Third Sunday after Trinity

1 Timothy 1:12–17

St. Luke 15:1–32

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

Have you noticed how much our God is into feasting? Three Sundays in a row now mention feasts: Abraham and Lazarus reclining at table in heaven; the banquet of the great man who invited many; and today, a shepherd and a woman throw parties for their friends, and a father invites the whole town to the barbecue celebrating the return of his son.

Then, let’s not forget all the other great feasts of the Bible: Eden—where there is nothing but rejoicing and rich bounty; the Passover—a meal of roasted lamb, unleavened bread, and bitter herbs—to be sure a hasty supper for a dangerous night before a dangerous journey, but still a feast of salvation; then the feast Israel has at Sinai, and the feast they continue to have in the Tabernacle and Temple—feasting on the sacrifices, the holy food of God. And Jesus is always eating with people, tax collectors and sinners, but also with Pharisees. And we can’t overlook the fact that Jesus institutes His very own feast of His body and blood. Plus, the feast we’re all getting closer to each day—the feast of heaven in the new creation.

From beginning to end, the Bible is just full of food, and celebrating with food. And every time, the reason for all these joyous feasts is the same: sinners are saved. Every story in the Bible is about the same thing. Every story in the Bible is about being lost and getting found, being dead and getting raised to life again, and how Jesus makes that happen. So, if there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents, then it is also fitting for the Church to celebrate and be glad, and join in the feast of the Lord.

But before we can get to the feasting and celebrating, sinners must be brought to repentance. And the Church also has a part to play in this. The Church and her ministers must call sinners to repentance. The Lord doesn’t do His work on sinners and for sinners without the Church—He works through us. So, this means that the Church must speak God’s Law, and teach what is sinful, and warn sinners of judgment. This is part of God’s love for sinners. A God who doesn’t threaten to punish you doesn’t care about you enough to love you.

But God’s Law and wrath are not everything that’s needed for repentance. You can’t simply scare people into repentance. God’s love for sinners moves Him to seek the lost and raise the dead. And so He also sends out His Church and her ministers to proclaim the Gospel—to tell of God’s Love that became flesh and sacrificed Himself for sinners.

We all know there is a lot of evil in this world. There are a lot sinners who sneer at God and at His Church and don’t want anything to do with them. There are a lot of sinners who attack and destroy and hate the very people God sends to help and save them. It’s what they did to God Himself, when He came to rescue us from ourselves—from our own foolishness, and from the evil in which we get ourselves captured—and they called Him a liar and a hater, and nailed Him to a cross. There is a lot of evil in this world, and it would not be just to merely ignore it and hope it goes away on its own. Yes, the Law must be taught, and the Law must be enforced.

But the message of God’s love that forgives sinners can never be left out. The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. The message of God’s love for sinners and His desire to have them home with Him must still always be held out as the only hope any of us have. This means it must be said that God loves the out-of-the-closet homosexual. And God loves the rioter who burns businesses and smashes memorials. God loves the doctor who kills babies. God loves the man who beats his wife. God loves the kids who shack up and won’t move out. God loves the bitter hypocrite who looks down on everyone else. And in this awful list, I must include myself, and you must include yourself. The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—to save those people—of whom I am the foremost.

Jesus never stops loving sinners. And, if they let Him, His love changes them. His love seeks them out and brings them home. His love lights the lamp in their dark lives and sweeps away all the dirt. His love brings them into His house and will have them there only on His generous terms: He doesn’t want servants, but sons. This is what it means for a sinner to repent—to change—to stop the old ways and begin the new. And it is humbling for the lost one, the dead one, the sinner. It can hurt and wound their pride, or what we call self-esteem. But that’s good for them, good for us—to stop going our own way and to be brought back home again to the feast.

So, when a sinner repents, the Church does not act like a smug, social justice warrior. The Church does not say, “See, I told you you were wrong. Now, we’ll see if you get it right this time.” Instead, the Church knows that when a sinner repents the love of Jesus has worked a miracle: the lost has been found, the dead has been raised. So, when a sinner repents the angels rejoice, and the whole Church in heaven and on earth rejoices with them.

