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Mount Hope Lutheran Church






Holy Week



  • Advent 1

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Ad Te Levavi, Advent 1, 2019

    Matthew 21

    When God commanded his people Israel to keep feast days, he consistently told them they couldn’t do any work on those days. On the Day of Atonement, where once a year the sacrifice would be made in the holy of holies by the high priest, and the blood would be sprinkled on the people, God is extremely specific, “And you shall do no work on that same day, for it is the Day of Atonement, to make atonement for you before the Lord your God.  For any person who is not afflicted in soul on that same day shall be cut off from his people. And any person who does any work on that same day, that person I will destroy from among his people. You shall do no manner of work; it shall be a statute forever throughout your generations in all your dwellings. It shall be to you a sabbath of solemn rest, and you shall afflict your souls.” This stress on not working when the atonement is being made was meant to teach the people that they couldn’t work, they couldn’t do a thing, to earn the love of their God. He came to forgive and the price paid was never anyone’s work, but instead the blood that God’s High Priest shed and sprinkled on the people. God’s insistence on this is extreme – if you work, you’re cut off from the people, “I will destroy you from among my people,” God says. Anyone claiming to get God’s favor by work God totally rejects. He accepts only those afflicted in the soul, those who look at their own lives and their own works and see they’ve failed, and so beg for nothing but the blood that cleanses them from all sin and makes them one with God.

    When we insist, then, that the Bible is all about Jesus, we mean it. It’s not just that we have very specific prophecies in the Old Testament that predict with ridiculous accuracy exactly what ends up happening hundreds of years later, what we see in the prophecy of Zechariah today, written hundreds of years before Jesus entered Jerusalem lowly on a donkey and fulfilled to the letter in our Gospel, or what we will see in Isaiah 7 on Christmas Eve, that the virgin birth is predicted 600 years before it happens, and the list goes on, it’s not just these specific prophecies, but that the entire Old Testament is the Holy Spirit preaching Christ, teaching us that we are reconciled to our God in no other way than through His blood.

    Jesus enters Jerusalem on a donkey five days before His death on Mount Calvary. The people take up palm branches to greet him. This isn’t simply some Palestinian custom. They picked up palm branches because again, this is what God told the people to do to celebrate the fact that God was with them. The specific occurrence was meant to be the Feast of Tabernacles, a feast God commanded the Jews to celebrate every year for a week, in which they could do no work. This is what God told them to do instead those days, “And you shall take for yourselves on the first day the leaves of beautiful trees, branches of palm trees, the boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook; and you shall rejoice before the Lord your God for seven days.”

    So when the people greeted Jesus coming in on a donkey, it wasn’t just Zechariah’s prophecy they had in mind – that was the obvious one, that here their King is coming to them on a donkey – it was also that God had commanded them to raise palms before Him for the Feast of the Booths, and they knew a greater Feast was here, the Feast we now call Palm Sunday. They took up palm branches because they were in the presence of their God, and here was no time to work, but simply to receive their God with joy as He came to become their righteousness.

    Now the prophecies that predict Christ’s coming get specific when they begin predicting Jesus’ humiliation, that God will come humble to His people. Isaiah 7 prophesies that God will take on human flesh in the womb of a virgin. That’s incredibly specific, and it has to do with God humbling himself, becoming not simply a man, but a little baby, helpless and lowly. Isaiah 53 prophesies with stunning accuracy the sufferings of the Christ, who is called not God’s King, but the Servant, the Slave, the lowliest of mankind. Psalm 22 details the Christ’s nakedness, and the shame of having his clothes divided among his crucifiers. In a later chapter of Zechariah, the prophet says that we will look on Him whom we have pierced. Again the more specific the prophecy the lowlier the Savior.

    Part of the reason we celebrate Advent, these few weeks before Christmas, is to drill this point home into our hearts and into our minds. We aren’t dealing here with something we believe because we grew up Lutherans, or something we trust because it feels right in our hearts. We’re dealing with historical truth. The Son of God was born a humble baby in the humble town of Bethlehem. Micah said it would happen. It happened.

    And so it goes here. Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. Zechariah said it would happen. It happened. And it’s not simply the truth of it – that’s only the first part, the absolute truth of what we believe, not fables, not stories, but actual historical occurrences proved by prophecy and confirmed by the events themselves, witnessed by thousands – it’s not just this, that faith is founded on fact, no, it’s also the content of this fact, the substance of the truth.

    And that is that our God comes lowly. I want to stress the two parts of this divine sentence. He comes. We don’t come to him. He comes to us. He was the one who ordered the disciples to grab him a donkey and her colt. He was the one who came willingly into Jerusalem to die. He was compelled by His own love and Word and Promise to come, so He came.

    And this is so comforting for us today. He came because He loved us. Love caused your incarnation, love brought you down to me, that’s what we just sang. I didn’t have to call him down from heaven. How could I? What sinner could demand anything from the holy God? What with all my sins, could force my God to come and die for me? Nothing. No work. No effort of mine. Only His love. And the same holds true today. He came of Himself then. He comes of Himself now. There is another verse to the hymn we just sang that for some ridiculous reason didn’t make it into our hymnal. It goes, “No care or effort either are needed day or night, how you may draw Him hither, by your own power or might. He comes, he comes, with gladness, moved by His love alone, to calm your fear and sadness. To Him they well are known.” And that is the beautiful point. He came because He knew our fear and sadness. He knew our weakness, our sin, our doubts, He knew we couldn’t climb up to Him. So He came. He suffered our punishment. He died our death. He destroyed the devil’s power over us. And now He comes. This is why today and every Lord’s Day we cry out with those saints in Jerusalem who saw Jesus coming to them, “Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest.” Because as then, so now He comes to us of His own will, because He wants to. Think of that. He wants to. He wants to put His body and His blood in your mouth. He wants to tell you your sins are forgiven. He wants to give you the confidence and certainty that He fights for you still, that He is your God and you are His now and forever.

    And He comes lowly. He’s your King, but He comes lowly. One of my favorite funeral hymns is Abide with Me, but I’ve always been troubled by the verse that says, “Come not in terror as the King of kings, but kind and good with healing in thy wings.” But look here at Jesus coming as the King of kings. It’s precisely because He is kind and good with healing in his wings. That He comes as our King means He comes to rule over us, yes, but look how He rules. Not with terror to us, but with every comfort, that our God would sit on this creature, this beast of burden, that He made, and have this humble creature bring Him into Jerusalem so that He could win us His Kingdom by His blood and rule over us by forgiving us our sins and conquering our enemies of death and hell, so that we would reign eternally with Him as sons and daughters of His Father, in His Kingdom forever and ever. He is no tyrant. He’s a terror, absolutely, that’s what we just sang, “He comes to judge the nations, a terror to His foes.” He’s a terror to His foes, and that means to our foes, to our enemies, to death and sin and the devil and to unbelieving scoffers, but to us, He is the light of consolation and blessed hope to those, who love the Lord’s appearing. And we love our Lord’s appearing. Because when He comes among us He comes always lowly as He came then, to answer our Hosanna, our “Save us now,” by giving us Himself and His righteousness.

    The people laid down their clothes before Him. They waved the palm branches, because God was there in front of them. They laid down their clothes to confess what He meant to them. And that is everything. Give us this day our daily bread, we pray. And we include our clothing and shoes in this. They threw their clothing down for their God to trample it. I can’t imagine a more beautiful confession of our faith. When I survey the wondrous cross, on which the Prince of Glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride. The God who comes freely, who demands nothing from you, no works of yours, but gives you innocence and righteousness, who says of Himself that He is the Lord your righteousness, because He Himself has earned your righteousness for you and gives it to you, so that you will dwell with Him forever, free from the sin that so easily weighs you down, but will never hold you ever for all eternity, how do you meet such a God? We meet Him as our fathers and mothers met him on that road into Jerusalem. We value Him above all our stuff. We throw it at His feet. We give our mammon for the preaching of His Kingdom. We sing His praises. We pray Hosanna to Him, call on Him to save us now because we know He has and we know He will. We put off the gratification of our flesh, because nothing could give us more gratification, more joy, than to have this lowly King rule over us. We lay in fetters groaning, He came to set us free. We sat our sins bemoaning, he came to honor us. A glorious crown He gives us, a treasure safe on high, that will not fail or leave us, as earthly riches fly.

    And so our prayer remains throughout this Advent season, Come Lord Jesus, yes, come quickly. Amen.

  • Advent 2

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Populus Zion (Advent 2)

    Luke 21:25-36


    Jesus once asked, “When the Son of Man returns, will He find faith on the earth?” It’s a startling question, coming from Jesus, it seems cynical, pessimistic, but it’s frankly the question anyone would ask if he could see, as Jesus did, how easily we will throw away the treasure of everlasting life for earthly pleasure. Look at the world. So many abandoning the faith around us, the shrinking churches around the country, the total apathy so many have now toward attending church, the death of family devotions, the list goes on. When the Son of Man returns, will He find faith on the earth? Jesus asked this question for a reason. He had just finished telling a parable about a widow who went to a judge, a wicked judge, a nasty one who had no respect for God or for other people, and she begged him for help, for relief, from her enemy. And of course, he refused, because he was a bad man. But then she kept asking. Over and over again. She kept asking. And finally the wicked judge did what she asked, not because he understood her pain or pitied her distress or wanted justice, but because he didn’t want her bothering him anymore. Jesus’ point is obvious. If this wicked judge answered the woman, gave her what she needed, because she was persistent, how much more will God who is good and faithful and true and merciful, answer us who are persistent in praying for and seeking out what only He can give, relief from our enemies of sin and death and hell? And it’s here, and this is extremely important, it’s here that Jesus says, “But when the Son of Man returns, will He find faith on the earth?” This is for Jesus to define faith in a way that we need to take to heart this Advent Season – it’s trust in Christ, yes, but it’s a persistence in it, an endurance, that sees obstacle after obstacle, doubt after doubt, failure after failure, and still comes asking, still comes begging for what Christ gives. Faith would crawl a thousand miles on its knees for the chance to eat and drink the body and blood of its Lord. It sings and means, “What is the world to me, with all its vaunted pleasure, when Thou and Thou alone, Lord Jesus, art my treasure?” And it’s this persistence that will pray and get what it prays for from our God, finally to stand on the last day before the Son of Man.

    When the Son of Man returns, He will find faith on the earth. That’s what Jesus says here in our Gospel. “Truly, I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all has taken place.” This generation, Jesus says, will not pass away until the Final Judgment, until the Son of Man comes in all His glory. The generation Jesus speaks of are His Christians, the persistent, the faithful. They will remain. We remain. We are the ones born from above (a generation is what is born, that’s what generation means), and this generation, we Christians, are born in the waters of Baptism and so have become the generation, the offspring, the children of God. We will endure, faith in our God will not pass away, until Jesus comes again.

    So there’s the answer to Jesus’ question. And it’s a beautiful answer. The Church shall never perish her dear Lord to defend. But why? How? Jesus continues, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my word will never pass away.” You see what Jesus does here? He joins together inseparably the fact that His Christians will endure to the end and the fact that His word will never pass away, even when the earth and the heavens go up in flames. Jesus does this often. He simply and happily conflates His Word and faith. It’s called synecdoche. The cause and the effect go together. The cause of faith is God’s Word, and since God’s Word will stand forever, so will faith. Jesus does the same thing in his parable of the sower and the seed, He seamlessly calls the seed both His Word and the people who believe it. Because this is who Christians are. We are born from His Word. We live by His Word. We depend on it. Our persistence, our endurance, is completely dependent on this Word. It’s our identity. This the superscription be, Jesus crucified for me, is my life, my hope’s foundation, and my glory and salvation. This is exactly what St. Paul says in our epistle, too, “For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through the endurance and through the encouragement that the Scriptures give we might have hope.”

    Look at what the Holy Spirit teaches us here. Your endurance is not some great act of your own will, some pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps, it’s the endurance and the encouragement that Scripture gives, that God’s Word gives, this is what gives us hope. When the words of our Lord Jesus convince us that nothing could be greater than to look on the face of the Son of God, to see with our own eyes His glorious scars, those dear tokens of His passion, when the words of Christ drive us away from placing our hope and our affections on things that pass away with the using, when we ourselves experience that the things we thought would give us some lasting joy in the world end up burdening us with more worry in the end, then our God gives us endurance, persistence, by preaching to us the Word that never fails, never passes away, tells us to look away from everything else, lift up our heads, and see that our redemption draws near.

    Faith is endurance. It’s not, as our American Evangelicals love to say, some one-time decision for Jesus. This is one of the most destructive teachings the devil has ever come up with. Jesus says watch yourself lest you be weighed down with dissipation, drunkenness, and the cares of this world, and in the Greek, it’s very clear that this is no one-time watching, it’s a continuous one – Keep a constant watch over yourselves, He says. The problem with the evangelicals is not that they talk about a decision for Jesus, it’s that they locate that decision in the past and then assert that no one can lose the faith, which renders all of Jesus’ warnings to keep the faith and to beware of everything that could tear us away from it meaningless. The fact is that the Christian’s entire life, our real, daily lives, consist in a battle to keep the faith, to endure to the end, to decide day after day that what Jesus promises and gives us makes everything else in this life pale to insignificance in comparison. And more than this, that our decision for Jesus comes not from us, but from God, that whatever endurance we have, whatever comfort we possess, come constantly and daily from Jesus’ Word to us, from His body and blood shed for us and put into our mouths, from the baptismal promise that never fades away, “This is my child, in whom I am well-pleased.”

    This is endurance. And it’s against dissipation, drunkenness, and the cares of this life. That’s what Jesus says. There’s a reason Jesus talks of drunkenness, singles it out with dissipation and the cares of this life. When I warn my children against drunkenness, I’m warning not only against a fleeting pleasure, some brief enjoyment that is total selfishness. I’m warning against its results. Drunkenness and hangover go together, right? What does excess of wine do for you? It gives you a brief, artificial, temporary high, but then makes you groggy in the morning, unable to think clearly, makes everything you do harder – it destroys endurance; it brings instead anxiety and depression. And if it continues, night after night, day after day, it eventually destroys all happiness, except that fleeting, fake high of running again to the bottle.

    This is the picture of what obsessing over the cares of this life does for Christian faith. Obsession with what this world has to offer, it destroys Christian endurance. Every Christian knows this. We feel it in our own lives. Focusing your life around sports or hunting or watching TV or making money or the success of your job or the size of your retirement will ruin your faith. It’s not that you can’t enjoy these things, look out for the future, and so forth, of course not, God gives you the earth to enjoy, but it’s that we are way too easily weighed down by these things, obsess over them, put them above what we should be looking forward to, which is seeing our God’s face in righteousness, awakening, as the Psalmist says, in His likeness. Put your heart and affection on things that don’t matter and in the end you’ll forget what really matters, that this world with all it has will be swallowed up in fire on the last day, and you will stand before the One who will create a new heavens and a new earth, without sin or pain or death, to be enjoyed forever by those who endure to the end.

    So what occupies your time? This is the question we should especially think of during the Advent season. We have no business as Christians watching TV for hours and never reading the Bible. We have no business worrying so much about work and money and skipping church and devotions because life is so busy. This is exactly what Jesus warns against. The exact excuses we make for not reading the Bible faithfully, for not praying faithfully, for not coming to church faithfully, that life’s so hectic, that I love to see my kids play sports, that Sunday is my only day off to take care of the cares of this life! Think of that. Exactly what Jesus warns against! So I’m not saying this simply to make us all feel guilty. I’m saying this so we take action. We’re Christians. We’re expecting the Kingdom of God! We’re expecting to see our Savior’s face. This is our life’s goal. There are temptations galore. We need endurance. So let’s go to exactly where Jesus tells us to go when temptations come - to the Word that will never pass away, that gives us the endurance we need.

    Hear it now and treasure it in your heart. Let your cares for this life fade away. Your Lord will stand upon this earth. He will come with all His glory. Around you the nations will faint with fear. The sun and the stars will vanish into nothing. The world itself will fade away. But Jesus will be there. Your Jesus will be there. The Jesus who died for you, who took your sins on Himself and purchased your redemption with His own blood. The Jesus who comes to you now with words that will never fade away, You have been bought, purchased with a price, your sins are erased forever from God’s memory, the wrath of God is stilled, your Father loves you beyond knowing, His Spirit belongs to you, His Son’s body and blood once crucified are now placed into your mouth to remove all doubt and fear and anxiety. God is for you. Ask from Him, keep on asking, and you will receive. He will give what He has promised. And when He stands, when your Lord Jesus stands in front of your eyes on that last day, to create a new heavens and a new earth, without any sin, without pain, with pure joy, never ending gladness, you will thank and praise Him that His Word has given you the endurance to stand with all the saints and receive the crown of glory that will not fade away. God grant it for Jesus sake. Amen.


  • Advent 3 - Gaudete

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Gaudete, Advent 3, 2019


    Matthew 11:2-10


    It’s a common misconception that John the Baptist was some strange spectacle, some weird guy who raved in the wilderness and yelled at anyone who came too close. He did wear camel skin, he ate locusts and honey, and that sounds like a barbarian. And again, the message he preached we normally think of as a negative one, one of the Law. He calls the Pharisees a brood of vipers. He tells everyone to repent. My dad sent me a Christmas card once that said Merry Christmas on the top, but then had a picture of a clearly crazed John the Baptist with a wild beard and wild eyes, and a caption at the bottom, “Now repent, you brood of vipers.” And I think this is how many people view John the Baptist. But that’s simply not the biblical picture. It focuses on only one aspect of John and makes a caricature of him. There are, by the way, tons of examples of this. Angels are represented now as cute little winged creatures or women clothed in Victorian dresses, but the Bible describes them mostly as warriors. And Jesus himself is often pictured as soft and gentle – which he could often be – but he could also preach ten times more harshly than John the Baptist did and drive people from the Temple with a whip. This is one more reason why we need to read our Bibles, so our picture of Jesus, of angels, of John the Baptist, of God, of the Christian life, is formed not by popular sentiment but by the word of our God.


    John the Baptist was a celebrity. Let’s get that fact down right away. If people flock to see President Trump or Taylor Swift or some other celebrity today, they flocked more to see John. Matthew records that all of Jerusalem and Judea and the surrounding country went out to see him. He was so popular that when the Jewish leaders tried to catch Jesus in his words by asking Him where He got His authority, Jesus decided to make a deal with them. He’d answer their question if they answered His. The Baptism of John, where was it from. From heaven or from man? And they couldn’t answer, because they were afraid that if they didn’t say it was from heaven, the people would turn on them. John was too popular to cross.


    So that’s the first thing. John wasn’t known as some freak. He was known as a prophet, and the greatest of them, as Jesus says. Everyone knew who he was, everyone respected him, people listened to him. That’s why he’s in prison, actually. Herod is afraid of his influence. John had told Herod that it was a sin for him to marry his brother’s wife. I’m sure John also said it was really gross. And Herod had to shut him up, because if John kept talking, all the people would turn against Herod. So he put John in prison. And of course we have Jesus in our Gospel for this morning simply assuming that all the crowd around him had gone into the wilderness to see John. What did you go into the wilderness to see? Because everyone had. John was that popular.


    But the second thing we need to know about John is that he didn’t just preach repentance. He preached repentance for the forgiveness of sins. He preached the law, he told people what was right and what was wrong according to God, he showed them they were sinners who couldn’t save themselves, he said all flesh is grass, and all its glory like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades – that’s man, doomed to death and vanity because of our sin. But then he pointed to Christ, the life-giver, the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. He preached the sweetest most beautiful message the people had ever heard.


    The fact that God commanded him to eat locusts and wild honey was symbolic. Locusts were known for their beautiful sound – the cicada in ancient cultures is widely celebrated as making the most beautiful noise imaginable, one the poets want to mimic. And honey is sweet, mellifluous, as we say (or don’t say). John’s diet, what he put into his mouth, represented what came out of his mouth. The beautiful, sweet news that the Lord was coming, the God of hosts, to pay double for all our sins, so that John could preach and mean, “Comfort, comfort, ye my people, your warfare is ended, your iniquity pardoned.” Just as God commanded the prophet Ezekiel to eat a scroll and then speak the words of that scroll, so He commanded John to eat locusts and honey, to show that no preacher would ever preach more beautiful, sweet words of comfort than this man. Because He preached Jesus and Him crucified.


    And finally, John was a man of humility. We see, of course, his conviction, his courage, that he preaches against kings, that he confronts people, important people, unimportant people, he didn’t care, he confronts them with their sin, he presumes to instruct them on how they should live their lives, and the world today would call that arrogance, audacity, but this man was humble. Courageous, convicted, absolutely, but for the Christian these two always go together. To be courageous and convicted for the Christian is a result of humbling ourselves under God and His Word. We need to be reminded of this in our world. Be convicted. Be sure that you know the truth of God’s Word, that when you speak the law of the Bible, say on lifelong marriage between one man and one woman, like John did to Herod, you are speaking God’s law, and you can be completely confident it’s true and powerful. And when you confess the Gospel, that Jesus Christ is God Himself, and there’s none other god, only He who took on our flesh and blood and bore our sins to the cross, be sure this isn’t just your opinion, it’s God’s opinion. And being convicted, courageous to speak and confess this is to be humble, it’s to say I don’t care about my opinions, my judgments, what I want to believe, what I feel, I care what God almighty says, and I’ll humble myself under Him, to learn from Him, because He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.


    Now John’s humility is obvious. We’ll see it next week, when he says he isn’t even worthy to untie Jesus’ sandal straps. And we see it here in our text for today too. It’s a peculiarity, a strange anomaly, that John still has disciples at this point. It had to have been frustrating for John. Hadn’t they heard what he preached? He pointed to Jesus, literally, he pointed at Him, and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” Some of John’s disciples got the obvious point, and went and followed Jesus. But others didn’t. They stayed with John. So here we have John one final time sending his disciples to Jesus from prison, to see Him, to hear Him, to ask Him outright, “Are you the Christ, or should we wait for another?”


    This is the model of the Christian preacher. What all Christian pastors should aspire to. It’s not about me, not about my popularity, not about my reputation or my following. It’s about Christ. Let a man so consider us, St. Paul says, as servants of Christ and stewards, managers, of the mysteries of God. Or as he says a bit earlier in 1 Corinthians, we preach Christ-crucified. The image of John the Baptist pointing away from Himself to Jesus, of sending his disciples away from Himself and to Jesus, this is the image of what all Christian pastors are called to do. Give the people Jesus, day in and day out, every Sunday. Don’t instruct them to tell others about Jesus. Give them Jesus. Because you need Him. Your sins are too much for you. You need the God who bears them in His body and takes them away from you and gives you His righteousness.


    Then John’s disciples see Jesus. They see a man who doesn’t look so impressive. Unlike John, he looks like everyone else. As Jesus said, “John the Baptist came neither eating nor drinking and they said he had a demon, the Son of Man came both eating and drinking, and they say, “A glutton and a drunkard!” That, besides proving once again to our evangelical friends that Jesus did in fact drink wine and God still gives wine to gladden the heart of man, shows us that Jesus didn’t look like anything special on the outside, not like John the Baptist. When Jesus went to visit His hometown of Nazareth, you see the same thing – who does this guy think He is, they say. We know his parents. He was a kid who grew up in the neighborhood. Nothing impressive. And so John’s disciples, they see Jesus’ humility, His unimpressive stature, and they ask him, “Are you the Christ, or should we wait for another?” And look at Jesus’ answer. Because it really applies to us as much as it does to John.


    Jesus doesn’t try to prove it by some sign from heaven. He doesn’t remove their doubt by a divine display of his power. Instead he points directly, quotes directly, from the Bible, from the Book of Isaiah, and tells the disciples to pay attention, because what Isaiah said is happening before their ears and eyes. Go tell John what you hear and see– the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have the Gospel preached to them. Here’s some divine logic. The prophet Isaiah said that when the Christ comes the blind will receive their sight, the deaf will hear, the dead will be raised, the good news will be preached to the poor. Jesus does all these things. You can see it and hear it. Just a bit earlier Jesus had raised the widow of Nain’s son from the dead. For the first time ever, in a miracle never done even by the greatest prophets, Jesus gave sight to the blind. And he preached to the poor. Listen to it. He preached with authority, so that people were amazed. He preached forgiveness as if He had the power of God Himself to take away sin. Open your eyes and hear with your ears, this is the Christ, the Son of God. He has come.


    And blessed, Jesus says, blessed are those who are not offended at me. What do you expect from this Jesus? That he’ll break John free from prison, that he’ll make sure none of his disciples ever suffer pain or heartache, that he’ll bring worldly peace and prosperity? No. Don’t be offended at him. He has come as it was written of him, and he will go as it is written of him. He will humble Himself and die. He will be as John proclaimed Him to be, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. They will spit in His face, they will crown Him with thorns, God Himself will forsake Him, He will die the death of a sinner. Don’t be offended. This is how God visits His people. This is how He comforts them. This is how He pays double for all their sins. The proud will never receive it. But if you have listened to John’s teaching, if you know that you are like the grass and the flower of the field, that you wither and die, that your sin brings this on you, and you are helpless to come to God or stop your death or make up for your sin, then you’ll see in this Jesus, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, your Savior and your loving God in human flesh.


    What after all did everyone go out into the wilderness to see in John? They didn’t go to see a reed shaken in the wind, some vacillating coward preacher whose teaching changes with the winds of popular opinion. They didn’t go to see some softy making a good living off preaching fake religion. No, they went out to see a prophet. And not just any prophet. But the one who was to prepare the way before the Lord Himself. Now John’s in prison. But the Lord is here. He has come. And what John preached without compromise will remain forever true in this Jesus. Sin is real. Death and hell are its punishment. And God has come to end them by taking them on Himself. To open the ears of sinners to hear His Word, to open our eyes to see in Him the God who loves us to His death, to wash away the leprosy of our sin, to raise us from spiritual death now and bodily death on Judgment Day, to preach to us the good news, the Gospel, that our sins are removed from us, our God has paid for them by His own blood, and blessed is the one who rejoices at this.


    That’s the name of this Sunday. Gaudete. Rejoice. It’s what John did in prison even as death hung over him, as his disciples returned and told him the good news Jesus gave. It’s what we do in this sinful world, whether we have happy times or sad times, whether we’re facing death or rejoicing in new life, we rejoice, because our Jesus has come. And from Him we receive our commendation before God. If He is for us, who can stand against us. Amen.





  • Advent 4

    Fourth Sunday in Advent, John 1:19-28, Dec. 22nd A+D 2019, Pastor Andrew Richard


    Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.


    Today is called the Sunday of the Preparation, because it is the last Sunday we have to get ready to receive our Lord at Christmas.  And John the Baptist prepares us, just as he prepared the people of old.  John directs us to Christ and stirs up in our hearts a great honor for our Lord.  Meanwhile, we see the devil at work trying to bury Christ through various strategies, but fortunately our foe will not succeed.


    “And this is the testimony of John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, ‘Who are you?’”  The priests and Levites were the most revered people in Jewish society, and they were coming from the most renowned city.  The people must have thought, “What an honor it is, John, to have such people inquiring after you!”  And the priests and Levites themselves show John great respect when they ask, “Who are you?”  They show they’re willing to take him at his word.


    And they’re clearly willing to let him have the highest title, that of Christ.  We don’t hear them offering this title, but we do hear in Luke 3 that “all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Christ.”  Popular opinion would have allowed John to claim the title.  And the priests and Levites must have at least alluded to the title of Christ, otherwise John’s response to their question would seem to come out of nowhere: “and he confessed and did not deny, and he confessed, ‘I am not the Christ.’”


    The priests and Levites persist in offering John high titles, “What then?  Are you Elijah?”  This is a reference to the Old Testament reading from a couple weeks ago, Malachi 4.  The Lord said through Malachi, “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes.”  Now Jesus did identify John as this Elijah.  Jesus said of John the Baptist in in Matthew 11, “if you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who is to come.”  Why then does John deny the title?  The Jews expected that the same Elijah who was taken up to heaven in a chariot of fire would return.  John is not literally Elijah, as he and Jesus both know full well.  Rather, as the angel Gabriel said about John in Luke 1, “he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah.”


    Now John could have explained this, but he simply says, “I am not.”  We see he’s in no mood to talk about himself.  John’s testimony bears little resemblance to what have become known as “testimonies” in our day.  To give one’s testimony has become an occasion for personal storytelling in which the audience usually learns a good deal about a human being and scarcely anything about Christ.  While there is a way to relate one’s experience of Christ’s mercies in a way that magnifies Christ, these testimonies tend toward personal honor rather than honor for Jesus.  John won’t have it.


    “Are you the Prophet?” they ask.  Certainly John is a prophet.  But the Prophet is the one Moses spoke of in today’s Old Testament reading, “The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your brothers – it is to him you shall listen.”  John was not this prophet.  Jesus is.  John simply answers, “No.”  In spite of the accolades and titles and honors they’re willing to heap on John, he doesn’t even answer them ten words, and with the words he does say he avoids their flattery.

    At this point the priests and Levites tip their hand and acknowledge that they have come on official business to put John’s answer on record, “Who are you?  We need to give an answer to those who sent us.  What do you say about yourself?”  They have now opened the door wide for John to say whatever he wants.  And what does he do?  He simply quotes from Isaiah 40, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’ as the prophet Isaiah said.”


    In the priests and Levites we see the devil’s flattery.  The devil flatters you as well.  He pretends to honor you and tries to puff you up with yourself.  He will say, “You’re the greatest thing ever!”  Don’t fall for it!  The devil will show you how improved you are compared to that awful person you used to be.  He will point you to the work of your hands and congratulate you on what a good job you’ve done.  The devil, of course, hates your good works, since God is pleased with them, and so he’ll try first of all to make you proud of doing something that God hasn’t even commanded.  But if that doesn’t succeed, he’ll put up with actual good works, provided he can twist them to suit his purpose of making you proud.  In sum, the devil will try to make you think you’re greater than Christ himself.  Everyone else might need to confess their sins, everyone else might need salvation, but not you.


    And in the midst of such flattery we turn to the Scriptures as John did.  With God’s own words we talk about ourselves and say the same thing he does.  This is what the word “confess” means.  It means “to say the same thing.”  It can be a confession of sins, for instance, when we say the same thing about ourselves as Jesus does in Mark 7, “out of the heart of man come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, sensuality, envy, slander, pride, foolishness.”  We must speak these words of ourselves, and we see that God’s Word sufficiently breaks our pride and keeps us humble, despite the devil’s flattery.


    But this is not all the Scriptures say about us.  In 1 John 3 it says, “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.”  Because of Jesus’ death and resurrection we are his body, branches of him who is the vine, God’s building, God’s field, God’s workmanship, salt, light in the Lord, saints.  These are all phrases that appear in the Scriptures describing who we are in Christ.  We confess all of this as well, and the Lord teaches us that he has made us far greater than we could ever make ourselves by being puffed up by the devil’s flattery.


    Well since the priests and Levites have made no headway with their flattery, they turn to accusations.  We have a little note that leads us to expect a change in tone: “Now they had been sent from the Pharisees.”  Knowing this, we suspect that the messengers have not been acting in good faith, that they are two-faced and are going to turn on John, which they do.  “Then why are you baptizing, if you are neither the Christ, nor Elijah, nor the Prophet?”


    Now this is a baseless accusation.  The heavenly Father had sent John to baptize, and John knows it.  Later in John 1 he even refers to God as “he who sent me to baptize with water.”  But again, John does not get sucked into a trap of the devil and start thinking about himself.  John’s mind is on Christ.


    John says, “I baptize with water, but among you stands one you do not know, even he who comes after me, the strap of whose sandal I am not worthy to untie.”  John readily confesses his lowliness compared to Christ.  But then he takes the opportunity to confess Christ.  This is the greatest sort of confession.  Certainly we ought to confess the truth about who we are, but more glorious is the confession of who Christ is.


    Christ is far above us, higher than the heavens are above the earth.  Now John’s birth was announced by an angel, he was miraculously conceived (since his mother was advanced in years), he could point to portions of the Old Testament that were specifically about him, he had the high honor of being the forerunner of the Lord, and yet John says he’s not worthy of Jesus, not even to be his dirty slave and untie his sandals.  If one of the most honored men the world has ever seen said this about himself, then we must be worms!  We must be the scum of the earth!


    That is true.  Yet the devil with his accusations doesn’t want us to move beyond that.  With his accusations the devil not only tells us how wretched we are, but then goes on to say that you’re a lost cause, that God hates you, that you have rebelled and made yourself an enemy of the truth.  With John we acknowledge our lowliness, but with him we also look to the great and high Lord, of whom we are not worthy, and yet who stands in our midst.


    John was not worthy of Jesus, yet Jesus came to be baptized by him and stood in the place of sinners.  You are not worthy of Jesus, and yet Jesus came and removed all the accusations that stood against you by taking away your sins.  He suffered the accusations so that when the devil’s accusations come to you, they’re empty.  As it says in Romans 8, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”  We are still not worthy of Jesus, and yet he comes to us still and gives us his body and blood for the forgiveness of sins.


    So we saw how John defeated both the flattery and the accusations of the devil.  He did so by confessing.  He confessed the truth about himself.  He confessed the truth about the Christ.  And this is how we prepare for Christmas.  We confess that we are lowly sinners, in opposition to the devil’s flattery.  And we confess how the great Christ has humbled himself into our midst to save us, in opposition to the devil’s accusations.  Thus we have neither pride nor despair, which may seem to be complete opposites that have nothing to do with each other.  Yet they have at their core the same problem: focusing on ourselves instead of focusing on Christ.  And so John the Baptist gives us what we need to prepare for our Lord’s coming, and that is a big old dose of “get over yourself.”  That is what we need.  John turns us away from ourselves and directs us to Christ.  He stirs up in us a great honor for our Lord.  And now having prepared us for the Lord, John the Baptist bows out and leaves us to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  Amen.

  • Christmas Eve


  • Christmas Day

    Christmas Day, John 1:1-14, Dec. 25th A+D 2019, Pastor Andrew Richard


    Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.


    “Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, O righteous, and shout for joy, all you upright in heart.”  “When God restores the fortunes of his people, let Jacob rejoice, let Israel be glad.”  “Light is sown for the righteous, and joy for the upright in heart.  Rejoice in the Lord, O you righteous, and give thanks to his holy name.”  For the sunrise has visited us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.


    Of old God has shown himself merciful and gracious.  He created the world.  He led the sons of Israel out of Egypt.  He fed our fathers with manna from heaven.  He caused them to inherit the land of the promise.  He raised up judges and kings, he gave us victory over Goliath, he made his promises stand firm.  God is the eternal philanthropist, the almighty lover of man.  But God’s people of old did not celebrate anything like we celebrate today.  Today we celebrate that God’s philanthropy has come in the flesh.  So greatly does God love man that the Son of God was made man.


    This is a great mystery.  The Son of God has a divine nature and a human nature, united but unconfused.  From eternity “the Word was God.”  And in time “the Word became flesh.”  We cannot grasp this with our frail reason, but we can grasp it with faith and respond as the people did who heard the report of the shepherds: “and all who heard it wondered.”  And the more we wonder at the Incarnation of God’s Son, the more wonderful it becomes.


    Certainly Christ’s divine nature is in itself a cause of great wonder.  If anything in the created world causes us wonder, then the divinity through whom it came into existence is an even greater source of wonder.  The Son of God is more expansive than the sky, broader than the ocean, higher than the highest mountain, stronger than the strongest storm.  He sees all and knows all and is everywhere.


    Yet an even greater wonder is that the Son of God has inseparably united to his divine nature a human nature.  He has done this in such a way that the lower nature was not consumed by the higher, nor the higher impaired by the lower, and each nature retains its essential characteristics.


    This has led to some marvelous paradoxes: He who has no beginning had a beginning.  He who cannot be contained chose to be contained.  Eternal life assumed mortal flesh.  He who is equal to the Father took the form of a slave, becoming like us in every way, except without the corruption of sin.  Long ago man had been overcome by the devil, but now the devil would be overcome by a man.


    Yet not just any man.  The God-man.  “For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily,” as it says in Colossians 2.  And by virtue of its union with the divine nature, Jesus’ body can do things no other body could do.  In Matthew 9 a ruler came to Jesus, saying, “My daughter has just died, but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.”  And “he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl arose.”  Can your hand raise the dead?  I know my hand can’t.  But Jesus’ human hand can.


    In Mark 6 Jesus sent the disciples ahead of him in a boat across the Sea of Galilee.  “And about the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the sea.”  Our bodies can’t do that.  But Jesus’ body can.  In John 9 Jesus saw a man who had been blind from birth.  Jesus “spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva.  Then he anointed the man’s eyes with the mud and said to him, ‘Go, wash in the pool of Siloam’ (which means Sent).  So he went and washed and came back seeing.”  A blind man would probably thank us to keep our spit to ourselves.  But Jesus’ spit can restore sight to the blind.


    Now all of these divine uses of the human nature demonstrate what Jesus was always doing with his human nature.  He was constantly using his human nature in extraordinary ways for our salvation.  Jesus became a man under God’s law in order to fulfill the law, which we had transgressed.  As the God-man Jesus was righteous according to the law.  And as the God-man he had the ability to transfer his righteousness to us.  And so as it says in Galatians 4, “when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.”


    And the wonder of the Incarnation grows as we approach the crucifixion.  For the God-man “bore our sins in his body on the tree,” as St. Peter writes.  No man could bear the sins of another, but Jesus could.  The divine nature could not suffer on a cross, but Jesus could.  No man could wash away sins with his blood, but it says in 1 John 1 that “the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin.”  The divine nature could not die, but Jesus could.  No man could take up his life again after dying, but Jesus could.


    “Oh sing to the Lord a new song,” the psalmist cries in Psalm 98, “for he has done wonders!  His right hand and his holy arm have worked salvation for him.”  Our foe, the ancient serpent, finds his head pummeled into the earth by the second Adam’s heel.  The flaming sword turns its back, the Cherubim move aside from the Tree of Life, and we partake of paradise.


    And what better way to celebrate Christmas than with Christ’s mass?  For here in the Divine Service God continues his philanthropy.  Today you receive the body and blood of Christ, the body and blood that are inseparably united to the divine nature of God’s Son.  And the wonder of the Incarnation continues.  No mere human body can forgive sins, but Jesus’ body can.  No mere human body can be present everywhere, yet the body of Jesus can be in heaven and on earth, on our altar and on every other altar at the same time.  No mere human body can be contained in its fullness in a wafer the size of a quarter, but Jesus’ body can.  Rejoice in the Lord and be glad, O you righteous, for the Word has become flesh and made his dwelling among us.  Amen.

  • Christmas 1

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Christmas 1, 2019

    Luke 2:23-40


    When St. Paul says that God sent His Son in the fullness of time, he’s not simply saying that it was the perfect time in human history to send Jesus. Now, it was that. You couldn’t pick a better time, when all the known world was under Roman control, when the Greek language was spoken everywhere – St. Paul’s missionary journeys prove this – he can go through all Turkey, through Thrace, through Macedonia, through Greece, all the way to Rome, and speak the same language the entire time with no need for an interpreter or a passport. You can’t do that today and you couldn’t do that at any other time in history. It was the perfect time for the spread of Christianity to the nations. But that, again, is not all St. Paul is saying. Nor is it simply that all the prophecies are now fulfilled – though again, this is true, hundreds of prophecies, detailing Jesus’ birthplace in Bethlehem, the virgin birth, the kind of death he would die, are all fulfilled in this fullness of time. Israel itself is fulfilled, all its laws, all its ceremonies, its temple, its sacrifice, its reason for existing, all of it. But not even this fully explains these beautiful words, “the fullness of time.” It’s not that God had to wait for the fullness of time to become a man, it’s that God becoming a man makes the fullness of time. It’s why time exists, why the world exists, why we exist. Why human history took the course it did up to Jesus’ birth and why it’s taken the course it has since his birth. People become obsessed with politics, with the direction of a single country at a single time, but no president, no impeachment, no form of government gives meaning to your time on this earth. Only Christmas, the birth of God in the flesh, the fullness of eternity coming to us in the fullness of time, can do that.

