quasimodo Geniti

1 John 5:4–10
St. John 20:19–31

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

12 disciples, minus Judas is 11, minus Thomas is 10. That first Easter evening the disciples kept the rule: no gatherings greater than 10 people—their own kind of quarantine… but a quarantine of fear. The doors were locked for fear of the Jews. They were afraid that they would be next, that they would be beaten, tried, and executed. And then the risen Jesus goes right through the doors. He shows up, bumps the number to 11 and, in more ways than one, destroys their quarantine. 

That’s just how Jesus is. He’s generally not what we would call polite. He’s determined. He knows what’s right and what’s good, and He tells it like it is. He won’t be kept either, in any way. He won’t be kept down by death and hell. He won’t be kept out by doors and locks. He won’t be kept under control by the government, neither the Jews, the Romans, or the USA. He won’t be kept under control by our ideas or feelings or fears. Jesus lives. He defeated death for goodness’ sake, He can do what He wants. He goes right through the doors, messes with their quarantine, their attempt to control the situation, and He smashes their fears with His peace.

Then there’s Thomas—Doubting Thomas—or we could say Foolish Thomas, Stubborn Thomas. Those are the same as unbelief. Or we could say Fearful Thomas. I don’t think Thomas was simply the skeptic, the intellectual, the scientist who will only believe what he can see with his eyes. I think Thomas was also afraid. Like the other 10, he was afraid to believe. He might’ve been afraid to get his hopes up and then be disappointed. He could’ve been afraid of what this risen Jesus might be like—just imagine: the man you abandoned to die is now back from the dead! He might not be very pleased with you. And Thomas might very well have been afraid of what this resurrection story would mean for his life. If he goes around claiming that Jesus is risen from the dead, the Jews are going to be even angrier and more bloodthirsty. What exactly would the expectations be for Thomas if he goes along with this idea that Jesus is risen from the dead? If this is true, then obviously it’s important enough that it’s going to change his life, and probably in some uncomfortable ways. None of these reasons excuse Thomas. He’s afraid. And fear is also a kind of unbelief.

But once again, Jesus barges in. Jesus goes through the doors and brings that doubting, fearing Thomas to give the greatest confession of faith there is in the Gospels—the clearest, most emphatic statement of Jesus’ divinity. Jesus is God. Coming from Thomas, with all of his doubts, his confession comes across not merely as an emotional reaction, but a statement of absolute conviction in the face of irrefutable evidence: “You are my Lord and my God.” Like, 2 + 2 = 4, or “That’s the sun in the sky.” “You are my Lord and my God.” There’s the truth and fact of Easter and the whole Christian religion. Once again, Jesus breaks up the quarantine of fear. He stops Thomas’ attempt to control the situation. And He conquers fear with His peace.

As we all know, people are very afraid right now. Maybe we are feeling it too. But even if this crisis has got us shook up, I hope we can learn from it. We have seen what fear can do—how it can limit us and hem us in and keep us from living. We’ve had a little taste of what it’s like when the church isn’t here, at least not in the way we’re used to. I hope that wakes us up, and reminds us not to take it for granted. Churches could close due to this. Our church could close, probably not from this issue, but someday. And it’s not enough for us to say, “Oh, I trust God, that could never happen here.” God has given no promise that this congregation will last forever if we neglect it. You’ve seen how quickly things can change for society and church when we give in to fear. Well, when we take the church for granted, when we fear other things, care about other things, when we tell ourselves, “It’ll be there next week,” then it might not be very fast, but it might still go away. Are we going to let that happen? Are we going to let our fear control us, and limit us, and destroy our faith?

But Jesus lives, and He goes through doors. He goes through the doors we close ourselves, and the doors others close on us. He can show up in your quarantine too, whether it’s a quarantine of fear or a quarantine against sickness. Jesus can still show up and comfort you. He will never let us control the situation—He’s too good for that. And when we try to call the shots and make the demands like Thomas, He might just have to knock us down and bit, bowl us over with His resurrection power. As I said, He’s not really polite. He’s tough, because He knows what’s right and good. And He says that fear is forbidden—except for the fear of God, there is no fear allowed in the Christian religion. But still, He says it with the most gentle rebuke, coming from His love: “Do not be afraid. Peace be with you.”

So, Jesus also comes to embolden you. His peace gives you courage. After that second visit with the risen Jesus, we don’t hear any more about locked doors or fearful disciples. So, you also be bold, even in the midst of these unusual times. That doesn’t mean go risk your life by being stupid, or go out of your way to make people worried or mad. You can be bold while still washing your hands. But be bold as a Christian. Be bold with Jesus’ love and forgiveness. Don’t be afraid to help people. Don’t be afraid to show affection. Don’t be afraid to be human. And don’t be afraid to forgive those who have wronged you. Be bold with your life and conversation. Don’t be afraid to show and confess who this Jesus is to you: My Lord and my God.

You are a Christian. That means you have overcome fear, even if it may not feel like it. You have overcome sin and death and the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith… our faith in the Lord Jesus, our God.

The British author, Dorothy Sayers, wrote a series of plays on the life of Jesus. And in the final play, she gives us this beautiful conversation between the risen Jesus and His disciples on that first Easter evening.