The Church’s whole life is about rejoicing over repentant sinners. That’s why she gathers together, that’s why she sings, that’s why she keeps on feasting. It’s who we are. And here’s why society’s response to this health crisis has been so damaging and could have the potential to change us if we let it. It strikes at the heart of what the church does: gathering together, singing together, feasting together. We can certainly make some temporary changes to how we do things when we need to. We can take some special steps in times of emergency. But we can’t change the things that make us who we are.

We are sinners, brought into a party with all the angels. We are saved and changed by the love of Jesus. We are the lost ones now found, the dead ones now alive. So, we keep on coming together with the Lord, joining our voices with all of heaven, sharing the one bread of His body, sharing the one cup of His blood. Our God is into feasting. We are too.

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Second Sunday after Trinity

1 John 3:13–24

St. Luke 14:15–24

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

A man once gave a great banquet and invited many. The invitations went out. It was marked on every calendar. All the preparations were made. This would be a night to remember. And at the time for the banquet the Master sent his servant to say to those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’ The big night had arrived. And all the great man needed now was his guests, his friends, to come celebrate with him.

But they all alike began to make excuses. You know, most people would beg to be invited to a great party like this, or at least would be hoping they might snag a last minute invite. But these people beg not to come! “I got a field… I got cows… I got married… I know this party is a big deal and we’ve known about it for a while, and I’m sure it would be great… But, you know… Life gets so hectic sometimes… There’s only so many hours in the day… We’re trying to simplify at our house… Maybe when things have calmed down a bit… We’ll call you.”

To these people, the Master’s generous feast is nothing but an imposition, an obligation. They want to be relieved of their “burden” of being invited—as if it’s such an imposition to go to a party, as if being the guest of a great and wealthy man is such a burden. But they are concerned with more pressing matters. They think they need something else.

Do we ever think of our Master’s Feast in this way? I’m afraid we do. Not only do we think of the Lord’s Day and the Lord’s Service as an imposition, but then you add on the “burden” of the Lord’s Supper, and the excuses start rolling in. The Lord gives a great banquet and invites many. He sacrificed His own body and blood on the cross for our sins, to satisfy God’s wrath, to defeat death and the devil, to cleanse us and make peace between us and God. All the preparations were made. And now He sends servants to say to those who are invited, “Come, for everything is now ready. Here is that same body and blood, now risen from the dead, and given to you in this great banquet, as the proof of your salvation, as the gift of eternal life itself.” And we start coming up with reasons not to go: the Lord’s Supper is inconvenient, it’s uncomfortable, it’s unnecessary.

Let’s consider these objections. It’s inconvenient—when you have the Lord’s Supper church takes too long. Are we really prepared to tell God that we can’t give Him more than 60 minutes per week? Are our lives really that important, that when He says He’s got a whole day planned for us, we feel no shame in limiting Him to an hour? A couple months ago we had extremely brief, 20 minute Communion services. This was obviously an emergency measure due to a national crisis. This was obviously not the ideal. At least that should be obvious to any Christian. But if we liked it because we could check church off the list after just 20 minutes and then get on with the rest of our day, then the clock really is our god, or whatever it was we wanted to be doing instead.

Or maybe we want to be excused from our Master’s feast because the Lord’s Supper is uncomfortable. This is mostly felt on the issue of closed communion, when we are unable to share the Lord’s food with other Christians who do not hold the same confession of faith we do, and they should not be sharing it with us. So, we might be tempted to avoid the Lord’s Supper so that we can avoid this thorny problem. But we can’t deny the Lord’s great gift just because other people do. Jesus wants unity in His Church and at His feast. He expects us to have His Supper and have it seriously, even if it is uncomfortable. 

