Fourth Sunday of Easter - Jubilate

1 Peter 2:11–20
St. John 16:16–22

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

A little while, and you will see Me no longer; and again a little while, and you will see Me. What did Jesus mean? The disciples didn’t understand. But you do… because you’ve seen past those dark moments with Jesus leading His disciples out to the Garden of Gethsemane, where in just a little while, He would be arrested, and most of them would see Him no more. You know what happens next. In a little while, the very next day, Jesus was executed, taken from their sight, they thought, forever. Then again a little while, only three days later, He rose from the dead. But in between, in the little while of those dark and sad three days while He lay dead in the tomb, the disciples could do nothing but weep, doubt, suffer, and despair.

We know the whole story, which means we know that Jesus lives. And yet, still we cannot see Him. We know by faith in the Scriptures that He is not dead, but so often it doesn’t feel like that. We can’t see Him, and sometimes things can get so bad that we feel as though He might as well be dead. There is still a lot of weeping for us in the little while of this difficult life. Still a lot of doubt, suffering, and despair.

This has not turned out to be the Spring of 2020 that we hoped for. This was not the Easter celebration that we had looked forward to. This was not the Confirmation weekend we had planned. There is suffering and weeping in our lives—some big things, others small things—but still, plenty of it, including suffering from sickness or from fear of sickness.

Many have asked and some have tried to answer the question: why did this happen? Or why did God let this happen? And it would be very easy to follow those questions into doubt and despair; like the disciples who asked what does this mean, and couldn’t understand, and then teetered on the edge of unbelief while Jesus was taken from their sight. We could fall that way too, if we try to make sense of things based on our science or our feelings or our opinions.

And besides the suffering and worrying caused by Covid–19, Christians still have the suffering they endure at the hands of this unbelieving world. Life is not exactly easy for anyone, but then you pile on top of that what it means to follow Christ, and Christians have tough choices to make. Do they get involved in more extracurriculars and community projects, or do they make sure they can be in church every week? Do they work for a comfortable and fun life first, or do they tithe to God and their church? Do they bow down and submit to the governing authorities when they challenge the one true God, or do they face martyrdom? 

There’s a spectrum there to be sure, and not all Christians around the world face the same degree of suffering for the faith. But there’s got to be at least some degree. Jesus says you must take up your cross and follow Him, and you know what happens to people on crosses. Jesus says you will weep and lament but the world will rejoice. The unchristian powers and forces in the world are opposed to Christ and His followers, and if we’re never feeling that opposition, then it’s pretty likely we are in league with them and working against Christ.

So there are all kinds of reasons for Christians to be weeping and suffering, even while we know that Jesus lives. This is why St. Peter calls us sojourners and exiles—because this world is not where we truly belong, not our lasting home. We live here, and yet we are passing through, going on to a better country. And so we Christians look different from the rest of the world. Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation… For this is the will of God, that by doing good you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people. Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God. 

Live like you actually believe what the Bible says. Do it, and the heads will turn. They’ll say, “Look at those Christians, they’re strange. They love one another like nobody else knows how to love. And they forgive people with no conditions. They take care of one another, including the poor, and the weak, and the ones we think are worthless. And they don’t judge people and demand vengeance like everyone else. They don’t go along with the crowd. And they hold themselves to this ridiculously high standard. Plus they aren’t afraid of anything, not sickness or death or rumors. They actually believe that guy Jesus rose from the dead. Incredible! Crazy.”

Sometimes the world might praise you, when they like what you’re doing and saying. Other times they’ll denounce you. But make no doubt about it, if you’re living like a Christian, they’ll notice. And somewhere along the line, you’ll suffer for it. But everyone suffers, so instead of suffering while living just like everybody else, why not suffer while living like God, and with God, and for God. Suffer while doing good. Live as people who are free—free from the slavery of this world, free from the fear of this world, even free from suffering—not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil—not as an excuse to do whatever you want—but living as servants of God. 

And why live like that? If it’s so tough, why bother? Because the Christian life is not all suffering and sorrow. Jesus lives. Nothing, no person or force or opinion in this world, can stop Him from living. Again a little while, and you will see Me, Jesus told His disciples. He rose again and they saw Him as He truly is. You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy.