Jesus says: “Come here, Thomas. Put out your finger and feel my hands. Reach out your hand and thrust it into my side. And doubt no longer, but believe.”
Thomas (with absolute conviction) says: “You are my Lord and my God.”
(The crucial word is spoken at last, and received in complete silence)
Then Jesus replies: “Thomas, because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”
Peter (who has suddenly become aware of some appalling implications) says: “Master—when I disowned you—when we disbelieved and doubted you—when we failed and deserted and betrayed you—is that what we do to God?”
Jesus answers: “Yes, Peter.”
James says: “Lord, when they mocked and insulted and spat upon you—when they flogged you—when they howled for your blood—when they nailed you to the cross and killed you—is that what we do to God?”
Jesus: “Yes, James.”
John says: “Beloved, when you patiently suffered all things, and went down to death with all our sins heaped upon you—is that what God does for us?”
Jesus: “Yes, John. For you, and with you, and in you, when you are freely mine. For you are not slaves, but sons. Free to be faithful, free to confess me, free to be crucified with me, sharing the shame and sorrow, and the bitter cross and the glory. They that die with me rise with me also, being one with me, as I and my Father are one.”
John says: “This, then, is the meaning of the age-old sacrifice—the blood of the innocent for the sins of the world.”
Jesus says: “Draw near. Receive the breath of God. As the Father sent me forth, so I send you. The guilt that you absolve shall be absolved, and the guilt that you condemn shall be condemned. And peace be upon you.”
(The Man Born to be King, p.340)

Now, you, dear sons and daughters of the King, you also have peace with God. For your sins are forgiven. And your crucified and risen Lord and God is with you. Be free. Be bold.
      
Alleluia! Christ is risen.
He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Resurrection of Our Lord - Easter Day

St. Mark 16:1–20

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Those women were afraid and said nothing. They went to the tomb, expecting death. Armed only with ointments and spices, they went to see a corpse. But that’s not what they found. The stone was moved, the tomb was empty of death. In place of their Master’s dead body was this very much alive, very alarming young man in a shining white robe, telling them, “Don’t be afraid. Jesus is risen! Tell the disciples.” But they were afraid, and they said nothing.

They did not see Jesus, but they heard from the angels. That’s not a bad alternative. But those women did not believe. And they were too afraid to speak. This account from Mark makes for a rather strange and lack-luster Easter. And isn’t that how this Easter is feeling to many of us? Strange, lack-luster—too retrained, too quiet. Not enough bells and organ and trumpet. Not enough voices. Not enough Easter triumph or Easter joy.

In our world right now, many of us are also expecting death. And armed only with medicine, masks, and expert opinions, many of us are left afraid. We also do not see the risen Jesus. We don’t even get to see the angel. But we have heard from God’s other angels, His other messengers. And that’s not a bad alternative either. We hear from the Bible—the Holy Spirit–inspired writings of the prophets and the apostles—words that have been tested, verified, proven true and faithful, certain and clear. In many ways, that’s much better than some startling young man in a flashy coat. And we hear from the pastors—men sent by God through His Church to proclaim the forgiveness of sins on account of this Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified, but has risen. The pastor’s proclamation gives comfort and peace to the weary soul and frightened conscience. And isn’t that really what we need right now? Some comfort, some relief, some assurance that God is in control, He is reconciled to the world, and death does not get the last word.

Sickness and death are very serious things. On Palm Sunday, I said we need to prepare for death. And on Good Friday, we learned from Jesus how to commend our souls into the Father’s hands. And at the Easter Vigil, we heard the great happy twist in the story, that death is not the end. Death is very serious and we do need to prepare. But we also have the final answer to death. We can even face it with joy. Because Jesus lives.

So, don’t be like those women, silent and afraid. You can keep you social distance, but the human voice can carry well over 6 feet. If there’s anything our world needs more of it’s people talking about the fact that Jesus is risen from the dead. Despite all the uncertainty out there, despite all the fear–mongering and conspiracy theories, despite all the pointing and blaming, and hording and panicking, Jesus lives. Do not be afraid.

Our safety measures and stay–at–home orders might not make a difference. But Jesus lives. The economy might not recover and businesses might close. But Jesus lives. The government might collapse, wars might start, and we might find ourselves living in some kind of post-apocalyptic desert. But Jesus lives. More people might get sick, and more might die, even people you know. But Jesus lives. And that really does make all the difference. Because our best efforts and our most expensive medicines were never going to eradicate sickness or poverty. And our hope was never pinned on the stock market, and the real pleasures in this life are not multiplied with more money. And our government and our civil rights were never going to last forever anyway. And no one was ever going to get out of this world alive.

But Jesus lives. Death and virus and storm and violence are all losers. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved. Whoever trusts in the name of Jesus will live. Not only did He rise to life, He IS the resurrection and the life. And everything else in this world pales in comparison—a bunch of junk, all of it, compared to the unsurpassable joy of Easter. St. Paul couldn’t put it in any stronger terms when he said in Philippians, chapter 3: I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I count everything else as rubbish, waste, sewage, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from keeping the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God by faith—in order that I may know Christ and the power of His resurrection, and may share His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. That’s what I’m after! That’s what Easter is for. That’s what we need and what our world needs and what God gives: Jesus and our resurrection from the dead.