    This is why Simeon speaks the way he does in our Gospel this morning. It’s a beautiful scene. This old man holding a baby in his arms and saying he’s now ready to die. It’s not because of anything he’s done, holding Jesus isn’t some final item on his bucket list he’s fulfilled, it’s that God is now a man, so Simeon can die in peace. Simeon sings to a baby, as most of us have done, but instead of some lullaby or baby talk meant to comfort a crying child, he addresses this six-week old as Lord and pours out his heart to Him. Imagine that. Simeon is holding God, but God’s a helpless baby, who needs Mary’s milk to live and Simeon’s old arms to hold him, and he tells God that now that he’s seen Him, now that he knows God’s come in the flesh, he’s at peace, death doesn’t scare him, hell doesn’t terrify him, sin doesn’t oppress his conscience, life on this sinful earth doesn’t enthrall him. He’s content. And it’s precisely because God’s become a baby. That baby in his arms hasn’t come to threaten him or punish him. He’s come as He said, weak and lowly, to bear away Simeon’s death and sin and open the way to everlasting life.

    And Simeon doesn’t leave it there. This isn’t just some personal religious experience that means something for poor old Simeon, but nothing for anyone else. No, this child, Simeon says, will be for the fall and the rise of many in Israel. He will be a sign that is spoken against. He will reveal the thoughts of hearts. When faced with this Jesus, the world faces a crisis. You can either do as Simeon did, welcome Him into your arms, humble yourself and admit you need this little baby, that He is your salvation and your peace before God, or this little baby will be a sign of offense. There is no middle way. He who is not with me is against me, Jesus says. And he who does not gather with me, scatters. This is the universal relevance of Christmas. This is the fullness of time.

    And it must be this way. Think of it. God became a baby. God walked on this earth. The eternal Creator. He breathed this air in His lungs. Simeon held his little body in his arms. He grew up in Nazareth. He preached and taught and performed miracles and then suffered torture and death on a cross. He rose again the third day. What do you think of Him? He can’t be ignored. He says He comes to bear your sin. He says you need Him. That He is the way, the truth, and the life, and no one goes to the Father except through Him. He offers eternal life to all who trust in Him. He gives peace to the pained conscience, He gives meaning to lives that seem useless and futile. He reveals the thoughts of the Christian heart, yes I am a sinner, yes I have wasted so much time, yes I have obsessed over the most useless things, and I confess it all, vanity, vanity, all is vanity, except this baby in Simeon’s arms, there is no vanity there, except the body and the blood placed into my mouth. Here is life. Here is to know God, to know His love, to know I am a son and an heir of my Father through His Son Jesus Christ my Lord, that I have access to the ear of God, that He hears my prayers, that I don’t have to slave and work like a servant to win his favor, because my Lord Jesus has won His favor for me, He has given me His Spirit, made me a child of His Father in my Baptism. This is what Simeon means when he says that Jesus will be the rising, the resurrection, of many.

    But he will also be the ruin of many. Jesus didn’t come to ruin. He came to save. But those who reject Him ruin themselves. And again, the thoughts of hearts are revealed. What do you think of this Jesus? That you don’t need Him? That you never asked God to become a man and bear your sin? That you don’t believe it? That it’s just religious muth? That your sin doesn’t require that kind of sacrifice? Or that your sin is somehow too great? Let God be true and every man a liar. The truth of Christmas, this fullness of time, why it remains the great crisis, the great point of decision for every human being on this earth, is that God did take on human nature, and what He took on needed redeeming. Why else would God become a man?

    We were all, as St. Paul says, under the law. That means under the law’s condemnation. It requires perfection of us. To love God above all things and to love each other as ourselves. Countless religions tried to come out from under the law. The Jews tried, the pagans tried. They obeyed rules upon rules. They sacrificed and they worked. But none of it could stop the law’s accusation, you aren’t good enough for God, you can’t call Him your Father, you haven’t behaved like a son. The law always throws the slave out of the house. He can’t inherit with the children. But then the true Son steps in. The Son of the Father. He comes in the fullness of time. Born of a woman. Born under the law. He takes all the law’s accusations on Himself. He cries out on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken Me?” He bears it all for us, to redeem us, to make us sons. Because if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.

    The time after Christmas is known as the most depressing time of the year. Did you know that? More suicides, more depression than any other time. It has something to do with being the middle of winter. But it has more to do with the obvious vanity of it all. We’re all like Ralph, wanting the red ryder bbgun, getting it, and then shooting our eye out. The good times pass so quick. Christmas is gone. The gifts you looked forward to once again didn’t give you the lasting pleasure you thought they might. The family came, but it wasn’t like old times. And once again the age old proverb proves itself – vanity, vanity, all is vanity. What is this life about anyway?

    And that is why we need to remember that Christmas has ushered in the fullness of time. Let Jesus expose the thoughts of your hearts. All the sin, all the unfulfilled hopes, all the feelings of emptiness, all the continued expectations for the future in this sinful world, all the vanity. And let Jesus fill you with thoughts of Him. There is no vanity with Jesus. No emptiness. Only fullness. Pure love for You from God Himself. Adoption into the family of heaven. Sins erased. Enmity and bitterness broken down. An eternal future. Perfect peace and contentment. The Spirit of God living in you. His angels watching over you. That’s what Christmas means.

    Simeon, by the way, still had to believe it. He was saved by faith, not by sight. It’s not like Jesus was shining in his arms. There’s nothing special about this baby on the outside. His parents are poor. They offer a couple pigeons for Mary’s purification, because they can’t afford a lamb. The baby is only a baby to the eyes. Simeon confesses, “My eyes have seen your salvation” because he believes God’s Word, that this baby is God, not because his eyes see some wonder. And the same holds true for us. When we sing Simeon’s song, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples, a light to lighten the Gentiles and the glory of thy people Israel,” we’re making the same confession, that we have seen nothing but bread and wine, we’ve tasted nothing but these common things, but our eyes have seen salvation, God in the flesh has touched our lips. He has given us peace and salvation. And so we’re ready for anything time brings, anything the New Year brings, for death, for life, because we are God’s children, redeemed by the blood of Jesus, and this is His world, and He is ours and we are His.

    Let us pray:

    Ah, dearest Jesus, holy Child

    Make thee a bed, soft undefiled

    Within my heart that it may be

    A quiet chamber kept for thee.


  • New Years Eve - need

  • Epiphany 1 - Baptism of our Savior Jesus Christ

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Baptism of our Lord, 2019


    Matthew 3:13-17


    As it was in the beginning is now and ever shalt be, world without end. Amen. We speak these words all the time and words we speak all the time run the risk of passing through our minds without thinking about them. This is just a fact of language. A perfect example is the word Goodbye. It originally meant, “God be with you.” But people said it so often without thinking about what it meant, shortened it and mumbled it too, that the words “God be with you” eventually morphed into a new word and a new meaning, “Goodbye.” The point is when you repeat words enough without thinking about them, they can become pretty meaningless or at least less meaningful. But with these words, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shalt be, world without end. Amen, we need to learn to say them and mean them, think about them.


    This is for two reasons. First, because it has to do with God’s glory. That’s what we confess, right? Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost, and then we say, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shalt be world without end, Amen. And so thinking about this beautiful phrase, not just mouthing it, but confessing it from the heart, this is keeping the 2nd commandment, it’s giving God glory, and we need to keep in mind what God says about this commandment, that He will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain. The name of God is the most precious word imaginable. The ancient Jews were afraid even to use it because they held it so sacred. Of course, they went too far. They should have used his name, spoken it often. But we have the opposite problem. We are far too free with using God’s name. It should never even occur to a Christian to casually say O my God. Never enter into our minds to blurt out Jesus Christ or God damn it as some exclamation of frustration or surprise. And it wouldn’t, if we were constantly thinking and using the name of our God as we should. And that is actually the point of the second commandment, the negative is obvious, don’t act like a pagan, don’t use God’s name as a cuss word, that’s shameful and God is angry at it, but the positive is a promise, a beautiful promise, that God gives us His name so that we can call upon Him in every trouble, pray, praise and gift thanks.


    And this is the second point. It’s not simply that using God’s name gives Him glory, it’s that His glory is to save us, to make us His own, to give us His name, to free us from sin, to spill his blood to wash away our shame and our guilt. And so God reveals his name not to impose some arbitrary rule on us, not simply for the satisfaction of his sovereign glory, but to share his name and his glory with us. And so it is never enough for us Christians not to misuse God’s name, we must use it, it is our highest comfort and honor to use it, to call upon the name of the God who has created us and saved us and sought us out to give us his everlasting glory. This is what we’re confessing with those beautiful words, As it was in the beginning is now and ever shalt be, world without end. The confession of God is always a confession of who we are, because God, the Holy Trinity, revealed His name and reveals it now as the Savior of sinners. This is how He defines Himself, not apart from you, but in your flesh and for your salvation. And this, this is what Jesus’ Baptism teaches us.


    As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shalt be, world without end. How was it in the beginning? St. John answers, “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” Before time began, in eternity, there was God. But he is not a God who, as Aristotle thought, simply sits there contemplating Himself eternally. He’s the God who is Father and Son from eternity. He’s the God who is love from eternity, because the Father has always loved His Son, the Son has always loved His Father, and the Holy Spirit has always proceeded from this love. And this love is always active, it reaches outside itself, it’s not just a thought, a wish, a contemplation, it’s God and God acts. That’s what we are saying when we confess, “As it was in the beginning.” There was no sin, no devil, no death, no hate, no pain, no filthy desires, no guilty conscience, no murder of innocent children, no sexual depravity, there was only this divine love.


    This much should be obvious to every Christian. God is Trinity. God is love. This is how it was in the beginning. But then we continue, As it was in the beginning is now. Is now? Here is where our confession seems absurd. Look at the world. What glory is given to God by our world now? What glory to God is there in the million abortions Americans commit each year, what glory to God by the no-fault divorces, by the cheating and adultery, by our selfish ambitions, by the lust of our hearts, by the pain of cancer, by families ripped apart by sin and betrayal and unbelief? What sense does it make for us to say that God’s glory remains the same now as it was in the beginning, when there was no sin, no death, no pain, no guilt?


    Well the Baptism of our Lord makes sense of it. It’s no coincidence that here, at His Baptism, God reveals Himself as Trinity, as eternal love. The Son rises from the waters, the Father speaks His love and approval on Him from heaven, and the Spirit rests on Him in gentleness as a dove. Because here is God’s glory, here is who God is. His glory has always been in His love, and His glory is shown here as the Son loves by obeying His Father’s will to become the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. That’s God’s love. This is why we can sing, “But God beheld my wretched state before the world’s foundation, and mindful of His mercy great, He planned my soul’s salvation. A Father’s heart he turned to me, sought my redemption fervently. He gave His dearest treasure.” This is the eternal love of God. That’s what Jesus’ Baptism means. He is baptized to live and to die for you, to do what He planned from before the world’s foundation. Jesus will later call His death His Baptism, so tightly He connects the two. And Jesus here tells John the Baptist that He is baptized to fulfill all righteousness.


    And by this He is saying that God joins His glory to ours, His honor to ours, His righteousness to ours. He will do as He is. He will love. He will be righteous not by condemning sinners to hell, not by leaving us in our guilt and abandoning us, so that He can reign alone in majesty and contemplate His own goodness, no, He will be righteous, remain righteous and glorious as in the beginning, by loving us now to His death, by diving into those waters and swearing by Himself that He will bear the sin of the world, that He will become the great sinner, live for us, die for us, suffer His own righteous wrath against our sin, and make us holy and righteous before Him.


    That this is who God is, how He reveals Himself, this is what the world, what human reason thinks is so foolish, so stupid, as St. Paul says. The Church chose our Epistle very well today. It answers perfectly to Jesus’ Baptism: “But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty; and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence.” This is not simply to say that Baptism looks foolish, that God chose water to anoint His Son for death, it’s also to say that God Himself looks foolish. His glory is to become a man and humble Himself. His honor is to die for the unworthy. His righteousness is to bear sin.


    Immediately after Jesus’ Baptism, in every account we have, Jesus goes into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. And the devil models human wisdom for us. He says, “If you are the Son of God, show me by your power, show me by turning rocks into bread, show me by satisfying your own pleasure.” Because this is what sinners would expect from God – what would you do if you had all power? What do you dream in your heart you’d do to your enemies if you had enough money? What wouldn’t you do to protect your reputation if you had all glory in heaven and earth? What pleasure would you not fulfill if you could get away with it? But the God with all power becomes weak, He dies for His enemies, He disgraces Himself on a cross, and this He calls His glory. No human wisdom could think up this God. He must reveal Himself. That’s what Epiphany means. You will not know this God unless He shows Himself to you. And He reveals Himself in His Baptism.


    As it was in the beginning is now. That’s what you see in Jesus’ Baptism. Here you have no sin, you have no guilt, there is no death, there is no dishonor, no disgrace, no shame that can claim you, because all of it is thrown on Jesus, on God Himself, on the Son, who pays to His Father by the love of His Spirit what He vowed from the beginning.


    It is now. That’s the promise of your Baptism. What Jesus swore of Himself in His Baptism He gives to you in your Baptism. You have died with Christ, you have God’s name, you are His treasured possession, free from sin and death, an heir of eternity, in communion with eternal love. It doesn’t look that way. It doesn’t even feel that way. We see sin and death, feel anxiety and depression, our consciences are burdened by hate and anger and selfish thoughts, and we live in a world where it looks like God has lost all control. But as it was in the beginning is now. God’s love has not waned. It has not changed. From all eternity. What He acted out in history, His incarnation, His Baptism, his bitter agony and death, his resurrection from the dead, He did to take you a poor sinner, born without love for Him, born to die and face God’s judgment, to take you and name you His child in your Baptism, to forgive every sin that burdens your conscience, to make you His own, turn your death into the portal of heaven, teach you how to love and live as Christians. This is God’s unchangeable love. It is as He promises through the prophet Malachi, “I am the Lord. I do not change. Therefore you are not destroyed, O sons of Jacob.”


    This is how it is now, and it’s how it will be forever. And ever shalt be, world without end. That also is the promise of your Baptism. In eternity, your glory will not be in your ambitions, in your reputation, in your money, in your own pleasures, in your pride. It will be forever in the Trinity’s love revealed at Jesus’ Baptism. And this we make our glory now. That’s what it means to be baptized, to be a Christian. Our glory is in Christ. Sacrifice your pride every day, sacrifice your ambitions, sacrifice whatever it is that draws you away from this God of love, and find your daily rest in Him. Receive His body and His blood, and see that there is no joy, no glory, no pleasure, nothing, that can compare with the glory you have in your Baptism, that you commune with God Himself, that He gives His glory to you. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shalt be, world without end. Amen.



  • Epiphany 2

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Epiphany, 2019


    Matthew 2:1-12




    It’s very easy for Christians to become anti-intellectual, because we see the modern intelligentsia, we see academia and college campuses promoting anti-Christian propaganda, championing sexual perversion and abortion and feminism, attacking marriage and family, mocking God’s creation by promoting evolution, associating the history of the Bible with pagan myths, drawing Christians away from the faith, and the list goes on. And so it happens all too often that Christians, in their justified distrust of the progressive propagandists who dominate the universities, and the media for that matter, Christians will become suspicious of higher learning itself, because they see that getting smart or educated in our time usually equates with losing the faith and abandoning the Bible. But this is to react in exactly the wrong way. Being smart, learning the truth, thinking about difficult issues, has never led anyone from the faith. Ever. Being arrogant has. Refusing to humble yourself, your mind and your desires, under the Word of God has. Thinking that you’re smarter than God will definitely make it difficult for you to remain a Christian. But learning never will. In fact, learning is the constant and lifelong duty of the Christian.


    Look at the wisemen. They were wise men. Scholars. Very smart, very educated. And they are part of a long history of Christian scholars who studied the world, studied civilization, studied law, studied science, studied history and politics, studied the Bible, and did it all for the glory of God, in order to worship their Lord Jesus. That’s what all the learning of the wise men amounts to. Notice that. They didn’t travel a thousand miles as a matter of course. It’s not as if they did this for every comet that appeared in the sky. Their lifelong goal is summed up in this little sentence, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and we have come to worship him.” To worship Him. That’s the purpose of learning.


    I can’t remember where I saw it, I think it was when I was teaching a class at some tiny liberal arts college in Iowa, but on the metopes of the college library, in huge Latin script, were written the words, “Learning for the sake of learning.” I see the same phrase frequently; in fact, I just read an article by that name from the American Counsel on Education. The thought is that you learn not just to get a career, but because learning is an end in itself. Now that sounds really classical and liberal artsy and enlightened, but it’s total nonsense. No one in the history of the world has ever learned for the sake of learning. We learn for a purpose. Sometimes those purposes are bad, sometimes they’re good. Sometimes it’s a little of both. You can learn for the joy of it, because it stimulates you, satisfies curiosity or satisfies pride. You can learn as school children often do, so you get praise or don’t get punished. You can learn, as Herod did in our Gospel lesson, in order to secure your own position at the expense of others. You can learn to get a job and make money. You can learn to help others, as nurses and teachers and mothers often do. But learning is never neutral. We always do it for some reason. And what the wisemen teach us is to learn with clear and unmistakable purpose that the reason for all our learning, finally, is to worship Jesus.


    Let me get specific here. The Christian mother who learns to cook, learns to keep a house, learns to tend to crying children, she does these things not for the sake of learning, but to love her neighbor, her children and her husband, and since this is exactly what pleases God in heaven, it’s a form of Christian worship. The Christian electrician who learns how not to get electrocuted when wiring a house should learn it to provide for his family, to help others, to support his church, and so all for the glory of God. This applies to everything you learn, no matter your formal education.


    But we will never have this mindset unless we actually spend time, like the wise men, learning God’s Word. And when it comes to learning this, what has happened in the last generation among Christians, including us conservative Lutherans, has been startling. By and large we’re forgetting the Bible. Christians don’t know what it says for the simple reason that they don’t read it. I will never forget teaching a course on classical mythology at a university where I mentioned Joseph and Potiphar’s wife and not a single student out of fifty knew the story. But I can see the same thing happening now, and it’s why I stress so often to read your Bibles, have family devotions at home, eat meals together, put learning God’s Word above sports, above TV, above homework, above everything else we learn. To show ourselves and our children that we humble ourselves under God’s Word and reverence it as the highest treasure in the world.


    It makes no sense to decry how bad things have gotten in the world, in the workplace, in the universities, in the media, and then not face the challenge and temptations they pose with the only weapon we have. A mighty fortress is our God, we sing. Rise to arms, with prayer employ you, we sing. We call ourselves the church militant. And St. Paul reminds us that ours is a battle not against flesh and blood but against the powers of darkness posing as the wisdom of this world. And he gives our weapon as the sword of the Spirit, that’s God’s Word. And we have every reason to be confident when we learn and love God’s word at home and at church. There is no philosophy out there, no -ism, whether that be feminism, or socialism, or secular humanism, there is no attack on Christianity, that can stand up against knowledge, humble, faithful, repentant knowledge of God’s Word, love for its beauty and its glory, no wisdom that can compare to the truth revealed to the wise men that the God who created this world has come into human flesh to save it from sin and death and all evil.


    So this is our motto. Learning for the sake of worshiping Jesus. This is what the wisemen teach us.


    They came from the East specifically to worship the one born King of the Jews. We shouldn’t let this escape our attention. They’re from the East, probably from Persia. If you learn about ancient civilization, you’ll quickly realize that all ancient peoples were what the universities today would call racists. The Persians didn’t care for the Jews, the Jews called all other nations hagoyim, the Gentiles, the Greeks called all non-Greek speakers barbarians and ridiculed them for their practices, the Romans banned Greek philosophers from Rome repeatedly. You get the point. They were ethnocentric, proud of their own cultures and in large part dismissive of other cultures and nations. And so it is a remarkable thing that these wisemen would come to worship not some Persian King, not some King of the East, but the King of the Jews.


    But they came because they learned, they studied and they learned from the Old Testament, that the Jews were a special people, not because of their race, but because of their God, the Creator of heaven and earth, who had raised up the Kingdom of Judah and saw it through all its sin and destruction, in order to bring forth a King who would rule over all, the King Isaiah speaks of in our Old Testament lesson, and note, Isaiah is speaking to Judah, to Jews here, in this beautiful prophecy: “Arise shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will be seen upon you. And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising.” This is why the wisemen came to Jerusalem to inquire of the King of the Jews, because as we just sang, he is not only the King of the Jews, but the highborn King of ages, true Son of God and Mary’s Son, who draws his entire creation to Himself. The entire history of the Old Testament, every word of it, points to the reason for Judah’s existence, to bring forth the Savior of the world, the King who comes from the Jews to bring all peoples to himself by his cross, as our Lord Jesus says, “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all peoples to myself.”


    And notice the manner of the wisemen’s learning. They are smart, very smart. But they come asking questions, they come humbly. They got the place wrong. They thought they’d find the King of the Jews in Jerusalem, in a palace. Jerusalem, after all, was the city of David, the capital of Judah. But there was another city of David, the city in which David was born, and the wisemen humble themselves and learn again from the word of God, from the prophet Micah, that it will be from Bethlehem that this King will come to shepherd God’s people Israel, to rule over His Church.


    And this learning was never just head knowledge for these wise men. Herod had the same head knowledge. He learned too that this King had been born in Bethlehem. But he uses the knowledge for horrible evil. And this we can do too. We can become proud and we can use knowledge, even knowledge about God’s holy Word, to raise ourselves up, to show off our smarts, to look down on others. But the wisemen learned humility from God’s Word, they learned their own sin, their own unworthiness, and they came to kiss the Son, as Psalm 2 says, because they see that only in this Son is God’s anger taken away and sin covered, only in this Son is God’s love revealed. And so the wisemen teach us, not only that learning is good, not only that learning God’s Word is our lifelong objective, but that learning always goes along with worshiping Jesus, with a life that humbles itself under God, and submits all knowledge, whatever it is, to the Word of Jesus, learns to bear his yoke, as he has borne our sins.


    The wisemen bear gifts, gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And here again we see what the purpose of learning is. We learn of this God who saves us, who becomes a helpless baby to live and die for us, to shed his precious blood, the blood of God Himself to reconcile us to Himself, and make us heirs of eternal life with Him, we learn to love Him. And loving Him means, of course, not simply bearing gifts, but first faith, the highest possible form of worship, first trusting that God is for us, that He is with us, that no matter who we are, no matter our nationality, our family, no matter what sins we have committed and the darkness that has stained our heart, our God’s glory shines on us in Jesus Christ, to forgive us, make us His children, wash us clean and feed us with his own body and blood. And then comes an active love for this God. For Him we can walk a thousand miles, for this God, we can give up our riches, submit our time and our life to him, as did the wisemen, this is a God about whom we want to learn more and more, to meditate on His Word and gives our lives to Him as He has given His for us.


    I asked the kids in catechism class the other week whether we can look up into heaven like the wisemen and so find Jesus. The answer of course is no. And the wisemen again teach us this very thing. They found Jesus by listening to His Word. That’s how they knew to follow the star to Jerusalem, how they ended up finding Him in Bethlehem. And this is how we find our Lord Jesus, how He finds us. To be wise, to learn, to be divinely educated, this is to receive the Epiphany of our Lord, which is what we celebrate today. Epiphany, God’s revelation to us, His word to the nations, His enlightening us of His love in Christ Jesus, telling us who we are and what our purpose is, that this Child, true Son of God and Mary’s son, has redeemed us from all sin with his holy precious blood and his innocent sufferings and death, that we may be His own, belong to Him, learn from Him, love Him, live our lives for Him and receive our strength from Him, as a branch is to the tree, His life supplying our life, so that our souls never rest until they rest in Him forever.


    Lord grant this to us all. Let us pray:


    Thou, mighty Father in Thy Son didst love me ere Thou hadst begun This ancient world’s foundation. Thy Son hath made a friend of me, And when in spirit Him I see, I joy in tribulation. What bliss is this! He that liveth to me giveth life forever; Nothing me from him can sever. Amen.

  • Epiphany 3

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Epiphany 3, 2019


    Matthew 8:1-13




    Faith is nothing if it isn’t humble. Christ calls it God’s glory that the eternal Son becomes a man and humbles himself and suffers the torment of the cross. The Son of God sweats blood in the Garden and says, “Not my will be done, but thine,” and this humility God calls His glory. This is also why Jesus calls the faith of the centurion the greatest. The centurion’s faith is strong, it’s glorious, because the centurion is weak and humble. That’s the paradox of Christian faith. The centurion’s prayer has traditionally been prayed before taking the Lord’s Supper. Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only the say the Word and my soul will be healed. And then the word, this is my body, this is my blood. And you, who are unworthy, who have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, who know your unworthiness, know your sin and your shame, know that it is ridiculous and absurd that the holy God should come to you and love you and forgive you and make His home in you, you who have no confidence in yourself that you can stand before God and live, you are exalted to heaven at the Word of your Savior, “Take eat, this is my body. Take drink, this is my blood.”


    The centurion’s faith is humble. That’s why it’s great. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t act. Faith does act. As Luther says, “O this faith is a living, busy, powerful thing!” Faith is confident. You are a child of God. This is not your own doing, it is the gift of God, not of works, so that no one can boast. But you are a child of God. And this is something to boast of, to be confident in. Not in yourself, of course, that’s not humility, but in God. Humility and confidence are not contrary to each other. You can be utterly humbled, shown by God’s law that you deserve nothing from Him but punishment, you can be totally uncertain of yourself, and yet know and be confident that you are the apple of God’s eye, His delight, His child. Because the ground of this confidence is outside of you. It’s in your Baptism. God doesn’t lie. He named you His child. Be proud of it, be confident in it. It’s in the absolution you heard this morning. God doesn’t lie. He never has. And He told you again your sins are forgiven, he created the office of pastor for the specific purpose of telling you that the Son of God did not die in vain, but has suffered specifically for you to remove your sin and reconcile you to God and give you eternal life in Him. It’s in the Holy Supper. God cannot lie. This is the body and blood of the God who took on your flesh to redeem you a lost and condemned creature, to purchase and win you so that you may be His own. That’s your confidence. Faith is nothing if it isn’t confident.


    And that’s why faith acts. Because it’s humble and confident. The greatness of this centurion’s faith is not only that he’s humble but that He expects everything good only from the good God. And these two things belong together. Humility and confidence. The centurion pointed at the very same time to his own unworthiness, the objective state of his humility, not just that he felt humble, but that he was, objectively, unworthy of God’s attention, he points to this and at the very same time points to the source and ground of his confidence, that if Jesus speaks it, it is so. The centurion doesn’t even need to see it. He only needs to hear it. He acts. Say the word, he says. Say the word, we say.


    The argument is called an argumentem a fortiori. The argument from the lesser to the greater. We know how it works with authority on earth. If the cop writes me a ticket because I’m speeding on CY – which never happened by the way, I mean, I did speed and I did get pulled over, but I never got a ticket for it – but I obey. I pay the ticket. Because I’m under authority. If I tell my children to eat their supper, they are bound to do it on pain of punishment. If I tell them to go to church they do it. Because they understand that I am their father and I am to be obeyed. The world can’t work without this authority. The centurion ordered around his soldiers and they obeyed implicitly. This is what happens on earth with authority with men. How much more with God. Christ has all authority in heaven and on earth. He orders and it is done. He speaks and it is so.


    But He doesn’t speak as the law speaks, as a cop who gives a ticket. That’s not the authority the centurion appeals to. He appeals to who Jesus is. He is the God of mercy. In the Garden of Gethsemane, as Jesus prays to His Father, he says, “You have given him authority over all flesh, to give eternal life to all whom You have given Him, and this is eternal life, that they know You the only true God and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.” Notice what Jesus calls His authority, His all-encompassing authority over all flesh. His authority, his Kingdom, his reign on this earth consists in taking poor sinners who are not worthy that He should enter under their roofs, and exalting them. What manner of love is this, the apostle asks, that we should be called children of God? But so we are. He imposes nothing on us. He instead imposes everything on Himself, bears our sin and our shame, and promises by His own blood to be our God and use His almighty power only for our good. That’s His authority.


    This is why faith acts, because in humility our confidence is in this God. And we pray, “Thy will be done.” That’s what the leper prayed. “If you are willing, O Lord, you can make me clean.” This appeal is senseless, stupid, ridiculous, unless we know the will of this God. I do not pray, “Thy will be done” to a God I don’t know. I don’t pray Thy will be done either to a God who insists on throwing me into hell to be separated from Him forever. I can’t. I learn to agree with God’s judgment, that hell is my desert, what I have earned by my sin, but there is no way for me to say, “Thy will be done” except to the God who I know from His beautiful and everlasting Gospel has taken my hell on Himself and has loved me to His death.


    Thy will be done is the humblest and most confident prayer imaginable. The petition only Christian faith can pray. To will simply means to want. And you want all sorts of things. Your flesh wants bad things, wicked things, things that you don’t even want to admit out loud. And your spirit, because you’re a Christian, wants good things, beautiful things, things we bring before God every day and every Sunday. But we commend all our wants to God. The evil things for him to forgive and wash away and free us from. The good and beautiful things for him to do with as he wishes.


    This is especially important when we are bearing a cross, when we suffer, when we can’t understand why God hasn’t given us something good, why mom or dad is dying of cancer, why children have rebelled and left the faith, why you are lonely, why you suffer with a sin you’ve prayed God to remove from you and you still are tempted with. Thy will be done, we say. Three times the Apostle Paul prayed that God would remove the thorn from his flesh, some awful torment that God placed on him, and God said, “My grace is sufficient for you. For my strength is made perfect in weakness.” And in the face of things we can’t understand faith acts, it prays, and it trusts in the will that God has revealed, the will that is sure and certain, that He who has not spared His own Son but has delivered Him up for us all, how will He not in Him freely give us every good thing?


    Faith acts. When you wake up in the morning, do you pray? Do you? Do you thank God that He has kept you safe in the night? Do you commend yourself to His care? Do you ask that His will be done among you, that you bear patiently whatever He gives you? Pray. Do it. You’re God’s child. He loves you. He cherishes you. He cares what happens in your life more than you do. He does. And He knows better than you do what is good for you, what you can bear, and why you need to bear it.


    We are asked the question in our catechism, “How is God’s will done?” And we answer, “God’s will is done when He breaks and hinders every evil plan and purpose of the devil, the world, and our sinful nature, which do not want us to hallow God’s name or let His kingdom come; and when He strengthens and keeps us firm in His Word and faith until we die. This is His good and gracious will.”


    Whatever else you ask for in life, whatever is going on in your life, whatever you are suffering, whatever you are enjoying, whatever you wish for the future, when you pray, “Thy will be done,” you are to focus your heart and your mind and confidence on this, that this is not simply the most important thing, but the only thing, from which everything else flows, all crosses and all joys, life itself, that God’s will is to destroy the plan of the devil and this world and your sinful flesh, which would drag you into misery and unbelief and hell, God’s will is to keep you a Christian, to draw you to Himself to find your confidence in His Word until you die, so that, as St. Paul says, whether you live or die, you are the Lord’s. This is His priority, His will from everlasting to everlasting. And to think of that, that God’s priority, the Almighty’s will and desire, has everything to do with you and your good, that He doesn’t want to lose you, but wants you to remain His child and to defend you from every evil and to teach you to live and love as He has lived and loved you, this is to see into the very heart of God.


    We pray Thy will be done to learn to want what our Father wants. And our Father wants us to be His own. To know that in Christ He has made us worthy to live and die as His children, to call upon Him in every trouble, pray, praise, and give thanks, to commend everything to Him. If that means suffering, we bear it. If it means happiness, we thank Him. His priority is ours. We are His children. That’s the legacy of our Baptism. He is our dear Father. He said, “I am willing.” He says it. He wants it. Christ’s blood is proof of it. Your Baptism is the guarantee of it. He wants you in his heaven. He wants to keep you from sin and give you a godly life of good works. He wants to forgive every sin that burdens your conscience. He wants to declare you righteous on the last day by the blood of Jesus in whom you believe. He wants you to join and sing forever with the heavenly host. He wants to beat down the devil under your feet. He wants to comfort you in every sadness. And so we pray, Thy will be done from the heart in humility and confidence. God grant it for Jesus’ sake. Amen.


    Let us pray:


    Lord, as Thou wilt, deal Thou with me;

    No other wish I cherish.

    In life and death I cling to Thee;

    Oh, do not let me perish!

    Let not Thy grace from me depart

    And grant an ever patient heart

    To bear what Thou dost send me.



  • Epiphany 4

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Epiphany 4, 2019

    Matthew 8:23-27


    The disciples follow Jesus into a boat. In Mark’s Gospel it says that Jesus compelled them, forced them into a boat. Jesus made them get in. And of course getting into the boat meant danger and trouble. Following Jesus means danger and trouble. That’s the unavoidable message. And it speaks against any preacher who would tell you, like Joel Osteen, that being a Christian will bring you nothing but a good and happy life here on earth. That flies in the face not only of the Bible but of the obvious experience of every Christian who faces pain and trouble in this world, like the disciples in our Gospel. Now that being said, in the Bible the boat is actually the safe place. Noah’s ark was the only safe place in the world when God wiped men off the earth, because, as He says, the imagination of their hearts was only evil continually. Think of that, the ark was the only safe place in the whole world. And in the history of Jonah, it may not seem like it, but the boat is the safe place. You’ve got two choices - you can be in the boat, or you can be in the water where you drown and die or get eaten by a giant fish. You want to be in the boat.

    This is why we have traditionally called the place in the church where the people sit the nave. Nave (or navis) is the Latin word for ship, it’s where you get the word navigate and Navy. Now in a normal church, not that our church isn’t normal, in a normal church the nave, where the people sit, actually looks like a ship, long and narrow. But the reason it’s called a nave, a ship, isn’t just because of the shape of it, it’s because of the ark, and Jonah, and our Gospel for today. The church is a safe, secure place. But it’s a safe place surrounded by trouble, by a flood of sin, by the storms of the world, by the winds of false doctrine.

    And that means that when you enter the church, when you follow Jesus into the church, you will at the very same time be in the most danger and the safest you could possibly be.

    Christianity is filled with these paradoxes. It’s beautiful. Because we live by faith and not by sight. Seriously, with whom would you rather be in time of trouble than with the Creator of heaven and earth? And yet this Creator explicitly tells you, in the world you will have trouble. He says a disciple is not above his master. If they persecuted the Lord they will persecute those who follow him. He says, pick up your cross and follow me. Following Jesus means trouble. He says so. This is what the history of our Gospel pictures, “When Jesus got into the boat, His disciples followed Him. And behold there arose a great storm.” There arose a great storm. You are baptized, Christ is your Lord, what He is and what He did, is yours. You know the truth that makes you free. And that means the devil hates you, and he attacks you with deception, with lies, to make you doubt your heritage, that God has paid by his own blood for your sins, that you are really God’s child with the promise of eternal life. It means as St. Paul confesses, that you are opposed to the sinful world and the sinful world to you, “Forbid it Lord that I should boast except in the cross of my Lord Jesus Christ, through whom the world has been crucified to me and I to the world.” It means you feel and recognize the severity of sin, God’s anger against it, what it does to you, to people and to their lives. And all this causes a storm in life.

    This is always the way of the Christian church. The Christian Church didn’t begin at Pentecost. It began in the Garden of Eden. And the Christians who followed Jesus from the beginning of the world saw that following Jesus brought trouble. Abel was murdered for his faith, he’s the first Christian martyr. Noah was mocked and his confession was despised by the entire world. Abraham spent his life lonely in a foreign land. Jacob fled for his life from his own brother. Moses dealt with a rebellious people for forty years in the desert. David has King Saul trying to kill him and then thirty years later his own son Absalom trying to overthrow him.  And they suffered all these things because they were Christians. It wasn’t senseless suffering. They suffered as Christians and because they were Christians.

    That’s how we get the psalms. They are hymns of suffering and overcoming suffering through faith in Jesus. How long, O Lord, we cry, Will our glory be put to shame? How long will the wicked prevail against us. Or the words of our Introit, Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. Praying the psalms strengthens faith. It’s how faith acts. It teaches you to recognize that there is suffering in your life and to commend it to God and His will and confess, even when it looks the opposite, that God’s goodness will prevail, that his mercy endures forever, that he sends crosses in your life to draw you to him.

    I don’t think there’s a question I hear more often as a pastor than, why is there suffering in my life? It’s the universal question. We all ask it. I’m reading the great Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov right now and that’s the huge question, what sense can be made of the suffering of children? How does it contribute in any way to the good? How does God allow this? And when we look at the news lately, with state after state legalizing and celebrating partial birth abortion, with the Governor of Virginia even advocating killing a child after it’s born, we cry out How long, O Lord, and ask, why? Why this suffering? And why the suffering in my own life?

    Now this can become a practice in self-indulgence. Dostoevsky calls it lamentation or laceration. People feeling sorry for themselves and imagining they’re always the victim, blaming God and other people for their problems, and getting a high from it. This is a danger. Especially among Christians. And especially in our culture where we’re taught to magnify and talk about all our problems as if we were the center of the universe. No, the point of recognizing that we Christians suffer in this life is to turn ourselves away from self-pity, away from any form of self-indulgence, not to lacerate ourselves and dwell on our miseries, but to recognize that God sends our crosses, and our help is in the Lord who made heaven and earth, that He will deliver us from all our distresses, and crown us with joy and gladness.

    This is why the Lord Jesus doesn’t allow his disciples to behave like cowards. They say, Save us Lord, we are perishing! And he rebukes them, before he rebuked the storm, he rebuked them. This is beautiful. The storm is still raging around them, they’re still seeing with their eyes that things aren’t good. And before He does anything to still the storm, He tells them to be brave, not to be cowards, not to be men of little faith, to trust that He will be their God and protect them and get them through even when it looks the opposite. Your translation has Jesus say, “Why are you afraid?” But the Greek says, “Why are you being cowards?” It’s as if he were saying, Don’t you know you have to suffer if you follow me? Are you really going to doubt and turn inward and make this all about yourselves when a little trouble comes? Don’t do it. When suffering comes, turn to the suffering of your Lord Jesus. This is the lens through which you see life. I determined to know nothing among you but Christ crucified.

    Let me give you three reasons why God allows suffering. These won’t answer all our questions, that will happen in the resurrection, but they’ll tell us God’s answer to the questions we should be asking.

    God wants us to hate sin, to avoid it, to fear God’s wrath and not do anything against his commandments, and suffering will teach us this, when we see the heaven-crying sin of abortion, when we see the pain unfaithfulness brings, gossip brings, refusal to reconcile with a brother brings, drunkenness, laziness, sexual perversion, when we suffer because we see these sins around us or we see them in ourselves, we learn that God hates these sins and we learn why. And we realize the beauty of the cross, that God would see a world so wretched, so full of sin and suffering, and love it still, become one of us and take the punishment for the sins he hates, all because of his love for the sinners he wants to be his children.

    And when we suffer because of doubt and cowardice, when the devil attacks you with anxiety at what lies before you in life as if you are not the prized possession of the almighty God, as if your life were not in your loving God’s control, it’s again Christ’s cross that strengthens, his suffering that makes you bold, because here he crushes the devil’s head, eviscerates his deceptions, seals the fact that God’s blood cannot lie. If it is God’s will to suffer for you the pangs of hell, if He has loved you so, he will not and cannot forsake you or turn his child away.

    And when we suffer because of the world, our reputation tarnished because of gossip, our pride offended because of arrogant words spoken against us, our passions aroused because of the temptations to sex and wealth and fame and the acceptance the world offers, if only you agree with it and follow it instead of Jesus, once again it’s the cross of Jesus that relieves you, to sing as we did last Sunday, Hence all earthly pleasure, Jesus is my treasure, Jesus is my choice. Hence all earthly glory, naught to me thy story, told with tempting voice. Pain or loss or shame or cross shall not from my Savior move me, since He deigns to love me. I can learn to give up my reputation with men if it means I have a good reputation with God, I can learn to give up wealth, if it means to have the wealth of Jesus’ blood. I can learn to endure pain, if it means finding my rest in Jesus. That’s the point. And it’s a spiritual exercise. This danger, this suffering of Christians, we want our flesh put down, we want to look forward to heaven, we want to be forced to pray from the heart to our God, we want to learn to hate all sin, we want to be constantly drawn to Christ our Lord.

