Sometimes the temptation overwhelms you to cry out, “God, you just don’t know anything!” Intellectually, of course, the Christian understands the all-knowing and all-wise nature of God. But viscerally, emotionally, in the moment, events convince us that God just doesn’t know us, He doesn’t know our situation, He doesn’t know what we need, when we need it.
Or, coming at it from another angle. Maybe we wonder about God’s decision making sometimes. We see people holding various offices and just sort of wonder: “Really, God wants him doing that?” Maybe not every pastor has seemed fit for office, or that particular call, or that time in that call. We question God’s decision making. We wonder if God’s just throwing darts at a dart board.
Nathanael wondered about that today when he scoffed at Philip’s words. Can anything good come out of Nazareth (John 1:46, NKJV)? Life in a sinful world warrants wariness and cynicism, to a point. Think of Paul telling the Thessalonians to Test all things (1 Thess. 5:21, NKJV) or even Jesus saying, Beware of false prophets (Matthew 7:15, NKJV).
But such wariness and cynicism quickly morphs into doubt, a doubt that becomes doubt of God and His Word. We doubt the truthfulness of words like, The authorities that exist are appointed by God (Romans 13:1b, NKJV), or He Himself gave some to apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers (Ephesians 4:11, NKJV), or Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right (Ephesians 6:1, NKJV). And that doubt leads us to forget Who institutes governments, Who calls pastors, Who assigns parents. We start to think in terms of randomness, of darts thrown at a board, of a world like that envisioned by the Deists – formed by God, and now left alone by God. Or worse, we pull God down off His throne and make Him merely semi-divine, like the gods of Greek or Hindu mythology. We make God something like us. He means well, but doesn’t always get it right. He’s tainted by the same things that taint us. Pride fills Him. Lust motivates Him. Childish anger determines decisions. He’s a crony capitalist at heart, practicing nepotism, showing favoritism, and not really understanding reality.
And when we’ve opened that door, we’ve thrown God and His Word out to the curb. God and His Word no longer rules and norms our lives, because we’ve made God in our own image, in our own likeness. In reality, we’ve unmade God, cast Him down off His thrown and torn down the gates of heaven. Which, by the by, leaves only the gates of hell for us to pass through.
So we have to remove those thoughts and feelings from the equation. We have to submit our own inclinations to the test and find them wanting in the light of God’s revelation. Read More…
Not too long ago St. Mark’s little website/blog reached a mini-milestone — our 50,000th visit! It’s hard to believe it has been almost three years since we established this site.
We pray that the content of this site — the posts, the sermons, the pages, the links, the Twitter feed, etc. — has been of benefit to you and your faith. We will continue to make it a goal to provide faithful, Scriptural, confessional Lutheran materials, resources, pages, and posts.
Thank you for visiting! Thank you for reading! Please continue to share this site with others who you know who need/want to read and hear about Jesus and His Word!
I’m going to say something radical, “We need Jesus.” There, aren’t you glad you’ve sent in your mission dollars for the last fifty years to support twelve years of ministerial education school training to prepare pastors until they get to this very moment in this very pulpit and say something so breathtakingly simple? It’s times like this, I’m sure, that you wish you could have a pastor like Luther rather than being stuck with me. But stuck with me you are, and I’ll say it again, “We need Jesus.” Because we won’t get through 2012 without Him.
And it’s not because the Mayan calendar is right and turning the page of your calendar to 2012 ushers in the apocalypse. Though, Jesus could certainly return sometime this year. No, you won’t get through 2012 without Jesus because you’re you. That’s right, I said it. You’re you and that’s the problem. And I’m me, and that’s also the problem.
Last week we talked about the Word becoming flesh and paused to consider just what that meant. It meant that the Almighty God assumed flesh like mine. This flesh. Right here. This putrid, stinking, corrupted flesh that’s only slouching closer and closer to returning to the dust from which it was made. Jesus took on the flesh that sin stings. He took on the flesh that death remained undefeated against.
After church, on your way out, we’ll shake hands, or, as some say, we’ll press the flesh.
Then some of you will go somewhere for lunch, a nap, some football or basketball, and maybe seeing some extended family, your flesh and blood.