Joy can look a lot like happiness, but they’re not exactly the same thing. Happiness can be a static thing, or least something we’ve come to expect to be our baseline. We never want to be less than happy, and all it takes is a bump in the road to ruin what we call happiness. But joy is something much less fragile and much more life-changing. Joy is when sorrow has been changed into gladness. Joy is really the change itself, the swing from despair to hope. It’s the resurrection from death to life.

When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world. I suppose many of the mothers listening to this passage have wondered, “Really Jesus, you think we forget that pain?” Of course, He doesn’t mean it’s entirely wiped from your memory. But something’s changed, right? The pain is not the mother’s focus anymore. Now, she only has eyes for her baby.

So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. Joy is the surprise, the unexpected fantastic reversal. Joy comes when sadness is touched and healed by God’s grace in the risen Jesus.

So, from Easter onwards, our joys cannot be taken from us, although they are mixed with sadness. They are not lost, but only hidden away. The joys we have and keep as Christians are hidden under the cross. By faith, they are hidden with Jesus in heaven. And notice how Jesus changes the bit at the end. He doesn’t say one more time that they will see Him, but He says, I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. You do not see Him, yet. But, He is risen nevertheless, and He sees you, and He is still giving you joy, hidden joys. He is slowly changing all your sorrows into His eternal joy. He changes things by touching your life with His holy absolution—your sins are forgiven. He changes things by touching you with His holy body and blood—you’re new, free, alive. All the joys we are given now in this life, even in the midst of weeping and suffering, they can never be taken from us. They’re only being hidden away, and stored up, for the fullness of joy to come.

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

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

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.

Fourth Sunday of Easter - Jubilate

1 Peter 2:11–20

St. John 16:16–22

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

More and more I am being disappointed by the options this world has to offer. Far too often, choosing political parties and choosing candidates within those parties seems to devolve into picking the “lesser of two evils.” They seldom take stands where I want them to and when they do they don’t satisfy me in following through. Here’s just one example, but it’s a telling one: apparently, when the Republicans promised to do things like decrease the unmanageable size of the federal government and cut back on spending and defend human life in the womb, what they actually meant was they would give $500 million of the federal budget to Planned Parenthood. Why should I put any faith in political officials?

Or consider our society’s current and fairly open hostility to Christianity. The decline of Christianity and its influence in America has been happening for a long time, but now the opponents have become vocal because the ground work has been laid. Activities like sports and pancake breakfasts slowly crept in on Sundays, so now it’s just one other day—or worse, it is a special day where time has been carved out of the work week so that we can do just about anything except go to church. And while that’s a tragedy, an equally devastating view is that you can worship how you like, but you can’t practice your faith in public. So, Christian businesses and schools are attacked by the social justice warriors and the people who only value a person because of what “minority group” they belong to.

I find that very few of the voices heard in the public square today are truly Christian. And when a Christian voice is heard, whether its objecting to an overreaching government or to the immorality that is destroying the family, that voice is quickly shouted down. And that leads many Christians to either give up entirely, or to make compromises with the louder parties out there and be submerged and lose their unique Christian contribution to society.

In the face of this opposition, I find that more and more I want to just reply: We are the Church. We don’t need any other labels or any other groups to give us validity or to support our cause. We are the Church. We’ve seen empires come and go, movements and revolutions rise and fall. We were here before you, and we will still be here long after you’re gone. Do whatever you may, you cannot destroy us. This attitude is not new for the Church. It was the answer of the early Christian martyrs: “Burn my body, but I will live. My King and His kingdom are eternal. I am a Christian.”