So, do not stay silent today, or any day. Every day after that first Easter Day has been a day for all the angels and for all Christians to speak those most joyfully shocking words: “Jesus is risen!” We still do not see Him. But He still lives, and He is still with us. “Go into all the world,” declared the risen Lord, “And proclaim the gospel to the whole creation.” He gave that charge to us, to His whole Church, to make known the Good News that sins are forgiven, fears are banished, life is victorious, and death is defeated.

So then the Lord Jesus, after he had spoken to them, was taken up into heaven and sat down at the right hand of God. And they went out and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them. The crucified and risen Jesus is still working through us. He is present and active in His Word. This is the only reason that the Christian Church has been and still is the most powerful force for good in this world. And the most vibrant voice of hope. Because the power of faith, and love, and hope in Christians and in the activity of the Church is the power of the living Jesus Himself. 

I know it may not feel like it, but we still have that Easter triumph and Easter joy. You’ve heard me say many times before, “You can’t rely on your feelings to know what’s true.” What we’re dealing with now is exactly what I’m talking about. Even though it doesn’t feel like it, Easter is still true. That cannot be taken from us. And it cannot be silenced either, not entirely. Don’t be like those women who went to the tomb expecting death. Jesus lives. The grave has been broken open and filled in with rubble. It can’t keep you. It can’t keep sick people. It can’t keep your dead loved ones. Don’t be silent and afraid. You may not have an organ or trumpets, but you have a voice. Use it. Sing, hum, shout:

Alleluia! Christ is risen! 
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Vigil of Easter

Creation, Flood, Red Sea, Fiery Furnace
St. Matthew 28:1–10

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sometimes it appears that we’re living in a tragedy—I mean a tragedy like a play or a movie. And we know what that’s like right now, don’t we? Hundreds of thousands have gotten sick, and thousands have died. Things look dark, and no one seems to know for sure how much longer this could go on.

Two thousand years ago, on a Saturday night, it also appeared as if the whole world was in a tragedy. The sun had gone dark the day before. The earth had shook and rocks were split and the temple curtain looked like a giant cat had used it to sharpen its claws. And the Son of God, the One who spoke the universe into existence, was cold, lying in a tomb. How much more tragic could you get?

But then, in the middle of that cosmic night, came the decisive turn. A joyful surprise! A swift change. That’s the difference between a classical tragedy and a classical comedy. I don’t mean our modern idea of a silly comedy. The easiest way to understand the difference between a tragedy and a comedy in the sense of classical plays and stories, or Shakespeare and fairy tales, is to think of the drama masks. You know, one is a sad face and the other is a smiley face.

The shape of the sad mouth gives you the basic shape of a tragedy. The story begins with the main character rising to power and success. But then comes the turn and it’s his downfall. The story ends with the main character falling from grace, from power, falling to his doom and usually dragging everyone else down with him.

But the shape of the smile gives you the shape of the classical comedy. The story begins in a perfect, or nearly perfect world. Everyone is happy. And then something terrible happens—a child is lost, or lovers are separated. The story sinks down into a problem, and often it seems unsolvable. In fact, the most moving comedies are the ones that make you wonder, when you’re down in the dark depths… are we actually in a tragedy after all?

But then, something mysterious happens, something wonderfully unexpected! A decisive turn, a joyful surprise, a swift change. And there’s the upswing completing the other half of the smile, bringing the characters and you back to that happy world. Families are restored, lost children are found, lovers reunited… the dead are raised. What appeared to be a tragedy with the death of Jesus, turned out to be the most marvelous comedy, the most unexpected happy ending. And the same is true for all the stories of God’s people.

That’s the story the Easter Vigil has been telling you tonight. Out of darkness and chaos, God created light and life. In the midst of a worldwide flood, destroying all creatures, the Lord preserved a faithful few and kept His promise to the human race. Through the Red Sea, with a murderous pharaoh at their heels, God delivered His people and brought them to victory. Out of a burning oven, the Lord rescued His children and made His name glorious. And by the death of God, all death was destroyed. And by the resurrection of this Man, new life was won for all mankind. All the stories of God’s people are stories about God saving His people, saving them certain death and destruction, death and destruction they had deserved! But all of them surprises! Mysterious, happy, wonderfully strange and joyful stories!

And what about us? Is He going to do the same for us? What story are we in? Well, the reason He’s told you all those other stories is to show you what He can and will do for you! Time and again, He has proven His faithfulness. He will save you too. You are no less important to Him than Adam and Eve, or Noah and his family, or Moses and Israel, or the three young men in Babylon. You are sons and daughters of God, rescued, pulled up through the font into His kingdom! And we know that God is working all things together for the good of those who love Him. He’s writing the story, your story, and we can barely imagine the ending. So, if God is for us, who can be against us? He did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all! So, who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies—He’s the author of the story. Who is to condemn? Who’s going to force us into a tragedy? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God (Romans 8). 

The story of Jesus is the greatest comedy of all time. The lost Child is found. The dead Son is raised. The Bride and Groom are reunited. We can’t be living in a tragedy, no matter how dark things look, because Jesus is risen! The only way to get into a tragedy now is if you write your own ending. If you walk away from God and the story He’s telling. That will end badly. But the God who created you, died for you, and rose for you, is still coming after you. He doesn’t want to let you go your own way. He wants to raise you up with Him.