I’ll be getting on a plane later this afternoon and flying up to Minnesota, so that I can be with my family face to face, in person, you know, in the flesh.
Here we’ve found another of those words that has many possible meanings depending on usage and context: flesh. The Bible uses that word – sarx in the Greek – in a variety of ways as well. Paul uses it a couple of times in Romans to refer to his fellow Jews, those of his own flesh. Once Jude uses it to describe the sin of Sodom, they went after strange flesh (Jude 7, KJV). Just a verse earlier in John 1, John uses it to talk about the sexual desires that lead to conception. Often it refers to our sinful nature, as in Galatians 5, Now the works of the flesh are manifest… (Galatians 5:19, KJV). But it also often refers to what we most commonly think of when we hear the word flesh: bodies, skin, living creatures, humans, people.
And so, The Word became flesh. Which of those meanings did John mean? Read More…
December 24, 1914. The first Christmas of World War I dawned. Along the dreaded Western Front the armies of the Allies and the Central Powers dug deeply into their trenches to fight the war they thought would be done by now, but which lasted until 1919.
But that first Christmas, something incredible happened. Tentatively, at first, but then more and more boldly, soldiers from both sides, especially the Germans and British, began communicating with each other. The two sides exchanged gifts – chocolates, cigarettes, cakes, buttons. Some even played impromptu games of soccer (reportedly, the Germans won one of those games 3-2).
In other words, the two sides called a truce. They suspended fighting to celebrate Christmas together. But, when Christmas ended, you can imagine what started again. The killing. The soldiers who sang, smoke, and played together on December 25 shot each other on December 26. And for the next five years, until finally all sides put an end to the war that claimed 15 million lives across Europe.
But that’s the nature of a truce, isn’t it? Truces are temporary. They suspend the fighting. They don’t end the fighting. That happens a lot during Christmas, doesn’t it? And not just on the Western Front. Arguing couples agree to be civil today – “for the family” or “for the kids” or “because it’s Christmas.” People put aside their differences and sit down to open gifts or carve turkeys. People feel like this is the meaning of Christmas – peace on earth, good will to men, today. In other words, a truce. Because that spirit doesn’t last all year long, does it? Those temporary lulls in the bitterness, rage, and anger are all too transitory.
But did you listen to John? He said, Dear friends, let us love one another (1 John 4:7a, HCSB). He didn’t reserve this love to Christmas Eve or any other holiday, season, festival, or truce moment. He just said, “Love one another.” Always. Kind of like Jesus, when He told that parable about the servant forgiven of his massive debt. It wasn’t enough that the man thanked the king, he was now supposed to live the rest of his life in that same way – not demanding full repayment of all debts, but rather forgiving debts as he had been forgiven. And when he didn’t, his formerly forgiving king threw him into jail.
John doesn’t tell a parable. He just tells it like it is. Dear friends, let us love one another, because love is from God and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God…. God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent His One and Only Son into the world so that we might live through Him. Love consists in this: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Dear friends, if God loved us in this way, we also must love one another (1 John 4:7, 9-11, HCSB). This is love. This is God’s Christmas truce: the birth of His Son. Only He didn’t resume shooting after the Baby was born. God didn’t reserve His love for certain times, places, or people. He sent His Son into the world to save the world by dying for the world. While we were still sinners.
Christmas reveals the successful delivery of the package God sent: His Son, the Word made flesh, God with us. And it’s signed, “Love, God.” Better than cigarettes, chocolates, and cakes for sure, because God sent us life. He sent us forgiveness. The end of the war between us and Him. A war we could never win. A war He won for us.
This love from God flows into our hearts by faith, and flows out of our hearts by our words and deeds. Words and deeds that are a pale reflection of the words and deeds of God on this most holy night: a Savior born, peace passed out. Beloved, God loved us in this way. Amen.
“My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I, too, am working.” For this reason the Jews tried all the harder to kill him; not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God (John 5:17-18).
Over the last few months we’ve pondered some difficult doctrines of the Christian faith: the inspiration at Scripture, Law and Gospel, the Triune God, the two natures of Christ, faith and works, original sin, the sacraments, close communion.
And I know that in April we talked about the two natures of Christ, but that one is so big, so hard, and so offensive that we must return to it in December. Christmas ranks among the most popular and most hallowed of holidays for almost everybody in the world, but at the center of it is something we don’t always want to hear.