If we want to remove or limit all the uncomfortable things about being a Christian, then we might as well give up the whole thing. Christianity is uncomfortable. The Bible is an uncomfortable book. But it’s necessary. It’s the Truth. And sometimes it’s the hard truth that people need to hear, including us. Christianity is the crucifixion of our sinful flesh and mind and desires. It’s supposed to sting a bit—that’s how you know it’s working. And Christianity is also the resurrection to a new life, a new of doing things, a new way of thinking—that is thinking, doing, living like God. So, having the Lord’s Supper and practicing the Bible’s doctrine of closed communion is really one of the best ways we can speak the truth in love to those Christians in churches that hold false beliefs. After all, we want everyone to be able to come and receive the Master’s feast in the right way, God’s way.

But sometimes we might still think the Lord’s Supper is unnecessary. “I’m good. I’m fine for now. I don’t need it that often. And you know, if I don’t really need it every Sunday, then why not every other month? Why not just a couple times a year? Why need it at all?” Or, we might think, “We’ve got the Word. Do we really need the Supper too?” But if we follow this thinking, we’ll eventually conclude that really we don’t need any of it. If we think we don’t need the Lord’s Supper  or Baptism because we’ve got the Word, then we might not really have the Word either.

God’s gifts don’t compete with each other. Baptism gets us connected to Jesus and His Word. The Word teaches us and brings us to Jesus and His Supper. And the Supper is how stay connected to Jesus and His Baptism and His Word. They all go together, and they all confirm each other. All together God’s gifts are the Gospel. And the Gospel causes our hearts to desire the one thing we really, truly need. We don’t need fields or cows, not forever. We don’t need family events, not ultimately. We don’t need time or comfort. Our Master knows best what we need. And He says we need His Gospel. He says we need His feast. He says we need Jesus. We need His body and blood, His mercy and love.

So, if you hear the Master’s invitation and love it, but you still don’t feel worthy to come to this feast, you feel too sinful to take this great gift, then listen to this: You are those in the streets and lanes of the city… the poor and crippled and blind and lame. You are those far off on the highways and in the hedges. Let this Lord of love compel you into His house, bring you in, because He wants you here at the banquet He has prepared just for you.

The Lord Jesus only died for sinners, and this holy food is only for sinners. The Supper does not depend upon our worthiness. We go because we are poor, miserable people in need. We go exactly because we are unworthy of it, and still we are invited to it. So, the only people who are actually unworthy to receive the Supper are those who want to stay away; those who think they have better things to do, those who don’t feel their weaknesses and don’t want to be considered sinners.

But, let me say this now for any of those people: If you hear the Master’s invitation but you don’t think you really need to come to His Supper, if you don't recognize or feel the full depth of your sin; well then, that is just proof of how sick you actually are. If we don’t feel our weakness and need then that just makes things worse. That’s a sign that our sinful flesh and mind and heart can't rightly feel anything. It’s like cancer, growing silently, without us knowing it, until it’s too late. So, the less you feel your sins, the more reason you have to go to the Supper to get help. The Lord’s Supper is His cure for you.

Either way—whether you feel unworthy to come or you think you don’t need to come—either way, you’re listening to your heart, and your sinful heart is wrong. But whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart. That’s from 1 John 3, and it might be the best Bible verse nobody knows. Whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart. When your heart says, “You’re too sinful. God can’t love you. God doesn’t want you.” God is greater and He says, “Take and eat, this is for you.” When your heart says, “You don’t need that, you’re fine on your own.” God is greater and He says, “My Son died and shed His blood for you, and I want you to have this gift for yourself.” God is greater than our hearts. The Lord’s Supper is greater than our hearts. Jesus with His body and blood is greater than what we think we need, greater than anything we could ever need or want.

Beloved, if our heart does not condemn us, we have confidence before God; and whatever we ask we receive from him, because we keep his commandments and do what pleases him. And this is his commandment, that we believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us. So, what pleases God? What’s our Lord’s command? “Take, eat, drink. Believe, eat, drink. Join Me in this feast of My love for you.” Whoever keeps this commandment abides in God, and God in him. 