Easter is still the twist ending. Even today, it’s the glorious surprise, even when we know the story so well. Every year, even in this horrible year, Easter brings a sudden and joyous change. Easter tells us once again that we are not in a tragedy. The story of this whole world is divine comedy—God’s awesome, hilariously wonderful story: the fill-you-up-until-you-burst-with-joy kind of story. Your happy ending is guaranteed because Jesus is risen. Baptized into Him, You are living His story. And the stone has been rolled away. The grave has been smashed. You were lost, but now you are found. You were dead, but now you are alive.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! 
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Good Friday

St. Luke 23:46

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

This epidemic and crisis is exposing our frailty, our mortality. It’s making us realize that our life really does just hang by a thread. We are weak and we cannot keep ourselves alive. And we are tempted to despise that, to resist it. Our desire and love for life drives us to fight against death. And it is right and good to love, promote, and preserve life. But our fear and hatred of death can go too far, to stop at nothing, to keep on living no matter the cost. And our “Can–do, Never give up!” mentality is outraged by the idea of surrender, especially surrendering to death. Or to put it in Christian terms, our fierce independence, our refusal to accept our frailty, means that we really can’t stand the idea of commending our lives into God’s hands, and trusting Him to give and take away as He knows best.

On Palm Sunday, I said that it’s the Church’s job to get people ready to die. But we, as fallen, dying human creatures ourselves, are not the ones who can actually make people ready for death or show them what to do. Only Jesus, the perfect Man, who laid down His life in our place, can serve as our example for what makes a holy, blessed death. 

As He reached the end of His suffering, Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit!” And having said this He breathed His last. The immortal One made Himself mortal. The eternal One had an end. The One who holds all things together, was held by His Father. He laid down His life into His Father’s hands, trusting that His Father would take and protect His soul, and raise Him up to life again. Jesus was praying Psalm 31: Into Your hand I commit My spirit; You have redeemed Me, O Lord, faithful God. As the true Son of God, and as the one perfect Man, Jesus trusted His Father, the faithful God, who always keeps His promises, and brings back life from the grave. So, in perfect faith, Jesus could commend His soul into the Father’s hands.

This then serves as an example for us. When God calls us to die and leave this life, we don’t fight it. We don’t resist and fear His will. But with trust and love for our heavenly Father we can commend ourselves to His safekeeping. And yet, we do not have perfect faith like Jesus, our second, perfect Adam. The old Adam in us rebels and mistrusts God. As much as we may want to, we are incapable of completely commending ourselves into God’s hands without any reservations or worries.

Our holy death cannot depend on the strength of our faith. When we most need it is when the strength of faith can fail us. And when we face that final, dreadful struggle at life’s end, we dare not rely on any of our own powers. We can never match the faithfulness of Jesus. While His example teaches us what makes a holy death, His example cannot save us. We cannot follow His example perfectly.

But the Good News of Good Friday is that Jesus is much more than our example. He is our Savior, the One who died for us, in our place. This means just as His holy life counts for us, and replaces our sinfulness with His righteousness, so also His holy death counts for us. His faithfulness in commending Himself to the Father’s hands replaces our sinful worrying, doubting, and resisting. Our holy death doesn’t depend on our faith. But like everything else good, it depends on Jesus, on His faith and on His holy death. He prays that prayer from Psalm 31 so that we can pray it with Him. He prays that prayer for us, and so Jesus commends our souls to the Father’s hands for us.

This is what our hymns want to teach us and give us, for our comfort. What’s on the mind of the dying Christian? Not my faith. I don’t need to be thinking about my faith. I want to be thinking of my Jesus, and of His holy blood and death for me.
My Savior, be Thou near me
      When death is at my door;
      Then let Thy presence cheer me,
      Forsake me nevermore!
      When soul and body languish,
      O leave me not alone,
      But take away mine anguish
      By virtue of Thine own!
Be Thou my consolation,
      My shield, when I must die;
      Remind me of Thy passion
      When my last hour draws nigh.
      Mine eyes shall then behold Thee,
      Upon Thy cross shall dwell,
      My heart by faith enfold Thee.
      Who dieth thus dies well. (LSB 450:6–7)
You are baptized into Christ and into His death, so you’ve got death taken care of because He took care of it for you. By His death He destroyed death. By His rest in the tomb He hallowed your grave. And by His resurrection He brought you into His life and light. The one who dies in Jesus dies well, because death is not their end. For anyone in Jesus, death is just a short sleep, a blessed little rest, before we are reawakened, resurrected, on that great, final, never-ending morning.