    And by suffering we learn what the disciples saw that day. They saw it. Who is this man that even the winds and sea obey him? He is God in human flesh. He is the Creator of heaven and earth. But we see by faith what the disciples didn’t see with their eyes that day. It didn’t look like that man sleeping in the boat was in charge. That’s why they were cowardly. And in the suffering of this life, it won’t seem to your eyes that a man suffering on a cross is in charge of your life. But he is. This is where he takes charge. Where he proves that he is not only the almighty God, but your God, who uses his almighty power for you, to bear your sins and take them away forever, to give you everlasting joy not in your sinful pleasures but in His love and in one another, to keep you safe in the ark of his church, to forgive your trespasses, lead you out of the temptation of the world, and deliver you from every evil. In the world you will have trouble, Jesus says, but take courage, I have overcome the world. Not sin or death or the devil, not things present or things to come, not powers or authorities, nothing can stand against the power of our Lord Jesus; we are safe, secure, like that boat was in the raging sea, no matter how it looked different, we are safe because Jesus is with us, with God on our side, with His body given and blood shed, with his instruction and word and wisdom, with His Spirit, his commandments, his promise that He is with us, with His Church, always even to the end of the age. Amen.


  • Transfiguration

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Transfiguration, 2019


    Matthew 17:1-9



    The Transfiguration shows Jesus as He really is. He is the God of all glory in human flesh. He appears to his disciples here as we ourselves will see Him in heaven. This is a beautiful thing. St. John says it. “Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” We will see Him as He really is. That’s how Peter and John and James saw him then and see Him now. But we need to explain this, what it means. Our Lord Jesus is God. He is. And because He is God, because the Son took on human nature, He shares His divine attributes, His divine power, with his human nature. That’s why His body shines like the sun in the Transfiguration. It’s why the body and blood of Christ can be present here in the Lord’s Supper. It’s why Jesus, God and man, can literally be with us always even to the end of the age. Not like we say that our Grandma or Grandpa is still with us in spirit, even though they’ve passed away. Not a sentimental presence. A real presence. Because the flesh and blood of Jesus are inseparably and personally united to God Himself, to the person of the Son, where the Son is, there is Jesus, all of Him.


    This is the first thing to wonder at. And we should. God has so exalted our human nature that it now shares in His divinity, is one Person with Him in Christ. That’s why St. John says what He says, “But we know that when He appears we shall be like Him.” Because God’s a man, and that man Jesus is God. What we look forward to is something beyond our comprehension, that we will be like God. Not in the way the devil tempted Eve in the Garden, when he tempted her to sin, told her to desire to know good and evil, to be like God, to take what God had not given her. No, it’s the opposite. We will be like God, because we will take and receive what God has given to us, what He earned for us, what He took on our flesh and suffered and died to give us; we will be perfectly conformed to Jesus Christ, there will be no pride, no arrogance, no selfish ambition, no grudges, no fear of evil, no doubts, no hatred, no fights in the family, no temptation to sexual lust, no shame. We will be consumed only with love, the love of the Holy Trinity, and our bodies and souls will be and do as God created them to be and do forever. We will find ourselves completely in God’s image, see Him, love Him, know Him, as He really is, with a never-ending and always growing wonder that we are found worthy to be His children and live in His Kingdom. All because our God is a man, and we have received from His fullness, and grace for grace.


    This is what we look forward to. We look forward to it. This is important. It’s in the future. The mistake Christians so often make is to wish about the past. Wish they could change this or that. Some stupid mistake, some awful decision, some horrible sin, if we could only go back and change it, we think, how much better our life could be. Everyone here knows what I’m talking about. All of us have done it. But it’s always a mistake. The past is there for us to learn from, not to repeat, not to torture ourselves and think and wish a thousand times we could change it. That’s a practice in selfishness and futility. We’re not God. And not even God permits Himself to change the past. Instead, the Bible consistently tells us to look forward to the goal. Look forward to what God puts before us. What we will do, who we will be, as God’s children in this world and in the world to come. And this is precisely what the Transfiguration teaches us to do.


    It’s history. It’s in the past. And so we learn from it. You were not there. You shouldn’t dream of being there. And again, we do this. If only I could see Jesus as He really was, then my doubts would go away, then I would live the life I want to live, then I could be full of confidence. No. That didn’t happen for John, for James, for Peter either. They fell into temptation even after they saw Jesus in all His glory. Peter denied Him. They all abandoned Him to death. No, we look at the Transfiguration to learn from the past what we will have in the future.


    Because the Transfiguration is not simply Jesus showing that He is God in human flesh. It shows what Jesus does as God in human flesh. Jesus talks to Moses and Elijah. St. Luke tells us what He was talking about. His exodus. His departure from this world. His death on the cross for sinners. Just as God showed His almighty power in the exodus, made the Red Sea part, and saved His people from certain death at the hands of their enemies, so God comes in human flesh to save us by His exodus, to open the way to the promised land, to everlasting life, by using His power again for us. Think of that. When Jesus appears in all His glory on that mount of Transfiguration, He talks about us, how He will use His power to take our sins on Himself and bear them in His body, to suffer hell for us, so that He can free us from the guilt of our sin and make us children of God.


    We need to learn to contrast Mount Sinai and the Mount of Transfiguration. On Mount Sinai God gave His law. No one could approach the mountain except Moses. And not even Moses could see God’s face, only his backside. Moses had to wear a veil over his own face, because it shined and terrified the people after he came down from the Mount. This is the glory of God without Jesus. It’s terrifying. And it still terrifies. It demands perfection. You shall be holy as the Lord your God is holy. And it’s not simply your words and your actions God knows and judges but your secret thoughts and sins, that you hide from your closest friends and even from yourself. And so you can’t look this God in the face. Shame and guilt and fear prevent it. As the hymn puts it, “The Law You gave to Moses came with a glory bright, And judgment still imposes on sinners in Your sight; My head in shame is bowing and sorrow whelms within, Because this light is showing My every secret sin.”


    But on the Mount of Transfiguration, what do you see. You see God’s glory shining again in the face of Jesus. It’s a brighter light, more glorious than the light on Mount Sinai. But Peter is not afraid. He’s bold. He can stare straight into Jesus’ face. He’s filled with joy. Why? Because here is the God-man who smiles on sinners, who climbs a Mount not to give the law but to pay what the law requires from us, to take away our guilt and our shame by spending his righteousness and glory on us.


    This is why Jesus tells Peter, James, and John not to tell a soul about what they had seen until He was risen from the dead. It’s only after the crucifixion that we can confess with Thomas, My Lord and my God. Here you know not simply God, but your God, not simply His glory, but the glory that serves You, the same glory the three disciples saw with their eyes on the Mount and we will see with our own eyes in the resurrection, that God is not our enemy, but our friend and our Brother, that He lays down His life for us, sheds His blood for us, rises from the dead to talk with us, to call us by name as He did Mary in the garden, to be with us always, as He promised, to feed us with living food and make us partakers of His divinity.


    St. Peter tells us about the Transfiguration. Not so that we can imagine we were there. But to point us to the sure Word of God that teaches us what this history means for us and our future. Peter was there. He saw Jesus in all His glory. But what He records isn’t the spectacular feelings and the awe he experienced. No, he records only the Father’s voice: This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. Listen to Him. Listen to Him. His Word is the word of Scripture, of the Bible, which you can hold in your hands, read, and see, and hear from this pulpit and at that altar. It is more sure than any sight of Jesus shining like the sun. Because it tells you why He shown like the sun. Listen to Him. The Bible is not a book of fables and myths. It is the sure word of Jesus your Savior. It records history, what actually happened in time and space. And it centers on this one beautiful fact, that your God has become one with you and lived for you and died for you, to make you one with Him.


    Look forward to the goal. The goal is to see Jesus in His glory. It’s not to leave behind the past. It’s to glory forever in the past. That your God has loved you to His death. That He has taken away all your shame and sin. That He has put His name on you in your Baptism. That He has blessed you through this vale of tears. That He has given you everything you need. That He has given you joys and helped you through the hard times. That He has kept you in the faith, kept you a child of God. That He has fed you with His body and blood. This is the foundation for your future here on this earth, to fight the good fight of faith, to dedicate yourself to reading and hearing the Word of your God, to pray to Him every morning and evening and everywhere in between, to live lives striving to obey Him as dear children obey their dear Father, to sacrifice our sinful pleasures to the pleasure of life lived under His grace, to love Him and one another, until you see Him in the glory which He has had from everlasting, the glory He spent with His blood to make you fit to be children of God, the glory He shares with you now and will be yours for everlasting and everlasting. Lord, grant this to us all. Amen.

  • Septuagesima

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Septuagesima, 2019


    Matthew 20:1-16




    It was St. Chrysostom who some 1600 years ago insisted that a parable, the kind of story Jesus so often tells, has one major point to it, that we shouldn’t be so concerned with all the details of a parable, but with the general message that it tells. Now this is very good advice for us to take to heart whenever we read the words of Jesus. His parables are about the Kingdom of God and each parable stresses one thing or another about this Kingdom. If you get too bogged down in the details, you may end up missing the forest for the trees, as they say. And so this is the first thing we need to stress this morning. This parable of the workers in the vineyard has one major point, that the Kingdom of heaven is ours, it belongs to us, by grace alone, solely because of God’s love for us, without any merit or worthiness in us. [Kids, I’m going to teach you a word. Grace means “undeserved love,” when we say we’re saved by grace, we’re saying that God doesn’t decide to love us because of how good we’ve been, but that He loves and forgives people who don’t deserve it at all, who’ve been bad, whose hearts were turned against him, who were his enemies, he loves us still. That’s grace.] Now we Christians should never grow tired of hearing this talk of grace. It’s God’s glory to love those who don’t deserve it and it’s our pride to be so loved. The Christian confesses: I know that I am unworthy, that my sins, as the psalmist says, are grown above my head, that I have been lazy and unmindful of God, that my sinful mind has hated my enemies and my sinful heart has lusted after this world’s treasures, my every sin reminds me of what David had to confess, that I am born in iniquity and in sin my mother conceived me, and so what pride can I have, except here in my God, in his grace, that He has loved a world so full of sin, that He chooses not to destroy me but to love me and prepare a Kingdom for me by the shedding of His precious blood, and then He calls me and coaxes me and compels me by His precious Word to live in His Kingdom, under His rule, where I am safe from sin and death and the devil, here in time and forever in eternity.


    That is the basic message of this beautiful parable from our Lord Jesus’ own lips. The Kingdom of God is ours by grace. And we need to keep it in our minds as we get into the details. Because the details, which didn’t fall from the Holy Spirit unawares, the details at every point explain this grace of God and how it applies to our lives in the here and now.


    The first detail is a warning. Jesus likes to give warnings to us. He’s our Lord and our teacher. And it’s a bad teacher who doesn’t warn his disciples against things that hurt them. What will harm you above all else in this world is to imagine in your heart that your God is fair. He’s not fair. And you don’t want Him to be fair. You want Him to be gracious. I remember being forced to sing a song in grade school, one of those religious ditties that we never teach our children at our church or our school, thank God, that said, “I don’t want to be a Pharisee. A Pharisee? Cuz they’re not fair, you see! I just want to be a sheep, bah, bah, bah, bah…” and so forth. Now besides the fact that teaching children such songs is totally counterproductive, since they’ll grow out of them faster than they grow out of their shoes, and the songs they should be learning are the great hymns that they will sing all their life with their families and churches and finally at their deathbed, that give them comfort in times of trial and pain, the kind of hymns we’re singing this morning actually, besides this, the message of this song is completely and totally wrong. The Pharisees were fair, you see. That’s the point. And Jesus wasn’t. Jesus is the one who told the criminal on the cross, who hadn’t done a good thing in his life, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Is that fair? Jesus welcomed prostitutes, home-wreckers, tax-collecting thieves, to eat with him, forgave them without them doing a thing to earn it. Is that fair? Of course not. And that’s what the Pharisees grumbled about constantly. He receives sinners and eats with them. It’s an offense. God should be fair. He should reward those who do good and punish those who do evil. He should give a denarius to those who worked all day and a couple pennies to those who worked for an hour. But He doesn’t.


    And if you want to be a sheep, a Christian, you will adore precisely this about your Shepherd, that he lays down His life for the unworthy, for the sinner, that He gives not according to our works but according to His grace. Now, to be clear, what is fair, and what the Pharisees didn’t get, and what our sinful flesh will never understand, why it needs to be put to death every day in repentance and faith, what is fair is that God send us all to hell, you and me and everyone, away from his presence forever. The law of God is relentless. It is unchangeable, the reflection of God’s own nature and holiness. It demands that we pay for our sins. That’s what’s fair. You don’t want God to be fair.


    Those workers in our parable who demanded they be rewarded for their works, who appealed to basic fairness with the owner of the vineyard, they were miserable. That’s the warning. To be a Christian is to love the God of grace. It brings contentment. It brings love for one another. It makes us delight that the sinner sitting next to us who we think should be better, should work harder, should stop annoying us, that this sinner receives the same love of God that we receive, eats the same body and blood given and shed for him, that God makes no distinction, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely through the redemption that is in  Christ Jesus.


    Just look at these workers demanding their fair treatment. They agreed to a denarius, but they’re not content when they get it. They’re filled with resentment against God, they despise their neighbor, they’re told to leave, because those who despise grace don’t belong in God’s Kingdom, and then they complain all the way out. Their hearts are eaten up, their souls are consumed by self-pity and self-righteousness, and wounded pride. This is no way to live. It’s an awful life. And this arrogance, this self-righteous attitude, this enemy of the gospel and of grace, it sits still in our sinful flesh and the devil will be happy to kindle it in us. He wants us to envy one another. He wants Christians to turn against Christians. He wants us judging one another, refusing to forgive one another, holding grudges against one another, thinking we are the righteous ones because of our conduct and in comparison to others. Root it out of your heart. The second you feel resentment because you’re working harder, because you’re the better Christian, because you’ve conquered some sin, because you know more theology, return to the Lord your God, and see you have never expected fairness from Him when you came grieved by your sins, ashamed at your conduct, no, you begged for mercy from the God who promised it to you and sealed it with His blood. And you have never received more joy or more contentment or confidence or security, than when you despaired completely of yourself and received from your Lord’s hand double for all your sins. You love the God of grace. And the God of grace has been so unfair that He has taken all your pain and punishment on Himself and made you a child of God.


    Now this is pure joy to know this. And this is the second detail. The Kingdom of God is compared to a vineyard. It’s not compared to a mine, or a factory, or a mill. It’s compared to a beautiful place, full of life, with the sole purpose of producing wine that brings joy to the hearts of men and of God. This isn’t an insignificant detail. Elsewhere Jesus compares His Kingdom to a wedding feast. He compares it to places of joy and happiness. This is why our Lord uses wine in the Supper. What we get in the vineyard, in the church, is not simply what we need for this life – you don’t need wine to live – but the joy of everlasting life. It’s a supernatural joy. And the blood of Jesus He gives in that wine is not simply to get us through the day or the week, but to give us an everlasting joy, to know that we are joined in mystical union with the God of hosts, who swallowed up the demands of the law by drinking the cup of His own wrath and then forgives us and loves us as children of His Father.


    The last detail is that everyone works in this vineyard. If you are a Christian you work, period. We aren’t saved by our works. We’re saved by grace. But God’s grace calls us precisely to work. This is what the parable is getting at when the owner of the vineyard scolds the men who were idle all day and didn’t come in till the eleventh hour. There’s no room for idleness in the Kingdom of God. He calls us to work. Now this work includes providing for your family and your church, of course, by working some sort of a job. If a man doesn’t work, neither shall he eat. The Apostle Paul says that he who does not work to support his own family is worse than an unbeliever. But your job, as an employee or as a mother or father or child, is never, ever, disconnected from your call into the vineyard, into the Church. You work as a Christian, period. Your whole life, every bit of it, is as a worker for your Lord Jesus, to do all things for Him and in obedience to His commandments.


    But notice how this work is described. It’s a beautiful thing. The pagan, unsatisfied workers who agreed to a denarius, they complain that they worked in the heat and the others, that is, the Christians, worked in the cool of the day. That’s because it’s a miserable thing to work simply for yourself, or worse, to work to make God pay you what you deserve. What does it get you? A denarius at the end of the day, right. To fill your belly till you return to the grave, for dust you are and to dust you shall return.


    But the psalmist says, “Arise, O Lord, Confront him, cast him down; Deliver my life from the wicked with Your sword, With Your hand from men, O Lord, From men of the world who have their portion in this life, And whose belly You fill with Your hidden treasure. They are satisfied with children, And leave the rest of their possession for their babes. As for me, I will see Your face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake in Your likeness.” This is to say what St. Paul tells us in our Epistle. That we run the race with purpose, with certainty of what lies ahead of us. An imperishable crown of life that will not fade away. Not simply for the pleasures of this world, where moth eats and rust destroys. No, we work under the God of grace, who gave water from a rock to his thirsty people and gives us the water of life that cleanses from all sins. And this lightens every load. Our work is in the vineyard in the cool of the evening. Our Lord Jesus says, “Come unto me all you who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and lowly of heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”


    Now look here at what Jesus says, that he does place a yoke on us, that’s to have us work, he does teach us, so that we learn from him, but it is not an awful burden. It’s how we find rest for our souls. And that’s because the work in this vineyard, all your work, all your life, is a work of joy; it begins and ends with the God of grace. This is the light and easy yoke of the Christian. What do we do in Christ’s Church, in the Kingdom of heaven? We hear Christ’s Word, we believe His Gospel, we receive into ourselves the body and blood of God Himself, we despise our sin and run to the God who forgives it freely for Christ’s sake, and in all this the God of grace gives us confidence that we are children of God, the apple of His eye.


    I know life can be hard as a Christian. Believe me, I know. Working through family problems, difficulty at work or at home, sins that fester, anxiety and pain, facing down temptations of every kind, all while we pray, “Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done.” This is why Jesus says that many are called but few are chosen. It looks, it feels, hard, and if left to ourselves we’d certainly ruin it all and give up the race. But this is also why Jesus’ parable is so comforting. He knows our weakness. He knows that we need his grace. He doesn’t leave us to ourselves. He calls us into His vineyard, gives us purpose in everything we do by rewarding us freely with life and mercy we could never have earned. He earned it. He bore the heat of the day. He shows Himself to be the God of grace. Not only does He cover us with His righteousness and make us perfect before Himself in heaven, He even cleanses all our works, like a father who sweeps the floor again after his little son does an awful job at it. He smiles at us, even at our imperfect works, because His grace covers every imperfection. That’s His grace. Complete and total. And life lived under His rule is the only life worth living





  • Sexagesima

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Sexagesima, 2019


    Luke 8:4-15




    St. Paul had a thorn in his flesh. That’s a metaphorical way of saying he had pain. A thorn in the flesh hurts. And Paul was hurting. What his pain was, we don’t know. He doesn’t tell us. Some have thought it was a disease in his eyes, because in his letter to the Galatians he hints twice that there’s something wrong with his vision. Others think Paul suffered from a constant temptation, some lust of the heart that wouldn’t go away or some constant anxiety. But we don’t know. What we do know is that he asked God to take his pain away three times. And God said no three times.


    The pain of Christians is different from the pain of unbelievers. It doesn’t look that way always. The sun sets and the rain falls on the just and the unjust, and pain comes to Christian and unbeliever alike. The difference isn’t in the level of physical pain or the rate of mental diseases or cancers or anything like that. The difference is that the unbeliever can only see his pain as meaningless. It’s the brain sending and receiving signals throughout the body. That’s it. Who’s to blame? It’s the random process of evolution that randomly causes it all. This is why the atheist French existentialists Camus and Sartre had to write tracts on why not to commit suicide as the obvious solution to pain without purpose. And it’s the reason the progressives in Europe and our own country are pressing hard for euthanasia, not only for old people in pain, but even for young people who just don’t want to live with pain anymore. Pain hurts. It has no purpose. And life has no purpose in the end. So why live with pain? That’s the question people actually ask, because that’s the mindset without God.


    But pain does have purpose. That’s what the Christian knows and the heathen and the practical atheist can’t know. If life has meaning, pain has meaning. The Christian knows life has meaning, because God exists, He created life, He lived our life, He experienced our pain, He died in suffering, and He destroyed what made life meaningless by shedding his blood to take away all sin. More that this, Jesus rose again from the dead to live the human life forever, God united to man forever, and life, human life has meaning. And so does our pain.


    God actually sends pain to us. There’s no getting around this. God’s in charge. He rules all things in heaven and on earth. His will is done. This is the struggle of the Christian, precisely in this, knowing that God is in control, knowing this God loves us, and yet we still have pain. God sends it. Why?


    Well He doesn’t do this to his Christians because he’s mad at us or because he’s punishing us. That can’t be. All his anger and all his punishment of your sin he has poured out on himself on the cross of his suffering. When you receive the absolution, when you take the Lord’s Supper,  when you hear the Gospel, you are not only hearing that your sins are forgiven, you are hearing God’s promise that he will not punish you for your sins here in time or forever in eternity, that he is not angry with you, that he will not make you suffer for the things you’ve done.


    But that doesn’t mean he won’t make you suffer. He will. Whom he loves he disciplines. Just as Christ suffered so do His Christians. We, as St. Paul says, are being conformed to the image of our Lord. St. Peter even insists that if you don’t suffer you are illegitimate children, fake Christians. It’s the common experience of all Christians that we suffer in this world. It’s God’s good and gracious will for your life.


    Pain and suffering are of course here on this earth because of sin. Read through Genesis chapters 1, 2, 3, and 4 and you’ll see it plainly. Adam and Eve sin and only then does pain come, pain in childbearing, pain in work, pain in marriage, pain in relationships, pain at unbelieving children, pain at death. That’s the history of Genesis. And that’s where it ends for the unbeliever. That’s all the significance of pain. Punishment and a curse from a God they don’t acknowledge.


    But the reason God sends us Christians pain is not to punish us, not to curse us, but to save us and bless us. He turns what is a curse for the unbelieving world into a fertile ground of his grace and blessing for His Christians.


    He calls his Word a seed. The Word that makes you a Christian, that keeps you a Christian, he calls it a seed. And God plants that seed in hearts that can’t receive his Word without Him preparing our hearts to receive it. And that takes pain. Why is there good soil? Soil needs to be plowed to take the seed deep down and produce fruit. Plowing means digging up the ground, removing rocks and uprooting thorns and weeds. And if the soil could talk it would ask the farmer exactly what we ask God when we’re in pain. Why are you doing this? It hurts. Every rock dug up, every weed uprooted tears me up. But obviously the soil won’t be good unless it suffers this pain. The seed can’t take root and thrive without this pain.


    Now I want to focus on a specific pain unique to Christians and universal to us, one that we all suffer. It’s the pain at seeing the unbelief in the world, and that often means the pain of seeing the unbelief in people we love very much. Not that we can see unbelief, but we can see its fruits – we can see the denial of the faith by what people say and what people do. We are our Father’s children, and as he wants all to be saved, so do we. And so it tears us up to see people reject the Word that would bring them eternal happiness and relief from sin and everlasting union with God.


    Our Gospel lesson records Jesus’ parable of the sowing of the seed and its rejection by the world, and the Church pairs this lesson very appropriately with our epistle and its talk of the Christian’s pain. It is a painful thing to see the devil rip the seed of the Word from the heart of your loved ones, friends, siblings, even children. It’s a painful thing to witness someone who we’ve seen with our own eyes rejoice at the Gospel fall because God sent him pain, tested him, as Jesus puts it, and he couldn’t understand it or take it. It’s a painful thing to see friends and loved ones and family members succumb to the cares and pleasures of the world and give up on the treasure of knowing the God who died for them.


    St. Paul had this pain. Maybe this was his thorn in the flesh. He talks about it. He says he has continual pain in his heart at the unbelief of his fellow Jews. He goes so far as to say he could wish that he be damned in their stead, that if only they would believe, he’d suffer hell for them. I’ve often wondered at Paul’s pain here. It’s a pain born only from Christian love. It’s Christ who suffered hell, who took the pain and punishment of all the unbelieving world on Himself, into His eternal Person. And it’s Christ’s disciples, His Christians, who mimic this pain by grieving over unbelief and experiencing the hell of thinking we could lose those we love to the devil.


    But this is where Jesus’ words to St. Paul are so comforting. My grace is sufficient for you. For my power is made perfect in weakness. What power? What is God’s power? This is, in the Greek, the exact same word, this word “power,” the exact same word St. Paul uses when he speaks of the Gospel. For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God for salvation to all who believe. That’s the power God makes perfect in weakness. When we see that the Word of God seems to have no effect, that people reject it, when we are made weak because we can’t seem to do anything about it, we have to realize that it is the power of the Gospel that has kept us Christians. It has. Nothing else. Not my works, not my will power, not my superior character and wisdom, only this beautiful treasure that God will not let me forget, what He has planted deep down in my soul, that God is my brother, that He has borne my every pain, that He has suffered for me and has shed His blood not only for me, but for all whom I love, that He loves them more than I do and has proved it by his cross, and this Word that has won me, a poor miserable sinner, and made me a child of God, this Word certainly has the power to win those who are now rocky and thorn-infested soil.


    The foolishness of it all, the utter ridiculousness of throwing seeds on a road, on rocks, into thorns, this is Jesus’ illustration of the absurdity of our God’s commitment to sinners, even those who have rejected Him. Remember He is the one who prayed for his torturers and mockers, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” He is intent on saving the world. That’s why He died for the world. And you know the power of His Gospel, the strength and comfort it gives to you in your weakness. Don’t doubt its power. Pray for those you love who are not Christians. Pray for them and don’t stop, and if you have stopped, start again, don’t stop confessing the truth to them of the God who saved the world He created from the depths of sin and from the fear of death. And then pray again that God’s Word would take root. The same Gospel that comforts you in your pain has the power of God’s own blood and mercy to save all who hear and believe it.


    Just look at this Word of God. Read your Bibles and see what it has done. By it Jesus defeated the devil and all his temptations. By it the adulterer David, the thief Matthew, the denier of Christ Peter were humbled and brought back to faith in Jesus. By it the apostles and martyrs suffered the loss of all things, even gave up their lives, for the joy of knowing that not even death could end their gladness, because they were baptized into Christ.


    This is why no matter the pain we suffer as Christians, whether it is physical or caused by spiritual struggle, we confess and believe God sends it to us to drive us to His Word, to His power, made perfect in our weakness. This is why Paul boasted in his pain. He could have boasted about his revelation of heaven. He was there. He saw all the joys and the painless and sinless existence before God that awaits all who are found in Christ. He saw things it isn’t lawful for a man to utter. And then he returned to this world and again suffered pain, his thorn in the flesh. And he boasted of this, of his suffering. Because in his suffering he learned the power of God. He learned what angels desire to look into. Think of that, the angels who enjoy eternal bliss in heaven desire to look into the power of this Gospel that we have. This is what gave Paul hope, what gives us hope, not only for ourselves but for this world.


    I know how bad it’s become. The temptations of the world and the devil just seem to increase. Cat Stevens sang, “It’s a wild world.” And then Cat Stevens went from being a pot-smoking, fornicating hippy to a radical Muslim enthusiast. That about sums up our world. It’s a wild one. So many temptations. And as we pray for those the world has enthralled and led away from the faith, as we suffer this pain and watch ourselves so that we aren’t tempted with the same, we need to see that whatever pain we suffer we suffer because our God loves us. He hasn’t abandoned us. If we are faithless, he is faithful, he cannot deny himself.


    God never says that he won’t give you more than you can handle. People think the Bible says that, but it never does. At least it doesn’t word it like that. It says he’ll always give you a way of release, to fight against temptations. And the point here is that God does give you more than you can handle. You can’t keep yourself a Christian. You can’t convert your loved ones to the faith. You can’t deal with your pain or your weakness by yourself. That’s the point. But God never gives you anything He can’t handle. And so when He sends pain into your life, He’ll handle it. He’ll give you His power. He’ll show you by His Word, by His body and blood shed for you, that He is intent on saving you and all whom you love, that you have joy in Him even in, especially in, the pain of this life. And it’s a joy that will never end. Pain will end. Temptations will be a thing of the past. The devil will not always attack. Sin will not be remembered. Because your God has conquered them all, endured them all, and He conquered them through His suffering. The word of His pain is our strength. It is the power that overcomes the world. As his disciples languished in pain, our Savior said to them, “In the world you will have pain, but be of good courage, I have overcome the world.” And He overcomes it by the pain and death that will end all pain and death and that you now partake of as you cling to His Word. It endures forever, it’s powerful to save, trust in it, confess it, pray for it, and leave the rest to God, to keep you throughout this life until you see your Savior’s face in heaven. God grant it to us all. Amen.

  • Quinquagesima

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Quinquagesima, 2019


    Luke 18:31-43; 1 Corinthians 13



    I grew up listening to the oldies, the songs of the sixties that my mom constantly played in our 86 Suburban. I still remember the radio station, 95.7 FM, WZTR, Milwaukee. There came a time that I had listened to so many oldies that they all blended together and I realized they all said basically the same thing. They were all about love. This guy loves that girl, this girl broke that guy’s heart, all you need is love, what the world needs now is love sweet love. And it turns out this is always the case with songs and with poetry. Most of it’s about love. The ancient poets sang about it and the modern poets continue the long tradition. People are obsessed with love.


    But rarely do the singers or poets define love. They talk and talk about it, but what is it? Most times it’s what the Greeks called eros, where we get our word erotic. It’s a romantic love, the love that fills the teenager with butterflies and makes her feel good as she gets attention from the cute boy. Or it’s a lustful love, the love that gives me satisfaction, because it’s centered on me and the way it makes my body feel. Or it’s a selfish love, what our modern Oprahs have euphemistically named self-esteem, where the goal is to find fulfillment for myself, not for others.


    The Greeks had four words for love. Eros was sexual love. Storge was the love of affection for others, like a child for his mother. Philia was the familial, brotherly love and affection between friends and siblings and spouses. And agape was the love of God, a completely selfless love, self-sacrificial and self-giving. So they distinguish between these four kinds of love.


    We, by contrast, have only one word for love, and we try to capture all these different kinds of love under this one word. And this leads to a lot of confusion in our conversations about love today. Just think about it. We use the same word for a teenager’s uncontrollable urge for sexual gratification as we use for a mother’s affection for her child. We use the same word for a man’s lust for another man as we use for a husband and wife’s commitment to each other in marriage. We use the same word for our passion for watching football or for skiing or hunting as we use for Christ’s passion on the cross. We use love for so many different types of emotion and feeling, that the word has become close to meaningless.


    A great example of this confusion is the rally cry, “Love wins.” It was first, I think, the title of a book by a heretic named Rob Bell who declared in direct contradiction to the Bible, that no one goes to hell forever and that everyone, no matter what he believes or does, will end up in heaven. Because God’s love wins. Later love wins became the hashtag slogan for the LGBTQ community after the Supreme Court forced homosexual marriage on all 50 states in 2015. Just this week the global Methodist Church voted by a slim majority, mostly because the Methodists of Africa and Asia were there and still believe the Bible is the Word of God, the Methodists voted to affirm that marriage is between one man and one woman and to forbid their clergy to officiate at so-called homosexual weddings. The outrage from the American progressives both inside and outside the Methodist Church has focused in on this one word – love. They announced that the Africans and Asians were against love. And the hashtag lovewins was accompanied all over the internet by statements like, “We’ve still got a lot of work to do,” which of course means that the progressive Bible-deniers need to teach the Africans and Asians to stop believing what the Bible says about love.


    But the Africans and Asians at the Methodist convention clearly thought that love had won out. They use the same word, “love,” but with a different meaning. Lovewins could be their hashtag. They voted for agape, not unrestrained eros, not sexual freedom. They upheld the hard love of God’s Word. When I was a child I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child, but when I became a man I put off childish things. It is a childish thing to define love according to what I desire. That’s literally how my one-year-old son thinks. My son Isaac asks for beer every time he sees me drink it. He runs up with a cup and grunts at me. His reasoning is simple. I want beer. Dad should give beer to me. But that’s not the way love works. Love sometimes says no to our desires.


    The fact is that the only way we get a consistent, objective meaning for love is if we get it from God, who is love. We have to define love not according to what our culture today wants, because that will change based on our desires, but according to what the Bible says, because the Word of the Lord endures forever. Our Epistle lesson uses the word agape for love all the way through. It’s the love of God for us and the love we then return to God and to one another. It’s a selfless love. And that means we don’t define this love, base what this love is, on our selfish desires. No, among all the things love does, being patient and kind, and all the things it doesn’t do, not envying or boasting or being arrogant or rude, all things that make us check our own desires, we have this beautiful description of agape, of God’s love and our love as Christians – Love does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.


    Now we know the truth to be our Lord Jesus. He is the way, the truth, and the life. And to speak of truth is to speak of something objective, something that never changes. The love our culture promotes changes. That’s beyond dispute. 10 years ago every major candidate for presidential office, Republican or Democrat, thought marriage should be between one man and one woman. Now it would be impossible to win the presidential primary in the Democrat party without affirming that it is the most reprehensible thing in all the world, for which we should be utterly ashamed, to say that marriage is only between one man and one woman. Instead we’re told that everyone in every culture in every time since the beginning of recorded history has been wrong, and only the progressive Europeans and Americans are correct. Well, they’ve been correct for precisely 7 years, and who knows what love will be in 7 more years. I don’t mean to be flippant here or political for that matter. Only to illustrate that a truth that changes is worth nothing. Because it will just change again. You can’t base your life on a truth that changes. You can’t base your confidence on a truth that changes, or your hope of things to come. If you want to know who you are, why you’re here on this earth, how you should act, why life matters, you need a truth that is eternal and will never change forever.


    This is the truth Jesus speaks today in our Gospel and the truth the blind beggar loves with all his heart. God has spoken. Nothing can change what He says. Jesus Himself, before He took on flesh in the womb of the virgin Mary, inspired the prophets to preach that He would come, that He would be mocked and spit upon and betrayed and killed and rise again the third day. Nothing can change this truth. Jesus Himself submits to it. And let’s be clear about what this truth is. It’s God’s love through and through. But love does not rejoice at wrongdoing. God does not rejoice at sin, at the violation of his creation and his love. Every infraction of love, and that, to be clear, isn’t only the things we Christians are so righteously opposed to in our culture, homosexuality and abortion and fornication, but also our gossiping, our pride, our apathy toward God and His Word, our tempers, our lust, our cowardice in the face of temptation, all of it, God’s love cannot abide, will never rejoice in. You shall be holy as your Father in heaven is holy. And this same love of God rejoices in the truth of God’s love for sinners, which never ignores sin, but puts it on our Lord Jesus. Our Lord Jesus has the spittle of sinners on His sacred face, He bears shame and disgrace, He suffers hell and torment, because His love required this of Him, that His love must win, that sin must be paid for, and that God pays it. That’s love.


    Of what this paltering world calls love, I will not know, I cannot speak, I know but his who reigns above, and his is neither mild nor weak. Hard even unto death is this and smiting with its awful kiss. What was the answer of God’s love of old when in the olive grove, in anguished sweat his own Son lay, and prayed O take this cup away? Did God take from him then the cup? No child his Son must drink it up. (Brand, Ibsen)


    And blind Bartimaeus, that’s the name of this beggar, he knows it. And nothing can stop Him from confessing it. Love rejoices in the truth. He loves his Lord Jesus. He loves the God who became a man. And so he prays the prayer we learn to pray, what we will pray so often now in the Lenten season, “Lord, have mercy on me.” The greatest part of our Gospel is in blind Bartimaeus’ refusal to let anyone stop him from calling out to his Savior. Stop it, they say. Don’t be so foolish. You’re blind, you don’t know better. Jesus is not such a man that you can trouble Him with your problems. No, the blind man refuses even to think it. The disciples didn’t understand, despite all their learning, after three years with Jesus, they still trusted in their eyes, and refused to understand that this Jesus must suffer and die a miserable death to save them. They were blind to it. But the blind man saw it. They tell him Jesus of Nazareth is passing by. But he doesn’t call Jesus, Jesus of Nazareth. He confesses who Jesus is. He is the Son of David. He is the King Micah prophesies will come out of Bethlehem to shepherd His people Israel. He is the God-man who will have mercy on sinners. And so the blind man sees what no one else does.


    And this we need to take to heart. Your senses will not get you where you need to be. Your desires will not show you what love is. Jesus will. His Word will. And it is only when you are blind to everything else, blind to your pride, blind to your unworthiness, blind to everything the world sees and declares right and loving, that you will see what the blind man saw. They tell him not to cry out to Jesus, not to be a beggar. That’s the devil, that’s your pride, that’s your anxiety. The blind man defies them all. Because he sees what no eye can see. That God’s glory is to have mercy on sinners. That because He commits Himself to die for us, He commits Himself to listen to our prayers for mercy on our bodies and our souls.


    Joshua once called out to God to make the Sun stop and give light for an extra day. Man spoke and God listened and gave light. The blind man cried out, Son of David have mercy on me, and the Sun of Righteousness stopped and gave light to his eyes. This cry of mercy stops the Sun of Righteousness in his tracks, God listens to man. He stops and pays attention to us, and gives us light, to know His love, to find our salvation in Him, and to learn to love one another.


    Jesus speaks with confidence in our Gospel. He knows the truth of the Bible and He speaks it whether people understand it or not. And the blind man imitates Him. He speaks with confidence. He prays in confidence. He brushes off those who mock his confidence. Because he knows the truth. And this is our calling as Christians. We don’t confess to be right, we don’t pray to nurse our pride. That’s not what Bartimaeus did and it’s not what Jesus did. But we are confident. We confess the truth and we pray to our God because we know our need and we love the God who has loved us to His death.


    Pray because you know the truth. And that means humility. We are approaching the Lenten season. On Wednesday we will gather again to hear that we are dust and to dust we shall return. And our prayer will be over and over again, Lord have mercy. Have mercy on our nation. Have mercy on those lost in errors’ ways. Have mercy on our families. Have mercy, dear Lord. And this prayer is powerful. We Christians have prayed it since the world began and we’ll pray it till the world ends. It’s powerful because it stands on the truth that will never change, on the God who has guaranteed by His own blood that His mercy will never fail, on the love of God and the truth that endures forever. Let us pray:


    Grant, Lord, I pray,

    Thy grace each day

    That I, Thy Law revering,

    May live with Thee

    And happy be


    Before Thy throne appearing.


  • Lent 1 - Invocavit

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Invocavit, 2019


    Matthew 4:1-11



    Jesus fasted for forty days and forty nights. Why did he do that? The whole idea of fasting seems to us American Lutherans a hopelessly medieval practice, something for monks, something the pope used to force on his followers. And here we do have a point. The practice of fasting has been terribly abused. In Luther’s day the Pope and his priests taught fasting could earn grace and forgiveness from God. And Luther complained that people were taught to fast and yet were never taught to be good husbands and wives, or obedient children, to to work hard at their jobs, or to be respectful to authority, actual good works that God actually commands, that affect our everyday lives. Instead to be religious meant to fast and pray the rosary and make a pilgrimage to Rome, things God never commands. So Lutheranism and Protestantism in general is steeped in an anti-fasting tradition. We don’t tell people they have to fast. That’s catholic.


    But this really does need some clarification. We have to remember first of all that to be a Lutheran means to be a Christian, to follow Jesus, and we follow Jesus by following the actual words of Jesus in the Bible. We can’t just say, well I’m a Lutheran and Lutherans don’t have to fast. That’s what we call begging the question. Do we need to fast? That’s the question. And it’s Jesus who needs to answer. Not the last 100 years of American Lutheran tradition. Jesus. That’s the Christian way, the Lutheran way.


    Let’s look at what Jesus actually says about fasting. We heard on Wednesday that he condemns the practice of bragging about your fasting, he says, When you fast, don’t be like the hypocrites who disfigure their faces, so that they may be seen by others, but anoint your head and wash your face, which is all to say, when you fast, don’t brag. Notice, though, He doesn’t say if you fast. He says when you fast. He simply expects it to happen. It’s the same thing when the disciples of John the Baptist come to Jesus and ask why they fast and Jesus’ disciples don’t. Jesus says his disciples don’t fast now, because Jesus is with them and it’s a happy time, but when Jesus is taken away then they will fast. So again, Jesus says there will be times when his followers fast. Fasting comes up again when Jesus returns from the Mount of Transfiguration and finds that his disciples couldn’t cast a demon out of a boy. So Jesus casts the demon out, and his disciples ask him why they couldn’t do it - here they’ve been casting our demons for years and this one they couldn’t cast out - and Jesus tells them this kind of demon can only be cast out by prayer and by fasting. And besides all this we know Jesus Himself fasted, here before his temptation, and other times when he was praying by himself.