See, you are invited to abide in God, to live in God—in the one God who is three Persons, the perfect society of love. You are invited to join them. They want you in on it! And in the Lord’s Supper you get Jesus Himself—body and blood, soul and divinity—so with Jesus, you enter into that loving community of the Holy Trinity. That’s why we call it Communion, after all. It’s the banquet, the never-ending feast of the community you share with the Father, Son, and Spirit, and with all our brothers and sisters. It’s where we go now to actually take part, join in, and love that community. And it’s where we’re headed, forever.

Our Hymn of the Day is a prayer for this communion, this banquet the Master calls us to. And the last stanza especially sums up what I’ve been saying today. We pray that we would obey His call, His command, to come, take, eat, drink. We are invited by His love and we requite Him with our love. That means we try to repay God’s love with our love for Him and for His Supper and for others. And if you could measure God’s love, this feast would do it. The Lord Jesus, our treasure, gives His very self to you. You are His honored guest, now and forever.

      Jesus, bread of life, I pray You,

      Let me gladly here obey You.

By Your love I am invited,

Be Your love with love requited;

      By this Supper let me measure,

      Lord, how vast and deep love’s treasure.

Through the gift of grace You give me

As Your guest in heaven receive me. (LSB 636:8)

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

First Sunday after Trinity

1 John 4:16–21

St. Luke 16:19–31

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

Hell is getting your way forever. You want to resist God? You want to keep your sins to yourself instead of letting them stay with Jesus on the cross? Then God will let you do that. He loves you, so He will not force you. You can go where you want, get what you want… and you can go to hell. Don’t believe me? Just ask the rich man. Abraham explains what you need for salvation: you need Moses and the Prophets—you need the Bible. You need the Word of God that gives you Jesus, forgives your sins, and resurrects you. “No, father Abraham,” says the rich man. “You’re wrong, with all due respect. I know what’s needed. I know what’s right. I’ll have it my way.” And that’s why the rich man is in hell.

He cared nothing for others, as evidenced by how he failed to notice the poor beggar laid on his doorstep. And he cared nothing for God, as he evidently refused to listen to the Scriptures either during his life and after it. And if anyone else is thinking, “Well, at least I listen to the Bible and believe it,” make sure you also listen to this particular Scripture from 1 John: If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother. So, the rich man didn’t love God and he didn’t love his brother. He was alone. He only cared about himself. And so, in the end, that’s all he got: himself. Hell is being alone. Hell is caring about yourself, all by yourself.

In this life the rich man wanted material goods to comfort his body: nice clothes and sumptuous food; a nice job that brings in enough money for the games and toys on the side; health, security, and a nice retirement. And while he was getting all of that he ignored his bad conscience. He let his soul languish and be tormented by sin and doubt and fear. And whenever he got a little worried—whenever he woke up in the middle of the night wondering if God might actually punish him—he shoved it all back down and moved on to more happy times and fun stuff. See, he got everything he wanted for his body, while killing his soul. But in death there is no comfort for the body. So, in death, he got the only other thing he ever wanted, he ever worked for: torment for his soul.

This is really why damnation is so terribly sad—they choose it. God loves people. He does not force them into heaven. But they do not love Him. They reject Him and force Him away. And nobody gets to push God around with no consequences. So, God does not force people into hell either. They don’t want God’s forgiveness and mercy. They don’t want His love. They want their sin. They want to do things their way. And they get it. They get what comes from pushing God away. Hell is having your way forever… and finding out your way is torture.

But if hell is getting your way and ending up alone, then heaven is God’s way and ending up at a party with God and all His saints. Just ask the poor beggar Lazarus, now at Abraham’s bosom, by his side. Lazarus is leaning against Father Abraham, resting his head against his shoulder or upper chest, because that’s how you did it at a good party, late at night with close friends. At the time of Jesus, you didn’t sit on chairs at a high table. You reclined on cushions around a low table. And sometimes you leaned on the close friend next to you. Remember John, the beloved disciple, leaning his head on Jesus at the last supper.