Many of our hymns teach us how to prepare and practice for death every time we go to sleep. At the end of our service you will hear the stanzas of two hymns interweaved together: Upon the Cross Extended, which contemplates our Savior’s death, and Now Rest Beneath Night’s Shadow, a hymn for bedtime. Listen to this stanza, that gives meaning to something as ordinary as undressing for bed:
To rest my body hasteth,
Aside its garments casteth,
Types of mortality;
These I put off and ponder
How Christ will give me yonder
A robe of glorious majesty. (TLH 554:4)
Taking off our clothes and lying down to sleep can symbolize our death and the putting off of our mortal nature. Each night, and finally at the end of life, we lie down to rest in peace, awaiting the new and eternal body that Christ will give us on the Last Day. Now hear the echo of this peaceful sleep in the hymn for Good Friday:
Your cross I place before me;
Its saving pow’r restore me,
Sustain me in the test.
It will, when life is ending, 
Be guiding and attending
My way to Your eternal rest. (LSB 453:7)
The cross of Jesus is not a terror but a comfort. His cross refreshes and strengthens you for life now. And His cross transforms your death. Death is no longer a punishment. When death comes, you are finally able to fully enter into the rest of Jesus, with no more toil or tribulation. So, remember this when you go to bed tonight. Practice your death. Say you prayers and lie down to rest in the peace of Jesus: Into Your hands I commend myself, my body and soul, and all things.

No matter when death comes or what form it takes, you’ll be ready. Jesus has already commended your soul into God’s hands, because when He did it for Himself, He did it for you. By faith in Jesus and His atoning death, you now rest in Jesus. By your baptism into the death of Jesus, you now rest secure in His holy wounds. So, if you are in Jesus, and He is in His Father’s hands, then you also already rest in the loving hands of your heavenly Father. There’s nothing more to do, nothing more to fear. When death comes, your God will just tuck you in, to rest in peace. And then after a short sleep, He will wake you up.

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Maundy Thursday

1 Corinthians 11:23–32
St. John 13:1–15, 34–35

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Peter thought he was clean. He thought he could stand up on his own two feet. He thought he could never forsake Jesus, even if it meant dying for Jesus. Peter was wrong. His feet were unclean, and he could not stand against temptation by his own strength. He didn’t just forsake Jesus, he denied Him. In the face of suffering, in the grip of fear, his true heart was exposed.

Trials and suffering, crosses and sicknesses often expose our hearts. They reveal what we truly fear, love, or trust. For many of us, this crisis has done just that. What do you miss most? What’s stinging your conscience? What have you been willing to give up? What are you most afraid of losing? This reveals your true heart.

This epidemic and our reactions to it, have struck hard at our churches. Normally, in times of crisis, the pews get more full. In this one, many churches stand empty, locked, the pastor and the people at home. We all have had to give up a lot in the past few weeks. But what should hurt most is what many have had to give up in the church. Many people have severe risks. Many must take extreme measures for their own safety or for the safety of others. And sadly, for many, this means not being able to attend public worship, and worst of all, not being able to receive the Lord’s Supper.

I am not here passing judgment on anyone’s personal decision. I am not binding anyone’s conscience as to whether they should be coming to the Supper at this time. Each of us must always make that decision and preparation for that holy meal for ourselves. I will never force anyone to receive the Lord’s Supper, especially at this time of danger and uncertainty. I will never urge you to risk your health. That is not my place.

But here’s what I do need to say, tonight of all nights, on the night our Lord instituted His most gracious Supper: Being unable to receive the Lord’s Supper should make you want to weep. It might very well be the right call for you to abstain for now, I’m not doubting that. Nevertheless, it should tear you up inside. Being kept from your Lord’s body and blood should be a cause for mourning, and for longing.

But if your response to not being able to receive the Lord’s Supper at this time is simply to say, “Oh well. Yeah, it’s too bad. But I’ll get by. Anyway, what can you do? Just one of those things.” Then your heart has been exposed. And it’s not a heart clinging to Christ alone. Also, I know it’s true that God never promised us that germs and viruses couldn’t spread within the walls of our sanctuary, but if you have concluded that germs are somehow more of a threat in our church building than they are anywhere else, then your heart has been revealed. If you think it’s too dangerous to receive the Lord’s Supper, but you’re still going to the grocery store, the gas station, the bank drive–through, fast food drive–through, and all the other supposedly essential businesses that are still open, then you are declaring through your actions that Wonder Bread is worth the risk, but the Bread of Life is not. In all of this, you are not seeking first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. You are not hungering and thirsting for the body and blood of Jesus, because it’s not the very beating heart of your life. You don’t believe that you need the righteousness of Christ more than anything else in this world.

You do need it. Our Lord gave this Supper, He commanded us that we have this Supper. It’s nonnegotiable. It’s not an option for when we feel like it or when it fits in our life. Our Lord gave it because we have a much worse sickness than any virus. We have the absolutely terminal illness known as sin and death. So, we need our Lord’s medicine, in every way He prescribes it.

We need this Supper, not only in the sense that we need to do it because Jesus says so, but more importantly, more wonderfully, we need this holy food because we need the health and peace, the comfort and strength it gives us. If you still have a body, then you need this Supper. As long as you are in this flesh and blood that’s so corrupted by sinful desires, then you are going to need your Lord’s holy flesh and blood. If you are still in this fallen world, then you still need this heavenly Supper. Because in this life, there is no end to the sickness, the disasters, and the crises. You will need the peace He gives through His body and blood. And, if you’re still a flesh and blood sinner, and you still live in this fallen world, then the devil is coming for you, and you will need this Supper for your protection. As long as you are a Christian you have to be on guard, because the devil is not going to leave you alone. In fact, if you say, “I think I’m fine. I don’t really need the Lord’s Supper right now,” then that’s probably a good sign that the devil has tricked you, that he’s convinced you everything is fine and you don’t really need Jesus at this moment. And that’s exactly where he wants every Christian to be, thinking, “I’m fine on my own.” Then he’s got us.