    Jesus, in other words, not only fasts Himself but expects it of his disciples. And this is reflected even in Lutheran tradition. Despite all the abuses of fasting in the Roman Catholic Church and their horrible teaching that it can merit something from God, still Luther approved of fasting, fasted himself, and fasting even makes it into our Small Catechism, we  memorize this in the section on the Lord’s Supper: Who receives this sacrament worthily? Fasting and bodily preparation are certainly fine outward training, but he is truly worthy and well prepared who has faith in these words, given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins. Fasting is fine outward training, we say, and Luther could have added, not only fine, but godly, something Jesus himself did and approves of. 


    The old Latin proverb says, Abusus non tollit usum. The abuse of something doesn’t take away its proper use. Everything good can be abused. Sex outside of marriage doesn’t make sex inside marriage bad. People getting drunk doesn’t make alcohol bad. Granola heads worshipping the environment doesn’t make the environment bad. Sinners will abuse everything good. Even church, even the Lord’s Supper, even fasting. But fasting isn’t catholic any more than praying is Catholic. Both come down to us with approval from our Lord Jesus.


    Now we’ve talked a lot about fasting without actually saying what it is, why Jesus did it, and why we should do it. So that’s what we’ll do now.


    What is fasting? It’s giving something up. In Jesus’ time that usually meant food, but it could be alcohol or anything else the body craves. And this practice, if you look at why it’s done in the Old and New Testaments and when it’s done, you’ll see fasting never happened just for itself, it was never some self-contained religious thing that was just there to make a person feel holy. No, Christians did it at specific times and for specific reasons. Look at King David. When do you see him fasting? It’s after he commits adultery with Bathsheba and kills her husband Uriah, when God tells him that his son born from his adultery will die, that’s when David fasts. But that fasting was accompanied by constant prayer. He didn’t want to eat. He had higher concerns than his belly. That’s the point. He wanted a better thing, and it consumed his life, that his son would live, that God would have mercy. So fasting and praying and reflecting on the God of mercy went together. Look at another famous example. The people of Nineveh, who fast when Jonah preaches that God will destroy their city. Once again their fasting wasn’t a thing in itself. They were praying, calling on God for mercy, mourning over sin, and eating was totally secondary to their minds.


    But the best example is Jesus Himself. Why does he fast? Well our Gospel tells us. Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. So he fasts because he’s going to be tempted by the devil. I think most people look at this and think Jesus is purposely becoming weak here and vulnerable. And there’s something to that. He was hungry after forty days. He was weak. And it’s a comfort to us to know that he faced down the devil in our place, becoming weak and vulnerable like us but doing what we could not do, so that we conquer in him. It’s why we can sing, “Satan here this proclamation, I am baptized into Christ, drop your ugly accusation, I am not so soon enticed, now that to the font I’ve traveled all your might has come unraveled, and against your tyranny, God my Lord unites with me.” God my Lord unites with me. That is, he took on my flesh and weakened himself to bear my sin and be in my place, and as my substitute, in my place, a man like me, he conquered you, devil, and He’s given his victory to me.” And this is all true. His fasting did make him bodily, physically weak, and He did conquer the devil in or place. But the purpose of his fasting wasn’t only to make him weak. Remember fasting is never alone.


    No, Jesus is fasting precisely to meet the devil in the strength of God’s Word. For forty days he’s meditating on God’s Word. For forty days he’s got better things to do than eat. For forty days He’s praying to his Father for strength to meet the devil’s temptations. For forty days He’s telling His body that bread isn’t as important as God’s Word, that he’d rather go without food than without hearing the voice of His Father. For forty days he’s teaching his soul that His Father is never to be tested but always to be trusted. For forty days he’s training his heart and mind to worship God alone as the giver of all good things and to trust that His good will will be done. His fasting doesn’t serve its own purpose. It serves the purpose of strengthening his soul. And that doesn’t happen without prayer and God’s word. That’s why Jesus so beautifully answers the devil’s temptations. Every time with the word of God, with a quote from the Bible. Because this is what he’s been thinking about, meditating on, for forty days. That’s the point of his fasting.


    Now we come to why we should fast. And here I’m not telling you to fast for forty days. I’m not telling you anything specific at all. I don’t have the authority to do that. Neither does the Roman Pope, by the way, because Jesus never says a word about when, how, how often, how long you should fast. So there can be no order not to eat meat on Fridays. Besides, that’s just an excuse to eat deep-fried fish, which is hardly a fast, right? But there is this fact, that Jesus fasts and that he says his disciples will fast. Let’s take that seriously.


    Fasting is simply giving something up. It’s to teach ourselves self-control, to deny the body something we want, so that we don’t make a god out of it. But it’s always, and this I can’t stress enough because the Bible stresses it constantly, fasting is always combined with prayer and the study of God’s Word. Otherwise it’s useless. At least it’s useless for faith. It might be quite helpful to deny yourself food if you want to lose weight, but there’s nothing specifically Christian about that, right? Giving up alcohol is exactly what an alcoholic should do, but I know many people who’ve done it without praying to Jesus or believing in him. Fasting can be done, in other words, by atheists, by Jews, by Hindus. It’s not Christian at all unless you combine your fasting with fighting the devil, as Jesus teaches us.


    Now the devil doesn’t appear to us as a serpent as he did to Eve. He doesn’t appear in bodily form as he most likely did with Jesus in the wilderness. But he does tempt us with the same sort of things as he tempted Jesus. Turning bread into stones is the temptation of the devil to satisfy our bodies over our souls. There’s nothing wrong with satisfying your body, of course, God wouldn’t tell you to pray for daily bread if satisfying your body’s needs were bad. But it’s this preferring the body’s immediate needs over your body and soul’s need for God and heaven, this is what the temptation is. And this temptation is everywhere. Parents, do you ever not feed your children? Do they go a day without food? I hope not. Don’t make your children fast for an entire day. But do you go a day without giving them God’s word, without praying with them? Jesus answers the devil by telling him, “Man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” That’s how you defeat the devil. Teach your kids not just with words but by example, by regular church attendance and regular prayer at home and regular reading of the Bible, that God’s Word is more important than food, that just as you would never think of denying them food for their bodies you wouldn’t dream of denying them food for their souls. And this goes for all of us, not just parents. We need to teach this to ourselves. And this itself will be a fast for you. When you devote time to prayer, to reading God’s word, you’ll be giving up time for other stuff, whether that’s TV or sleeping in or whatever. That’s a fast. It happens naturally. Fasting and feeding the soul go together.


    Jumping off the pinnacle of the temple is the next temptation, to which Jesus responds, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” Once again, the devil doesn’t appear in bodily form to tempt us to put God to the test, but it is the devil’s temptation. And we do feel it. Probably the most common one the devil uses over and over again for Christians, because we know our God’s grace, we know His love, we know that He is more ready to forgive than we are to ask for it, we know that He has guaranteed our forgiveness by His own blood, so the most common temptation the devil pushes is to test God’s forgiveness, to pursue some pet sin, to drink the drink that puts you over the edge, to say the words that cut down your neighbor, to look at the filth on the internet to satisfy your lust, all with the thought that God will just forgive you anyway. What does Jesus respond? Don’t put the Lord your God to the test. Don’t do it. It’s the devil’s lie that since you’re a sinner you can’t keep yourself from outward sin. You can’t stop the sin of your heart, that’s true, but you can certainly stop your finger from clicking or your tongue from flapping. Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall. No temptation has overcome you that is not common to man. God is faithful. He will not allow you to be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of release, so that you may be able to endure it. Or as St. Paul says in another place, “You stand by faith. Do not be haughty, but fear.”


    But look to whom Jesus says, “Don’t put the Lord your God to the test.” He says it to the devil. And this, this, is something we need to learn to do. Say it to the devil. In time of temptation. It’s how we sing, right? Satan I defy thee, we sing. Satan here this proclamation I am baptized into Christ. Satan, you wicked one, own now your Master. Satan’s the tempter. That’s what he’s named in verse 3 of our Gospel. The tempter. Call him that, and you’ll be putting whatever sin you’re tempted to do in perspective. It’s not what I’ve been called to do. That’s what we say. I’m a child of God. I’m not the devil’s slave. For you died and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. That’s what happened to you in your Baptism. And once again, this battle with the devil will work with fasting. Are you gossiping on Facebook? Fast from it. Is the internet causing you to stumble into sexual sins? Fast from it. Is alcohol getting you drunk? Fast from it. But don’t just fast. Replace it. Pray, Jesus says to his disciples when they’re in the Garden of Gethsemane, Pray, that you not be led into temptation.


    Finally there is the temptation of pride. That’s what worship of the devil is. The devil is the prince of pride. A beautiful description of hell, if that’s possible to say, is found in the Russian author Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov, where a monk says that hell is unbridled pride, where the devil doesn’t care that he can’t win, doesn’t care that God has redeemed the world, doesn’t care that God is superior. He is so consumed with self-importance that even if God offered him an olive branch, even if God would welcome him to join his side, leave behind sin and evil, forgive him, he wouldn’t want it, he’d rather suffer, because then he can keep his pride. And this, this is exactly what he tries to excite in us. Why has God blessed that man and not me? Why has he put pain in my life? If I ruled the world, I’d do better. I’d see that the wicked got what’s coming to them and the innocent never suffered. I’d right the wrongs. No. God will. And He’ll do it in His time and in His way. And every objection to that is simply self-worship, no matter how pious it seems. Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord. He is the King of righteousness. He is the provider of every good thing. Or as Jesus puts it, “Away from me Satan, for it is written, You shall worship the Lord your God and Him alone shall you serve.”


    And it is precisely in worshipping him, the Lord alone, that we will find our protection from the devil and our strength to live the Christian life. Jesus’ last statement to the devil is not just an example for us to follow but his command to us to trust in Him. Worship this God, the true God, and Him alone. He is the One who has defeated the devil in your human flesh. With might of ours can naught be done, soon were our loss effected. But for us fights the valiant One, whom God Himself elected. Ask ye who is this? Jesus Christ it is. Of Sabaoth Lord. And there’s none other God. There’s none other God than this one, who defeated the devil in our place, who overcame all his temptations, who lived the righteous life that now robes us in purity, who shed His blood and bruised His heel when He crushed the devil’s head. This is the God who holds the field forever. He is our Brother who fights for us.


    So fight against the devil. Fight him with the word of your Savior. Fast and give up whatever you need to give up that leads you into temptation. Conquer with your Lord Jesus. But when you fail, don’t ever, ever listen to the devil’s worst temptation, that God does not forgive and love you. God has really said it. It is finished. This is my body given for you, my blood shed for you. Would Jesus allow himself to be tempted, would God submit himself to fast in the wilderness and study the Word he himself inspired, would he face down the devil in your place, if He were not for you, if He were not only God, but your God, your Savior? If the Son so loveth me, God must have compassion. He’s by our side upon the plain with His good gifts and spirit. And Christian faith cries out, no matter what, through life and death and temptation, His Kingdom remains our forever and ever. God grant it to us all. Let us pray:


    Lord Jesus who dost love me,


    Now spread thy wings above me,


    And shield me from alarm


    Though Satan would devour me,


    Let angel guards watch o’er me.


    This child of God shall meet no harm.

  • Lent 2 - Reminiscere


  • Lent 3 - Oculi

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Oculi, 2019


    Luke 11:14-28



    Jesus engages here in what we today call apologetics. Apologetics means defending the faith, using reason and common sense to defend the truth of what the Bible says. This is what Jesus is doing. People are explaining away the fact that He just cast a demon out of a man. The man couldn’t hear and couldn’t talk. Now he can. They couldn’t deny what was right in front of them, so they tried to explain it away. This is what unbelievers do. Jesus must be doing it by the power of Beelzebub, the prince of the demons. That’s their explanation. Now I want first to stress here that Jesus doesn’t shy away from arguing with them. He doesn’t turn the other cheek here. You do that if you get personally insulted, not if the truth of Christianity is at stake. Then you argue. Jesus hears Himself and the Christian truth mocked, and He responds by refuting them with sound reason and Scripture, and then challenging them to explain how it is that this miracle really took place.


    Second, what we need to see is that Jesus isn’t just responding to the scoffers, to the blasphemers, who mock God, he’s responding in front of the crowd, in front of everyone. Our Gospel tells us there are three types of people Jesus is dealing with. Some wondered at what Jesus did. That’s because they were Christians and believed in Him. Some wanted more proof, wanted a sign from heaven. That’s because they were weak and riding the fence as to whether they should follow Jesus or not. And some were scoffers, because they hated Jesus. And Jesus speaks in front of all. This is a lesson for us. When we defend the faith to scoffers, it may seem useless, because they’re not convinced, but when others are there, they need your confession. They need it. Our children need it, and our neighbor needs it.


    Let me tell you a story to illustrate. Yesterday I yelled downstairs because I heard my son yell, “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” I thought he was yelling at a sibling, and that’s no way to talk to your brother or sister, so I yelled down and said Don’t talk like that to the people you love. He responded, “To the TV?”  Well, it turns out Dad was wrong, and my son was yelling at some show he and his brothers and sisters were watching on PBS kids. I wonder where he learned that from? Some nature show was talking about a certain toad that evolved millions of years before the dinosaurs, and my son refuted the scoffer. He argued with the TV. And the beauty is that the scoffer couldn’t even hear it. So what’s the point at yelling at the TV? Because all his brothers and sisters were listening to the scoffer, that’s why. And when scoffers scoff in front of believers, we should argue with them, even if it doesn’t help the scoffer, because it will help those around us who believe or are weak. That’s why Jesus responds the way he does. For the sake of his sheep. And that’s the point of apologetics, of defending the faith, so that those who believe or are doubting the truth aren’t led astray by lies and attacks on Christianity. We need to learn to do this, whether in watching TV or listening to the radio or in our everyday conversation. We always defend the faith, we don’t take insults to Christianity; we take insults to ourselves, not to the truth. Always be ready to give a defense for the faith that is in you.


    Now let’s take a look at Jesus’ words. He makes a common-sense argument, one so obviously true that everyone will have to agree. A kingdom divided against itself cannot stand. A house divided falls. Satan doesn’t fight against Satan. If people want to scoff at Christianity, deny Jesus is the Son of God, if they want to deny that the reason He does miracles is because the Kingdom of God has come among them, they’ll have to find another way to do it.


    But Jesus isn’t done. He backs up common-sense with history and the Bible. “But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, surely the Kingdom of God has come upon you.” The finger of God is a reference to our Old Testament text. Look what happened there. When Moses came to Pharaoh and told him to let the Lord’s people go, he performed miracles. Even before the plagues, he has Aaron drop his staff and it becomes a serpent. But Pharaoh calls his magicians and they do the same thing. They drop their staffs and the staffs become snakes, whether through some magic trick or through the power of the devil. So Pharaoh can explain away the miracle and hardens his heart. Then God sends the first plague, the waters turn to blood. And again, Pharaoh calls his magicians, and they do the same thing, turn water red, and Pharaoh again explains the miracle away. It’s only at the third plague, when God sends gnats, when Aaron strikes the dust of the ground and it turns into flying pests, it’s here that Pharaoh’s magicians can’t copy it, can’t replicate it. And they turn to Pharaoh and say, “This is the finger of God.”


    The point is that eventually you can’t deny that God is at work. No other explanation suffices. No reasonable objections or natural explanations hold water. The Stronger Man is at work. And Jesus is telling everyone, the scoffers and the believers and the doubters, all of them, that here, at His miracle, they’re faced with a decision. Either you are with Him or you are against Him. Either you’re going to harden your heart like Pharaoh and deny what’s right before your eyes, or you’re going to have to bow down and accept that this man is God almighty, deny yourself, and follow Him.


    In St. John’s Gospel, Jesus calls this the crisis that faces humanity. It’s translated judgment in our English Bibles, but the Greek has the word crisis. And we are all faced with it. It’s exactly what Jesus is arguing here. We are faced with a choice that involves our bodies and our souls, all of us. The miracles recorded in the Bible are history. People witnessed them. They tried to explain them away, but they didn’t deny they happened. And the great miracle, the great sign, that God has come into the world in Jesus Christ our Lord, is His resurrection. It’s history. Jesus was dead. He rose three days later, and hundreds witnessed Him alive. He ate with them, talked with them, showed them his hands and his feet, they touched Him, He taught them. And this is the crisis, the choice, that faces all humanity, what Jesus sent his apostles to the ends of the earth to teach, what we ourselves have heard, why St. Paul says, “Today, when you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts as in the day of rebellion,” why Jesus says, “Blessed are those who hear the Word of God and keep it.” There is no other alternative. If we believe the historical truth of what we just confessed, that “Jesus was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate, suffered and was buried and the third day rose from the dead,” then we must know what Jesus tells us here, “Surely the Kingdom of God has come among you.”


    And this has everyday, complete and total, application to our lives in the here and now. That’s the end, the goal of arguing for the truth of the Bible. It’s not to be intellectually right, to just win an argument to satisfy our pride and our own opinion. No, this is the fight for the truth that sets us free, for the words of eternal life, for meaning of life and death and everything we say and do. The Kingdom of God is not an abstraction. It’s not somewhere up in the sky, in heaven. It’s here, as Jesus says, “The Kingdom of God does not come with observation, but is among you,” right here. It’s the actual rule of God, an active thing, that Jesus has captured your heart, the Holy Spirit has convinced you of the truth of His resurrection. This isn’t just head knowledge, some recitation of facts, but the truth of history that rules our souls and our minds, so that we are devoted to the Lord who bought us with His blood and conquered the devil and our sin and gives us new lives to live in faith toward Him and fervent love to one another.


    This is why Jesus describes his conquering of the devil the way he does. He calls the devil a strong man. He calls himself the stronger man. And when the Stronger Man defeats the devil, when He makes Christians of us, He says he despoils the devil, He takes from him his armor in which he trusted. Now, the Greek here for armor is panoplia, it literally means “all weapons.” It’s not just the devil’s armor that Jesus takes away, but his weapons, his temptations, his lie that we belong to him, that our sins are our happiness, that life is to be lived for ourselves, because today we eat, drink, fornicate, and are merry, and tomorrow we die. Jesus takes these weapons from him.


    Now how does Jesus do it? He does it by His Word. That’s why he responds to the woman in our Gospel, “No, rather, blessed are those who hear the Word of God and keep it.” It’s our Baptism that gives us the confidence to say we are children of God, that our sins are forgiven, that we are not slaves to sin but free to love as our God has loved us, because we bear the name of the Holy Trinity. It’s the body and blood of our Brother and God, placed into our mouths, that makes us certain that we live forever by the life of our Lord given up to death and raised on the third day. It’s every word that proceeds from the mouth of God that instructs us in what is good and pleasing to our Creator and tells us to pray to our Father in heaven as dear children ask their dear father. These are our weapons. They are, as St. Paul describes them, the sword of the Spirit, the breastplate of righteousness. That’s how we beat back the devil, as we sing, “Rise to arms, with prayer employ you, O Christians, lest the foe destroy you.”


    This is what Jesus stresses. We live by God’s Word. Period. We either fight with God’s weapons or the demon comes back with seven other demons more wicked than himself and takes back his home. We either fight with God’s Word, or we lose. This is why Martin Luther refused to baptize the children of those who never came to church and thought of baptism as some lucky charm. Baptism will do no one any good unless he also hears the Word of God and keeps it. That’s what we’re baptized to do. What children of God want to do.


    The house, Jesus says, is swept clean. That’s Jesus’ description of the one who has been baptized, from whom the devil has been cast out, but who begins to think only of this world, who has no interest in defending the truth of God’s Word because it has no practical bearing on life. Everything is fine, so long as I have a decent job and the kids are happy. Everything is nice and clean because I have my retirement built up. Christian faith is swept under the rug because the sun is shining, spring is coming, and I have my health. Jesus can wait till I need Him. No. That’s the house, that’s the man, the woman, the child, whose last state is worse than the first. He who is not with me is against me, he who does not gather with me, scatters.


    It’s not as if the devil leaves and then you’re neutral, choosing for yourself to choose Jesus or to choose the devil, no, there is no neutral state. Either you love your lord the devil, who is the prince of this world, or you love your Lord Jesus Christ who has made your enemies, your sin and your death and the devil, His enemies and has triumphed over them by His cross. There is no middle way. This is why it really bugs me when I hear Christians say they love to sin. Know you don’t. You love Jesus. I know what Christians mean when they say this, that it gives them a sick sort of pleasure to look at porn or get drunk or gossip or brag about themselves. But this is never the way the Bible talks about the Christian’s life or his love. St. Paul when he talks about his own sin and the devil’s temptations says I do what I don’t want to do, and don’t do what I want to do. He says he has a law in his members, in his flesh, that wars against the law of his mind. He identifies himself as a Christian, that’s his I, who he is, and the sin that he falls into, he says he hates, even though his flesh loves it: “It is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me.”


    Of course the devil still tempts us. Of course we still have sin. But we don’t love sin, that would mean loving the devil. No, we have a higher love; as St. Paul says in our Epistle, you were once darkness, in the past, but now you are light, now, and this has real consequences. That’s why Paul’s next words are “walk as children of the light,” why he says, “be imitators of God,” and then points us to the love of Christ for us. And he gets ridiculously specific what this means for your lives. Sex outside of marriage, being greedy for money, he says don’t even let it be named among you, let alone done among you, and then says don’t cuss, don’t use filthy talk, don’t make nasty sexual jokes; and Paul doesn’t say this just to make us feel guilty, but to warn us, that this is not the life we have been called to, not the life of those who look forward to heaven; because Jesus is our Lord, not the devil; Jesus has actually taken away our sin and conquered the devil by his death and resurrection. And this is everything; We love our God, who has loved us, we trust in the Stronger Man, our Lord Jesus, who has again and again lifted us up from our guilty consciences and set us in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake, as we pray in Psalm 23.


    This is what we just talked about last week. Yes, God allows the devil to tempt us, but He allows it only to test us and strengthen us.


    It’s really a beautiful thing. God’s using the devil. That’s how you should see every temptation you face. Just remember the Word you confess is true, your God exists, He entered this world in human flesh, He lived and died and rose again. He did it. He’s in control. The devil is the strong man. He’s stronger than you. He’s arrogant. He wants to win. He wants especially the Christian to think fulfilling our lusts or getting drunk or gossiping about our family or being lazy at work or hating those who do us wrong, that these are nothing, won’t harm us at all, just the way normal people live their lives. But the beauty of our God using and abusing the devil, is that these temptations, so long as we have and keep the word of our God, these temptations do nothing but drive us back to our Lord, to pray to Him, to ask Him for strength, to tell Him of all our troubles, to fight against sin, to receive forgiveness at His hand when we fail, to learn to love what is good and hate what is evil. God uses the devil’s weapons against him and for us. And we need to realize that the devil with all his temptation is, as we sing, of all his pow’r shorn. He’s done for, no matter how he rages. The Stronger Man always wins. That’s the truth and promise of Christ’s resurrection. Though devils all the world should fill, all eager to devour us, we tremble not, we fear no ill, they shall not overpower us. All his weapons in which he trusted, his panoplia, Christ our Lord has taken away.


    And that is why Jesus ends our Gospel the way he does. Blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it. This is where the devil fails, no matter how many devils attack, no matter the trials of life, you have and keep the Word of our God, you pray, “Thy Kingdom come,” you know Christ’s Kingdom and rule, and the gates of hell will never prevail against you. 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 can snatch them from my hands. Grant this Lord, to us all. Amen.







  • Lent 4 - Laetare


  • Lent 5 - Judica


  • Palm Sunday


  • Muandy Thursday


    Pastor Christian Preus

    Maundy Thursday, 2019

    John 13:1-15


    As the Jews sat captive along the streams of Babylon, they prayed Psalm 137,


    “How shall we sing the Lord’s song

    In a foreign land?

    5 If I forget you, O Jerusalem,

    Let my right hand forget its skill!

    6 If I do not remember you,

    Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth—

    If I do not exalt Jerusalem

    Above my highest joy.”


    This should be very familiar to us. They aren’t talking about Jerusalem as a mere place, a home they grew very fond of, not like the poet Ovid wrote about his desire to come out of exile on the Black Sea to his house in Rome or how we would write about wanting to come back home to Casper. They remember Jerusalem, they exalt her above their highest joy, they refuse to forget her, refuse to be happy without her, because here their God met them in His Temple, here they heard the promise of their Savior, here they had the blood of the covenant sprinkled on their heads and sang psalms to the God who loved them. And they are saying from the depths of their heart that life isn’t worth living, there is no joy worth having, without this God.


    Jesus calls the Lord’s Supper the new covenant, the new testament, in His blood. He tells us to do this in remembrance of Him. And so we sing Psalm 137 as a new song, with new meaning. We call ourselves foreigners, pilgrims on earth, say our citizenship is in heaven, and we would rather our tongue cling to the roof of our mouth than to forget our Lord Jesus, or exalt anything in our life above His body and blood pierced and shed on the cross and given us here in the Holy Supper. We remember not simply Jerusalem but Calvary, not the Temple of Solomon but the true Temple, the body of our Lord Jesus Christ, not the sprinkling of the blood of animals, but the shedding of God’s blood for us.


    Look at how specific this is, where our faith, our lives, are centered. Not on jobs, not on sports, not on family problems, not on house or home, not on some generic God up in the sky, but on our Lord Jesus. The Gospel, that Jesus Christ is God Himself in our human flesh, that He lived for us and died for us and rose the third day, that He has borne our sins as the Lamb of God, that He has united us to our Father in heaven and to one another by His incomparable love, this is our joy. And we are here this evening because the Holy Spirit will not allow us to forget it.


    We are content with nothing else than this Jesus. The news has been abuzz this week with the burning of the cathedral of Notre Dame. It’s a tragedy, without doubt. 800 years of history charred. But it’s also a reminder for us Christians. Why were the people in Paris devastated? Why was France in mourning? It’s certainly not because they went to church there. Notre Dame has been almost nothing but a tourist trap for decades. In secular Europe, France is the most secular of all, and Paris especially. Whatever Christian meaning Notre Dame has for them, it’s a relic of the past, a piece of history. They’ve forgotten. And that is the real tragedy of Notre Dame, that the love of Jesus that burned in the builders of that great sanctuary 800 years ago has long since been snuffed in their descendants, long stopped passing from mother to daughter and father to son, long stopped ringing through the halls of that sacred place. They stopped singing the new song.


    Why did the captives on the streams of Babylon sing of Jerusalem? It wasn’t just because this was the honest desire of their heart, of course it was, but because they didn’t want to forget, they didn’t want their children to forget, their grandchildren to forget, because they knew that in Babylon they would be tempted to forget, and this was unthinkable to them. And this is what we in Casper, Wyoming, at Mount Hope Lutheran Church, have to confess. May our right hand forget its skill. May our tongue cling to our mouth, if we forget our Savior, if we don’t pass our Jesus’ love for us and our faith in him down to the next generation. This place is no Notre Dame. Churches built in the 60s in the United States aren’t known for their stunning beauty. But we have here what God’s children have always yearned for, always sung of, always remembered, something far more beautiful than Notre Dame, the Gospel of our Lord Jesus and His body and blood given for us.


    People do forget their Jesus. It’s the devil’s aim, what he did to Judas. It’s the leaning of our own flesh and blood, lazy and apathetic; we have the same flesh as the apostles who fell asleep in the garden of Gethsemane instead of praying that they not be led into temptation. Love grows cold. Knowing who Jesus is, remembering why He is this great treasure, falls away from nations and from families and from entire churches. They forget. There are those who sit by the streams of Babylon and think they’re still in Jerusalem. People can come to a church here in America, and never here a word about Jesus. In fact, if you don’t mind me preaching a little false doctrine, here’s what the Bishop, or President, of the ELCA, the largest Lutheran body in North America, recently said as she defined the Gospel for her church body, and I’m quoting her, this is what she said:


    “Here's the gospel. Human beings are part of the creation. Human beings are connected to everything in the cosmos. Human beings are connected to God. We are not doomed to alienation. That God is more present than we are to ourselves gives us a path to reconnect with God, each other and all of creation. The judgment is that we do not even perceive that the One who created all things is intimately present. The promise is that the One who created all things is intimately present. We--all created things--are family.”


    There’s a definition of the Gospel that doesn’t mention Christ, doesn’t mention sin, doesn’t mention the cross or the resurrection, doesn’t even mention faith or forgiveness or love, nothing Christian at all, nothing about Jesus. I don’t even know what it means, or how it could give me hope when I have sinned or when I feel pain or fear death or wonder about my future. It doesn’t define God, tell me why I should love him or why He loves me. It’s empty. And that’s religion, that’s life, without the Jesus of the Bible.


    And that’s why we remember our Jesus tonight. Our lives are not empty. No matter what problems we have, what sins we still fight, what pain we suffer as Christians in this sinful world. We know the God who died and rose again and speaks very specifically to us. Our Lord’s Gospel is so beautiful, Christ is so wonderfully our God, that what He does for us changes our lives, so that we pray with the captives in Babylon that we never forget Him whether in our happiness or in our sadness.


    It can’t be otherwise. He has all power, knows all things – all things, John says, have been handed over to Him by the Father. There is nothing outside His control. He is the only true God in human flesh. And what does He do with His omnipotence, His eternal power over all things, what does He do with His omniscience, His knowledge of everything, with His complete control over all creation?


    He gets down on His knees and washes His disciples’ feet. That’s what He does. He knows that Judas will betray Him. He knows all the disciples will run away and abandon Him. He knows none of them is worthy of Him, and He humbles Himself to touch their dirty feet and serve them. What greater sign could He give us that He loves us to His end? What objection could we make? That He is too high and mighty for us? That His majesty separates us lowly sinners from Him? That our sins are too great for Him to forgive? He washed Judas’ feet! His betrayer! He insisted to Peter, the one He knows will deny Him and abandon Him, that He would have nothing to do with him unless Peter, this weak and stubborn and ignorant man, would allow Him to serve him. That’s our God. The objection of our reason, of our feelings, of our sinful flesh, that we should be the ones serving God and not He us, Jesus strikes down with all His power. He is the God who serves sinners, who debases Himself and humbles Himself, who will do anything for them, and the greater the sinner the greater God’s insistence that He must serve you, that this is what He has come to do.


    There is something far greater than this sign of Jesus’ washing dirty feet. Our Gospel mentions it with a single word. During the Supper. That’s when Jesus washes their feet. He serves them in the same hour that He gives them His body and blood to eat and to drink.


    We insist on the true teaching of Christ’s body and blood given to us in the Supper not because we want to be right, not because we want to fight over insignificant details, but because we insist on Jesus. And He insists on serving us. Just as it goes beyond reason, above anything we could think naturally about God in His might and power, that He would kneel down and wash dirty feet, so it goes beyond our reason that this same God would put His body and blood into our mouths. But He does.


    It’s impossible, I know. A human body isn’t capable of such things. It can’t be in more than one place at one time. It’s impossible. But with God all things are possible. With the God who united our human flesh and soul to His eternal person, so that we can point to that man suffering on the cross and say, There is my God, who made heaven and earth, with this God, who humbles Himself to die for us, all things are possible. His body walked on water. Bodies can’t do that. His body rose from the dead. His body suffered hell for all the world. His body passed through walls to speak forgiveness to His terrified disciples. His body is the body of God Himself, and He uses it to serve us. With all His power, all His knowledge, He decides on this, that He will make us see that He is ours and we are His. Everything He has He gives us. He couldn’t say it more emphatically, to remove all doubt from us, all fear that we aren’t worthy of His love. “I insist on serving you. I put my body and blood into your mouth so that you believe and know for certain that my death is your death, my resurrection yours, my kingdom, my heaven, my everlasting life, my righteousness, everything I am and do, is yours. Your sins I bore, I shed my blood for them, and this blood I give to you. Your death is conquered, my body was pierced, it died, and it lives forever, and I give this body to you.”


    The captives on the streams of Babylon sang together. I don’t know what petty fights they had in Jerusalem before they were captured and brought to Babylon. I don’t know the hard feelings they had against one another, but since they were sinners, I’m sure they were many. But they sang together there in captivity. They were united and they loved each other, even if they didn’t particularly like each other. Jerusalem, the promises of their God, united them. And it is far more the case for us today. We are united into one body, we find our identity, who we are, together in Christ. We hear His voice as one flock. We hope for one heaven. We take the same body and blood into our mouths. We are strangers and pilgrims together in this world, and we are bound together by a blood that runs thicker than any family. There is, the Proverb says, a friend who is closer than a brother. Brothers bicker and fight – I know, I have ten of them – but Christian brothers forgive and forget and solve their problems by God’s Word, forget their grudges, reconcile with one another, love the brother or sister in Christ for whom our God shed His blood. That’s what we do as we remember our Lord Jesus together throughout life.


    Today is called Maundy Thursday. They tried to change the name to Holy Thursday because Maundy Thursday is too negative, I think. Maundy means command, and we don’t want to talk about commands, do we? We’re Lutherans. But yes, yes, we do. Jesus’ command is that we love one another, as He loved us. And when He spoke that to His disciples he very specifically wanted them to serve by handing down His Word, to preach His death, as He had preached it to them, “as I have loved you,” He says, “so you love one another.” And this is the command we observe tonight, commit ourselves to tonight. To sing and confess the new song of Jesus’ love, to hand it down to our children and grandchildren, to make it our priority, our highest joy, to never forget it. Because our Lord Jesus, our God, has loved us beyond all comprehension, He has loved us to the end, He serves us still in His body and blood, forgives us and welcomes us into a life with Him that has no end. Beloved, if God has so loved us, let us also love one another.


    Let us pray:


    Let me never Lord forsake Thee,


    E’en though bitter pain and strife,


    On my way should overtake me,


    Yet may I through all my life


    Walk in fervent love to Thee


    In all woes for comfort flee,


    To thy birth, thy death, they passion,


    Till I see thy full salvation.

  • Good Friday

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Good Friday, 2019


    John 18-19


    Jesus said, “It is finished” first, then He gave over the Spirit, and finally water and blood poured from his side. That’s the last sequence of events on the cross and that will be the order of our sermon this evening.


    First, Jesus said it is finished. And he says it right after he has tasted the spoiled wine, the vinegar, which, John tells us, He drinks so that all Scripture might be fulfilled. Psalm 69 prophesies Jesus’ sufferings some thousand years before they took place, “I looked for someone to take pity, but there was none; And for comforters, but I found none. They also gave me gall for my food, And for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.” And this is what is meant, first of all, when Jesus says, “It is finished.” Everything that was written about him, that he would be betrayed and handed over to the Gentiles, that they would pierce His hands and his feet, divide his garments among them, every last detail from the virgin birth to his last drink of vinegar, was already written and He had now done it all. It is finished.


    This is to say two things. First, that Jesus confirms the Bible as His own Word. He spoke it. He was bound to finish it. God doesn’t lie. He doesn’t break promises. And so His Word, the word of the Bible that God Himself submits to all the way to death, will not lie or deceive, not even in the most insignificant detail, like Jesus’ tasting sour wine on the cross. The Bible is simply and beautifully true in everything it says, and Jesus insists on it down to his last breath.


    But second, and this is just as important, it means that all of Scripture is about Jesus and finds its fulfillment in His death. The creation of the world, the calling of Abraham, the choosing of Israel, the Exodus from the Red Sea, all the histories we’ll read tomorrow night at Easter Vigil, find their significance here. The other night I read to my children 1 Chronicles 29. It seemed utterly irrelevant. It ended with the death of King David. He lived, it says, to a ripe old age, full of joy. Who cares? Why does it matter? Why should I read this to my children and not some fairy tale that ends the same way?


    It was David who sang the words of Moses, “The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.11 Who considers the power of your anger, O God, and your wrath according to the fear of you? 12 So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. Return, O Lord! How long? Have pity on your servants!” David died in joy because through all the toil and the trouble, all the vagaries of his life that you can read about in the Bible, his suffering and his sin and his fight of faith against unbelief and his loss of children and his persecution and pain, things every Christian suffers today in one way or another, he knew God would answer him, would have pity on His servants, would come to redeem him, would establish the throne of God’s kingdom forever on Mount Calvary and would give him to dwell in the house of the Lord forever. All of Scripture points to Christ our Lord, He’s the hope of all the saints, their expectation, and their trust. And so when Jesus says, it is finished, He fulfills all of their hopes and all of His promises to them and to us.


    But it means much more, of course. The prophecies aren’t just details, like Jesus drinking vinegar before His last breath. We just heard the greatest of these prophecies, from Isaiah, that God would be bruised for our iniquities, that the punishment for our peace would be placed upon Him, that by His stripes we would be healed. That though we have gone astray like sheep, turned, every one of us, to our own way, followed our own desires and pleasures, the Lord has laid on our Jesus the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed and afflicted for us, led like a lamb to the slaughter, stricken for our transgressions. It pleased God to bruise Him (it pleased Him!), to put Him to grief, to make His soul an offering for sin, so that He would have and own us as His children.


    This is finally what it means that it is finished. The debt has been paid. If all our sins were on that one Man, if the One died for all, then all died, and we are at peace with God. Think of the anger that we have against sin, against those who sin against us. How dare he say that! How dare he do that! And our first thought is not for compassion. But here God lays on Himself the iniquity of us all, all the nasty things we wouldn’t tell a soul, that are in our heart and in our past. His anger burns against all of it, and yet He takes on our flesh and becomes sin for us, He owns it as His own and takes the punishment, so that we become righteous in Him.


    We call this the atonement. We become at one with God. Martin Luther once said that the true preaching of Good Friday must include these two very obvious deductions from God suffering on the cross. The first is that our sin is really that great. There can be no poohpoohing of sin, no antinomian, lackadaisical attitude about our sin – we’re all human, everybody makes mistakes, don’t worry about it – no, God’s anger burns so intensely against sin that it took the life of God to quench that anger. So we take sin seriously, we avoid it, we teach against it, we mourn over it as we see the hate and pride and lust and selfishness in ourselves. But the second deduction is just as important. If God died for our sin, if He died our death, sin cannot claim us and death cannot end us. You can’t argue with what happened on that cross. God died in your flesh and blood.  And with such a price paid, with such blood spilt, the blood of God, there can be no doubt that it is finished, there is nothing left for you to do, as the Psalm says, “Be still and know that I am God,” “I have done it.” It’s over. It’s finished.


    That’s not to say Jesus is done when he says, It is finished. He’s done paying for our sins, but He’s not done. He sends forth His Spirit. The translation says, “He gave up His spirit,” and it’s unfortunate that the word spirit isn’t capitalized. It’s not as if the Gospel’s just saying Jesus breathed His last. That’s not it at all. Jesus gives His Spirit out, the third Person of the Holy Trinity, the Spirit that brings us to faith, the Spirit that convinces us of exactly what our God has done for us, the Spirit who preaches Christ crucified.


    I recently had a conversation with a man who didn’t know whether he was saved or not. He repeatedly and consistently pointed inside himself for proof of the Spirit’s power, whether that was his humility, his enthusiasm for God, his sincerity, his speaking in tongues, his commitment or choice for Jesus. But this isn’t what the Spirit points us to, He doesn’t point us to ourselves and our fickle feelings. We’ll get no certainty from our sinful hearts. The Spirit comes from Christ’s cross and He speaks to Christ’s cross. He speaks to what happened outside of us, in history, the sure fact, that the Son of God bled and died for us. Jesus gave His Spirit to us at His last breath from the cross, and so the Spirit preaches, He uses words, the words of the Gospel, so that, as John insists, we believe and trust in our Lord and His cross alone. The Spirit won’t be disconnected from Jesus. He will give nothing but Jesus and His cross.


    And finally this Spirit works through water and blood. It’s no coincidence that from our Lord Jesus’ side flowed water and blood, and we are now washed with the water of Baptism and drink the blood shed for us. Jesus was in complete control of every detail of His death. He said it would happen and it happened as He said. They will look on Him whom they pierced. And they did. They saw water and blood flow from His side. And what our Lord Jesus finished, our forgiveness, our atonement, our everlasting life, He now gives us in water and blood. And so it is very fitting that we this night who have been baptized into Christ’s death and resurrection and have been given everything He has won for us and the name of children of our Father, by His Spirit’s power, once again come to our Lord’s altar and receive the blood He shed for us. It is finished, Jesus said, and He says it again tonight through the Word of His Spirit, through the body that was pierced and the blood that poured out, given and shed for you, for the forgiveness of your sins. Amen.