So, heaven is reclining at table, not eating alone, but enjoying a feast with good friends. The Holy Trinity is the original community: Father, Son, and Spirit with each other, talking with one another, sharing with each other, loving one another. God is love—that can only be said of the Trinity, where there is an eternity of love between the three Persons. So, heaven is also a place of love. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. Hell is solitary confinement, where you’re trapped inside yourself forever. But Heaven is everlasting community: God and His saints with each other, talking with one another, sharing with each other, loving one another.

So, Lazarus gets what God wanted for him. And that did mean suffering for Lazarus in this life. There’s no promise from God for everything being perfect and easy. God doesn’t really care that much about your happiness. He cares about your blessedness, your holiness. He cares that you end up with Him, because He loves you. Just look at Father Abraham and the other patriarchs of Israel. They all had suffering in this life. They all lived in the promised land without every owning it, and in that promised land they all suffered from famine. By faith Abraham went to live in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God (Hebrews 11:9–10). They made do with less. They trusted God and suffered for it, because they knew a better home and life was in store for them.

So, yes, Lazarus missed out on some of the good things in life. He didn’t get the nice clothes, the sumptuous food, and instead of health insurance he had stray dogs. He didn’t get any of the comforts for his body, but he got something even better. Lazarus got a good conscience by faith in His Savior—He got comfort for his soul. He listened to God’s faithful Word—He listened to Moses and the Prophets. And in death, the pains of his body didn’t matter anymore. But instead, he got to experience the comfort and peace that he always had in his soul.

Dear Christians, you have everything this poor beggar had and more. You have many good things in this life, but more importantly, you have exactly what Lazarus had. You have Moses and the Prophets, and the Apostles, and the Gospels. You have the whole Bible full of God’s loving promises for you. And you even have the powerful Word of the Man who really did rise from the dead. You have the crucified and risen Jesus in your midst, speaking to you and confirming all His promises to you. You have Him, right here in this Holy Supper that He gives you. So as a proof of the forgiveness and life He has promised you, He gives you His body to eat and His blood to drink. There can be no doubt about it with a Supper like that, He loves you and wants you with Him. He gives you here a blessed foretaste of the comfort and peace to come in that eternal heavenly feast of love.

Hell is getting your way forever. And really, how awful is that? Anyone who’s seen a kid throw a tantrum knows that’s it’s no good for him to get his way. Getting my way? I’m the worst! Who needs that? Heaven is getting God’s way forever—getting mercy and love, comfort and peace—getting the Father, Son, and Spirit, and a great big party with all God’s saints that has no end.

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Feast of the Holy Trinity

Isaiah 6:1–7

Romans 11:33–36

St. John 3:1–17

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

We all want mercy on ourselves and justice on everyone else. When I do something wrong, I want mercy, leniency. When someone else does something wrong—especially when someone does something wrong to me—I want justice, punishment. It’s one or the other really. Either mercy for me and mercy for all, or justice for everyone including me, and we all end up dead.

Which one you choose says a lot about the kind of god you have. A god who is only one, only by himself, apart from all others, that’s a justice only kind of god. There’s the god or there’s nothing—no love, no mercy, no community.

The Holy Trinity is quite different. The Trinity is one God to be sure, but not only one, also three. So the Holy Trinity is never alone, never apart from all others, because there’s always the three. From all eternity there has always been Father and Son and Spirit. The Father was never alone, He’s always had His Son and Spirit. And the Son was never alone, He’s always had His Father and Spirit. And the Spirit was never alone, He’s always had the Father and Son. The Holy Trinity is perfect, holy community. So, this is not a justice only kind of god. This is a God of love. This God is love—the Father, the Son, the Spirit always loving the others. And where there is love, there is also mercy. And when everything is perfectly bound together in love and covered by mercy, then there’s justice too—and it all turns out right in the end.