Now, I don’t say any of this out of anger or disappointment. I’m not trying to force people to the Supper. And I don’t say any of this to any specific person, either in our congregation or anywhere else. But I say it out of duty to my office and calling. It is my job to teach and to warn, so that people are not caught and held captive by sin or a bad conscience. And I say this so that I may also give comfort and encouragement to those who are mourning, to all who grieve the loss of the Supper at this time.

If you have had to stay home, if you are kept away from your Lord’s body and blood due to these circumstances outside your control, if you feel trapped by fear and anxiety, then I also want to speak these precious words of Jesus to you: Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest (Matthew 11:28). Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid (John 14:27). Even if you are unable to receive the Lord’s Supper at this time, your Lord Jesus can still give you rest and peace. You are still able to feed upon the His life-giving body and blood through faith. This is what the old Lutherans called “spiritual eating,” and it’s nothing more than what Christians do at all times: hear Christ’s Word with faith and love. In fact, without that faith, eating and drinking His body and blood with our mouths would do us no good, but only harm.

So, we treasure His Word, our souls feed upon Him as He comes to us in that Word. And in every trouble or temptation, we can firmly rely on His Word and know that we have a gracious God who loves us and accepts us, all on account of our Savior Jesus Christ. Our Lord does not limit Himself to only one way for us to receive His gifts. His Word and all His mercy comes to us in many ways, all for the sake of our faith, that we would have a good conscience before Him. So, even if you are unable right now to receive your Lord’s body and blood with your mouths, you still receive Him by faith. One of the Lord’s ways of delivering His goodness has been removed from you for a little while, but you still have His Word. You still are His baptized child. You still are able to call upon Him in prayer. You still feed upon His life by faith and so are blessed.

And yet, while some of the Church is being sustained by our Lord without His Supper, the Church can never really lose the Lord’s Supper entirely. It is still the beating heart of our life. It is the crucified and risen Lord present in our midst. So, those of us who are able to gather still gather. Come to the Feast that your King has prepared for you. Come, all who are hungry and thirsty, all who are scared and weak, all who are sick and tired, all who are sick and tired of the sin still clinging to them. His body fills your emptiness, and gives strength for tomorrow and the next day. His blood drowns your sorrows and worries, and intoxicates with pure heavenly joy. This holy food will sustain His people so long as they remain in the wilderness of this world.

The Church will never stop or vanish from the earth, even if she is reduced to only two or three gathered in Christ’s name. He will not let His Church fall. The Lord will never let His Supper disappear entirely, so that when it comes time for the doors of our churches to be flung wide open once again, the Lord and His Church will still be there, delivering His body and blood to sick sinners in need of His medicine. It is a medicine for the cancer of sin. It is a medicine for the weakness of faith. It is a medicine that cures death, that will bring us, body and soul together, to that life and world everlasting. Oh give thanks unto the Lord for He is good, and His mercy endures forever.

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.


A Prayer for Worthy Communion and for those unable to receive Communion at this time
O God, who desires not the death of a sinner, but rather that he turn from his evil way and live, we come before You although we have sinned and deserve only Your wrath. But we flee to Your mercy in Christ Jesus, our Lord, who gave His body and His blood for our redemption. Lord, grant that we may ever thus believe and never waver. Grant that in such faith we may worthily come to Your altar to eat the very body and drink the true blood which Your Son gives to us, that we may duly praise, laud, and honor Your love and Your mercy all the days of our life. But, O Lord, many of Your faithful Christians are unable at this time to receive in their mouths Christ’s true body and blood. Stir up their minds and hearts to a salutary remembrance of His benefits. Grant that by faith we all may spiritually partake of Him as we recall the Words of His new and eternal Testament. Grant us ever to rejoice in how Your Son once offered Himself upon the altar of the cross in our place. Fill all Your people now with His blood-bought forgiveness, and pour Your heavenly benediction and grace upon everyone who devoutly remembers His holy sacrifice. Finally, gather us all together from the ends of the earth to celebrate with all the faithful the marriage feast of the Lamb in His kingdom, which has no end. Graciously receive our prayers, deliver and preserve us, for to You alone we give all glory, honor, and worship, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Palm Sunday

St. Matthew 21:1–9
Philippians 2:5–11      
St. Matthew 26:1–27:66

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!”

“Hosanna” is a tricky word to translate. It’s a shout of greeting and prayer and praise all at the same time. It means, “Save now!” But what exactly was that Palm Sunday crowd asking for? What did they want to be saved from? Save us now… from the tyranny of the Romans? From the corruption of the religious leaders? Or from poverty and sickness?

What do we ask God for? What do we want to be saved from? Save us now… from a frustrating government? From a decadent and immoral society? Or from inconvenience? Save us from being uncomfortable? Or from sickness? What about, “Save us from death”? Do we actually believe that prayer can be answered? Do we ever think about death? Do we fear it as we should? Can we face it as we ought?