  • Easter

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Easter Sunday, 2019


    John 20:1-18


    We know from the other Gospel accounts that Mary Magdalene was not the only woman who came to Jesus’ tomb that first Easter morning. Another Mary was there, and a woman named Salome, and a woman named Joanna, and other women whose names we don’t have. And we know why they were there from the other Gospels too, to anoint Jesus’ dead body. It was a beautiful act of devotion, thoughtful, but thoughtless at the same time. They hadn’t had time to anoint his body on Good Friday, because night was coming on and no work was to be done on Saturday, on the Sabbath. So they waited till Sunday, at the earliest possible time, to give this dead body its due and stop the stench of death from getting too bad. But they were also thoughtless, as grief often does to a person, and so they forgot the obvious, that no matter how devoted and genuine their feelings toward Jesus, they couldn’t get to him, because there was a huge rock blocking his tomb, between them and his dead body.


    Those who analyze the origins of religions will tell you that religion is rooted in emotional need, that people believe what they believe because they have an inner need to believe it. People fear death, so they imagine a God who offers life after death. People feel guilt, so they imagine a God who forgives. And, no doubt, this is how most religious people operate. God and heaven are a placebo, or as Marx insisted, the opiate of the masses, something to fill their emotional needs. They believe religion into existence, because they can’t do without it.


    But that’s not the case with these women. They’re as far from fideism as possible, as far as possible from imagining up religious stuff to make themselves feel better. They’ve seen the cold, hard reality. They stood by and watched as their Lord bled and died. They saw the breath leave his body, the water and blood pour from his lifeless side. He was dead and they saw the tomb in which he was buried. They wanted him alive, they had an emotional need for him to be alive, but the fact of his death was indisputable, they had no religious hopes that He was somehow spiritually alive, and they didn’t comfort themselves with religious clichés, like “He lives within my heart.” No, Jesus was dead. And it was this fact that decided their emotions, not their emotions that decided anything. He was dead, so they mourned and wept and came uselessly with spices to anoint a dead body they couldn’t even get to, because it was locked under a massive rock. And when they come to the tomb and see that the rock is rolled away and that Jesus’ dead body isn’t there, their emotions don’t let them dream up anything but the most natural and unreligious conclusion. Someone took the dead body away.


    And the emotions they feel because they can’t get to this dead body, and then the emotions they feel when they can’t find this dead body, because it seems someone moved the rock and stole it away, all these emotions of sadness and despair change only when the fact of Jesus’ death is answered by the fact of Jesus’ resurrection. It’s only when He who was dead shows Himself alive by many and various proofs, only when He speaks to them, when he shows His nail-scarred hands and feet, that the emotions of grief and despair and sorrow are changed to emotions of fear and wonder and joy at seeing Jesus alive.


    This is what marks Christianity. It’s not based on emotion. Feelings don’t determine it. The fact of Jesus’ death and resurrection does. I’ve often heard people wonder how a person is supposed to choose between all the religions of the world, all making claims to the truth. But the question is off from the start. There are only two religions. One that is based on fact, and all others based on emotional need.


    Our Christian faith is based on fact. St. Paul hangs everything on the resurrection of Christ, on the fact that it happened. “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. … If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead…” Paul ushers in a host of witnesses, including most who are still alive, over 500 people, who, on numerous different occasions, witnessed Jesus alive after His death. On the strength of historical certainty, the indisputable fact of an empty grave and hundreds of eye-witnesses, Paul and all the other apostles, who themselves saw this man who was dead alive again, base their faith and emotions, our faith and emotions, on this historical fact that cannot be denied. As surely as Christ died, He rose from the dead.


    Nowhere will you find it more emphatically than here that Christian faith is not determined by what we feel about God, what we earnestly desire from Him, but only by what He has done for us in our history. Look again at the women at Jesus’ tomb. The beauty of it is that their emotions are worse than useless. Their emotions can’t get the rock moved away. Their emotions can’t find Jesus’ body, once they realize that it isn’t in the tomb. Their emotions get them absolutely nowhere. And so it goes with us. It doesn’t matter that I want heaven. It doesn’t matter that I want forgiveness. It doesn’t matter that I fear death. None of these emotions can do a thing to determine reality.


    But Jesus does. His death and His resurrection do. Dead men don’t talk, but Jesus does. He speaks.


    St. John focuses in on one woman in particular, Mary Magdalene. What’s amazing about John’s account is that he never even says why Mary came to the tomb, doesn’t care to mention the spices, and he never mentions anyone else being there, except when Mary says, “We don’t know where they’ve laid Him;” instead the attention is exclusively on Mary and her one concern – her Lord’s dead body is gone. That’s the fact. She says it three times, to the disciples, to the angels, and then to Jesus. She’s singularly focused on the absence of Jesus’ dead body. And again, it governs all her emotions. She runs to the disciples, tells them the body’s gone, then she frantically runs back to the tomb, falls down, and cries. She’s asked twice, “Who are you looking for?” And twice she answers with desperation, “They’ve taken him away.” “Tell me where you’ve put him.”


    This is how far emotion gets Mary. Jesus is alive, speaking to her, and she doesn’t even recognize him. And this is how far emotion gets us. My desire for Jesus to be alive doesn’t make it so. My desire for heaven doesn’t make it exist. My desire for forgiveness doesn’t take away my guilt. No matter how much I want these things, cold, hard reality is what it is.


    Now I’ve not said all this to bash emotions. It’s quite the opposite. I say all this to exalt Christian emotions to heaven. This is a happy day, objectively, not because I want it to be or you want it to be, but because God makes it a happy day. This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it. There’s Christian emotion. No matter what other emotions fill your heart today, no matter the guilt that attacks your conscience, no matter the fear of death, of yours or the ones you love, no matter the crosses you bear or the temptations you feel, God gives you the divine right today to confront it all with the emotion He gives because of the fact of Jesus’ resurrection. What Saint Paul says will remain forever, as Jesus is forever, faith, hope, and love, these three, they aren’t flighty, they aren’t dreams, they aren’t worked up by our own felt needs. They include emotions, but these emotions are certain, founded on certainty.


    You don’t have to hope that Jesus is alive, Jesus’ resurrection establishes your hope. You don’t have to dream of forgiveness from God, Jesus’ resurrection proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that your sins, what separated you from God and deserved His wrath and anger, are washed away in the blood of Jesus, borne by Him, and buried in the tomb. You don’t have to imagine up a heaven, Jesus, alive and breathing, ascends to His Father and calls Him your Father; He so unites Himself to you, so identifies with you, because yours were the sins He bore and yours was the death He died and yours is the flesh and blood He wears in His death and resurrection, that He who has been God from eternity is not ashamed to call Himself your brother and call your God His God.


    The resurrection of our Lord Jesus is everything because it takes His suffering and death, this horrible event, what was uncertain, what was a scandal, to everyone, what filled them with senseless emotion, the women with grief and the disciples with fear, what spurred on the mockery of Christ’s enemies and confirmed the nihilism of Pilate, what made the devil shout in triumph, the resurrection takes what looked like defeat and sorrow and death and shows it to be God’s victory and our everlasting glory. They mocked him, told him to come down from the cross, if He really was the Son of God, told him to save himself since he saved others, and here in the resurrection is our God’s answer to the world. Jesus is the eternal God in our human flesh, He shed His blood willingly, He suffered and died, so that He could rise again and take every false emotion, every silly religious feeling in our hearts, and replace it with the certainty that it was God’s blood shed for us there on the cross, God’s body that was pierced for us, our sins and our death removed from us forever, our eternal life secured in the resurrection of the dead and the life everlasting.


    And we respond with the Christian emotion and confidence of Mary, as she saw her Lord alive, without any doubt, and said “Rabboni,” my teacher. Teach me, Lord Jesus, train my emotions, train my heart to trust in You, instruct me in the truth, that since death could not hold You it will not hold me, that since You endured my sins and faced my doubts and despair on your cross, Your Father is my Father and You are my God and my Brother, that since You have died for me You will never forsake me, but I will finally awake from death in your likeness, to live forever with You and see Your glorious face. And so we pray in the surety and Christian faith of our Lord’s resurrection, ‘I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the Lord.’ O give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, and His mercy endures forever. Amen.


    Now may the peace of God which surpasses all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, Amen.

  • Easter 2 - Quasimodo geniti

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Quasimodo geniti, 2019


    John 20:19-31


    Last week, as you all know, some wicked men, in devotion to their false and evil god Allah, strapped bombs to their chests and walked into Christian Churches in Sri Lanka. The Muslims killed hundreds of Christians, purposely, for no other reason than that they were Christians, and they did it on Easter Sunday as these Christians celebrated Jesus’ victory over death. Now terrorist attacks are meant to instill terror. That’s the objective. To make people afraid, afraid of dying, afraid of living life as normal, afraid to go to church even. And that’s exactly what’s happened in Sri Lanka. Most Christians there are Roman Catholic, and the Roman Catholic Bishop canceled all services today in Sri Lanka. No Lord’s Supper will be eaten and drunk for the forgiveness of sins, no Gloria in excelsis will be sung with the angels throughout that country. For the first time in hundreds of years, think of that, for the first time in hundreds of years there will be no church on Sunday on that island. And the people of our little Lutheran church there in Sri Lanka are afraid to have church too. The government has warned against it.


    Now I don’t know how serious the continued threat in Sri Lanka is, and I’m not going to judge the specifics here, whether they should have church today or not – it’s obvious we wouldn’t have church here at Mount Hope if a sniper were sighted on our roof and the police had to be called in to take care of him. We’d wait till he was taken care of. That’s not a matter of cowardice at all. It’s a matter of wisdom and common sense, the same reason we take precautions here at Mount Hope to secure our building during services. But this decision in Sri Lanka does bring up an obvious problem, and it’s not just their problem, it’s ours. And that is our fear of death. If we fear death the most, if it’s the most awful thing we can think of, then this sinful life on earth is our god, it’s what we love and trust in the most. And that’s simply not Christian. It’s exactly the opposite of what those Christians who were slaughtered last Sunday came to church to celebrate. We sang last week, “Grim death with all its might, cannot my soul affright; It is a powerless form, howe’er it rave and storm.” We’ll sing today, “Lord thee I love with all my heart,” we’ll sing “Yea, heaven itself were void and bare, if Thou Lord were’t not near me.” We confess with our tongues that we don’t fear death, that above all things we love and trust not our sinful life on this earth, but our Lord Jesus who has spent his life and taken it up again to give us sinless life with Him forever. And it’s precisely at times when death threatens that God tests our confession. Are they empty words, or do we believe and live what we confess?


    We could read no better Gospel than the one we heard this morning to answer this question. That’s the irony of canceling church this Sunday in Sri Lanka for fear of death. Look at the apostles. They were in the upper room because they were afraid to die. That’s what our text says. Peter denied Jesus out of fear. The rest of the apostles abandoned Jesus out of fear. They didn’t want to die. That’s it. The reason they’re hiding in that upper room with locked doors is because they’re afraid of the Jews, afraid of persecution, afraid of death. Now we’ll see a totally different side of these same apostles on Pentecost. Then, they are bold. Then they don’t hide behind closed doors. Then they confess Christ openly in front of everyone. Then they are willing to suffer all, even death, rather than fall away from their Lord Jesus. And that, by the way, is the promise all of us made at our confirmation, that we would suffer anything, death included, so long as we don’t lose this Jesus, so long as we are not robbed of his body and blood given and shed for us. This is the confidence of the Spirit, what we will sing shortly, “Laugh to scorn the gloomy grave, and at death no longer tremble, He, the Lord, who came to save Will at last His own assemble. They will go their Lord to meet, Treading death beneath their feet.”


    But the Spirit is not given first at Pentecost. The Spirit gives gifts on Pentecost. He makes the apostles speak in different languages. He gives them eloquence and the power of miracles. And we don’t have these. I can’t speak in tongues. Well I can, but I worked hard to learn Latin and Greek, the Spirit didn’t give me the supernatural power to do it. And I can’t work miracles. Those gifts of the Spirit were for a time, to establish Christ’s Church after Jesus’ resurrection, but as St. Paul clearly says, “As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease.” No, if we are to find the Spirit’s power today, we won’t find it at the Pentecostal church where people pretend to speak in languages that don’t exist and look inside themselves to find the Spirit’s gifts.


    It’s John’s Gospel, what we just heard, that tells us of the Spirit’s work that lasts forever. Those disciples were terrified and cowardly because of death. They were clinging to their miserable lives as if this sinful world and its pleasures were all there is. And the Spirit gives them boldness. The Spirit gives them joy. And He’s not a Spirit disconnected from Jesus. He’s not a Spirit distant from our Lord’s words, the words we hear today. Jesus is there, the man who Thomas confesses without doubt is God and Lord. This Jesus who shows His pierced hands and side, out of which blood and water flowed at His last breath, this Jesus who conquered death after paying it’s awful wages on the cross, He speaks a single word, “Peace,” to these cowardly men and removes all fear from them. What do you have to fear if you have peace with God? What can death do to you, when your God has already suffered it for you? What sin can steal your peace, when your God has borne it and bled on it, given up His eternal peace to speak peace to You? If God is for you, who can be against you? Whenever I am afraid, we confess with the Psalmist, whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You.  In God (I will praise His word), In God I have put my trust; I will not fear. What can flesh do to me? This is what Jesus gives when He gives His Spirit. Confidence. The conviction that your sin and your death are erased forever. God, your God, is Lord over death.


    It’s not simply that Christ is alive. It’s that He rose from a death that was our death. He bears the wounds of God’s love for us. And His Spirit points to those wounds and convinces us that it is impossible for such a God to allow death to remove us from Him, to take away the peace He has won for us.


    Now I haven’t said all this as if Christians don’t fear death. It’s quite the opposite. Christ means everything to us because we know what death is. The heathen, the practical atheist who lives life as if God doesn’t exist, who holds on to some naïve thought that death is nothing, that it’s just the end, so eat and drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die, live life for the moment, carpe diem, seize the day, don’t think about death, think about life – the heathen can ignore death. The generic religious American who gives lip-service to God and Jesus, but thinks nothing of Him except for the occasional false comfort of some heaven open to everyone which the Bible never promises – he can ignore death and live life blissfully ignorant. But we can’t. This is the yoke our Lord places on us as we come to him weary and heavy-laden for the rest only He can give.


    It’s the irony of all ironies that we Christians, who know that our God conquered our death, fear death more than anyone. Because we actually think of it. And you should. You shouldn’t lie to yourself. Death is horrible. And you do fear it. You buy medicine at outrageous prices to prevent it. You cover up old age with makeup and cream. Your sinful flesh despairs at the thought of the people you love dying and dreads the end of your own life on this earth.


    Now, there is no real separation between our sin and our death. That’s what the Christian knows and what makes death our great enemy. Our sin and our death are so obviously connected. Why do I love life so much? If it’s because God gives it to me, the same God who bled and died for my sins and turned my death into the portal to everlasting life with Him, then wonderful, enjoy it, live it to its fullest, live it with Jesus, hear His word and love Him as He has loved You, and there’s no fear of death here. But if I take pleasure in my sin, if I forget my Lord Jesus and think of myself, then my love of life is nothing but a fear of death. And this is exactly what happens to us Christians. Why do you sin? Why do you selfishly love life so much? Why does your flesh cling to the false hope that daily pleasures give you, as if you can’t live without them? Why are you so upset when someone or something robs them from you? Why do you dread the day when old age or disease take your pleasures from you? Why do you get depressed and anxious? Because your sin, forget everyone else’s sin, your sin, convinces you to forget your Lord Jesus, to live life for yourself, to obsess over your future, and this self-obsession is an obsession with death. He who loves his life will lose it, Jesus says. And the only reason a Christian fears death, the only reason you fear death, why I fear death, is because we are thinking so much about our life as if it were our own and not the life God made and bought back by His blood. I am the resurrection and the life. Jesus says. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live.


    The apostles were afraid of the Jews. Afraid of death. Because they loved their life in the wrong way. But that’s not all. It never can be for the Christian. They were afraid of God. And this is what we need to see above all. Their sins put Him on the cross. They abandoned Him. They lived life for themselves. And I suppose the last person they wanted to see was the God they had betrayed. There is something worse than death. That they knew full well. Even as their flesh feared death so much, their soul feared this much more, they had heard Jesus Himself say it, “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” And here this same God whom they should have loved, who called them His friends, whom they could not love enough or fear enough to put trust in Him above love for their pitiful little lives, this God who can destroy both body and soul in hell and threatens it against all of us sinners, this God stands before them. I don’t think anyone has feared death or hell more than those disciples that night.


    So stand in their shoes. Look on with them at your Lord Jesus. Remember all your fears of death and hell, all your guilt, all your sin, all the moments lived for yourself, all your forgetting of your God, know what it deserves from this holy and righteous God, and hear Him speak again that beautiful word, from the same lips that cried out on the cross, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?,” and now say, “Peace.” He knew their sins and their fear of death, and He knows yours. And He comes, moved by His grace alone, He comes with His body pierced for you, and He speaks no word of condemnation, no word of punishment, no word of anger, no word of hell. He’s swallowed it all in Himself. He speaks peace, forgiveness. And He makes sure of it. Makes sure that these cowardly men will become courageous by His Spirit and commands them to speak forgiveness to all who hate their sin and fear their death. So hear it and believe it. What your God bought with His blood He insists on giving you. What He suffered He refuses to allow you to suffer.


    This is why I hope and pray that our little Lutheran Church in Sri Lanka had service this morning. I hope they heard this Gospel and tasted of Christ’s body and blood. They are afraid of death. Their own countrymen, their own brothers and sisters in Christ were killed in their own cities, and their flesh is terrified of death. But in that little church and here in ours, we have the One who conquers our death, removes our fear, and gives us courage to live life as Christians, who when we are afraid, run to the God whom we love with all our heart, who will never depart from us, who will bring us to see His glorious face forever, as surely as He gives His body and His blood to us this day and speaks peace everlasting. Vows made to You are binding upon me, O God; we confess with the Psalmist, I will render praises to You, For You have delivered my soul from death. Have You not kept my feet from falling, That I may walk before God In the light of the living?


    Thanks be forever to God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, who alone does wondrous things.


    Let us pray,


    Yea Lord was thy rich bounty gave, my body soul and all I have in this poor life of labor. Lord, grant that I in every place, may glorify thy lavish grace, and serve and help my neighbor. Let no false doctrine me beguile, let Satan not my soul defile. Give strength and patience unto me, to bear my cross and follow Thee. Lord Jesus Christ, my God and Lord, my God and Lord, in death thy comfort still afford.



  • Easter 3


  • Easter 4


    Pastor Christian Preus

    Jubilate, 2019

    John 16:16-22


    The beauty of the analogy Jesus uses in our Gospel – the pain of a mother giving birth and the joy of her seeing her newborn baby in the end – is that the very baby who caused so much pain and anxiety is now the source of unspeakable joy. This is, by the way, why abortion is such a heinous evil that we should speak against and vote against constantly – what should be the example of selfless love, of a woman willing to endure pain and agony for another human being, such a beautiful thing, abortion turns into a woman’s so-called right to love herself at the expense of the life of a precious child. It is, and this is how we should see it, an attack on the Gospel. Because it’s an attack on love. Love, as Nazareth sang, love hurts. But that doesn’t mean love is to be avoided. People who avoid the things that hurt them simply because they hurt we call lazy and cowards and selfish. It hurts to work two jobs to support the kids, but the father will do it because he loves his children. It hurts the glutton to stop eating so much and the drunk to stop drinking so much, but they’ll do it out of love for their family. We call this virtue, this love. It faces pain out of love for others. And you simply won’t find a better example of it, both of the intensity of pain and the intensity of joy, than a mother giving birth to a child.


    This is Jesus’ picture of the Christian life. Jesus tells his disciples they will have pain and sorrow. This isn’t a general pain, one common to everyone. It’s a pain specific to Christians. Jesus contrasts it with the joy of the world. You will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. Now very specifically Jesus is saying this to twelve men on the night before he’s crucified. And He’s telling them they will mourn and weep as Christians because Jesus won’t be with them anymore. He’ll be dead. The world will go on rejoicing in whatever people love to rejoice in. The sun will still shine; flowers will still blossom; men and women will still find their delight in each other; children will still laugh and play; wine will still make merry the heart of men. Nothing in the world will change. That’s how the world will experience Jesus’ death. But not for the disciples. Without Jesus, what would it matter that the sun shines, that the child smiles and giggles, that the wife beckons you to bed, that the wine swirls in the cup? It’s all vanity, as Ecclesiastes warns.


    Everyone has pain. Pain doesn’t discriminate. Christians have it and so do the pagans. Because all sin and fall short of the glory of God. All die. All are susceptible to cancer, to failing bodies. This isn’t the pain Jesus is talking about. At least not by itself. Jesus is specifically talking about the pain He causes for His Christians, just as the baby causes it for the mother. The Christian weeps and laments, has Christian pain, because he wants to see Jesus and doesn’t.


    Sometimes this is our fault. Look at Peter. He denied his Lord and then he wept bitterly. And if you fall into some filthy sin and feel so dirty and unclean that you think God couldn’t possibly want you as His own, then you know the pain of being without Jesus. I suppose it’s always our fault. It’s not like we can blame it on Jesus. He’s God. He doesn’t let us blame him. Job tried. And God came in a whirlwind and yelled at Job. And none of us has suffered like Job has. But there are times that we imagine God is far from us not because we’ve committed some awful sin, but because God really does seem far from us. The Psalms are filled with this kind of complaint,


    Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am languishing;

    heal me, O LORD, for my bones are troubled.

    3My soul also is greatly troubled.

    But you, O LORD—how long?


    And this is a specifically Christian pain because ours is the God who says I will never leave you or forsake you, who tells us to sing, “God is our refuge and our strength, an ever present help in trouble.” But then He isn’t, at least that’s the way it seems. Look at our Old Testament lesson. The people of Israel cry out, “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” Why? Because that’s exactly what it looked like. Why did the God who brought their fathers through the Red Sea on dry ground, who made an everlasting covenant with David, who called them His people, now allow famine and death and the threat of destruction against Jerusalem? That’s what they were facing. And when your eyes see one thing and God’s Word promises something else, you doubt, you have pain, you struggle with God.


    Now I want to point out two things here. One is that God answers the Israelites as He answers us. Don’t be proud. Don’t wallow in self-pity. Don’t trust your reason and don’t rely on your emotions, when you’re in pain. You can cry out to the Lord and ask for his help, He wants you to do this. You can pray with the Psalmist, “How long?” But remember who this God is. “Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”


    That is all to say you have to wait. A little while, Jesus says. And God makes you wait because otherwise you will forget him and trust in yourself and your own strength. The best thing that ever happened to Peter was his denial of Jesus. He was a cocky disciple. I will never forsake you, even if everyone else does. I am willing to die for you. That’s what he said. He trusted in his own strength and Jesus taught him just how pitiful and worthless his own strength was. And then Peter could do nothing but wait for the Lord to lift him up. And this is the point of every cross your Lord places on you. We don’t know what we need. Our Lord does. And so this is the first lesson, that the cross, the pain of the Christian, no matter what causes it, God gives it to humble us, to make us wait on Him.


    The second point is that the pain He gives lasts a little while. This isn’t just a description of the Christian lifespan, that we only live a short time on this earth, that we flourish and fade like the flower of the field, though that’s true enough, this present life of sin and pain is only a short time and we have a heaven to look forward to that lasts forever, and this should comfort us and make us frequently look forward to seeing our God face to face. But this is also the constant rhythm of our lives. Thomas had pain for a week and two days. And then He saw His Lord Jesus alive with wounds in his hands and side and confessed, “My Lord and my God,” and all his anxiety was gone. Peter had pain for a few weeks and then Jesus asked him, “Simon, Son of Jonah, do you love me.” And Peter three times confessed his love for Jesus. And the pain of Peter’s denial was replaced with the joy of knowing Jesus had died for him and forgave him. We cannot long imagine that God is not with us, that He has forsaken us, no matter the pain we are going through. We cannot weep and lament only to lacerate ourselves in a pity party. Blessed, Jesus says, are those who have not seen and yet believe.


    The life of the Christian is like the reverse mirror image of the life of Christ. Why does Jesus’ suffer for a little while? For the joy that lies before Him. And that joy is to have us as His Father’s children, to win us back from death and the devil, to forgive our sins and join us to Himself forever. And so He faces the pain. And we are the pain. We’re the cause of it. And He goes through horrible anxiety because of it, notice that, He asks His Father to remove this cup from Him, and He goes willingly and happily only because He loves us more than He dreads the pain of suffering our punishment. That’s our Lord Jesus. Like a mother who endures pain because of the little child who’s pain she bears, but is willing to do it because she looks forward to the joy ahead. And that also means He is fiercely committed to us. There is something about a mother who has suffered so much pain for her child that makes her more protective of that child that anyone else could be. As Rudyard Kipling put it, “She who faces death by torture for each life beneath her breast may not deal in doubt and pity, must not swerve for fact or jest.” She’s committed to her child because she’s suffered for it. That’s what makes a mother. And that is a picture of our Lord Jesus.


    But it’s also the picture of Christians. Just as Jesus’ little while of suffering was an eternity of suffering, because the eternal God suffered, so our suffering can seem an eternity. But it’s a little while. And we suffer it because we love our Lord Jesus more than we dread the pain. And through the suffering, because we suffer waiting for our Lord to come and relieve us, to forgive us or take away the pain or assure us once again that He is in charge of our lives and will work all things for our good, because we suffer waiting for our Lord, when He comes and gives us the joy we need and have so desired, we are fiercely committed to Him, like a mother for her child. I should have picked Soul adorn Thyself with Gladness today, because it perfectly captures this love, “Ah how hungers all my spirit for the love I do not merit, oft have I with sighs fast thronging thought upon this food with longing. In the battle well nigh worsted for this cup of life have thirsted. For the friend who here invites us and to God himself unites us.” And that’s exactly what we have here. Unspeakable joy. Jubilate is the name of this Sunday. Shout for joy. Your God is not far away. He hasn’t deserted you. No sin and no trial and no pain can separate the humble heart from Him. It drives us to Him. He comes with His body and His blood, the pledge of His love. He who suffered for you will never leave or forsake you. A mother could, I suppose, so says the Psalmist. But our Lord can’t.


    It’s Mother’s Day. Jesus couldn’t honor mothers more than by his words today. Here’s the picture of the Christian life. Suffering pain out of love. A society that values the Gospel of Jesus’ love will value motherhood. This is a secular holiday, not a Christian one, but we Christians know the worth of mothers, of family, of sacrificial love, more than anyone, and it’s here in the Church where we need to praise motherhood and the bearing and raising of children in the faith above every other occupation in the world. So happy mother’s day to all of you. In the name of Jesus. Amen.

  • Easter 6

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Cantate, 2019


    John 16:5-15



    And he will convict the world of sin and of righteousness and of judgment. The word “world” can mean two different things in the Bible and in John’s Gospel in particular. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. Here, despite what the Calvinists say, the word world means everyone in the world, every single human being who has ever lived or ever will live. God loved them all and this is how He loved them, He sent His Son to die for all of them, to take all their sins on Himself, to taste their death, and suffer their punishment. We call this the universal atonement. The Bible teaches it everywhere, if the One died for all then all died, St. Paul says. So that is what the word world means - everyone. But in other places it can mean the evil world, only those who oppose Christ and refuse to believe in Him. So we call the world our enemy, along with the devil and our own sin. We heard Jesus use the word world this way last week, when He speaks to His disciples about His death, “You will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice.” You see the contrast there. You believers on one side, the unbelieving world on the other. Jesus makes this contrast between believers and the sinful world even more clear in His prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, “I pray for them,” Jesus says to His Father, “I do not pray for the world, but for those whom You have given Me, for they are Yours.” You don’t get a more specific contrast than that. So here you have two ways of talking about the world. One where world means everyone who has ever lived. And another where it means only the unbelievers and enemies of Christ.


    So what do we have here? The Holy Spirit will convince the world of sin and of righteousness and of judgment. The beauty of this passage is that it almost combines the two meanings of world. Jesus is talking about the entire world. There’s no doubt about that. This is why He goes to the Father, why He suffers hell on the cross, why He rises from the dead, all this He does for the entire world, and so the Spirit He sends, He sends to all the world. This is exactly what Jesus says in Matthew, “Go and make disciples of all nations.” Exactly what He says in Mark, “Go into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature.” That’s what world means here – everyone.


    But notice the Spirit’s work is first of all negative. It’s to convict the world of sin, because they don’t believe in Me. The Spirit may be going out into all the world, but it turns out that all the world, everyone, doesn’t believe in Him. Is this what we think of when we think of the Spirit? That it’s His job to point out sin and unbelief? It really should be. We can’t have some naïve religious thought of the Spirit as someone who only makes us feel good. I remember reading the blog of a former president of the LCMS – I don’t read blogs, but someone printed this off for me and gave it to me – where he said he liked going to churches where he could feel the Spirit. He made it clear what he meant by that – there were a lot of people, they all sang, they were smiling, and he felt uplifted, so he said he could feel the Spirit. And I think this is what most people mean, if they say, “Boy, I felt the Spirit in that church.” It’s some positive feeling, some uplifting emotion. And I’m not criticizing that feeling, not at all. So long as it’s caused by the Gospel, by the Spirit convincing us that God has loved us to His death and has taken our suffering on Himself and has united us together as His children and heirs of eternal life. The Spirit definitely inspires the highest joy and feeling imaginable. But the point here is that the Spirit’s work isn’t just positive. The Spirit convicts the world – everyone – and that includes you and me, of sin. That’s what our Lord Jesus sends Him to do. So feel the Spirit when He points out sin.


    We shouldn’t resist it. It’s necessary. The Spirit actually has to make you feel bad. He has to humble you. He has to teach you the error of your thoughts. This is good for us. Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I keep Your word, the psalmist confesses. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, but that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. The Spirit convinces the world of sin, because they don’t believe in Me. That’s the charge. We’re born unbelievers and that unbelief doesn’t magically disappear when the Spirit enters in – the Spirit fights it, conquers it, but this is a lifelong process. Unbelief is the root of every sin, and like every other sin it sticks with us. Just as hate still rises in my Christian heart, or lust, or greed, so does unbelief. It’s not like it’s the only sin that just vanishes when we become Christians.


    And so we need the Holy Spirit to convict us of our unbelief, us Christians. Now obviously the Spirit convicts unbelievers, non-Christians, of unbelief because they don’t believe in Jesus. It’s part of the ministry of the church. It’s what pastors have to do publicly and what individual Christians do privately. We tell people the Gospel, we invite them to church, even people who are baptized, who are confirmed, and they just don’t come, they have no thirst for it, no thought of it, and we need to tell them this is evil. It’s sin. And this gets us down. We take it personally. Sometimes it’s very personal, it’s family, close friends.


    The mistake we make is to ignore it. Pretend it isn’t there. Imagine people are Christians when they never pray, never read the Bible, never come to church, and show no desire to come, even though they made a promise that they’d rather suffer anything, even death, than fall away from their Savior. Jesus didn’t die for us to ignore this. He didn’t send His Spirit and have His Word written down and give us the Christian Church for us to keep silent. The Spirit needs to do His work. He convicts the world of sin. The most loving thing I could possibly do for my son or my daughter, if they go off to college and they aren’t attending church, is to confront them on it, talk about it, tell them why they need it and how everything in this world that speaks against Jesus is nothing but a tempting lie that ends in pain and death, but that Jesus gives us our life and our identity and our everlasting security. Our loved ones need to hear the Spirit condemn the world because they do not believe in Jesus. Because what Jesus says holds forever true: He who believes in the Son has everlasting life; and he who does not believe the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him.


    But this goes for us all. We won’t speak it to the world unless we let it be spoken to us. It is a grace, a gift of God, when I doubt, when I begin thinking that I’m here on this earth for my own enjoyment, when I fear death, when the unbelief of my flesh pushes my Lord Jesus aside for pleasures that prove to be only burdens, it’s a gift of God, His visitation, when He tells me I’m wrong, that I’m thinking and acting like a pagan, that Christ is risen and since God has become a man and lived my life and suffered my death and risen the third day, life is most certainly more than eating and drinking and being merry. Life is eternal, and as my God has lived human life for me, so I live the Christian life for Him. So the Holy Spirit convicts us of unbelief, because our flesh doesn’t believe in Him, and then He conquers our unbelief with the unconquerable certainty of Jesus’ death and resurrection, that this Jesus is both Lord and God, and He is ours and we are His.


    And the Spirit doesn’t stop with that. He convicts the world of righteousness. And this again is a painful thing. The Spirit’s work is first of all negative. He convicts us of our false righteousness, our self-righteousness. If God hangs on a cross for the whole world, what can our righteousness amount to? And once again, yes, the Spirit does it for the unbelieving world. Absolutely. The reaction to Alabama’s abortion law this last week is typical of the world’s self-righteousness. Alabama, God bless them, banned abortion. Wyoming should do the same. No court and no king and no angel from heaven can tell us to make laws to allow people to kill babies. God’s law says no, and God gave us government to protect the innocent, not to facilitate killing them. But look at the reaction to Alabama doing what it should have done 46 years ago. Indignation. Moral outrage. The world calls this law banning murder immoral, extreme, and cruel. And this all to assert their own righteousness against God’s righteousness. If you accuse people of sin for saying killing babies is a sin, then not only are you saying you’re righteous, you’re saying you’re more righteous than God. And the Spirit again says NO. And once again He says it through us, through me as a preacher, which is why I’m preaching this right now, and through you as Christians who confess God’s truth about family, about marriage between one man and one woman, about the blessings of children, about the value of human life. This is what the world needs to hear. God became a baby in the womb, He lived and died to sanctify human life. It’s precious. The Spirit won’t preach this from a heavenly loudspeaker. He uses us to say it to the sinful world that our Lord Jesus died for.


    But again, it’s not just the unbelieving world, but the whole world, and that’s us, the Spirit convicts of self-righteousness. Our Lord sends His Spirit from His cross. And faith finds there true righteousness. It’s not a righteousness I can see. That’s what Jesus is saying when he explains that He goes to the Father and we see Him no more. You can’t point to yourself and say, Here is my righteousness, here is my goodness – I mean, you can, you can say I’ve kept true to my spouse, I’ve honored the marriage bed, I’ve valued children, I’ve worked hard at my job, I’ve been generous with my money, and people may be impressed, but you can’t boast of it before God as if it’s earned heaven from Him. Remember the parable of the Pharisee and the tax-collector. God can’t stand self-righteous religious hypocrites. God knows the heart. He’s not impressed by externals. God will welcome back the abortionist who confesses her sin, will welcome back any sinner who humbles himself, but the self-righteous religious do-gooder who thinks God loves Him more than others because of how wonderful he or she is, the Spirit must convince of self-righteousness and teach what true righteousness is.


    Our righteousness is in heaven, where Christ is. You can’t see this righteousness, this innocence. It was won by Jesus’ life. It was bought by His death. And the Spirit convinces you that His righteousness is yours, forget about your own, God’s righteousness is yours – you were robed in it in your Baptism and crowned with it in the absolution. Forbid it Lord that I should boast save in the death of Christ my Lord.


    And finally the Spirit convinces the world of judgment. The world has a false judgment of reality. It remains very religious. It always has been and always will be. Religion’s built into us. Some of the most religious people on earth are the atheists, actually, who believe hard that we can have heaven on earth if only God is removed. Imagine there’s no heaven, it’s easy if you try, no hell below us, above us only sky, imagine all the people, living life in peace. That’s the communist dream, still alive and well in America and Europe. It’s a religion, a false judgment of reality. Or we have the judgments of the generic religious American who believes in ‘God’ and ‘heaven,’ but thinks, if he thinks at all about it, that everyone, except really evil people like Hitler, gets to heaven. Or we have the openly religious churches that go by the name Christian and insist that we are saved by our works, as the Roman Catholic Church still does.


    And the Spirit convicts them all of false judgment. And again He does it by our confession and our preaching of the truth the Spirit has written down in the Bible. It’s why every single Sunday you’ll hear the Gospel from this pulpit, and if you don’t, you need to require it of me and any other pastor you might have. You need to hear it. The false judgments of the world still entice our flesh. Life-long Lutherans will still find themselves thinking their sins are too great, that we have to make up for them by our works. We need the Spirit’s judgment to root it out.


    So hear it again.  The devil has been judged. That’s the reality. Christ has crushed the serpent’s head. He cannot accuse you of sin. God’s Kingdom has come among us. There is a hell below us and Christ has suffered it to free us forever from God’s judgment against our sin. There is a heaven above us and Christ has opened its gates to us. There is no peace on earth, but God our Lord has won everlasting peace for all, peace between God and man, pure innocence given to us, this is what the Spirit convinces us of. Cast out any other religious judgment. Reality is what God has established. Reality is the truth of the Spirit, what He convinced the apostles of as He led them into all truth, what is written in the pages of the New Testament, what is preached from this pulpit and read and sung in those pews and in your homes, that God has died and risen in our human flesh, that He has paid our debt, that He has opened heaven, that He gives us His body and blood for the forgiveness of our sins.


    This is the new song. Sing unto the Lord a new song, for He has done marvelous things. The world can’t sing this song. But our Lord sends His Spirit into the world to teach it to us. I will give thanks to you, O Lord, for though you were angry with me, your anger turned away, that you might comfort me. Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid; for the Lord God is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation. The saints in heaven sing the new song to the Lamb that was slain, and we sing it with them. He is our sinlessness, our righteousness, our good judgment before God. Amen.



  • Easter 7 - Exaudi

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Exaudi, 2019

    John 15:26-16:4


    Dear friends in Christ, especially you confirmands, Grayson, Hannah, Thomas, Brody, Ashton, Lyndie, and Kylie…


    I don’t think we could find a better text for a confirmation than the Gospel for this Sunday. The Spirit you have, the Spirit your Lord Jesus gave you in your Baptism, is the Spirit of truth. And when you have and know the truth, who your God is, that the Father loves you and sent His Son to take on your flesh, who you are, that you are a sinner redeemed by the blood of your Lord Jesus Christ, where you came from, that God is your Creator who still takes care of you, where you are going, that you will live forever by the power of Christ’s resurrection, when you know and love this truth, you have a confidence and a courage and a joy that is divine, that will sustain you every day of your lives, that will lift you up when you fail and will guide you when you are confused and perplexed and will comfort you in your pain and sadness. There is nothing worth comparing to this lifelong comfort sure. So be happy today, and be confident, and make your promises to the God who loves you and whom you love.


    Today you seven young men and women will be confessing the Christian faith, that you believe it and that it means everything to you, that you would suffer anything, even death, rather than fall away from it. Now, it’s one thing to confess that here, where you’re surrounded by Christians and family and you’re doing what’s expected of you. It’s quite another to confess it in the world, by your life and with your mouth, where people will pressure you to deny it, and your own sinful flesh will entice you away from the Christian confession, to stop going to church because your flesh is lazy, to stop praying at home because your flesh doesn’t believe in God (know that, you’re flesh is an atheist, thinks God doesn’t exist or care about your life), to ignore what your God says about marriage and family, because your flesh wants instant fulfillment. You will have pressure to deny what you confess today.


    I don’t think the pressure could be higher, actually. That may sound strange, because Jesus tells his disciples that they will be kicked out of synagogues, kicked out of their homes and their cities, and people will think they’re doing God a favor by killing them. And this actually happened. The apostles, every single one of them, except John, who was exiled to the island of Patmos and didn’t lead a very comfortable life either, every other apostle was put to death, died because they confessed Jesus. So it can sound a bit ridiculous to say that the pressure to deny the faith couldn’t be higher than today. And you should keep this in mind. The apostles died for the faith. Hundreds, thousands, millions of Christians have done so before our time. We Christians in America don’t face that kind of open, bodily persecution. You won’t be thrown in jail for saying, I believe in Jesus, not in America. So we shouldn’t be so dramatic and say, “It’s so hard to be a Christian, the persecution is awful,” when we can sit comfortably in our houses and read our Bibles and pray to our Lord and can come to church whenever we want, while Christians in Iraq and Iran have lost house and home and wife and children and life because they’re Christians.