God became man because man tried to become God and failed. The Word became flesh. God’s own Son, God Himself came and worked and walked among us. Because we live under the law and can’t abide that law, can’t keep that law, and, in our heart of hearts, apart from faith, hate that law. So God slapped us in the face with that fact. He came and lived under the law and abided it, kept in, and loved it. He showed us what living for Him really means. He did it. And the Jews wanted to kill Him for saying it and being it.
No wonder the devil does whatever he can to make sure we make Christmas about anything else except God coming into the flesh to pull our sad, sinful butts out of the fire. He even gets Christian churches to cancel church services on Christmas Day, “Because it’s a family holiday.” No – it’s God’s Day! The day when we remember that God stepped into our world in a most incredible way: He wrapped Himself in our flesh. He became like us in every way. That’s what we get together with our family to celebrate. That’s the gift that prompts us to give gifts to others.
He came to do His work. And that’s what Christmas is. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins (1 John 4:9-10).
The news from Penn State assaults us and sickens us. A football coach sexually abuses young boys. That’s bad enough. Terrible. Horrible. Sickening. But then we hear about how those around him handled it. Each day reveals one moral and ethical failure after another. And the terror, the horror, and the nausea deepens.
But we can’t just get angry at guys like Jerry Sandusky, Mike McQuery, Joe Paterno, Andrew Curley, Gary Schultz and Graham Spanier. We have to take this to heart.
We have to understand moral courage and the need for accountability. People talk about having the courage of their convictions. That is, you can’t just believe in something, but you have to live it.
This is eminently Christian. This applies in both moral and doctrinal spheres. Ezekiel reminds us that we are watchmen standing on a wall. Watchmen warn. Jesus tells us that in our daily lives when we see sins, we can’t cover them up, we can’t ignore them, we can’t hope someone else does the job. He says, “When your brother sins – do something about it!” It doesn’t matter if it’s your brother having an inappropriate relationship or if it’s your sister advocating a false teaching. Both are sinful. Both require the moral courage to speak up and our Lord holds us accountable. He told Ezekiel that failure to warn brings blood upon not just the sinner’s head, but yours too. You let them die. You let them affect others, including the youngest among us.
And fear is no excuse. You can’t hide behind a job, or a career, or a friendship. Jesus didn’t say, “Take up your cross unless it’s inconvenient.” He said take up the cross, bear the burden, have the courage of your Spirit-given, Bible-revealed convictions. No matter what. No matter if it’s father or mother, brother or sister, coaching legend or tyrannical employer. It’s Jesus. Who says, “You must go through hardship.” Who says, “In this world you will have trouble.” Who says, “If you want to save your life, you must lose it.”
But Christ also said, “I have overcome the world.” He says, “Hardship precedes entering the kingdom of heaven.” He says, “Whoever loses his life for the sake of the gospel will save it.” He says, “Stand firm to the end and you will be saved.” Thank God for that Savior’s cross-bearing. His moral courage. His accountability.
“Hail, Mary, God’s favored one! Blessed are you among women!”
No sooner do the words come out of Gabriel’s mouth, then a confused look spreads over the girl’s face. Gabriel knows what she’s feeling, because he’s been through this before. Over the centuries he’s delivered how many messages and seen the same response: confusion, fear, terror. Usually there’s some groveling.
But this girl holds her ground. The angel’s presence and words puzzled her. But they didn’t disarm her. Gabriel smiles, knowing what comes next. He smiles, recalling when he learned what he’s about to reveal.
It seems like only yesterday that Gabriel got the note to stand before God’s throne. Gabriel knew what that meant: He had a job for Gabriel. Sure enough, Gabriel arrives and the Lord says, “I have a job for you.”
“Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”
“I need you to go to Nazareth…”
“Nazareth? What good can come from Nazareth?”
“Let me finish, Gabriel.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“I want you to go to Nazareth, because there’s a girl there you need to speak too. Her name is Mary. She’s engaged to the town carpenter, Joseph. I want you to tell her about the baby that she’s going to have.”
“That’s not really all that shocking, Lord. Most couples have babies after they get married.”
“No, no, Gabriel. This time a virgin will give birth to a child.”
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