Our culture celebrates death in many ways. Abortion and assisted suicide have their champions. TV and movies make death part of our entertainment, almost as bad as the Romans who watched gladiators kill each other for sport. But at the same time, death is not something we talk about in our culture. We let hospice take care of the dying, preferably tucked away somewhere, with lots of drugs, so they’re not uncomfortable… or so that we are not uncomfortable. And we have plenty of other nice ways to soften death’s sharp touch, some sweet phrases to sprinkle over death’s stench: “He passed on… She’s in a better place… It’s just a natural part of life… They live on in our hearts or memories... or in the wind…”

It’s strange. Death is on display, and yet, we don’t want to talk about it. If someone tries to bring up death or making plans for death, we get uncomfortable and try to change the subject. Really, it’s extraordinary that we are so good at avoiding this reality, when it is the one absolute certainty in our existence.

The fact that everyone has panicked so much during this epidemic proves that as a society, as a culture, we do not take the time to think and prepare for death. This virus comes, and everyone acts as if the threat of sickness and death is some new thing, as if they’ve never heard of it before. It’s certainly clear that they are not ready for it, that we are not ready. And that should tell us who are in the Church that it’s at least partly our fault. We have dropped the ball a few times along the way. Because it’s the Church’s job to tell people, “Hey. Wake up. Pay attention. You’re going to die. You better get ready for that.” It’s the Church’s job to prepare people for death and offer them the only true source of comfort that will sustain them in the face of death. I think the fact that people both outside the church and inside the church are acting this way is a sign that we have not been doing our job.

So, let’s go back to the crowd on Palm Sunday. Because even if they didn’t have their thinking quite right, even if they weren’t sure what they needed to be saved from, they prayed the right prayer: Hosanna! Save now! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! They were praying Psalm 118, and that Psalm certainly shows us how to think about death. 

Psalm 118, verses 8 and 9: It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes. Don’t we need to hear that right now? We cannot put our trust in the government or in certain political parties. We cannot put our trust in doctors, in the experts, in miracle drugs. We cannot put our trust in our own knowledge or strength, not in the strength of our bodies or even the strength of our faith. If it comes from us, if it comes from man, then it can fail. This doesn’t mean we can’t use these things. We appreciate and benefit from good government, and good doctors and scientists, and from sound human logic and reason. We use these things to take care of ourselves and our neighbors in this life. But we can’t trust these things.

We must take our final refuge in the Lord. This means that if the things of men fail, when they fail, and when we fail, when we die, we still have a refuge that lasts beyond all the rest. The Lord is my strength and my song; He has become my salvation. Psalm 118, verse 14. The Lord is our only true life. If all we look out for, if all we prepare for, if all we strive for, is this life, then we are dead, and that’s where we’ll stay. But if the Lord is our life, if He is the One we seek for first, the One we turn to first, the One we go after even if it means giving up everything else, including physical health, then we have His strength that will sustain us forever.

And we will be able to say with Psalm 118 and with Jesus Himself: I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the Lord. The Lord has disciplined me severely, but he has not given me over to death. Jesus died, and yet He lives. He was disciplined more severely than any man. He suffered under God’s wrath for all our sin. But He was not given over to death entirely. He did not remain in the grave, but rose from the dead. And all who trust in Him also cannot be held by death.

And so we continue to declare with Psalm 118 and with Jesus: Open to me the gates of righteousness, that I may enter through them and give thanks to the Lord. Death itself is now nothing more than a doorway, a gate into life everlasting. The empty tomb is the gate of the Lord; the righteous shall enter through it. We are able to say all this because of our Lord Jesus who has gone before us. He entered the gates of Jerusalem on a donkey as the king of Israel, but that was only a shadow of His kingship. What He did and what happened to Him at the end of that week was His true kingly work.

Psalm 118 prophesies that The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes. This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Jesus is the stone rejected by the builders, despised and crucified by the leaders of the people. But He has become the cornerstone, the foundation of our faith and of our victory. He was chosen by God. It was His doing and it is marvelous. His rejection, His death, His blood, and His rising again, means that we can rejoice and be glad. The day that the Lord has made is the Day of Jesus: the day of His death, the day of His resurrection—the day, the hour, the time of our salvation.

So we can pray with that Palm Sunday crowd and with Psalm 118: Save us, we pray, O Lord! Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is Jesus who came to His fallen creatures in our own flesh and blood. Blessed is He who came to His city as her true king. Blessed is Jesus who hung on His cross, suffered, bled, and died for sinners. Blessed is He who rose from the dead in victory. Blessed is Jesus who comes in the bread and the wine with His body and blood, giving us the food that conquers death.

We should fear death. Without the Lord Jesus, death would swallow us up forever. We must prepare for death. It will come and there are no second chances. We can prepare to meet death with confidence. With faith in Jesus, we swallow up death. His body given and His blood shed in death is what destroyed death. So in eating that body and drinking that blood, we are made more than ready for death. We are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. Oh give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good; for his mercy endures forever!

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Divine Service in a Time of Pestilence

2 Samuel 24:15–25
Romans 5:15–17
St. Luke 4:38–41

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Why is God doing this? Why is God letting this happen? 

I’m sure the people of Israel were asking the same question. Why did the Lord send a plague on Israel and King David? It was because David decided to take a census of all the fighting men in his kingdom. It’s not that counting people is a sin in itself, but that David wanted to see just how strong his kingdom was. He wanted to rejoice in his own power and victory, and find confidence in the strength of men and of his rule. The sin was pride.