    But this is, very often, the problem for us. If you tell me I can either deny Jesus or die, you’ll see very quickly whether I’m a Christian, how important I take my confession. Am I willing to die for it? Am I willing to lose all the pleasures I so love in this life for the treasure that is infinitely greater than all of them? Do I mean it when I sing, Jesus priceless treasure, when I sing, And take they my life, goods, fame, child, and wife, though these all be gone, they still have nothing won, the kingdom ours remaineth?


    But if I am never actually pressed with that question, if these words seem purely theoretical, because, after all, no one’s going to take my kids away because I’m a Christian, I’m not going to lose my house, then I can mutter a confession here in church without really needing to think about it. OK, it’s time to say the Nicene creed, the obligatory, boring part of the service, that kind of mentality. You see the point? If it were illegal to confess the Nicene Creed, if you could go to jail for saying it, I guarantee you, you would make sure you meant every word before confessing it, because you’re not going to go to jail for saying something you don’t actually care about, and when you did confess it, it would be from the heart, and you would treasure the honor and glory that is yours because your Lord Jesus Christ is God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God. But when you can say it and there are no consequences *that you see*, well, then we can mouth our confession on Sunday and then go home and never think about it for the rest of the week. It’s easy. People do it all the time.


    So the pressure on you confirmands is different. It’s more subtle. And that means it’s more dangerous. It’s that it’s so easy to confess, that is, it’s so easy to just say the words, “I believe in Jesus,” and we like to take easy things for granted. We like to despise them actually. It’s really easy to play cornhole. So no one’s going to be impressed that I went undefeated on Memorial Day. Big deal. It’s really easy to dig graves, so no one is impressed with a gravedigger. You get the point. So here’s the pressure that everyone of you will face and the pressure everyone in this congregation faces. It’s to say one thing here in church and another thing in the world. It’s to live out there as if your God doesn’t exist and then come in here every once in a while to pretend he does exist. It’s to ignore your sin every other day of the week, and then come here and mouth a confession of sin, that you’re a poor miserable sinner who deserves God’s punishment, mouth it, without letting it touch your heart. It’s to make your decisions about school, about work, about college, about marriage, about friends, about money, about the way you spend your time, with zero consideration of how this will affect your faith in Christ, zero consideration of what you actually confess, that Christ and His church are your treasure for which you would be willing to give up everything, even your life. That’s the pressure. And it has taken millions of American Christians from the faith, from the church, and into the hands of the devil. Because they think it’s easy to confess. And when you think that, you stop confessing.


    So here’s the first lesson. It’s not easy to confess. Every one of us needs to learn that lesson. Yes, it’s easy to mouth the words here in church. But the Christian confession isn’t just a matter of talk. We believe therefore we speak, that’s what the Psalmist says. And to confess the faith, to pray daily and wrestle with the God you know loves you and yet puts crosses in your life, to put down your laziness, to confront your doubts of God and your fear of death, to fight against your lusts and your pride, to admit your sins and your guilt and your shame and humble yourself before God to beg for Christ’s righteousness, to hand down the faith to your children by reading them the Bible and teaching them to pray and disciplining them, to sacrifice other pleasures for the pleasure of coming to church and receiving the body and blood of Christ, to face criticism by family and friends because you won’t back down from the truth and you won’t compromise, these are not easy things. The Christian confession isn’t easy.


    This is why Jesus’ words in our Gospel today are so comforting. We need them. You need them. I have said all these things to you, Jesus says, to keep you from falling away. Look at Jesus’ first concern. That His disciples whom He loves to His death won’t fall away from Him. He buys you at too high a price. He shares with you everything He is and has, gives you His body and blood. He wants you with Him now and forever. And the worst thing Jesus can think of as He speaks with his disciples is not that they lose friends in the world, not that people don’t like them, not that they get shunned and thrown out of the in-group, not even that they die, but that they stop loving Him and His Father. That’s what it means to fall away. It’s to stop loving the God who has loved us, to stop hungering and thirsting for His body and blood, to stop praying to Him in time of need, to stop thanking Him for everything you have, to stop looking forward to seeing Him face to face, to stop wanting to live for Him and obey Him.


    And this is Jesus’ first concern for you. Above everything else. So He speaks to you of His Spirit. You need the Spirit. You can’t confess without Him. And Jesus gives Him. The Spirit gives courage. That’s what St. Paul says, God has given us a Spirit not of fear, but of power, of love, of self-control. And the Spirit gives courage by convincing you of the truth. He is the Spirit of truth, that’s what Jesus calls Him. And this is a beautiful thing. God’s power is the truth. The Spirit is God. He proceeds eternally from the Father and the Son. And His power is the truth of Jesus. This is what Jesus says to his disciples before his ascension too. All power has been given to me in heaven and on earth. Therefore Go and make disciples of all nation, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you. Teach them the truth. That’s how God exerts His power.


    And this truth is far more powerful than anything in this world. No king, no politician, no scientist, no philosopher, no professor or teacher, no one, nothing, can bring God down to you, can forgive a single one of your sins, can take away your guilt and give you a clean conscience before the judgment seat of God. But the truth the Spirit speaks does exactly this. Because He witnesses to your Lord Jesus.


    God has come down to you. God has taken on your flesh. God has bled and died for your sins. God gives His body that was pierced and his blood that poured out to end your guilt and cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God. And this isn’t some merely spiritual truth dropped down from heaven, some religious mumbo-jumbo that we believe because we need something to believe and it makes us feel good. That’s not what truth is. No, look at what Jesus says here, and this is typical of Jesus. He says the Spirit comforts, gives courage, by speaking the truth. But then he points to the disciples, and he calls them to witness this truth. It happened. Before their eyes. What did they see? What did their hands handle? These are the men who saw and tasted the wine Jesus created from water, the men who saw Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead, the men who saw Jesus give sight to the blind and hearing to the deaf, they saw it, they were eyewitnesses, this is history, and they saw him suffer and die on a cross, they saw him buried in the tomb, and they saw him alive, risen from the dead, they are eye-witnesses of the resurrection. They are eye-witnesses of God in the flesh.


    Truth isn’t relative. It isn’t what I want it to be. It’s what God has done in history. It’s not like the Muslim has his truth and the Jew his and the Hindu his, and it just depends on your perspective and your upbringing. No, that’s true of whether you like sauerkraut or mayonnaise, it’s not true of religion.


    Jesus calls Himself the way and the truth and the life, not simply because He is claiming to be God, but because He showed Himself to be God in our flesh, He actually and really lived the way to His Father, established the truth by His life and death and resurrection in history, and therefore, therefore, has the power and authority to give life to us, to forgive the sins that stain our conscience, to reconcile us to our God. This is the truth the Spirit of truth speaks. It’s what you have in your Bible, it’s what you hear preached from the Bible here at Church. And it gives confidence, it gives courage. And this isn’t some courage you have to work up in yourself, it’s divine courage, divine confidence, given by God Himself that since this is the truth, since your God even now wears your flesh and blood, ascended to all power in heaven, having spared nothing to win you back from death and sin and hell, having humbled Himself to die in your place, since He has risen from the dead and promised to be with you always, to forgive you and teach you and guide you and discipline you by His Word until you see Him face to face in the resurrection, you have everything, you have God Himself on your side, and you confirmands can confess without fear and without doubt, here today and all throughout your lives, that Jesus is your Lord and your God. God grant it for Jesus’ sake. Amen.


    Now may the peace of God…

  • Pentecost

    Pentecost, June 9th A+D 2019, Pastor Andrew Richard Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Praise be to Christ on this day of Pentecost!  Our Lord has not left us as orphans.  He has kept his promise.  “I will ask the Father,” Jesus said, “and he will give you another Comforter to be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth.”  And again Jesus said, “It is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Comforter will not come to you.  But if I go, I will send him to you.”  Today we rejoice that this Word has proven true.  The Holy Spirit has come and the Church has been born. Consider what would have happened if the Holy Spirit had not come.  On what would the New Testament Scriptures be founded?  On the faulty recollection of man’s mind.  The apostles would have been left to their own devices, there would have been disagreements about what really happened or which words Jesus actually said, we would have contradictions in the Bible, or multiple competing Bibles.  “But,” Jesus said, “the Comforter, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.”  Therefore we might talk about the Holy Gospel according to St. John or the writings of St. Paul, and it is not inaccurate to speak in this way.  But truly we have the Holy Gospel according to the Holy Spirit, and the writings of the Holy Spirit, and therefore faith has a sure foundation on which to rely, and we rightly say “This is the Word of the Lord.  Thanks be to God.” If the Holy Spirit had not come, who would create faith in Christ?  It says in 1 Corinthians 12:3, “No one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.”  If the Holy Spirit didn’t create and sustain faith, then we would have to convince people to believe the Gospel and we would have to call, gather, enlighten, and sanctify the Church.  More than that, we would have to convince ourselves to believe, which is a terrifying prospect.  You’ve suffered those terrors of conscience that make you tremble before God because of your sins.  What uplifts your downcast soul, what restores you to life from such death?  The Holy Spirit alone, working through the Word of God.  The Holy Spirit gives you faith to believe that your sins are forgiven for the sake of Christ.  Without the Holy Spirit creating faith, the Christian congregation would be nothing more than a poor man’s country club.But worst of all, if the Holy Spirit had not come, what then would have become of the sufferings of Christ?  His death would have been in vain.  Certainly Jesus won forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation by his glorious death on the cross.  But the crucifixion itself does not give you the fruits of Jesus’ death.  If you could go back in time and stand at the foot of the cross, you would receive no more forgiveness there than you do when you stand next to a casket in a funeral parlor.  I do not say this to belittle the sufferings of Christ.  We consider those blessed who were chosen by God to witness our Lord’s crucifixion.  My point is, Jesus won salvation when he died on the cross, but he did not distribute his salvation from the cross.  Jesus says that the Holy Spirit is the one who “will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”  If the Holy Spirit did not come to declare to us the salvation that Christ had won, then all the benefits of Jesus’ death would lie buried. So again, praise be to Christ on this day of Pentecost, for he has prayed the Father to send the Comforter, and the Father has answered.  Christ has kept his Word and sent the Holy Spirit.  This is a high holy day, and its annual remembrance is a source of jubilation and joy.As we contemplate the great work that the Holy Spirit is constantly doing in our midst, it is important that we understand exactly how the Holy Spirit goes about this work.  His work is great, but his means of doing it do not appear so.  And be sure of this: the Holy Spirit does work through means.  The Holy Spirit does not come to people out of the clear blue sky like the thunderbolt of Zeus.  The Holy Spirit has means and instruments by which he does his work, and these means are the Word of God, Baptism, Absolution, and the Sacrament of the Altar.  If we seek the Holy Spirit through some other means, we may feel religious, we may think we have found the truth, and we will in fact be subjecting ourselves once again to unclean spirits who intend our everlasting harm. The means through which the Holy Spirit works seem poor and lowly and despicable.  How can water do such great things?  How can bodily eating and drinking do such great things?  Our sinful flesh wants something impressive, like Naaman did, who came to Elisha to be cleansed of his leprosy.  He brought expensive gifts and expected some great show, and instead Elisha’s servant came out and said, “Go wash in the Jordan seven times.”  And Naaman was angry at so simple a means of being cleansed and went away in a rage.But the Lord prefers to do his work through simple and unimpressive means.  Remember Elijah when he fled to Mount Horeb and lodged in a cave.  The Lord said to him, “‘Go out and stand on the mount before the Lord.’  And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind.  And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.  And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.  And after the fire, a still small voice.”  And that’s where the Lord was.  It was his still small voice, and it is more powerful than wind and earthquake and fire.  This still small voice is the Word of the Lord, and his Word is what holds sway over the world.  His Word sets up kings and deposes them, makes the deer give birth and strips the forests bare.  His Word can make the water of Baptism save and can give us Christ’s body and blood when he gives us bread and wine. I must warn you, there are many fanatics in the Church today who despise the Word and choose their own means that they deem more impressive.  “Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel?  Could I not wash in them and be clean?”  So Naaman said.  But Naaman will rise on the Last Day and condemn these fanatics, because his servants convinced him to dip himself in the Jordan, and he was cleansed, and believed in the true God and learned not to despise the Lord’s simple means.  But many today scorn the still small voice of Christ, scorn Baptism and the Absolution and the holy Supper of our Lord’s body and blood.  The fanatics suppose instead that the Holy Spirit works through a certain kind of music, or through business principles, or the right plan, or the charisma of the preacher.  It goes to show, if we won’t have the Holy Spirit’s means, we’ll invent our own apart from him.  The self-chosen means of man may seem more holy and spiritual than the Holy Spirit himself.  But as for you, you follow the Word of God and seek the Holy Spirit where he has promised to be found. And lest we doubt the power of the Word of Christ, hear what happened at Pentecost.  “When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place.  And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.  And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them.  And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance.”  Again we have the wind and fire that Elijah saw on Mount Horeb.  I suppose it would not be quite right to say on Pentecost that the Lord was not in the wind or the Lord was not in the fire.  But though the Holy Spirit did come in wind and fire to show physically and tangibly that he had come, he did not remain in wind and fire.  Immediately the Holy Spirit located elsewhere, namely, in the preached Word. Notice why the crowds marveled.  They did not stare because of the fire.  They were not intrigued because of the wind.  But it says, “they were bewildered, because each one was hearing them speak in his own language.”  And it was not the mere spectacle of speaking in tongues that captured their attention.  It was the content of the speaking.  They said, “we hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” And which are those “mighty works of God”?  We hear in Peter’s sermon that the mighty works of God are chiefly the death and resurrection of Jesus.  The Holy Spirit preaches Jesus.  The Holy Spirit does not talk about himself.  The so-called Pentecostals of our day miss this point entirely.  To use a metaphor, Jesus is the actor on the stage, the Holy Spirit is the spotlight operator, and the Pentecostals turn around and strain their necks and miss everything so that they can stare uncomprehendingly at the bright light in the catwalk.  But the true heirs of Pentecost focus their attention where the Holy Spirit focuses his, namely, on Jesus. Jesus calls the Holy Spirit the Paraclete, which means the Comforter.  And so it may come as a surprise to us that the first thing the Holy Spirit does to the hearers of Peter’s sermon is convict them of sin.  Peter preached, “Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.”  And it says, “Now when they heard this they were cut to the heart.”  The Holy Spirit is not a warm fuzzy blanket.  He convicts you of sin, as Jesus said that he would “convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment.”  Ask the Holy Spirit, “Who killed Jesus?” and he won’t say, “The Jews killed Jesus” or “The Romans killed Jesus.”  The Holy Spirit says, “You killed Jesus.”  You put him there on the cross with your sins.  Thus the Holy Spirit cuts us to the heart as well. But this cut to the heart is not the chopping of an axe murderer.  The Holy Spirit is the Lord and Giver of Life.  But in order to give you life, he must do a work that is strange and foreign to his nature, namely, convict you and cut you.  In this regard the Holy Spirit is like a surgeon.  The surgeon says, “You have a problem.  Now we could pretend the problem isn’t there.  I could smile at you and tell you all is well and go right on grinning while you die.  But since I care about you, I’m going to strap you to this table, cut you open, take out your old heart and give you a new one that actually works.”  So also the Holy Spirit says, “You have sinned,” and with the scalpel of God’s Law he cuts you to the heart.  But he cuts open that he might bind up and he wounds that he might heal. And so when the people were cut to the heart, “they said to Peter and the rest of the apostles, ‘Brothers, what shall we do?’”  The apostles do not point the contrite crowds to their good works or give them seven steps to a better you.  “Peter said to them, ‘Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.’”  Here the Holy Spirit does his proper work.  He proclaims forgiveness of sins in Jesus Christ, he washes sins away through Baptism.  The Holy Spirit takes everything that Jesus won on the cross and he wraps it up in the Word and Sacraments and gives it to you as a gift.  You are baptized.  Your sins are forgiven.  The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.  And see the power of the Holy Spirit’s simple and ordinary means: “So those who received his word were baptized and were added on that day, about three thousand souls.” Pentecost marked the beginning of the Holy Spirit’s work of giving to us what Christ had won.  And that was only the beginning.  Now wherever the called ministers of Christ preach and baptize and absolve and administer the Sacrament, there the Holy Spirit himself is at work.  Thus today is no mere recollection of Pentecost, but is in a sense Pentecost all over again.  And so is every Sunday when the Holy Spirit preaches Christ, and cuts to the heart, and forgives sins.  Thanks be to the Father for hearing the prayer of his beloved Son and sending forth the Holy Spirit.  Praise be to our Triune God, to whom be glory and might forever and ever.  Amen.

  • Trinity Sunday

    Holy Trinity, June 16th A+D 2019, Pastor Andrew Richard


    Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.


    The word Trinity comes from tri, meaning three, and unity, meaning one.  Trinity means three-one.  On Trinity Sunday each year we confess the Athanasian Creed, which in brief form confesses the truth about our Triune God: “we worship one God in Trinity and Trinity in Unity, neither confusing the persons nor dividing the substance.  For the Father is one person, the Son is another, and the Holy Spirit is another.  But the Godhead of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit is one: the glory equal, the majesty coeternal.”  At which we might scratch our heads and ask with Nicodemus, “How can these things be?”  Today’s account of Jesus speaking with Nicodemus illustrates very well how our human reason responds to the things of God, and indeed how unreasonable our so-called reason is in its response.


    “Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews.  This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him.’”  Nicodemus thinks he is being very reasonable here.  “A man who can turn water into wine, heal the sick, and cast out demons must be a teacher come from God.  Jesus, you do these signs.  Therefore, you must be a teacher come from God.”  So close, Nicodemus, but already your reason has failed you.  The conclusion isn’t that Jesus is a teacher from God.  The proper conclusion is that he is the unique and divine Son of God.  But, Nicodemus, your reason won’t allow that God could be standing before you in human flesh, and so you’ve stopped short at teacher.


    But Jesus doesn’t respond with this argument.  Nicodemus’s reason is running out of control and must be halted for his own good.  So Jesus doesn’t reason with Nicodemus.  Instead he says something that is completely true and completely reasonable, but which acts like an iron wall for Nicodemus’s mind.  “Jesus answered him, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.’”  What?  What is this nonsensical statement that seems to have come out of nowhere?  “How can a man be born when he is old?  Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?”  Of course not!


    Well now Nicodemus is in quite a pickle.  “Either the signs that Jesus has done show that he’s a teacher from God and that I should listen to him, in which case I have to believe this statement that flies in the face of my reason.  Or this statement is as wrong as it seems, in which case I have no way of explaining how Jesus could have done these signs since God would not support falsehood.”


    And while Nicodemus is reeling Jesus says even more clearly and with further explanation, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.  That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.  Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’”


    Jesus says that Christian Baptism gives entrance into the kingdom of God, “the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit,” as St. Paul puts it in Titus 3.  “Nicodemus, being born from your mother gave you life in this world.  But that fleshly birth only gave you life in the flesh, not life in the kingdom of God.  It is the Spirit who gives that life, and the flesh is no help at all.  And isn’t that reasonable, that since the kingdom of God is a spiritual kingdom, it is his Holy Spirit who brings you into it, not your mother?  So don’t marvel that I have said these things.”


    Then Jesus continues with an illustration, “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.  So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”  Or in other words, “Consider the wind.  You experience the wind firsthand.  You’ve felt it blow on you every day of your life.  You hear it bluster past your ears, you see it wave the grass in the fields, you see it fill the sails of ships.  The wind is a very earthly sort of thing, and you’ve been interacting with it your entire life.  And yet you still have no idea where it comes from or where it goes.  You know that it is, but you don’t know how it is.  But you don’t have to understand the wind in order to enjoy it.  So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.


    “Those who are born of the Spirit have heard the voice of the Spirit in the Scriptures, in the proclamation of the Gospel, in the words of Holy Baptism.  Yet they don’t understand how this unseen person begets people from above when heaven is up there and they’re down here, when they’ve already been born once and are currently alive, or how this incredibly powerful act could take place with as little earthly power as sprinkling water while saying the words of Baptism.  Yet those who are born of the Spirit don’t have to understand how it all works in order to receive the benefits.  Because the benefits don’t come by understanding, but by faith.  And it’s not that those born of the Spirit believe a bunch of nonsense or are stupid.  They desire to learn and delight in the knowledge of God.  Some things are simply beyond them, and they know it.  After all, if they have to admit their ignorance about something as earthly as the wind, it shouldn’t surprise you that they say it about heavenly things as well.”


    For as much actual sense as Jesus is making, Nicodemus still won’t have it.  “‘How can these things be?’  Jesus answered him, ‘Are you the teacher of Israel and yet you do not know these things?  Truly, truly, I say to you, we speak of what we know, and bear witness to what we have seen, but you do not receive our testimony.  If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you heavenly things?’”


    The “we” here is likely Jesus and John the Baptist.  John had borne witness about Jesus in John 1, “I saw the Spirit descend from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him.  I myself did not know him, but he who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain, this is he who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’  And I have seen and have borne witness that this is” – not just a teacher, but that, “this is the Son of God.”  And Jesus had done many signs that ought to have shown quite clearly who he is, again not some mere teacher, but the Son of God.  These things all happened on earth, in the sight of men.  Yet still Nicodemus is ignoring all the obvious things and trying to storm heaven with his reason and figure it out for himself.


    This is the unfortunate tendency of human reason.  Our reason is no longer completely reasonable, but has fallen and been corrupted along with the rest of our nature because of sin.  Yet our fallen reason becomes puffed up in pride, and thinks it’s the most reasonable thing in existence, and refuses to bend the knee to the God who is more reasonable than we are.  When our reason claims to be the lord of things that are beyond us, we not only sin against God and defy his Word; we also end up in doubt and afflicted with troubled consciences.


    For example, here are some common ideas that our corrupt reason spouts off in its unreasonableness.  Listen to them, and take to heart the fact that even as a Christian who believes the Word of God you have thought these things: “I’m suffering because of some sin that I don’t know about.  I have to do something good to get rid of this guilt.  God helps those who help themselves.  Prosperity is a sign of God’s favor, and suffering proves the opposite.  It seems right to me, so it must be right.  There are no foreseeable consequences, so it can’t be wrong.  That wasn’t really a sin, per se; God’s Word is unclear, or doesn’t apply to this particular situation.”  How reasonable it all sounds!  How contrary it is to the Word of God!


    O Reason, you have fallen.  Much is still below you and in your power.  You can understand speech, and order off a menu, and see the sense in walking on the sidewalk instead of walking off a cliff.  But much is above and beyond you.  You can’t fathom the Trinity.  You can’t plumb the depths of the mystery of the Incarnation.  You can’t even figure out whether God is your enemy or your friend.  Repent, and be reasonable, and bend the knee to Jesus your Master.


    Jesus says, “No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man.”  Which is to say, you can’t stick your mind up into heaven like a periscope and take a look around for yourself.  Your knowledge of God depends entirely on listening to the one who came down from before the throne of God and proved his divinity with many wonders and signs.  Listen to Jesus if you want to know about God: “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.  For in this way God loved the world, that he gave his only Son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”


    The Father looked on us with compassion as our reason dashed itself continually against the ceiling of the world in a futile effort to gain heaven.  The Father knew that we couldn’t get ourselves to him by sheer mind power, or by any other of our own devices.  So he sent his Son to reveal plainly what we could never know by ourselves.  In the Son the Father revealed something that reason never would have expected.  In the Son the Father revealed that he loves you.  So Jesus, fully God and fully man, was lifted up on a cross and suffered death and hell in your place.  Jesus was buried in your grave.  And on the third day Jesus rose again to give you eternal life.  The wrath of God has been fully satisfied and your sins are forgiven.


    After the Son ascended into heaven, the Father and the Son sent the Holy Spirit to convince you of these things.  The Holy Spirit has given you faith in Jesus through the Word of the Gospel and the salvation of Jesus in the waters of Holy Baptism.  And the Holy Spirit has enlightened your mind to see what is really reasonable.


    It is reasonable to believe Jesus, because he knows firsthand what we need to know about God, and we don’t, and he reveals it to us in his Word.  It is reasonable to believe that God is one God and at the same time three distinct persons, not because it makes sense to our feeble human minds that can’t even fully understand the things of earth, but because God in the flesh has told us so.  It is reasonable to believe that suffering doesn’t mean God hates you, because Jesus took the full wrath of God on the cross.  It is reasonable to believe that Baptism saves, and the Sacrament of the Altar is the body and blood of Christ, because the one who came down from heaven, died, rose, and ascended back to heaven said so.  This is not reason in the sense of understanding how.  This is reason in the sense of trusting the one who knows better than we do.  This is the reason of faith, that will stake its life a thousand times on the words of Jesus because he is the faithful and true witness of all heavenly things.  To him be the glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit, Trinity in Unity and Unity in Trinity, world without end.  Amen.

  • Trinity 1


  • Trinity 2

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Trinity 2, 2019

    Luke 14:15-24


    Jesus teaches us today that hearing the Word of God is far more important than field, oxen, or wife; that is, God’s Word, hearing it here in church and bringing it into your homes, is far more important than your money, your job, or your family. Now Jesus talks this way all the time. And it seems off, it seems wrong. Because He sets God’s Word and Kingdom in opposition to good things, things He encourages elsewhere, like working hard for your money and loving your wife or husband and family. Sometimes he says it so starkly that it’s shocking to hear, but He does it to make things very black and white, with no gray area for squirming out of the reality. So immediately after our Gospel lesson for today Jesus says, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” Now of course Jesus doesn’t want his disciples to hate our moms and dads and brothers and sisters and wife and children. That would make the Bible contradict itself, and that’s impossible, because the Bible is God’s Word and God can’t lie. He doesn’t know how. And look at what the Bible says. We just heard St. John’s first epistle, “Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and we know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him.” We know that we have passed from death to life because we love our brothers, that’s what St John says. And Jesus Himself says, “Everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment.” The universal teaching of the Bible, God’s Word, is that we are to love one another as God has loved us. That’s the second table of the law. But Jesus says what He says about hating mother and father and children and wife and brothers and sisters, to get this reality to pierce into our souls and our stubborn hearts, to teach us not just intellectually, not just as head-knowledge, but deep down in our souls, that our Lord Jesus is our all in all or He is nothing, there is no in between; no devotion to father or mother, no loyalties to brother or sister, no affection for son or daughter, no job, no money and no pleasure, are ever to interfere with our affection and loyalty and devotion to our God and Brother who has bought us with His own blood and loves us far more than our sinful flesh can ever understand.

    The reality is that it’s not Jesus who draws a sharp divide between family, pleasures, and job on the one hand, and God’s Word on the other. He’s only pointing out what we do. God values family. He created it. He created marriage between one man and one woman and blesses them with children. God values hard work. He had Adam working in the Garden of Eden even before sin entered the world. God says if a man does not work neither shall he eat. And God values pleasure. He turned water into wine. He gave us ridiculously beautiful things to enjoy, mountains and lakes; gave us the pleasure of intimacy between husband and wife, the pleasure of good food and a good laugh and good friends. God’s no prude, no despiser of pleasure. And so Jesus is not the one who draws the dividing line between the earthly things we can enjoy and the heavenly things that save us. Jesus is the God-man. He is heaven come down to earth. He lives and dies in human flesh to save earthly things, to bless marriage, to make our hard work worth something, to take away the sin and the guilt that stain our enjoyment of His creation.

    But we do it. We draw the dividing line. We put our earthly pleasures above the pleasure of hearing the voice of our Shepherd. We value our jobs and the money we can make over the priceless gift of Jesus’ body and blood for which we never had to work. We imagine that quality time with our kids or our family should come at the expense of coming to church or doing devotions at home. That’s what Jesus is pointing to with the farmer who bought his field, the man who bought his oxen, the husband who married his wife. All of them draw a sharp distinction between their fun, their work, their family and God’s Word. They choose one and reject the other.

    And we have to realize that this is what we are doing if we put work, sports, hunting, camping, family visits, making money, whatever it is, over coming to church and hearing God’s word. Faith wants to hear God’s Word. It’s how it lives. It’s why Jesus describes it in terms of a feast, in terms of eating and drinking. Faith is not a once upon a time decision to welcome Jesus into your heart as your personal Lord and Savior; it isn’t, that’s a dangerous way to describe faith; no, faith is as constant a thing as eating and drinking. You don’t go a day without drinking water. Your faith can’t go a day without meditating on Jesus. This is why Jesus calls Himself living water. It’s why he says that his flesh is food indeed and his blood is drink indeed. Not just to point to Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, but to tell us that the faith that trusts in Him needs Him constantly. And this faith doesn’t, simply doesn’t, decide that some sporting event or some job or some family member is more important than hearing God’s Word. To quote the Sicilian on the Princess Bride, that’s inconceivable. Jesus says blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled. You get hungry every single day. If you don’t get hungry every day it’s a sign that you’re dying, that something’s seriously wrong with your body. And it’s the same for your soul. Your soul needs to feast, it needs to eat and drink, and you should be hungry and thirsty every day for the food God gives you here.

    This is why the master of the feast ends up sending his servants into the highways and byways, the streets and the hedges. This is where poor people are, people who are hungry and beg, who won’t think of putting their wealth above the feast, because they don’t have any wealth to put above the feast. They wouldn’t think about putting their jobs above the feast, because they’re beggars. They wouldn’t dream of putting their families above the feast, because they want their families to come to the feast with them. They know they need it. They’re hungry and thirsty. It’s their highest delight that so unexpectedly and undeservedly this great and mighty Lord would turn His eyes to them and have mercy on them and give them what they need above all else.

    And this is how we must be. Look at the world you live in. St. Paul says it well in 1 Corinthians, “The time is very short. From now on, let those who have wives live as though they had none, and those who buy as though they had no goods, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it. For the present form of this world is passing away.” Today marks the last day of an entire month dedicated to the exaltation and glorification of homosexuality in our country. The former president of the United States honored the LGBTQ community with this month of observation at the same time as he condemned the so-called intolerance and bigotry of Christians for our stand on the basic morality of God’s word, that marriage is between one man and one woman, and God creates male and female. And yet in the last years instead of Christians running to church, realizing that God’s judgment on this world, his giving them over to sin, should drive us more and more to find our comfort and strength and life here in the church, what has happened? Church attendance goes steadily down. It’s now become normal for regular members to go only once a month, and for their children to grow up and not go at all. Husbands and wives raising children in this hostile world forget to bring them to church or even read them their Bibles and pray with them. Think of that! It should be the opposite. We should see our culture descending into the mire, we should see our own sinful impulse to follow along and compromise our faith, our own doubts of God’s word and fears of the world’s opinions, and we should be horrified that it could suck us in, and run, run to church, hunger and thirst for the truth that our God gives us here, fill our homes with the Word of God that endures forever and is our foundation in life and in death.

    It’s interesting. People are always trying to figure out how to increase church attendance, what has gone wrong, what will make people come back. I just received a letter from the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod the other week addressing the fact that attendance and church membership in our synod has declined sharply for the last several decades. In the last three generations we’ve retained only 35% of our confirmands. That means that about one in three people who get confirmed in the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod stay members of the church. Now that wasn’t news to me, but I was surprised to see that the letter from synod said this didn’t have to do with people rejecting the doctrine we teach, but with people not having close enough relationships with people and families at their churches.

    Now I’m sure that’s what the surveys said, but it’s not what God says. It’s the exact opposite of what Jesus’ parable teaches us. There is no separation of doctrine and our relationships with people. If someone leaves the church altogether because he’s not getting the relationships he wants, then he’s doing exactly what the man with a newly married wife did when he refused to come to the feast. He’s put human relationships above God’s word. And Jesus’ whole point is that this means you don’t believe the doctrine. You don’t value it. You don’t realize what a treasure it is. You don’t hunger and thirst for Christ’s righteousness. Now I’m all for good relationships at church. Because God is. When people walk into this place, we should say hi to them and smile and ask them how they’re doing, and so forth. We should check and see if the mom who’s having trouble with her kids might need some help, especially if dad isn’t there (because he’s preaching or something). We should become all things to all people, as St. Paul says. We should make people feel welcome. Seriously, God commands hospitality and being kindhearted to one another, and a church that doesn’t show hospitality and kindness to visitors and members is dealing with some spiritual problems. But it won’t create faith. The Mormons can be nice too, and there’s no Christian faith at a Mormon stake house. Faith doesn’t feed on human relationships. It feeds on the Word of God.

    This is the only thing that has ever grown the church. And it has everything to do with your family, your job, and your pleasures. God invites you to church, He invites you to hear the Gospel, because He knows you need it. You are the poor, the crippled, the blind, the lame. Look at the world. The family has never been more in shambles, divorce has never been so damaging to children, fornication has never been so prominent, disrespect for authority infests our schools and our homes. It’s overwhelming. Look at your flesh, the unending desire to please yourself, your pride, your despair in times of pain and suffering, your lust and your laziness, your fear of death. And look at the devil who continues to push the lie that you can enjoy your money and your pleasures and your job and your family without the God who gave them all to you. And now look at the invitation your God gives you. Come to the feast. Everything is ready. Your Lord Jesus gives heavenly food here. Here you find a gracious Father who has put away all his anger against your sin, is reconciled to You and smiles on you as His own dear child; here you find your Lord Jesus’ own body and blood, broken and shed and given to you to remove any doubt that you are an heir of heaven, that the God who has shed His blood for you and suffered for you gives you Himself and His righteousness and His life; here you find the truth the Spirit teaches, that your Lord Jesus lives forever to defend and protect you and lead you out of temptation and into His Kingdom, which has no end. Here you have and know the God who controls all things and will work all for the good of His Church.

    And here you see that whatever God gives on this earth, your money, your job, your family, your pleasures, He gives not for an excuse to avoid Him, but out of the same love and mercy that He gives you salvation, for the sake of Christ, to whom we entrust our life every day, to whom we bring our family, and for whom we work and in whom we enjoy God’s earth, until He takes us to the greater joy of the heavenly bliss that has no end.


  • Trinity 3

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Trinity 3, 2019

    Luke 15


    Jesus teaches us today what we call divine monergism. Jesus does it all. God alone works to save us. That’s what divine monergism means. Jesus doesn’t ask for our help, he doesn’t first require something from us, some work, some act of the will, some religious reasoning, before He saves us and makes us into Christians. He does it all. Just as He didn’t ask our permission, didn’t need our help, to become a man, to live and die for us, to become our substitute and bear our sins and our punishment, just as He did it all by Himself, so He finds us, He makes us into Christians, into heirs of heaven, without our helping, without our cooperation. And this is a great comfort, actually. It’s why St. Peter can command us to humble ourselves under the mighty hand of God so that He may exalt us at the proper time, to give up all our cares to Him, because He cares for us. This is the deduction faith makes. If Jesus has done it all, if He has spent His life for me and has sought me out a poor miserable sinner, who deserved the opposite, if this is His care for me, then when I am in need, when I doubt His care, when I suffer temptation and pain, when I fear death, when I’ve fallen into sin, it’s not time that will heal all, it’s not my fretting, not my absurd dreams of changing the past, not my works or my explanation that will cover my shame or give me the strength to endure,  it’s Jesus and He alone, “In Thee alone, O Christ, my Lord, my hope on earth is founded.”

    Now the fact that only God works to save us, that we contribute nothing to it, is an insult to this world and our flesh, because it presupposes that we are, as we just confessed, poor, miserable sinners, that sin is so serious a corruption of our bodies and souls that we can do nothing to get rid of it, to lessen it, or to make up for it. It takes God to do it. It takes God dying to do it, of course, but also God searching for us, finding us, and bringing us into His Kingdom, protecting us throughout our life from the assaults of the devil, keeping us from falling away, feeding us with His body and blood, and giving us in the end a Christian death. We God to do it all.

    Our Gospel lesson begins with the tax-collectors and sinners coming to hear Jesus. The Pharisees were frankly right to be disgusted at the sin of the tax-collectors and sinners who came to Jesus. God is disgusted with sin. Jesus is. There is no rejoicing in heaven at sinners who sin. No angels shouting for joy. Jesus’ point is not to downplay sin in the least, but to stress its enormity, and the hell it deserves, at the same time as He stresses the enormity of His love and His commitment to sinners.

    The tax-collectors, we should know, were famously incorrigible. That means they didn’t take correction. The Pharisees tried to correct them. They banned them from social activities, ostracized them from the Jewish community. They told them that their stealing was wicked and God would punish it. But nothing worked. The tax-collectors absolutely refused to repent, to feel sorry for stealing money from poor fathers and mothers who were trying to take care of their children. These are the wicked people who come to Jesus to hear him teach. And this itself is a miracle. Those who were utterly lost, who refused to hear God’s word against stealing, who felt no guilt at ruining people’s lives, they come to hear Jesus teach them. They finally have sorrow. They finally see the misery of their life. What no threat of social shame could accomplish, Jesus accomplished by His Word. And from the depths of despair at what they have been and what they have done, they listen to Jesus teach them that He has come to lay down His life for them, to bear their sins, to give them His righteousness, and make them children of God and heirs of everlasting life. And this miracle, that the incorrigible, the unteachable, become teachable, that the heard-hearted are softened, that those who hated God and their neighbor now receive the love of the God who gives Himself to death for the world, this is what we call divine monergism, and what Jesus describes in our three parables.

    Jesus calls the sheep a lost sheep. And it is beyond dispute that it is the Shepherd who has to save this sheep. The sheep contributes nothing. He’s lost and has no capability whatsoever of getting himself unlost. In fact, the word Jesus uses for “lost” here is also the word for destroyed, ruined, and that’s no coincidence. The sheep is done for, as good as dead. And this is the picture of our sinful state, what we are before our God without Jesus. It’s why St. Paul describes the Ephesians before they became Christians as dead. Not mostly dead. Dead. Just as that sheep, no matter how he bahs and runs and frets will only get itself hurt and exhausted, and attract wolves and jackals, and will never make it back to the shepherd, so we by our own natural powers can’t find God, can’t find Jesus, can’t do anything to make ourselves Christians and children of God.

    I’ve heard people say, “Jesus did his part, and now we have to do ours.” And by that they mean, Jesus died for us, and now we have to complete the deal by choosing to believe in Him. But this completely misses the point of what it means for Jesus to be our Shepherd. When we think of Jesus as our Shepherd we remember those beautiful words of our Savior, “I am the good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down His life for the sheep.” And we should think of this, of course. This is our glory and our honor, that our Lord and our God has so loved us, that He shares our flesh and shed His blood for us. But the Shepherd who lays down His life for us, is also the shepherd who takes His life back up again and calls us by name, who seeks us when we are lost, who carries us back to the fold and protects us from every evil. My sheep hear my voice. That’s what Jesus is teaching here. Look at this Shepherd. Look at His reckless love. He absurdly leaves the 99 and goes after the lost one, the one who should be given up for dead. He finds it. He picks it up. He doesn’t even let it walk itself back. There are no two pairs of footprints in the sand here. Only one. He puts the sheep on His shoulders and does all the work to bring it to safety.

    He carries us to faith as He carried our sin to the cross. He cares about our cares now because He bore our burdens then. And just as He did it all then – we didn’t call him down from heaven, we didn’t ask him to become our brother and take our flesh and blood, we didn’t beg him to suffer and die for us, he did it as He promised to, as he planned to from all eternity in the everlasting counsel of the Father and the Holy Spirit, so He does it all now.

    Jesus teaches the first parable of the lost sheep to teach that He Himself is the one who brings sinners to repentance, as He says, “I have come to seek and to save the lost.” He tells the second parable, the parable of the woman and the coin, to explain how He does it. Jesus finds us, but He isn’t, of course, visible to us as He was to the tax-collectors, and He doesn’t whisper into our ears when we’re sleeping. He finds us and makes us Christians by creating His Church, by sending His Word into the world, where the Holy Spirit is active. Just as the woman lights the lamp and sweeps and searches, so the Church has the lamp of God’s Word. Your word is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my path. That’s what we sing with the Psalmist. And again we see that this is all God’s doing. Divine Monergism. God does all the work. The coin doesn’t find itself. It gives no hints as to its hiding place. It’s lost and relies entirely on the lady of the house to find it.