This is an attitude we must learn and practice. It doesn’t come naturally to our earth-bound sinful minds. While our hearts are still drawn and swayed by the things of this broken life, the Christian must learn to listen to the Word of God and so think with a new mind and heart. Know who you are and do what you do. Know that you are a holy, redeemed creature of God. Live and think in a way that matches up with that identity. Don’t be swept along by the current of the world. You are different. You are a Christian. Don’t let them talk you into claiming another name or following another way of life. The Collect of the Day is our prayer for all members of the Church still here on this earth, that we would actually be the Church: Almighty God, You show those in error the light of Your truth so that they may return to the way of righteousness. Grant faithfulness to all who are admitted into the fellowship of Christ’s Church that they may avoid whatever is contrary to their confession and follow all such things as are pleasing to You (LSB Altar Book, p.895)

We are a holy people, which means we belong to God (1 Peter 2:9–10). We are different from all other people, not because of moral superiority or ethnicity, political party or good deeds. The Church comes from all nations and tribes, all walks of life, and we are all sinners purchased, won, and forgiven by the blood and death of Jesus. But as Christians, we are holy because God has made us His people.

In his First Epistle, St. Peter wrote to the elect exiles of the dispersion, that is the Church scattered abroad. He calls them, and us, sojourners, strangers or resident aliens (1 Peter 2:11). We are people who are not at home here, not permanent citizens of this place and time, but people belonging to another land. This is not because our heavenly Father’s creation is bad, but because our sin and death have ruined this place and cause us suffering and sorrow. So, we do not put our hope in this life or in human achievements, but we look for a better life in the world that our Lord will make for us.

Most importantly, Peter encourages the Church on earth, including us, Live as people who are free (1 Peter 2:16). Itis the will of Godthat living asHis servants, we would do good works in this world and so silence the ignorance of foolish people (1 Peter 2:15–16).By living a Christian life in this world, a life different from the way the rest of the world lives, we show them God’s way of doing things.And when they slander us, hate us, call us backward or bigots, our good works of love for others prove them wrong, and show just how ignorant and foolish the “wisdom” of this present evil age is.

Live as people who are free. But not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil (1 Peter 2:16). Being a Christian doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want and God will turn a blind eye.It means you are free from sin and death, free from the sinful ways of this world, free from the sinful thinking of our natural minds.We are free to think and live the way God does—thinking the thoughts and living the life that God gives to us and teaches us.And living this way often means suffering.But that will be okay.There’s going to be suffering in this fallen world, whether you are doing good or doing evil.So, you might as well suffer while doing the good things your God has called you to do.For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God (1 Peter 2:20).

Jesus tells us that the world rejoices while we weep and lament (John 16:20). But despite our tears, we have a quiet, calm, and confident hope.Peter tells us that God has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead(1 Peter 1:3). After all, was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer and then enter into His glory? (Luke 24:26) For a little whilethe disciples could not see Him and they mourned His loss.But His death brought about salvation for them and for the world. His suffering was necessary.You were ransomed… you were saved not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ(1 Peter 1:18–19).

What’s more, Peter tells us, just as Jesus is our salvation, He is also our example, so that you might follow in his steps.He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to Godwho judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed (1 Peter 2:21–23). So, isn’t it also necessary for us to suffer a little whileand then enter His glory? While living here as free people, exiles and strangers, we carry our crosses.We suffer as Christians in hope, knowing that eternal life is ours now, and it will be revealed in the end.

We are the Church in this world—outposts of the Kingdom and ambassadors for Christ in a strange land—and we have hope even now because Jesus lives. We do not compromise with the evil ways of the world. And while the weak achievements of fallen men may be the best we can get in this life, we do not let our hope settle there or let our minds become so deluded as to think that humans could make a heaven here on earth. But neither do we shut our eyes to the horror of this world, or bury our heads in the sand. Our eyes are wide open to the evil around us and they are full of love for the people around us still trapped by their sin. 

And our eyes are not franticly searching for escape for ourselves, but we calmly, steadfastly fix our eyes on the cross of the risen Lord who is coming again. And even if tears stream from these eyes, we still have joy that cannot be taken from us. Our joy is not in temporary pleasures or solutions, not even in the feelings of our own hearts, but our joy is safe in the nail-marked and living hands of our Lord.Peter wrote, you have an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you…In this you rejoice, though now for a little while… you have been grieved by various trials…And though you have not seen Christ, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls (1 Peter 1:4–9).

So, rejoice, O Church of Christ. Rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, sothat you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed (1 Peter 4:13).And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you (1 Peter 5:10–11).Jesus lives. And this little whileof sorrow will turn into joy, when we are raised to live with Him forever in the permanent home He has prepared for us.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.