Only after, was David’s conscience stricken and he turned to the Lord in sorrow and repentance. And the Lord sent His prophet Gad to David and gave him a choice of three punishments that David and Israel could receive. You see, just because you say you’re sorry doesn’t mean you get out of the punishment, or that you don’t have to deal with the consequences. Many children say they’re sorry, but still get the spanking. The consequence often still needs to come so that the seriousness of sin sinks in.

David made a wise and faithful choice. He didn’t choose, but said, “I am in great distress. Let us fall into the hand of the Lord, for his mercy is great; but let me not fall into the hand of man” (2 Sam. 24:14). It’s always right to say, “Thy will be done, O God.” Better to let Him choose how He should discipline His children.

And in that case, God chose to send a plague. The Angel of the Lord brought this judgment and vengeance. He executed God’s punishment. But remember, the Angel of the Lord in the Old Testament is almost never a mere angel, not just a created heavenly being. He is the Messenger of Yahweh, God Himself. To be more precise, He is the Second Person of the Trinity, the Son of God, the face and image of the invisible God. So, it’s a bit strange for those of us who know Jesus, to see Him in this avenging angel of wrath. But we know Jesus is the Judge who will come and ultimately condemn unbelievers to hell. And so He came to Jerusalem at that time to give a preview and warning of the wrath to come.

Yet, David stood between the Angel and the people, pleading for them: “Behold, I have sinned, and I have done wickedly. But these sheep, what have they done? Please let your hand be against me and against my father's house.” He called for the Lord’s fire to fall down on him and spare the people. He interceded for them, acting like a priest and a sacrificial victim.

So, why did God send this plague? In order to bring David and Israel to repentance, and so that He might have mercy on them. So then, David was instructed to build an altar where the Angel’s hand was stopped. This threshing floor on this hill was the very place where the Lord’s Temple would be built by David’s son, King Solomon. And this way, sacrifices were continually offered there, and priests continued to mediate between God and the people, so that they would not be destroyed for their sins, but would be able to dwell with God in peace.

That temple and those sacrifices continued for many centuries, until finally, the true Son of David came. The one who had a better altar and a greater temple. He served as the great high priest, and did indeed offer Himself as the sacrificial victim. The fire of God’s wrath fell on Him. He that once came as the destroying Angel, came in our flesh to bring us healing and salvation.

And of course, Jesus did not bring healing for Israel only, but for the world, for the whole human race. Because of one man's trespass, death reigned through that one man. Our first father, Adam, brought sin and death to all his children. All who are born from the race of Adam are born with sin which leads to death. But our second Adam, Jesus, became for us the father of a new human race—mankind free from the curse of sin and the punishment of death. So we, who are born again in Jesus, receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness, and so we will reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ. This means that this fallen world is not our final home. Suffering or sickness does not define who are. And death is not the end of our story.

However, even though the second Adam has come, and brought life and immortality to light… when bad things happen, we still ask the question: Why is God letting this happen? But be careful how you ask it. It’s not as if God is careless, or that He let something slip through His fingers. Look at the story with David. Look at Egypt. God sends the plague. This does not mean that He creates evil, but He does direct it. Evil is only in the world because of our sin. And God does use it. He sends it where He wants it to go, often using it to punish other evils.

Now with our current crisis, we have no prophet, no message from God telling us what particular sin, if any, God is punishing or working against. And yet, if we believe God is truly all powerful, then we must confess that He is still sending the virus, directing it. And whatever else it is, it is a sign of His judgment against sin, and against us. Whether death comes from disease or murder, old age or tornado, it is always a reminder of the consequences of sin. So, let us repent with David and say, “I am in great distress. Let us fall into the hand of the Lord, for his mercy is great; but let me not fall into the hand of man.” It’s always better to fall into the Lord’s hands. Even if it means the end of earthly life.

Because the other reason God directs the evil is so that it all works for His good purpose—most especially He makes evil work in His plan for the salvation of mankind in Jesus Christ. Jesus came to heal and save. This is why He healed people, why He rescued them from the devil’s clutches, from the chains of sickness, and even rescued them from the grave. Jesus showed God’s mercy to those who are sick and dying, so that when poor sinners cry out: “Lord have mercy!” they will know that He does indeed answer with mercy. God answers with the death of His Son that brings our healing, not only for sickness, but healing for sins, healing for death itself. 

Even in the death of Jesus, God showed that He is in control of all things, even directing all evil things according to His good purpose. Judas, the priests, Herod, the Romans, and the devil… they all conspired against Jesus. They all hated Him from their own sinful hearts. But God used that evil and directed it. He sent it against His Son. He caused Jesus to suffer all wrath, all punishment, so that we can be spared, so that all mankind can receive His mercy, even the evil ones who murdered His Son. No one is excluded from God’s love in Christ, so long as they are found with faith in Christ.

So, let us flee the plague by fleeing to our only deliverance—flee by faith to Jesus. He stands between us and the disaster. He shields us and heals us. And even if we are struck down in our bodies, Jesus’ forgiveness has not failed us. He gives us His own body and blood that suffered on the cross and was raised from the tomb. That’s the real medicine. This holy bread and cup are the medicine of immortality—the medicine that will heal your body, so riddled by the disease sin and death, so that in your flesh, restored and resurrected to be like His, you will live with Him forever.

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.