    The woman in Jesus’ parable not only has a lamp but a broom. With the Word of God Jesus also sends the cross. The light needs to shine on the coin for the coin to be found, for the woman to rejoice over it and have it in her possession. And the broom sweeps away everything that keeps this from happening. And this is why God places crosses in our lives. To clear away whatever keeps us from hearing his word. Only a humble heart receives Christ. And it’s hard to be proud when you suffer from some shameful temptation. Only someone who knows the pain and destruction and death sin brings thirsts for the forgiveness and sinless heaven that Jesus wins and promises. God sweeps away our pride; He sweeps away our obsession with this sinful world with painful swipes, with crosses and trials, and only then does the light of His Word shine on us.

    But of course God doesn’t save coins and dump sheep. We’re the subject of God’s work. And so Jesus tells the third parable of the prodigal son. And this story really describes the conscience of the Christian, how God saving us works itself out in our sorrow and the unexpected and undeserved joy of finding in Christ our Lord, our life, and our forgiveness.

    First, notice the horrible offense. Jesus doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t ignore sin and its wickedness. The son disowns his father. He says drop dead, I want nothing to do with you. That’s what asking for an inheritance before your dad died meant in the ancient world. And then he takes a third of what his dad owns and without any thanks, utterly ungrateful, he squanders it in complete selfishness. That’s how Jesus describes the prodigal son. And this should remind us what our Lord Jesus thinks of sin, and especially of open defiance of his commandments – it is reprehensible, angels flee from it, they can’t stand it. That’s sex outside marriage, homosexual union, open defiance and disrespect and talking back to mother and father, wives refusing to submit to their husbands, husbands refusing to lead their homes with God’s Word, workers cheating their bosses by laziness, filthy words and obvious gossip, God judges it all reprehensible and unfit for his children. Remember that.

    And look also at how it leaves the prodigal son. The result of sin. It leaves him miserable, starving in a filthy pig pen. A short time of meaningless pleasure, and then devastation. And the son realizes it. There’s no better picture of the sorrow God works in repentance. To feel the dirtiness of it all, to hunger for something better, and at the same time to realize that we aren’t worthy of anything better from our Lord, that we’re not worthy to be called his son. This is how God’s law works itself out in our minds and our hearts, in our consciences.

    When Jesus says God does all the work in making and keeping us Christians, when He asserts divine monergism, He’s not at all saying we don’t feel anything, suffer anything. Not at all. We’re not sheep and we’re not a coin. We feel, we reason, we desire and choose. And it’s full of emotion. That God does it all means that we’d feel, we’d reason, we’d desire, we’d choose everything wrong, unless the Word of Jesus by the power of His Spirit turned our feelings and our desires and our reason and our choosing away from us and toward our Lord Jesus. Even the prodigal’s sorrow, even his decision to head back to his father, this is God’s work. And it all leads up to the work God especially wants to do, to welcome the sinner back.

    We sing in our sorrow and our regret, though thy child I dare not call me, yet receive me to thy grace. And our Lord answers, call yourself my child, do you know what I’ve done to win you, what I’ve suffered to have you in my house again, what it took for me to put this ring on your finger and this robe on your body, to clothe your nakedness and bring you back to life? Look again at the price Jesus paid. Look how the righteous and holy God suffered hell for your sin. Do you really think He has run out of pity? Do you think His mercy has an end? No, he never has and he never will turn away the prodigal son. It's the joy He bled to win, to see sinners sorrow over sin and find in Him forgiveness.

    And this rejoices all of heaven, the Trinity, the angels, the Church and all the saints. Notice all three of Jesus’ parables stress the rejoicing and the feast. There is no greater joy in the Christian heart than to receive forgiveness from our Lord Jesus, than to cast all our sin and our burden and our care on Him, and see His love like a boundless ocean swallow it all up. And there is no greater joy in heaven than to see this.

    But Jesus actually ends His parables with a warning. So I think I should end this sermon with the same warning. The older brother despises forgiveness. He despises his father’s love. Because he sees that he has been good and his brother’s been bad. And his pride in his own goodness keeps him from rejoicing, keeps him from the feast, keeps him from being his father’s son.

    Pride in our own goodness risks forfeiting faith and heaven. Far worse than the tax-collectors and open sinners are the self-righteous. God and faith can’t abide pride. Pride comes before destruction. Jesus says that prostitutes and tax-collectors will enter the kingdom of heaven before the self-righteous and the proud. He says he comes to save not the righteous but sinners.

    So be a sinner. Not by seeking after sin. You know better than that. Don’t ever seek to be the prodigal and think you can satisfy your flesh for a while and ignore your Lord Jesus. That means leaving your father’s house, leaving the faith, abandoning the angels and heaven and God. But be a sinner. Know who you are. See that no matter how hard you try, the pride or the lust or the worry or the anger or the hate or the resentment still rises up. Feel the pain of it, and know God sends that pain, and run to your Lord Jesus to see it ended, to rejoice in His forgiveness, in the robe of His righteousness bought by His blood. The warning is that we should never stop this rejoicing, never forget because we haven’t fallen into some gross sin for a while, never forget that this is our God’s glory and our honor, to forgive sinners, that we have done nothing to become His children and He has done all, that we remain unworthy and He makes us worthy by His blood. And He alone will keep us rejoicing in our forgiveness here on earth until we rejoice forever in heaven. Amen.


  • Trinity 4

    Fourth Sunday after Trinity, Luke 6:36-42, July 14th A+D 2019, Pastor Andrew Richard


    Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.


    The theme of Christian reconciliation comes up three times during the Trinity season.  You heard the reading today.  Then in two weeks we hear Jesus’ explanation of the Fifth Commandment in the Sermon on the Mount, in which he tells us not to be angry with each other, but reconcile.  And then on the 22nd Sunday after Trinity we hear the parable of the unmerciful servant, and take to heart the severe consequences of casting mercy out of doors when we deal with each other.  This frequent treatment of reconciliation in the readings is not overkill, but is representative of how frequently Jesus spoke on the topic.  He taught us to pray, “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” a prayer that we pray daily.  And immediately after teaching the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus chose that petition alone on which to comment, “For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”


    Now these may seem like hard and confusing words at first.  “Does this mean that God forgives my sins on the basis of my forgiveness and not for the sake of Christ?  We’re supposed to reconcile with each other, but what does that even mean?”  Fortunately, Jesus continues to instruct us today, and as he does so, we get our questions answered and we see that reconciliation is not a burden, but is a natural part of the Christian life.


    Jesus begins today: “Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.”  Immediately Jesus teaches us the proper order of things.  He does not say, “Be merciful, and then your Father will be merciful,” but, “Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.”  Our Father has been merciful first.  Jesus said just how merciful the Father is in the verse just before today’s reading, “for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil.”  And “He makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust,” as it says in Matthew 5.


    But as great as these earthly gifts are, and as merciful as God is in giving them to unworthy man, these are not the Father’s chief mercy.  But as it says in Romans 5, “For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.  For one will scarcely die for a righteous person – though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die – but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”  This is the pinnacle of God being kind to the ungrateful and the evil: He gave his Son to bear your sin and to bear his wrath.  More than any other being in existence, God had a right to be angry with those who had wronged him, and he possessed the power to condemn us to hell.  But instead he appointed his Son as our substitute, because our Father did not desire cold justice, but his mercies became warm, and he desired to have peace with us.


    So you see, this Sunday does not introduce the theme of reconciliation in the Church Year.  Christmas did, and Good Friday did.  It is significant that reconciliation among Christians doesn’t come up in the Church Year until after Christmas and Easter.  And that’s because the Church clings to the Word of Christ and the proper order that he sets forth: “Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.”


    And now, as for how we are to be merciful, Jesus continues.  “Judge not, and you will not be judged.”  For as biblically illiterate as our culture has become, it seems everyone remembers these words of Jesus, chiefly for the purpose of ignoring the rest of his words.  So I suppose I should note first of all that Jesus is not saying here what the world thinks he’s saying.  Jesus is not giving man a free pass to do whatever he wants and scratch wherever it itches.  The word “judge” is used in two main and different ways in Scripture.


    First judging can refer to reaching a proper conclusion about a doctrine or action according to the Word of God.  So Jesus tells the Jews in John 7, “If on the Sabbath a man receives circumcision, so that the law of Moses may not be broken, are you angry with me because on the Sabbath I make a man’s whole body well?  Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment.”  Or when the rulers and elders in Jerusalem charged the apostles not to speak to anyone in the name of Jesus, Peter and John replied, “Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God, you judge.”  And in 1 Corinthians 10, Paul says to the congregation, “I speak as to sensible people; judge for yourselves what I say.”  So there are instances in Scripture of Christ and his apostles telling not only Christians but also unbelievers to judge doctrine and action according to God’s Word.  So if we say, for example, that cohabitation before marriage is a sin, we are judging, and we’re judging as we’re instructed to judge in Scripture.  The same can be said of judging every tenet of faith, and every word and every deed.


    Second, the word “judge” can refer in Scripture to what a judge does, namely, render a verdict and declare someone guilty.  It is this kind of judging that Jesus tells us not to do in today’s reading.  And he makes this clear to us in the words that follow.  He says, “Judge not, and you will not be judged,” and then explains what kind of judging he means: “condemn not, and you will not be condemned.”  You do not get to play the part of the judge.  Judges are allowed to talk about people’s sins publicly, and they’re allowed to pronounce sentences and render punishments.  Jesus is our judge, and he gets to do that, and the earthly judges whom he appoints get to do that.  But you don’t get to do that.  You do not get to go around telling other people some sin that someone committed against you.  You do not get to label someone as a transgressor in the eyes of others.  You do not get to hold someone’s sin against him.


    And why do you not get to do this?  First, because it isn’t given you to do.  And second, that’s not how God in his mercy has dealt with us.  Jesus talks in terms of measuring mercy out to people.  Remember, he has mercy on us before we have mercy on others, and therefore Jesus determines the measure of mercy that is to be used in his Church.  Go through his Church’s kitchen and you’ll only find one measure: the really big one.  Jesus made his measure of mercy large in his Incarnation, suffering, and death. He did not go a little out of his way for us, but rent the heavens and came down.  He did not measure out his blood with an eye dropper like a miser, but shed his blood freely from every pore in his body on the cross.  Jesus is to us like Boaz was to Ruth: “And he said, ‘Bring the garment you are wearing and hold it out.’ So she held it, and he measured out six measures of barley and put it on her.”


    If we use some measure other than the one Christ has used with us, then it is a measure of our own making.  Christ knows nothing of a bitter teaspoon or a grudging quarter cup.  But if we insult his mercy by casting aside his large measure and infecting his congregation with our own measures, then he will measure our own measures back to us.  This should put the fear of God in you.  Certainly we don’t earn God’s mercy by being merciful first, but if after receiving God’s mercy we despise it by withholding it from others, then God will withhold it from us.  “For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.”  Lord, have mercy!


    And Jesus does have mercy, though his words may still sting a bit.  He says, “Can a blind man lead a blind man?  Will they not both fall into a pit?”  This is an image of what happens when there’s a conflict between two Christians and we try to deal with the sin according to our inaccurate idea of sin.  According to our corrupt flesh, every sin that we commit is small and requires nothing more than a dash of mercy, if it requires any at all.  Whereas, every sin committed against us is the end of the world and calls for more fire than the Lord rained on Sodom and Gomorrah.  If we try to deal with each other under these pretenses, both parties involved will end up in the pit, and the two have often pulled whole congregations into the pit with them.


    But Jesus says, “A disciple is not above his teacher,” meaning, you don’t know the nature of sin better than Jesus does.  But you can learn to think of sin rightly if you learn from him.  This is, in part, what Jesus means when he says, “everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher.”


    And then Jesus tells the now well-known parable of the speck and the log.  I should note before we dive into this parable that up to this point Jesus has been speaking to “you” in the plural.  In English we no longer distinguish between “thou” singular and “ye” plural; instead we say “you” for both singular and plural.  Yet in Greek the distinction remains.  So Jesus spoke of “your Father,” plural, and said, “Judge ye not,” plural.  He spoke of “your lap,” plural “your,” and said, “it will be measured back to you,” plural.  But when Jesus gets to the speck and the log, he switches to the singular.  “Why dost thou see the speck that is in thy brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in thine own eye?”


    And why does Jesus switch from plural to singular?  So that there’s no question how we should approach our brother to be reconciled to him when there is strife between us.  When you have a problem with someone, or someone has a problem with you, you might think of this passage and wonder, “Which of us is Jesus talking to when he says this?  Which of us has the speck and which has the log?”  And because Jesus uses the singular here, it is very clear: “Why dost thou see the speck?” You have the log. Your brother has the speck. “But he–” No. You have the log, he has the speck.  And you know what, if both you and your brother have that attitude, if both of you are thinking, “I’m the worse sinner,” then reconciliation will happen very easily.


    And how do we reconcile?  “First take the log out of your own eye,” Jesus says.  Seldom is there a situation among men in which only one person was in the wrong and the other was merely a victim.  The world loves its victim culture, but don’t you let that into the Church.  Note that in the parable everyone has something in his eye.  Even if someone did wrong you without cause, have you gotten angry, and dwelt on it, and stewed about it?  Then you’ve sinned too, and Jesus calls it a sin.  “Well how is that fair?” someone might ask.  Ah, and there’s the point.  If we want to be fair to the sacrifice of Christ, then we will act toward each other as he acted toward us.  And if we get angry and bitter about the sins of others against us, that’s not fair, because God in Christ has chosen reconciliation over retribution.  He has chosen peace over wrath.  He has used the big measure, and we use the same.


    And how do we remove the log?  First we call sin what it is.  We confess our sins.  We do this every Sunday morning, and it aids us greatly in confessing our sins to each other.  Each of us says, “I, a poor, miserable sinner.”  We beg our Father for the sake of Christ to be merciful to us, to absolve us from our logs.  And he does.  Of course he does.  This brings us right back to the beginning of the reading: “your Father is merciful.”  And thus the second part of removing the log is the Absolution, whether spoken publicly by a minister of the Word, or spoken among Christians who have a sin to deal with between them.  Jesus says, “I forgive you all your sins.”  He gets out the large measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, and puts it into your lap: mercy enough to save the world, and thus mercy far greater than all your sins.


    Then, with the log removed from your eye, you can see your brother and his sin rightly.  You can see, “You know, his sin isn’t nearly as big as mine.  What’s his speck compared to the log that Jesus has removed from my eye?”  And then reconciliation among Christians comes naturally, and having received from the big measure of God’s mercy, you use the same measure with your brother by the grace of Christ, to whom be glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.  Amen.

  • Trinity 5

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Trinity 5, 2019

    Luke 5:1-11


    There’s an obvious contrast in Peter’s words to Jesus, “Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man.” He’s the first to say anything like this to Jesus. He’s like the first Lutheran in the New Testament. Immediately before our Gospel for this morning, St. Luke records how Jesus had to tell the crowd to get away from Him, because they were crowding around Him and wouldn’t let Him leave their city. And in our Gospel we see the same thing. Jesus has to climb into a boat and cast off from shore, because the people are edging Him into the water. No one is saying, Depart from me, for I am a sinful man. Everyone is saying the opposite, come to me, don’t leave me, come closer. And so you see the contrast between Peter and the rest.


    Now why is this? What is it that makes Peter say what he says? And what is it that should make us say it? Not to say, of course, that we want our God to leave us and forsake us, but to say, I don’t deserve it, to realize it and feel it and know it, that God has been too kind and we’re not worthy of it, sinners don’t deserve this treatment from the holy and living God?


    Now Peter’s situation applies to us especially. Because what Jesus gave to him in that catch of fish was wealth. That’s a lot of fish, a lot of money. He gave him success. And it’s at this, that Peter says, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man.” It’s not just that Peter sees here that Jesus is God. Peter’s already been with Jesus. He’s already seen his miracles. Jesus has been in his house, healed his mother-in-law of a fever. So it’s not just the miracle showing Jesus is God, it’s the inevitable conclusion of the miracle, that this God gives him everything he has. Everything. It’s become intensely personal now. Why didn’t Peter catch a thing in the night? He’s an expert fisherman. That’s his job. Why? Because Jesus didn’t want him to, that’s why. And why did He catch a ton of fish with one cast of the net? Because Jesus wanted it. That’s it. That means, just think of this, that all of Peter’s hard work, all his labor, all his skill, everything he has devoted his life to, gets him absolutely nothing, no fish, just a slimy net that needed more work, no success, vanity, vanity, all is vanity, until Jesus willed it, until Jesus, God in the flesh, decided his work should pay off. And we, who live in the most successful country this world has ever seen, who love to talk about successful careers, who take pride in our success and our skills and what our hard work has gotten us, we need to remember this, that without Jesus willing it there is no success, period.


    Now this is not what we see with our eyes, at least not in good times. Good fishermen get fish, whether they’re Christian or not. Good businessmen get rich. Good workers get promoted. That’s the way it works. Our skill, our work, gets us success. And there is, of course, truth to this. When we Christians confess with the Bible that it’s God who gives us everything we have, our houses and homes, our clothing and shoes and food and drink and friends and family and good government, we’re not at all saying that since God gives it we don’t work hard for it. Remember it’s God who said, “If anyone doesn’t work, neither shall he eat.” But this is the problem we make for ourselves, the false conclusion we come to. That since I worked hard, I earned it, and God has nothing to do with it. In the classic movie, Shenandoah, the father, played by Jimmy Stewart, is pressured by memory of his dead wife to say a prayer over dinner and this is exactly how he thinks, “Lord, we cleared this land, we plowed it, sowed it, and harvested it, we cooked the harvest. It wouldn’t be here, we wouldn’t be eating it, if we hadn’t done it all ourselves. We worked dog-bone hard for every crumb and morsel, but we thank you just the same anyway, Lord, for this food we’re about to eat. Amen.” You get the point, the irony here. Why should I thank God for food I worked hard to buy and put on my table? I grilled those brats. I paid for them. I put them on the table. Thank me, don’t thank God.


    This is what we call a false dichotomy. It’s an either/or that should never be stated. Either I worked for it, or God gave it. No. That’s true of your salvation, the reason you’re reconciled to God, you didn’t work for it, God did it all, shed his own blood for it, gives it freely; but it’s not true for your daily bread. When you pray, “Give us this day our daily bread,” you are not saying, I’ll just sit on the couch and eat bonbons and wait for God to magically fill my fridge. No, it’s to confess with the Psalmist, “Unless the Lord builds the house, they that build it work in vain. Unless the Lord guards the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows; For so He gives His beloved sleep.” It’s to say with Peter, Lord, I toiled all night, and it got me nothing, but at your word, at your will, I’ll continue to work and trust your promise to give me what I need.


    So that’s the first thing, that even when we know we are the ones working and sweating and thinking and making the money, we give all glory to God, because we know that none of it would be or do or mean anything without Him giving success. [This is why we sing,


    Grant me the strength to do

    With ready heart and willing

    Whatever You command,

    My calling here fulfilling;

    That I do what I should

    While trusting You to bless

    The outcome for my good,

    For You must give success.]


    The second point here is that God gives, He blesses, He grants success, because He wants to, because this is who He is, not because we force His hand by our prayers or by our goodness. Every good thing we have is a grace, that means an undeserved gift from God, as St. James says, every good and perfect gift comes from above, from the Father of lights, in whom there is no shadow or variation due to change. It’s not a tit for tat, I pray, God gives. It’s not, as Joel Osteen promises his followers, that if you pray hard enough, if you’re sincere enough, God will give you what you want, that God’s got a whole lot of good in store up in heaven, and He’s just waiting for you to work up the spiritual strength to call that good down. This we call the prosperity gospel, as if God is some stingy, petty god who only blesses those who make a good enough effort, that if only you pray hard enough, if only you’re sincere enough, then God will bless you, then God will heal the cancer or the marriage or give you success.


    To see the nonsense of the prosperity Gospel, first look at Peter. He doesn’t ask for the fish. Jesus just gives it. Unasked. He gives success. Peter didn’t move Jesus’ heart. Jesus’ moved His own heart. He wanted to bless, so He blessed. Second, what does Jesus say about His Father in heaven? He makes his sun rise on bad and good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust, that’s what Jesus says. And this is what we confess in the Catechism, “God certainly gives daily bread to everyone without our prayers, even to all evil people, but we pray in this petition that God would lead us to realize this and to receive our daily bread with thanksgiving.” God gives health to the heathen and the Christian, to those who pray for it and those who don’t. No, what distinguishes the Christian from the unbeliever is not that we have bigger houses, better health, more money, it’s that we know where our health comes from and our house and our money, and everything. We know where to go when health and money and earthly success fail us. Because we know the giver of every good thing, we know His goodness. And this is what Jesus taught Peter that day, and it’s what He does for us.


    Peter was struck with wonder and fear. Our translation actually isn’t the best here. It says Peter was astonished, and that’s true enough. But the Greek says that shock gripped Peter, enclosed him. And this word for shock, thambos, is a word that denotes both amazement and fear. It’s as if Peter were struck. In fact, the Latin translates it as stupor, where we get the word stupid, because Peter is struck senseless, helpless, filled with wonder and fear not simply that Jesus is God, but that without this God Peter has nothing, not a single fish, and with Him he has everything, a full measure.


    Our world’s problem is that it has lost this wonder, lost this fear and shock of God. As the Psalmist says, There is no fear of God before their eyes. Look at the flowers rising from the earth, the full moon over the mountain, the food on your table, and marvel and fear the God who created it and gave it to you to enjoy. Look at the birth of a baby, something I’m hopefully going to witness here pretty soon, if this baby ever comes out, look at how new life comes, a new personality, unique, with his own little emotions and his own little thoughts and his own little fingers and toes, and how can we not wonder and fear the God who gives this? But the world has replaced astonishment and fear of the God who does such wondrous things with a pseudo intellectual cynicism, as if a little baby with a beating heart whom God fashions in the womb is nothing but a mass of cells. It’s so sad, and I think this is the heart of it all, this silly materialism, looking at flowers and mountains and babies coldly, as mere material to be examined, that it ignores the obvious, what should be as clear to us as it was to St. Peter on that boat, that God has done it all, the flowers bloom because He wills it, the mountains stand because He wants it, the baby takes its first breath because this gives God joy. Everything around us demands wonder and fear of our God.


    This is what the world forgets, but we Christians, we can’t forget to wonder and fear at what our God does, God forbid we ever lose this.


    Because to know that this God gives it all is not just to realize that none of my work means anything without Him, that I am helpless without Him, but to see too that I’ve not thanked Him as I should, I’ve taken the credit, I’ve sat down to eat and drink and risen up to play without a thought of the God who gave it all to me, I’ve taken a healthy pregnancy or a good job or good health or the beauty of the mountain for granted, not thinking of how it’s all a gift from my God, and this should strike us with fear and amazement of a different kind, the fear and shock that gripped Peter that day and must grip us, that the God who gives us everything and so blesses us has every reason to be angry at our thanklessness and selfishness, our greed and our pride, as if we hadn’t received it all from Him. And this, this is why we finally say with Peter, Lord depart from me, for I am a sinful man.


    And look at Jesus. Look at His response to a sinner who knows it and knows he’s unworthy and is terrified at his sin and what it deserves from his God. Jesus says two words, three in English, Don’t be afraid. Do not fear. Don’t you see? How can you think I will cast you away from me? I wear your flesh and blood. I’ve come to the thankless and the proud and the greedy and the sinner to take their burden on myself, to bear it in my body on the cross, to show you the love of the God who gives everything good in this world and refuses to let it all end in death and vanity. You want to see God’s goodness, how everything really is in God’s control, how He gives success and He sends crosses and works it all for your good, look away from the success or failure of this life, and see your God robed in human flesh, willing to live and die for you, to take all your punishment on Himself, to give you peace with Him and take away your fear of death.


    And so Peter leaves it all. That’s how our Gospel ends. It’s a beautiful ending. He just got the biggest catch of his life. He’s got all the earthly success he could hope for. And he leaves it all behind and follows Jesus. What is the world to me, we just sang. You have Jesus and you have the Creator of this world. You don’t worship your stuff, your success, your career, your money, your family, you worship the God who made it all and gave it all to you and bled to sanctify you and everything on this sinful earth. And this God will call you away from it all. That’s what death is. You’ll leave behind all success, everything on this earth. But you will lose nothing. Because you will be with the God who made it and gave it and loves you now and will forever. And this is how we Christians have to think of things now. Don’t leave behind your job and family, like Peter. Jesus hasn’t called you to do that. He called Peter to do that. Peter’s an apostle, we’re not. But leave it all in God’s hands, in your work and in your play, fear and be astonished at the God who blesses you with everything good, lessens every hard load, and welcomes you to follow Him through this life to the everlasting life bought by His most precious blood. Amen.

  • Trinity 6

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Trinity 6, 2019

    Matthew 5:20-26; Romans 6:3-11


    My mother Dorothy, after whom our little Dorothy is named, often says that children are soft-balls from God, to teach us how to love our neighbors as ourselves. She’s a wise woman. Every mother and father who deserves the name of mother and father knows my mom’s little proverb is true. Even when the child keeps you up at night, even when she’s crying and giving you no sleep, even when she grows up and makes horrible mistakes that grieve your soul, you remember the tears you shed at her birth, the day you held her precious little body in your arms, and you’ll suffer for her, you’ll give your life and time and energy for her. Children are soft-balls from our God, to teach us how to love them as we love ourselves. But this is not the case with our other neighbors, the other people in our life. They’re often not so easy to love. If my daughter does something to hurt me, I’ll want to reconcile with her, I’ll forgive her, I’ll want everything to be good again, I’ll make concessions, make appeals, never cut her off, whatever I can do, to heal the breach. But if it’s my coworker, if it’s some friend who’s offended me, if it’s my uncle or some distant relation, then it’s easy to walk away from it all and pretend there’s nothing wrong, to come to the altar of God and take the body and blood of Christ while secretly holding hate and anger in my heart for my neighbor.


    Jesus says no. He says don’t think of it. Leave your gift at the altar, and go quickly to reconcile with your brother. And why? What is it that I love even above my children? What relationship can I never think of wanting severed forever? With whom do I need reconciliation above all else? My God, who created me and gives me everything I have. And even if I would seek it with tears and prayers a million times, I could do nothing to get it, unless He came down and met me where I am, a poor miserable sinner, and poured out on me the mercy I did not deserve, the forgiveness bought by His own blood shed for me.


    This is why Jesus says what He says. He’s not laying some great burden on His Christians when He tells us that our righteousness must exceed the outward good works of good men like the Pharisees and scribes. He is not subjecting us to some slavish obedience to try and make up for our hate and our anger and our selfishness. He is saying that the righteousness He gives you, the righteousness He just gave little Dorothy Naomi in the waters of Baptism, where she died with Christ and gained everything Christ has won for her, became an heir of God’s Kingdom, a princess in Christ’s courts, this righteousness shapes our lives. It is exactly what our Lord says elsewhere, “Come to me all ye who are weary and heavy-laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, for it is easy and my burden is light. And you will find rest for your souls.” The burden is light and easy.


    Is this what you want? Do you look into your heart and see how sin, this horrible Old Adam, will not stop raging and filling you with resentment and sadness and anger? Do you see that instead of commending it to God, you have worried and worried, and gained nothing by it but more worry and doubt and resentment? Do you see that the last thing you have deserved is for your God to meet you again and again, and remind you, as He has done today, that He has paid for it all, that He has claimed you as His own in your baptism, that He knew all the filth of your heart when He suffered hell’s agony on the cross for you, and He wouldn’t trade reconciliation with you for anything? Then know that to forgive your enemies is no burdensome task. It’s the privilege of a Christian, a chance to remember and act out what your God has done for you, and to thank Him with your life.


    I don’t want to make it seem like it’s easy, in itself. Jesus Himself says the flesh is weak, but the spirit is willing. Never think that you’re somehow not a Christian, that you lack faith or the Holy Spirit has left you, because hate and anger rise in your heart. Jesus doesn’t even come close to suggesting this. He says exactly the opposite. He says when you realize it, when you see the inevitable, because you’re a sinner, when you remember the slight, the persecution, the evil, the nasty or untrue words spoken against you or that you spoke against someone else, and hate and anger again rear their ugly head, remember what your God has done for you, remember the debt you owed, and the weight this altar takes from your soul, and forgive others their trespasses as you promise in the Lord’s Prayer when you beg forgiveness for yourself.


    This does mean action. Jesus is very clear about this. Jesus actually frames it as you knowing your brother has something against you, not you against him. And this is almost always the case, when you have something against someone else. He has something against you too. Or at least he thinks he does. And it is for you to be the better man, the better woman. Not in the sense that you are better in yourself, of course, but that you own and possess by faith the better righteousness, the righteousness that exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, the righteousness of Christ your God Himself, and it impels you, moves you forward, to seek reconciliation. So that means action. It means picking up the phone and calling, or sending the email or the text, or whatever the case may be. What do you have to lose? You can gain your brother or sister! What a joy, to see the person who has done you wrong or whom you have done wrong, or both, see him reciprocate, learn from you just how much God’s wondrous love has done for you, that you would put aside your pride and humble yourself and seek forgiveness for whatever you’ve done and offer forgiveness for whatever he’s done.


    Now I know that sometimes you make the call, send the email or the text, speak in person, and it does nothing. Believe me, I’m a pastor, it’s happened to me too many times to count. And sometimes that’s all you can do. Sometimes all that is left is to pray for your enemies as your Lord did on the cross and keep your heart from hating and getting angry. When it does, and it will, transform it into pity, because your God has pitied you, He has taken all His anger and wrath and placed it on Himself in a mercy that knows no parallel. He is the Father who loves his wayward child. He has done and will do everything for you, even when you break His heart. He is always ready with forgiveness and strength to bear you through the evil day, because He has poured out His strength in weakness on the cross of His suffering. This is what Jesus means when He says, “Therefore be perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect.” That’s not to pretend you’ve lived the perfect life, God knows that’s the deceit of the Pharisees, but to know for certain that your Father’s perfection is found in His Son who has perfectly fulfilled the law for you, that He left no iota of the law unkept, and He has given His perfection to you for you to live in it.


    That is all to say, remember your Baptism. There’s many a reason that we do baptisms publicly, in front of the entire congregation. It’s of course so that you can witness it, so that when little Dorothy grows up, she will have a host of witnesses here at her church who saw and heard her Baptism, that water was poured on her and the name of the Holy Trinity was spoken over her. But it’s much more than that.


    You need this reminder. It’s a beautiful thing. The Baptism Dorothy received you received. Notice that St. Paul speaks in the plural – do you not know that as many of us as have been baptized into Christ have been baptized into His death? This belongs to all of us. Yes, it’s personal. God didn’t baptize you today, he baptized little Dorothy. But He has baptized you. He spoke the same words over you. St. Paul knew full well that our God died for all, he teaches it in the chapter right before our epistle lesson, and yet He’s the one who can apply it all to himself and say, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.” So take Dorothy’s Baptism and remember your own. The same Jesus who died for you made you share in His death, so that all sin that alienated you from God was washed away by the power of God’s suffering and death. And just as this is not the end for Dorothy, but the beginning, so it wasn’t the end for you, but the start of your life in Christ. Jesus, when He sent out His apostles, told them to baptize and to teach in the same breath: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them.” And this teaching comes again to you today, and will come by God’s grace to Dorothy. Yes, He has given her everything here, and gave you everything at your Baptism. What could He give more than Christ Himself, the very God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, who descended into our flesh and was crucified under Pontius Pilate and rose again the third day? What could He give more than life everlasting with Him, than full reconciliation with the God of creation?


    But God baptizes us in order to teach us. Baptism, of course, isn’t magic. God gives the Christian faith here, but He doesn’t leave it at that. Faith lives on actually hearing the Word of God. The honor that God gave Dorothy here and that He gave you at your Baptism, is that He will be your God through everything, and He remains your God by teaching you and feeding you with His body and blood. I can’t think of a greater privilege than this. Who cares if you’re rich, or your pretty, or you have so many of this earth’s pleasures? It has never made a single person truly happy. But to know that when God speaks to you here in Church, that when you eat and drink the body and blood of your Lord, when you read His holy Word at home, you are hearing from the God who has chosen you in your Baptism, claimed you as His, and speaks specifically to you, that He loves you and teaches you everything you need to know about life and death and everything in between, about love and forgiveness, about dealing with pain and cross. That the God you pray to knows you, has called you by your name, even as He put His name on you, so that you belong to the Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. That He can’t possibly ignore you, that He has shed His blood specifically for you, and had you in mind when He offered His life as a ransom for many – this is the promise of your Baptism.






    And so when He teaches you to forgive and to love, to seek reconciliation with your brothers and sisters in Christ, He is not laying a heavy burden on you. He’s giving you the life worth living. He’s teaching you as His child to love His love, to glory in it, to subject all your feelings and all your life to it. And that is to be happy on this earth, to have the good life. Blessed is every one who fears the Lord, Who walks in His ways.2 When you eat the [a]labor of your hands, You shall be happy, and it shall be well with you.




    My prayer for my little Dorothy and for each of you and for myself, is that we learn day by day and especially every Sunday, to listen to our Lord who claimed us in our Baptism, to listen to His teaching and value it above everything in our life, that we may live in love for our neighbor, and at peace with our God, waiting for the eternal life with Him He has promised. God grant it for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

  • Trinity 7

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Trinity 7, 2019

    Mark 8:1-9


    Once again we see in our Gospel that Jesus is both God and man. He is the Creator who creates bread and fish. And he’s a man, standing in front of some 4000 people. Why does the Bible emphasize this so often? Why does the Holy Spirit emphasize it in our Gospel? Well we usually stress that Jesus had to be a man, so that he could take our place and die for us. And this is actually what you see in the creeds, where we jump from Jesus’ infancy to his death – think of it -, who was born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, crucified, died and was buried, Jesus’ entire life summarized by his birth and his death, we go from Christmas immediately to Good Friday. And we do this in the creeds because it’s what the Bible itself teaches us to do – look at Paul’s summation of Jesus’ life, “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons.” You see what happens here? Paul teaches us that Jesus is both God and man, and immediately jumps from the fact that he is both God and man, because He is the eternal Son who was born of a woman in the fullness of time, to his suffering and death to redeem us, to buy us back from sin and death. “Jesus is God and man,” means the Son took on your flesh and suffered your death, so that the love with which His Father loved Him can be showered on you, that He can send the Spirit of His Son into your hearts to cry, Abba, Father to a God who hears and loves you.


    But there is another reason why we need to stress that Jesus, our God, the Creator of Heaven and earth, became and remains a man forever. And that is this word in our text, “I have compassion.” The Greek is splangchnizomai; it means a gut-wrenching. This is no distant God, not the transcendent god of the philosophers, not the aloof god of the Muslims, not the idols who don’t think or feel. He’s a God with guts, literal guts, splangchna in the Greek, guts that pained Him when He saw the pain of His people.


    It’s not just that he was capable of feeling it. Right, there are plenty of people capable of feeling pain who simply don’t suffer it, at least not much. So a politician can say, “I feel your pain,” but since he’s rich and has never had to work from the bottom up or go without food or worry about a mortgage payment, he really can’t feel your pain, he doesn’t know it. He just says it to get your vote, and odds are he won’t help you when he gets into office. But Jesus can say it. This is the God who felt the pain of starving in the wilderness forty days; the God who wept at the pain of the death of His friend; the God who sweat drops of blood in His anxiety; the God who had no place to lay His head; the God betrayed and abandoned by friends; the God who saw and answered and experienced death and its fear; He is the God who has felt every pain His Christians feel. For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all ways tempted as we are, yet without sin. That’s why we see Him, of His own accord, because He feels it in his gut, have compassion, before anyone even asks Him to. This is the character of the God-man. And it means you should pray to him and know for certain that he knows and understands and sympathizes with your pain and your need.


    He makes them wait for it, though. You notice that. I’m sure those people were hungry the first day. Hungrier the second day. But Jesus says, “It is now three days they’ve been with me, and they have nothing to eat.” He makes them wait. And this is typical of our God. It’s how we Christians experience God answering our prayers. He doesn’t answer them immediately. When sickness and pain come, when financial worry hits, when people are cruel and won’t stop, when those we love stop believing or stop coming to church, when we need something in life and are sick of waiting for it, we cry out and the answer is long, too long in coming.


    But we have to realize this is because our God loves us. He makes us wait because he loves us. He doesn’t think like we do. My thoughts are not your thoughts, remember those are His words. And remember that these are still His words when He takes on human flesh. Even when He literally understands what it means to have to wait, to be anxious, to suffer in his guts waiting for an answer, even then, when he knows the pain of it all by his own experience, he makes them wait. Because it’s good for us. It’s only in waiting that you learn to love your God, to trust in Him, to hope for His help.


    Look at the alternative. What if you got everything you wanted immediately? How does that work with kids? Think of it. If you give your kid everything he wants immediately, you spoil him, you spoil his character, he won’t learn to love you, he won’t learn to trust you, or hope for good things from you, he’ll learn only that you’re his tool, the means of getting what he wants. There is no faith, hope, or love without discipline. That’s why spoilt kids end up showing the least love for their parents. Everyone knows this. We’ve all seen it. Now look at the biblical example. What did the Israelites learn in the desert by all their wandering? God meant to teach them patience, to wait for him. But they cried out to God for meat, they wanted it right away, because the bread from heaven wasn’t enough and the hope of the promised land was too far away. They demanded meat like spoilt children, and so God treated them like spoilt children. He sent quail immediately, that same day. And the people jumped on them, ate them like gluttons, and when the meat was still in their teeth, God sent a plague to punish their lack of faith and hope and love. Search the Bible, search your memory of the Bible histories, and you’ll see God makes his children wait, so they can learn to trust Him, to hope for good things from Him, and to love and honor Him.


    And this is why it’s so important for us always to realize that the God we pray to has become a man like we are, in every way but without sin. A purely transcendent god, a god just up there contemplating himself with no care for earthly things, inaccessible, he couldn’t understand our bodily needs, not really, and we’d expect from a god who never became a man to focus only on some so-called spiritual well-being, like the Buddhists and Hindus, whose end goal is to be freed forever from the body. But look at our God. He cares for the body, there is no mistaking that, he feeds these people, has compassion on them, feels their pain in His gut, but look at this, what does He do first? He teaches them, and he makes them wait for food, because the God who has a body, the God who suffered bodily need, the God who rose with His body from the dead, knows that the food of this earth will fill your bellies for a time, the medicine and the surgery will keep you alive for a time, but your belly will still rot with the rest of your body in death, unless you have the food of heaven, which saves both your soul and your body. And He’s not content keeping sinful bodies alive for a brief time on a sinful earth. He’s intent instead to take away the sin that gives us all the death and the pain and the worry and the anxiety of this life, that brings our bodies down to the ground and rips our souls away from our God, to take it away by His own death, by bearing the sin in His holy body and soul. And this, you can be sure, is what He taught the four thousand those three days.


    This is why the Holy Spirit can call the people satisfied. They ate and were satisfied. Because their fill isn’t simply a full belly, but what we heard a few weeks ago, a full measure, pressed down, shaken up, and running over. “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who trusts in Him!” the psalmist says. They have tasted and seen that the Lord is good. They sat there and listened to Jesus teach for three days. They were happy to give up food for their bellies to listen to food for their souls. And in the end they got both.


    We need to learn from them. This is fulfillment of Jesus’ words, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you.” You want to enjoy life, learn first to enjoy the God who gives life now and forever, learn to daily think of Him, pray to Him, fear and trust in this God who became a man. That’s what the four thousand did. And they weren’t disappointed. They didn’t listen to get food out of the deal. They just listened and the food came. And we don’t listen and devote our lives to our Lord Jesus from some ulterior motive, because we want more money or a bigger house, so let’s get God on our side. No, they sought first the Kingdom of God, period, for its own sake. And so do we. Because it’s everything, this Kingdom of God, far more important than job or comfort or money or long life or health. Everything else you could possibly desire on this sinful earth can’t even be compared to what Jesus gives when He makes you a member of His Kingdom, promises to rule over you, to be your Brother and your God, forgive you, reconcile you to His Father by the body and blood given and shed on the cross, and now broken and poured out for you to eat and drink at this altar, gives you complete peace of conscience, knowing that your God shares your flesh and blood and has laid down His life for you and has compassion on you and hears your prayers and gives you His Spirit.