The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are the original community—a perfect, holy, genuine, loving society. They’ve always been talking among themselves, sharing everything with each other. The Holy Trinity is good friends talking late into the night sharing a nice bottle of wine. It’s the greatest party you could ever hope to be invited to.

And you are. This is how it’s meant to be for us. We were created to be invited. It’s what man is for—to be in on the fun. But everything about the past four months shows just how disordered, twisted-up, and off–center our world is. We are created to be in community—with the Trinity and with each other. But we’ve had nothing but people trapped in their homes, isolated, everyone afraid of everyone else, and some people trying to control everyone else. And whether or not it has actually brought health or safety, it certainly has brought loneliness, depression, suicide. 

Or it brought anger. It’s the perfect time for all the deep-seated hatred and resentment to come lashing out. All we’ve seeing these past two weeks is that our society has been fractured for a long time. And despite all the demands for justice, all the promises of those in power, there’s still a lot wrong. This is not a world of mercy. This is a world where we all end up dead.

But that’s not how it’s meant to be. The Holy Trinity is a community of love, and you are meant to be included—where no one is alone, where people aren’t just looking out for themselves, and demanding their rights. But instead, it’s a place where people are together, looking out for each other, and showing compassion to one another. And even though the fullness of this perfect world doesn’t exist yet, its beginning is in the Church.

Now the last couple Sundays, you’ve heard me talk a lot about Memory. And maybe some of that sounded too high-minded or intellectual? But remembering is one of the most enjoyable things we can do with our minds. Who doesn’t love having and revisiting their memories of family and friends? And even sad memories can turn out to be a blessing. That’s all we want for our family, the church. It’s not about being intellectual or having some special insight into the mysteries of God. No, it’s just about remembering who God is and what He does for us: remembering you have a Father who loves you, the Son who died for you, the Spirit who forgives and binds up and heals all your wrongs. It’s about remembering who you are: remembering that you’re a beloved child, you’re dead to sin and alive with the Son, and you’re full of the Spirit.

The memory of the Church, or remembering Jesus’ words, well, that’s all about saying the Creed—even today, with a big one like the Athanasian Creed. It’s not hard. It’s just there for you to say it. Say the words. Share these words with the whole Church. Speak these words from the Father, Son, and Spirit who gave them to you, and you’ll be all set, part of their community, loved, in on the fun. And don’t worry if you can’t immediately understand every single part. Don’t be discouraged if it doesn’t impress you all that much today. Just keep saying it. 

The thing is it’s not your creed. It’s the Church’s creed. It belongs to the community that you belong to. And so it’s not your understanding that counts. That will come with time. But you begin by just saying the words. Begin by resting in the words, waiting on God, listening for what He says. Begin by recognizing that none of it is about what you do—certainly, not your works; and not your understanding either; it’s not even about your faith. It’s all about the Trinity and the holy community that our God creates for us with Him.

The Holy Trinity does all the work of salvation. Salvation is the work of a holy society, all three Persons doing their part. The Father sent His Son, the Son became a man, conceived by the Spirit. The Father gave His Son into death, and the Son offered up Himself in perfect sacrifice through the Spirit. Then the Father raised up His Son by the power of the Spirit. The Holy Trinity, perfectly united in love, does it all. And all they want from you is for you to join in, just be a part of it, just enjoy it, just receive it.

The Father covers you with His Son and claims you as His own by giving you the Spirit of adoption. So in Baptism the Holy Trinity touches you with water on your skin, marking you with their own Holy Name. The Father declares you righteous as the Words of Jesus that carry the Spirit are spoken to you, forgiving your sins. So in the Absolution the Holy Trinity touches you with words in your ear, cleansing you with their own holy love. And the Father welcomes you into His presence to feast on the body and blood of His Son, making you alive in the Spirit. So in the Lord’s Supper the Holy Trinity touches you with bread and wine on your lips, feeding you with their own holy life.

Now that’s a real party, a genuine, loving society, a true community: the Holy Trinity, the Church, and you. This the place where mercy covers over all the hurts, and love reigns supreme, and all will be put right in the end.

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.