    The Christian knows this. And when you know this, then you know also that all good things will be added unto you, as Jesus promised. To live life with a clean conscience, to know that God will take care of you body and soul, here and in the resurrection, to learn not to bicker about money and worry about it, to commend all things, the health of our loved-ones, our children, our possessions, everything to the God who knows our needs and has met them eternally in His own body, this is to enjoy the good things God gives more than the wicked world can ever imagine. “The little that a righteous man has is better than the riches of many wicked,” says the Psalmist. And as we wait for God to satisfy our earthly needs, to answer our prayers for health and job and house and home and family, we wait with faith and hope and love, because our God has become a man and has satisfied our greatest need, and has compassion on us again this day, feeding us with His Word and Spirit and His body and blood. Amen.





  • Trinity 8

    Trinity 8, Mt. 7:15-23, August 11th A+D 2019

    Rev. Andrew Richard, Mount Hope Lutheran Church, Casper, WY


    Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.


    “Enter by the narrow gate,” Jesus said just before today’s Gospel reading.  “Enter by the narrow gate.  For the gate is wide and the way is spacious that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.  For the gate is narrow and the way is tight that leads to life, and those who find it are few.”


    “Enter by the narrow gate,” Jesus says.  Now this is a metaphor.  Practically speaking, what do we do to avoid the broad gate and enter by the narrow gate?  What are the very next words out of Jesus’ mouth?  The first words of today’s reading: “Beware of false prophets.”  False prophets are the chief danger as we seek to enter by the narrow gate.  The greatest danger in this life is not injury or sickness or death, nor is it natural disaster, political strife, or even sin.  The greatest danger we face in the life is false prophets.


    What is a false prophet?  Well, a prophet is someone who teaches God’s Word.  A false prophet is someone who teaches lies in God’s name.  The devil was the first false prophet.  When he spoke with the woman, he questioned God’s true Word and then put lying words in God’s mouth.  “Did God really say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden’?… You will not surely die.  For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”  The devil is subtle.  He is a liar, as Jesus says in John 8, “he is a liar and the father of lies.”  But he mixes in bits of truth.  He speaks in words that sound like bibley words.  The devil does this, and so do all false prophets.


    Because of the bits of truth and the bibley-sounding words, false prophets can be hard to spot.  Jesus says that false prophets “come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.”  Outwardly false prophets sound like they belong among Christ’s flock, but in truth they are of the devil who snatches and scatters.  How, then, can one spot a false prophet?


    Jesus says, “You will recognize them by their fruits.”  It is very important to understand what Jesus means here by “fruits.”  If we think of fruits as the good works of a preacher, we could be misled, because even the devil masquerades as an angel of light.  Godless heretics can outwardly imitate the actions that are considered godly in the Church.  If we think of fruits as the character traits of a preacher, we could likewise be misled.  False prophets seem personable, and they smile, and they are often very fluent and good with words.  If we think of fruits as the emotional response wrought in us by a preacher, we could again be misled, because emotions are easily manipulated.  You can’t trust your gut when it comes to telling a false preacher from a true one, because your gut can change in an instant at the slightest influence.  If we think of fruits as the numerical results of a preacher’s preaching, once more we could be misled.  The true church is not popular, whereas the sinful nature of man readily inclines to false doctrine and runs to it.  A large congregation, therefore, does not verify the truth of the pastor’s preaching, and in fact, we find that the so-called mega churches are hotbeds of heresy.


    So what are the fruits by which we can identify false prophets?  The fruit of an apple tree is its apples.  The fruit of a pear tree is its pears.  The fruit of a prophet tree is its prophecy.  The words of the prophet are his fruit.  In Hebrews 11, “praise of God” is called “the fruit of lips that confess his name.”  Lips that confess God’s name are branches of a tree that bear the fruit of praise to him.  Similarly, prophets are trees, and their fruit is the fruit of their lips.  Their fruit is their teaching.  How do we know if their fruit is good?  If it is in accord with the Word of God.  You shouldn’t just assume that a pastor is speaking the truth.  You should be like the inhabitants of the city of Berea, whom Paul and Silas visited in Acts 17.  These Bereans are called “noble,” because “they received the word with all eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so.”  As Paul and Silas taught, the Bereans listened and compared the words they were hearing to the words of Scripture.


    A good tree will be transparent about the fact that he’s preaching the Word of God and not the deceit of his own heart.  He will read whole portions of Scripture to his hearers and not just single verses taken out of context.  He will support his doctrinal points with the Word of God, or rather, he will show that the doctrinal points he preaches are God’s doctrinal points drawn directly from the Scriptures.  It is excellent that we have multiple lengthy readings from Scripture each Sunday, even if not all of them receive an explanation.  Such a practice keeps God’s Word resounding in your ears and makes you better able to guard against false prophets.  And it’s good that we follow a long-proven lectionary, an established set of readings, because then you hear the full counsel of God’s Word and not only the favorite passages of the preacher.


    Yet even with precautions taken here, false prophets in other places can pose a danger to you as they influence the people whom you love.  There’s the temptation to downplay doctrine when it comes to family or friends attending churches that are not orthodox.  Nobody wants to think that his father or son is in danger of hellfire at the mouth of a heterodox preacher.  It’s much easier to say, “That congregation isn’t the best, but at least the pastor preaches from the Bible and talks about Jesus.”  Never mind that the pastor denies the clear Word of God that says baptism saves.  Never mind that the people are taught lies in God’s name.  They’re just small lies, right?  The core of Christianity is still there, right?  Such is the attitude of the sinful nature.  Even if you care deeply for the truth of God’s Word, the flesh is the flesh, and the temptation to downplay doctrine in favor of other things, particularly human relationships or the desire to justify sin―the temptation to downplay doctrine is a constant danger.


    Now I’m not accusing you of hating God’s Word, just as, in today’s reading, Jesus doesn’t accuse you of hating God’s Word.  But Jesus does warn you about a very real danger in today’s reading, and so I warn you as well.  Hear this: there is no such thing as an insignificant doctrine, because God doesn’t teach insignificant things.  If God bothered to say it, then it’s important.  If a preacher denies that baptism saves, then he will teach poor deluded souls to seek salvation from their own methods and means apart from Christ.  That’s but a single example, but examination of any point of doctrine shows that its perversion results in the perversion of the entire Gospel.  If you knead just a little yeast into a big lump of dough, the whole lump becomes leavened.  Jesus says to his disciples in Matthew 16, “Watch and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.”  The disciples thought he was talking about bread, and Jesus responded, “‘How is it that you fail to understand that I did not speak about bread?  Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.’  Then they understood that he did not tell them to beware of the leaven of bread, but of the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees.”  Similarly I tell you today, beware of the leaven of the Baptists and Methodists and Reformed and Roman Catholics and Eastern Orthodox and Pentecostals and Anglicans and so-called non-denominationals.  Whatever truth remains with them is leavened with the yeast of false prophets.


    Beware!  Beware!  Beware of false prophets and false teaching.  That is Jesus’ first point today.  Sound doctrine is worth caring about.  And you Christians know this.  When a false prophet says, “Jesus isn’t the only way to eternal life,” that upsets you.  When a false prophet denies that Baptism saves, you get worked up, “Hey!  That’s my Lord you’re blaspheming!  That’s his Gospel you’re trying to overthrow!  You false prophet, you’re trying to nullify all the benefits of Jesus’ death by destroying the means by which he has promised to give the forgiveness of sins and deliverance from death and the devil!”  When your family member, who has a heretical pastor and belongs to a misled congregation, visits here and can’t commune, that should rend your heartstrings and inflame your rage, not because the practice of closed communion is wrong (it’s right), but because a false prophet has taught lies in God’s name, and dishonored your Lord, and led people astray.


    This care for sound doctrine is not something that we manufacture in ourselves.  Jesus is the one who makes us care about doctrine.  He makes us care about it by showing us how glorious his teaching is.  He teaches us that he is God in the flesh, the second person of the Trinity who became a human being to bear the sins of man, and to fulfill the law for man, and to suffer God’s wrath for man.  Jesus teaches that, though we have broken God’s commandments, our sins are forgiven by his blood.  Jesus teaches us that we cannot save ourselves from sin or death or the devil, but that he has done it all for us.  And he gives us his salvation through simple means that require no contribution on our part.  He washes our sins away in Baptism and raises us to new life.  He feeds us his body and blood in his Holy Supper for the forgiveness of sins.  Jesus teaches that we have eternal life in him, that the door of heaven is wide open through him.  This is all doctrine.  And Jesus has made you care about his doctrine by making you a beneficiary of his doctrine.  You have forgiveness and life and salvation by his doctrine.  And it breaks your heart when people speak contrary to it and tell lies about it.


    Yes, heartbreak goes along with caring about sound doctrine.  But in today’s reading Jesus comforts us.  He doesn’t comfort us with the false comfort of our flesh, which would simply say it’s ok to stop caring about what God says.  Rather Jesus comforts us by speaking of the overthrow of false prophets and the preservation of sound doctrine.  Jesus says, “Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire... On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’  And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’”


    The cursed false prophets will get their due.  We delight in this, not because we delight in the condemnation of the wicked; rather, we desire that they turn from their evil way and live, as God does.  But we delight in the overthrow of false prophets because we delight in our Lord and his Word and the salvation of man, and we want him to show the whole world that he’s right and false prophets are wrong.  We want the Lord to defend his Gospel, that he would be honored by all, and his saving work would not be in vain, and man would not be misled.  False prophets seek to cut down the tree of life, the cross of our Lord, and reduce it to kindling.  If they succeeded, then all would be lost and we would be condemned.  But Jesus gives us his Word―a very comforting doctrine―that false prophets will be cut down and burned in the fires of hell, and that his Word will be preserved on earth, thanks be to God.


    Though the Word of God is despised by many, though the gate is wide and the way is spacious that leads to destruction because many false prophets have gone out into the world, nevertheless, our Lord does not stand idly by and watch men perish.  He preserves sound doctrine.  The way may be narrow and tight that leads to life, but the way remains open, and the Lord continues to send faithful laborers into his harvest, faithful pastors who teach soundly in accord with the Word of God.  And when the way to destruction oversteps the bounds of Christ’s tolerance and threatens his saints, he arises and places limits on false doctrine by cutting off false prophets.  So do not despair.  The Gospel is not lost, and it never will be.  And we look forward to the day, “that day,” as Jesus calls it, the Last day, when false prophets are made to obey the Word of Christ that commands them to depart.  No more will we have to endure the devil’s lies, but we will enjoy good fruit from the lips of our Lord for all eternity.  May he preserve you in sound doctrine and right faith until that day.  Amen.

  • Trinity 9

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Trinity 9, 2019


    Luke 16:1-9



    It sounds strange to hear the master in this parable, who is clearly God the Father Almighty, praise the unrighteous manager. The manager is a selfish, lazy, prideful freeloader, who cheats his master out of money, and God praises him. But it really shouldn’t sound strange to us. Think of it. Jesus compares Himself to a thief in the night when he talks about the suddenness of His second coming. He’s not saying stealing is a good thing, he’s taking one detail of what makes thieves effective, their stealth, that they come when you don’t expect it, and he’s applying it to himself. And Jesus does the same sort of thing for His Christians. He commands us to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Now snakes are always bad in the Bible. They bite and they kill. The devil brings sin into the world through a snake. Satan himself is called the evil serpent. And as most women will tell you, snakes are disgusting. If our secretary, Wendy Doctor, were here, she could come up and give a personal testimonial for you on how gross snakes are. But Jesus says to be like snakes, because there is one aspect of the snake he wants us to imitate, his cunning, his wisdom, his waiting for the right moment to act. So when Jesus urges us in this parable to imitate the unrighteous steward, he’s doing the same thing. He’s obviously not approving of stealing or obsessing over money or being too proud to beg, he’s instead concentrating on the one aspect of this manager that is admirable.


    Now what exactly is that? Our translation says, “The master commended the dishonest manager for his shrewdness.” The Greek literally says, “And the master praised the unrighteous steward because he acted wisely,” phronimws, for you Greek scholars, and in the NT, this word for wise, phronimos, always has an eye toward the future; wisdom prepares for the future, it doesn’t just live in the present or dwell on the past. And this is exactly what this unrighteous steward did. He provided for his future by using money to help others. Now he did it in about the most dishonest and wicked way imaginable, by stealing from his master, but that’s not the point, the point is that he used money to make friends and prepare for his future.


    He did it for his future on earth. Jesus commands us to do it with an eye toward our future in heaven. Look at how wise people are, whether they do it honestly or dishonestly doesn’t matter, look at how wise people are today in saving up money, providing for their future. We live in the age of retirement. It’s not uncommon for middle-class workers to retire with over a million dollars saved up. Ask Dave Ramsey, he’ll tell you, you can do it. And boy will people sacrifice to provide for their future. They’ll work at a job they hate. They’ll work multiple jobs. They’ll never dine out. They’ll assiduously invest fifteen percent of their income. All so they can provide for a future that will inevitably end in death. “For we brought nothing into this world and it is certain we can carry nothing out.” Now, that’s the chief irony Jesus points out to us today. “The sons of this age are wiser than the sons of life in this their generation.” Look at how wisely the sons of this world save for their worldly future, and do two things. First, stop acting like them. Stop pretending that your future is only on this earth. Stop using your money as if your stuff and pleasure are the most important things in your life. Second, learn from them how to obsess not on your future in this world, but your future in heaven with all God’s saints – and learn what your money has to do with it.


    So, we start with God, who’s the rich man in our parable. He’s the only one who owns anything in this parable. Everyone else owes him. That’s God the Father Almighty. I know you worked hard for your money. And we’re Americans and we believe in capitalism, right? And that’s wonderful, so does Jesus, that’s why he tells us and the government not to steal (that’s what socialism is, legal theft), and that’s why he says that if a man doesn’t work neither shall he eat. But even as we work hard for our money, we need to realize that God still gave it to us. You’re in the place of the steward here. You don’t own anything of yourself. God does. He says the cattle on a thousand hills are mine, not because they’re wild cattle, no, they’re owned by someone. But God still says they’re his. And that includes your money and all your stuff. This is what we confess in the Small Catechism too, “I believe that God has made me and all creatures, that he has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still takes care of them. He also gives me clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, wife and children, land, animals, and all I have.” That’s you. Everything you have God gave, because even your work, even your sweat and your self-control, and your skill and your smarts and your investing, everything that could make you money or get you stuff, God gave to you. This is what we mean when we confess every Sunday, I believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth. As the Proverb says, “The blessing of the Lord makes a man rich.”


    When we say God owns everything, we’re not saying we Christian own nothing. Jesus calls us “sons of light,” which is just another way of saying sons of God. Jesus calls himself the light of the world, right? Sons are heirs of everything in their father’s house. God is our Father, because the eternal and only begotten Son, has become our brother and won for us His inheritance by His precious blood and suffering, and has sent His Spirit into our hearts in our Baptism to cry out in faith and trust, “Abba, Father.” So we are not losing anything when we say everything we have belongs to God. We are only gaining. Because what’s His is ours. Jesus gives it to us.


    This is actually how it was in the beginning. God created the world and put Adam and Eve in the garden to care for it. They were stewards, caretakers. And when they were unfaithful, when they sinned and failed, they began to misuse what God gave them, to obsess over it as if it belonged to them – this was actually the first sin, that they took the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil as if it belonged to them, when God specifically said it didn’t, it was his to know good and evil, not theirs. And this has been with us ever since. We act like stuff is ours and not God’s. Our Lord Jesus came to make us caretakers of this world again, but now he points us not simply to take care of this earth and this body, but to look forward to a new heaven and a new earth and a resurrected body, that Christ himself has won for us, which is our priceless treasure, the future we invest in, where there will be no sin, no pretending that God doesn’t own us and everything else, where there will be no greed, but only delight in the generosity of our God.


    Now notice that the master in the parable knows what his manager is doing. He doesn’t ask the manager to explain himself. He simply judges him, takes away his position. God knows what you do with and what you think of your money. I don’t. I don’t even know how much you give to the church or the school. But God does. He knows how you spend your money. He knows what your hopes for the future are, whether you ever consider heaven in your daily life, whether you put your money where your mouth is and praise the generosity of Christ’s suffering and death for you a poor miserable sinner with your own generosity toward those in need, whether it’s your priority to support the preaching of the Gospel here in your city, or whether you are instead obsessing over and worrying about money that you use for your own benefit and pleasure. God knows. And he’s the one who says you cannot serve both God and money. You cannot. Not you may not. You can’t. It’s an impossibility. If you are obsessed with your life here on this earth and the pleasure you can get out of it and the money you need to do it, you cannot remain a Christian. This is why St. Paul, when he lists all the horrible sins that we conservative Christians in our day so righteously oppose, like homosexuality and murder and adultery, he includes among them the greedy. “Do not be deceived. Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor homosexuals nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunks nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.” The Holy Spirit isn’t kidding here. Neither is our Lord Jesus. This isn’t an empty threat to make you feel bad. Saving faith, trust in Christ, will be strangled and die if you obsess over money and use it only for your own pleasure.


    Now you will be torn in two different directions. Don’t get me wrong. Your flesh will obsess over money even as your spirit obsesses over Jesus, your priceless treasure. And it’s precisely because a Christian gets pulled in two directions that Jesus says the sons of this age are wiser than the sons of light in their generation. Christians, the sons of light, they have light to see something beyond this world, but they still have flesh that is directed to money and all it can do for the body. But the sons of this age, the unbelievers, they are shrewder, wiser with money, because it’s their singular obsession, they’re not distracted by heaven. If heaven were our singular obsession, we’d learn to be wiser with money, you see. But heaven isn’t, the Gospel isn’t. No, we still get pulled into worrying about money and wanting more than we need, even though our Lord has promised that He will provide for our every need. And so this is a daily thing for us, we need to remember that life is more than clothing and food and drink. We need to remember that some of us have more money than others, that’s always the way it’s been, and if we have more money than others God didn’t give it to us so that we could lavish it on ourselves, but so we could help our brothers and sisters in need. And there is no greater need than for them to hear the Gospel. This is the Christian way. Please, for Christ’s sake, learn to be generous with your money as a way of life, because your greatest treasure is Christ and His generosity.


    So that’s the first part. The second part is to learn from the world’s and your own flesh’s obsession with their future on earth, learn from it to obsess about the future of heaven. “Make for yourselves friends by means of unrighteous mammon, so that when it fails they may welcome you into the eternal dwellings.” Of course there’s nothing in Jesus’ words here that even hint at buying your way to heaven. God doesn’t sell forgiveness, doesn’t sell heaven. He’s not in the selling business at all. He’s in the giving business. It’s an insult to the God of grace and mercy, who sacrificed Himself and shed His own blood to pay for our sins, redeemed us with things more precious than gold or silver, to say of him that he would give you heaven in return for money or anything else. Don’t ever let that enter into your mind. That’s exactly the sort of money-worship that Jesus is forbidding here.


    Instead, look at where Jesus directs us, to making friends by means of our money so that we see these friends in heaven. Now that’s a wonderful thing. I absolutely love this parable. Because it doesn’t ignore the use of money. It acknowledges money’s power. It’s not some naïve, I don’t need any money. Of course you do. It’s how God takes care of you. Think of it. Without money I can’t take care of my children or my wife, without money I can’t give to the church’s upkeep or help pay for the teachers and the school. Jesus isn’t condemning money here. That’s like condemning alcohol because people misuse it. No, God is saying you use what the world uses for unrighteousness, you use it to make friends who will join you in heaven. Put your money where your heart is. Buying a new car, upgrading in housing, taking care for more and more pleasure and ease in your life, keeping up with the Joneses, that has to be secondary at the very least. Supporting the preaching of the Gospel is primary. I don’t just support my kids with food and a roof over their heads because I want them to live healthy and long on this earth, I support them so they have a place to be fed with God’s word and see it’s the most important thing in the world for them and for their mother and me. I don’t just support this church because I get paid from this church, or because we have a budget to meet, but because the money given here goes to making sure that the Christian faith is created in that font, and Christian faith is strengthened at that altar. I don’t just support the school because it’s a good education for my children, but because it’s a godly one, a Christian one, for all the children, and I want to see them in heaven. That’s what all of this means. Your money when it is given for the teaching of the Gospel, supports the very thing that makes friends of God whom you will see in heaven. It’s an amazing thing.


    When you by God’s grace enter into your eternal dwelling, when you see your truest Friend, your Lord Jesus Christ, who spent His life on you to buy you an eternal home and gave it to you freely without any cost to you, when the chorus of angels greets you in heavenly joy, the friends you made by unrighteous money will welcome you into your eternal home. Your money in the end will fail you. Your body, on which you’ve spent so much money, it will fail you too. You’ll go down to the grave and you’ll take nothing with you. But the Gospel you support, it won’t fail you and it won’t fail your friends; it’s the power of God for salvation to all who believe. Jesus won’t fail you. He’s died for you. He’s risen. He’s sought you out and made you His. He won’t fail you. That’s the reality. He will do what no money could do for your body. He’ll raise it from the dead, perfect, beautiful, without sin or pain forever. He’ll do what no money could buy for your soul, and fill it with a love for Him and for one another that is never stained again by greed or pride or lust or any such thing. And the ridiculous honor he gives us here on earth is that we can use our money to support His work here on this earth.


    Money is called unrighteous because, among other things, it doesn’t last forever. It will be destroyed with everything else that it buys on this sinful earth. Righteousness does though. It lasts forever. The Righteousness of Christ, His innocence, the robe of purity that will cover you through eternity, it lasts forever. So set your mind on things of heaven, where Christ your Lord dwells, and look forward to the great reunion of friends in Christ, from every generation, in your eternal dwelling. Amen.





  • Trinity 10

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Trinity 10, 2019


    Luke 19:41-48


    The first adjective we ascribe to God in the creed is almighty, I believe in God the Father almighty. In the Greek that’s pantokrator, ruler over all things. And it’s precisely because we stress so often that God, not just the Father, but His Son, our Lord Jesus, and the Holy Spirit by whom we live, it’s precisely because we stress that God is almighty that we can have trouble understanding passages like our Gospel for this morning. And this doesn’t just have to do with biblical interpretation, but with figuring out how God acts in our lives, what his almighty power looks like in the here and now. Look first at our text. Jesus weeps over Jerusalem. He cries because they refuse to recognize their visitation, refuse to see that God himself is visiting them in the flesh. Jesus wants them to believe. He does. Sincerely. He wants every single one of them to confess their sins and trust that He, their almighty Creator, has come down from heaven to bear their punishment and win them everlasting life. This is what the Holy Spirit confesses elsewhere in the Bible, “God wants all to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth.” But they’re not saved. They don’t believe. The almighty God wants it, but it doesn’t happen.


    With Jerusalem Jesus simply says it. Their city will be totally destroyed. Forty years after Jesus spoke these words the Roman general Titus annihilated the city once called the city of God. The death toll is estimated at over a million. Instead of the leaders of the Jews believing, they persecuted not only Christ but the Christian Church. They had James the Apostle put to death and Christians had to flee from Jerusalem. It was because of their accusations against St. Paul that he eventually met his death in the Roman Coliseum. They pretended that they were still God’s chosen people, even when they had rejected God’s Son, and in their arrogance, they rebelled against Rome, trusting in their special status as God’s people to save them. And it didn’t. God had Titus destroy them in the worst bloodbath the world has ever seen.


    So here are the facts. God is almighty. Jesus is almighty. He can do all things. And He wants to save these people. Yet he stands there seemingly impotent, unable to save the people He wants with all His heart to save. This seems like a contradiction, doesn’t it? If he can do all things, and he wants to save them, how is it he can’t save them? How is it he cries at their destruction? Why doesn’t he just save them, if he’s almighty?


    And these are the questions that come up for us Christians today. All the time. How is it that God wants to save your loved ones, but they still reject the faith, reject God’s Word, and refuse to believe? And we could expand the question. How is it that God wants all to be saved, and yet the Christian Church remains small and persecuted in this world?


    And here is where we need to see that it’s not just about power. Power always has to do with will, with desire. I exercise power according to what I want. I have the power, the physical power, to force my children to rub my feet. I’m stronger than they are. They’ll do what I tell them to do. But I don’t want to force them. I don’t even want my feet rubbed. It grosses me out. So I don’t force them to do it. I have the power to force my wife to utter the words, “I love you. I trust you. I want to be with you.” I’m stronger than she is. I could force her to speak words she doesn’t mean. But I don’t want that. I don’t want a forced, “I love you.” I want her to love me from her heart. So I use my power instead to love her, to show her by what I say and what I do that I cherish her, as I promised I would in my marriage vows. And then she loves me back. And make no mistake about it. I use my power to make her love me. I just don’t use my power to force her to love me. It’s a huge difference. It’s not a matter of bare power, but of how I want to use my power.


    And the same goes with God. Yes, he has the power to do all things. But his will, what he wants, is not to use His power to force, but to persuade. Persuade is a beautiful word, by the way. It means to convince through sweet words and actions. And God refuses to use His power to save us in any other way than through persuasion. Yes, every knee will bow, willingly or unwillingly. Every soul will submit in the end to this God. There you’ll see His raw power over the heathen. And yes, He used His power to punish Jerusalem, destroy their beautiful city in which they trusted. But this power, the power of vengeance, the power of forceful demand that we submit to His heavy hand, is not His power to save. It’s a power He weeps over using. Look at Jesus weeping over Jerusalem, and realize this. He does not want to punish. He wants to save.


    Christian faith is not forced. We are not blocks of wood, we’re not fatalistic robots whom God programs to say and believe things we don’t mean. He will not, and so He cannot, force you to believe in Him or love Him. That goes against God’s nature, which means it goes against the nature of what love is and what trust is. So you can’t simply think of God’s power, leave it at, “I believe in God the Father almighty,” and assume that since He can do all things He should do this or that. That’s to pit one attribute of God against another. It’s to pit God against God. It’s to turn God into an idol of our own making. The God who has all power in heaven and on earth is also the God who wants to save His sinful creation by persuasion and not by force. And since this is what He wants, it is what He binds His power to do. Period. This is the God we have to work with, and there’s none other god. He holds the field forever.


    And you don’t want another God. You don’t want the god of Islam, you don’t want a god whose only enticement to believe in him is the threat of hellfire if you don’t, whose will is blind submission to him. You don’t want the god of the liberals who tolerates filth and lets envy and lust and self-indulgence reign as if they aren’t the source of all our misery. You don’t want the god of the evolutionists who preprogrammed everything you’ll say or do in life. You want the true God who persuades you that He is your God, the God who cares for you and loves you and has spent His blood to redeem you. You want the God who will persuade you that life under Him, with all its crosses, is better than a million lives lived without Him. You want the God who won’t lie to you, won’t tell you that gossiping is harmless, or fighting for your own stinking pride is virtue, or divorce is an easy solution to a bad marriage, or that watching porn is harmless. No, you want the God who will confront you with your sins, convince you to hate them, and persuade you to run to Him in every trouble, and find in Him a God who will forgive your every sin, spur you on to love by His own Spirit, and keep you His forever.


    Jesus cries here. God cries. He wept over Jerusalem once before. “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you were not willing!” How often He wanted it, even for murderers and despisers of God’s Word. He wanted to protect them like a mother protects her children. But they were not willing. And this is what we have to understand. The reason for unbelief is our unwillingness, that we don’t want to believe the truth. It’s not some fault in God, as if He isn’t powerful enough or isn’t sincere enough. The fact that people can reject His word doesn’t make God powerless. No, we have experienced the persuasion of His Word, the sweet convincing of His Spirit. He makes the unwilling willing. He takes hearts of stone and puts in a heart of flesh, as Ezekiel says. It’s not as if I am a Christian because I first exercised my will and made God my God by my own natural powers. No, I was born dead in my trespasses, as St. Paul says. I had nothing to do with my conversion. I had no capacity to believe, no will to love God. But at the same time, God did not make me or you a Christian by brute force. He persuaded a will that was against Him to be for Him.


    And this is where you need to locate God’s power in your life. He’s not powerless. He’s almighty. His crying isn’t a symptom of weakness. It’s the outpouring of His almighty power to save. It’s what drives him to the Temple, what makes him throw out the false teachers, so that the people He loves can hear the truth from His mouth and be saved from sin and death and every evil. It’s what drives Him to the cross to bear the sins of sinners who will reject Him. It’s what makes Him rise from the dead and speak the words of everlasting life to us. He exercises an almighty power, believe it, but it’s the power of a loving husband to his bride, that woos her and covers her faults and bears her burdens. He is no machoistic wife neglecter, who demands everything from his bride and gives nothing back. No, He gives everything, His life, His suffering, His constant attention and devotion.  Believe what you just sang, From heaven he came and sought her to be His holy bride, with his own blood He bought her and for her life He died.


    This is His persuasion, His almighty power to save, what makes us hang on His every word. I have a lot of questions for God. I don’t know why He allows what He allows in my life or in the lives of the people in this congregation, whom He loves. But we do Him wrong if we think that because we bear crosses and go through pain He isn’t using His almighty power to help us. He is. And He convinces us, persuades us of it, again, today. The God who knows our sins and our cares and our troubles will once again feed us today with the body and blood He now wears, with which He redeemed us. He has taken all of us, who just confessed that we are poor sinners and deserve nothing but punishment, and He has refused to punish us, has spoken the forgiveness on us our Lord Jesus bought with His blood. He has answered our prayers for mercy and accepted our praise as sweet incense before Him. He will answer our Hosannas with the peace that was once won on the cross and He now gives to us His bride as He joins us as one flesh to Him in the Supper He gives for our good. This is His almighty power. God keep us steadfast in His Word, now and forever. In the name of Jesus.





  • Trinity 11

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Trinity 11, 2019

    Luke 18:9-14


    It almost feels like cheating to get to preach on this text every year. The parable of the Pharisee and the tax-collector is a sermon in itself, very clear. It teaches exactly what we confess, that we are justified not by anything we do, but solely by the faith that cries out to God, “Have mercy on me, a sinner!” I think this is part of the reason why the pope, in the last century, changed the lectionary to a three-year series, so his priests wouldn’t have to preach on this text every single year. It’s more than a little embarrassing for a Roman Catholic priest to have to preach on this Gospel. Because nothing could be clearer than Jesus’ words here, nothing could so thoroughly destroy the giant lie of the pope, what Luther called the monster of uncertainty, the idea that we are saved not by faith alone, but also by the things we do and say. The Roman Catholics have accused us Lutherans (and Protestants in general) of relying not on Jesus, but on St. Paul’s epistles, to prove our teaching that a man is justified by faith alone apart from the works of the law (as if that’s a bad thing), but in reality, we don’t even need Paul for this. We have the words of Jesus in the Gospels. And not just here in our text, no. God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. Not whoever does enough good works. Whoever believes in the Son. It’s Jesus who says, “Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved.” Jesus who says time and time again, “Your faith has saved you.” But here, here, we have the clearest and most comforting words Jesus could speak, the stone that sinks into the forehead of Goliath and the sword that cuts off his lying head, “I say to you this man went home justified, and not the other.”


    Look at the tax-collector, the man who Jesus says went home justified. He has no good to boast of. His job is to steal money from his own countrymen. He’s a thief, and he’s been a greedy, mean, wicked little man. That’s why he identifies himself as a sinner. Why he is ashamed to look up into heaven, because He knows God is angry with sinners every day, as the Psalmist says. Why he beats his breast in grief over the nastiness that has been his life. And this we have to realize. When he leaves that temple and Jesus says he’s justified, that means he’s righteous in God’s eyes, innocent of any wrongdoing, it’s as if God has said, “You are perfect. There’s not a stain on you. I see nothing but innocence and purity and beauty when I look at you.” And yet he still hasn’t done a thing. He hasn’t reformed his life. He hasn’t given back all he’s stolen. He hasn’t quit his wicked job. He hasn’t apologized to everyone he’s hurt. Those things I’m sure are to come. He’ll do all that. He’ll do good works. He’ll give his money to the church and to the poor. He’ll stop his stealing. But at this point, when Jesus says that he went home justified, righteous, and innocent, he’s not done anything that anyone could point to and say, “Ah, there’s a good man, look at all the righteous things he’s done.” Nothing. But he’s righteous. Jesus says so.


    Now how is this? How is it that a man can do nothing good and then God calls him good? Because his righteousness is outside of him. This is what sets our Lord Jesus’ teaching apart from all other religions and far apart from the Roman Catholic teaching of salvation by works. The pope teaches that your righteousness is inside of you. They’ll say it’s inspired by God, given by Christ, won by His death on the cross, but they locate it inside you, in your love, in your works, in your thoughts and actions and words. But Jesus makes it undeniably clear here that the tax-collector’s righteousness is outside of him. He has no good works. He points to none. He pleads for a righteousness not his own, precisely because he doesn’t have any of himself. And Jesus says he’s righteous, because Jesus is righteous, and God imputes, reckons, attributes Jesus’ righteousness to the tax-collector.


    We have a fancy Latin term for this. Our righteousness, our innocence before God, is extra nos. Outside of us. It’s not in me. Isaiah the prophet cried out, “All our righteousness is as filthy rags.” And St. Paul says that Jesus has become righteousness for us. Even if I can point to all I have given to the church, or how I have fasted, or that I don’t cheat on my wife or look at porn, or that I am a good father or a good son or a good friend, whatever it may be that I think makes me a better person than that other guy; even if I could confess with all sincerity that these are good works, inspired by the Holy Spirit himself, I would have nothing to boast of before God, no righteousness to plead before Him, because God sees, God sees what I hide from the world, the pride and the hate and the lust, what I hide even from myself, because I can’t even know all my sins. God sees. And so to approach this God with anything but the tax-collector’s prayer is sheer madness.


    The mistake of the Pharisee is that he compares himself to others. What is better, to stay true to your husband or wife, or to cheat on your husband or wife? Clearly being faithful is better. What’s better, to give your money generously to the church, give ten percent, as the Pharisee did, or to steal like the tax-collector? Of course it’s to give to the church. And if we were in a human court, that’s all that would matter. That’s why St. Paul says, “If Abraham was justified by his works, he had something to boast of before men, but not before God.”


    But when you appear before God, you deal with God, not with men. Men will praise you when you do good things. We like to see well-behaved children, and we compliment mothers and fathers for raising their kids with respect and discipline. We like to see people give their time and talent and money to the church. Read the Reviewer, the official newspaper of our synod, the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, and you’ll see that most of it, the overwhelming majority of it, is devoted to praising the good things people in our Synod have done and are doing. Jesus says, of course, to do good in secret and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. But the temptation, whether in the world or in the church, is always to broadcast our good works, because that’s what we can see, we see they help people. Goodness, if people didn’t do the good work of giving money to this church, I wouldn’t have a job, we wouldn’t have a church or a school or teachers or a building.


    But what we see isn’t all that God sees. We have to know this. You could give up all your money, which I wouldn’t recommend, by the way, because you’ve got yourself and others to take care of, but you could give it all up and be ten times more righteous than the Pharisee, receive all the accolades of men for your wonderful generosity, and it would mean nothing before God unless you have the mind of the tax-collector. And not just once, not like some give your heart to Jesus moment, some one-time choice for Jesus, not as some work you offer to God, like you’re holy because you’re humble, no, but as the rhythm and practice of your life, because you know your sin and you prize your Savior above all else. He’s your pride before God. Nothing and no one else.


    This is the life of humility. That’s what Jesus says, He who humbles himself will be exalted and he who exalts himself will be humbled. Now let me say here that Jesus is in no way putting down good works. That’s not the point at all. You’re a Christian. You love what God loves. It puts a smile on God’s face – and he has a face, by the way, because the Son was born of a virgin in the fullness of time, lived, died, and rose on this earth, and reigns forever as both God and man in heaven and in this His church – it puts a smile on God’s face to see the man who wants to keep the sixth commandment and battles against his lust for porn, it puts a smile on God’s face when Christian husbands love and sacrifice for their wives, never say an unkind word, keep their temper in check, and when Christian wives submit to their husbands and respect them and speak well of them in front of others, it puts a smile on God’s face when faithful Christian men and women save themselves for marriage and pray for a Christian spouse; it puts a smile on God’s face when His Christians work hard and spend their money not simply for their own enjoyment but for preaching the Gospel to the poor. Don’t think at all that Jesus is bashing good works here. He’s not. He loves it when you are generous and faithful. He’s loves it like a father loves seeing his daughter take her first step or learn to smile for the first time.


    No, He’s condemning, thoroughly and completely, any thought that our good works make us good before our God, make Him love us, make Him justify us or declare us righteous. Because this is pride of the worst kind. It’s bad enough to brag of how good you are, all you’ve done, before other people. But before God? The one who sees your heart? Come on.


    We have here the story, ironically, of two men with utter confidence. The one has confidence in himself, not just a confidence that he has done the right thing, that he’s worked hard at his job, and obeyed God’s commandments or tried to, that’s a fine confidence to have, but the devilish confidence that he’s a better person before God because of it, that God’s holding some sort of sick contest, that if he does better than the adulterer or the tax-collector, he wins the ticket to heaven. There is nothing more insulting to God than this pride. It’s our calling in Christ to root this pride out of our hearts daily, every time we think of comparing ourselves to others and saying, “At least I’m not like that guy.”


    But in the tax-collector we see a different confidence, a divine confidence, a beautiful one. He’s not at all confident in himself. No, he knows like you what he’s done and he knows what it deserves from His God. He hates it, and even his desire to do better can do nothing to erase the guilt in his heart and the punishment he knows he deserves. He doesn’t look to heaven. That’s what our Gospel says. He’s afraid to do it. He doesn’t think his humility is enough to rise up to God, as if God loves him because he’s so humble and he’s so sorry. No. He doesn’t look to heaven. But I don’t think he looked at the ground either. It doesn’t say he bowed his head. He was in the Temple. He was in the place God promised to meet him. His eyes could peer at the curtain that marked the holy of holies, the altar where every year the high priest sacrificed a bull and sprinkled its blood on the people. And he doesn’t say, in the Greek, simply, have mercy on me. He says, take away your wrath, take away your anger, because of the sacrifice of blood. Of course, our translator did the right thing to translate it, “Lord have mercy.” My translation is a very awkward one, right. But it’s what it says. Take away your anger, love me, not because of anything I’ve done, but because of the sacrifice you make for me.


    And this is our confidence. It’s the Christian confidence. That there’s nothing so horrible you’ve done or you’ve said or you’ve felt, nothing in your past, nothing in your present, that isn’t erased by the blood of Jesus. We heard what St. Paul said in our Epistle. He saw this Jesus. The apostles saw him, hundreds saw him, risen from the dead, after paying with his own suffering and death the punishment and anger of God against sinners. And He lives to be our righteousness before God, He pleads our cause.


    Look outside of yourself today. That’s what faith does. Look outside of all your good works and all your nasty ones, look outside yourself and see the Lamb once slain now meet you in this holy place, where He has promised to meet you with His own body and blood given and shed for the forgiveness of your sins. The tax-collector knew where to go to pray his prayer. To the Temple where God promised to meet His people with blood shed for them. It’s the same today. God doesn’t change. You say your prayer, God have mercy on me a sinner, here in this place, because there is your righteousness, there is your innocence before God, in Jesus whose blood speaks a better word than the blood of Abel, and on this we feed, in this we trust, in this we go home justified, until in heaven, Christ, who is all in all, will be the source of our righteousness forever. Amen.

  • Trinity 12

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Trinity 12, 2019

    Mark 7:31-37


    There are two amazing things happening at the end of our text. And I don’t want the one to overshadow the other. The first is obviously that Jesus tells the people not to talk about what they just saw. This sounds very strange to us, especially in our day of stressing evangelism, right, get the message out there, people need to hear it. Why would Jesus not want people talking about Him? Now people have all sorts of answers to this, but really the most obvious answer is that people like to get it wrong, they spread the message of Jesus as a miracle worker or as some religious guru who can give you your best life now, and ignore the fact that God Himself has come into the world to face down death and hell and sin for us. And this is what Jesus’ miracles are supposed to show about Him. So it does the cause of Christ and Christianity no good when people go out talking about Jesus spurred on only by a fickle emotional attachment to Him, while not really knowing who He is and what He has come to do. Evangelism without actually speaking the Gospel of Christ-crucified for sinners doesn’t work; it’s not evangelism.


    In other words, Jesus doesn’t want everyone trying to make him king, like they did after he fed the five thousand. You remember this, that he feeds the five thousand with bread and then they come to make him king and he literally has to run away from them. And they follow him, catch up with him, stalk him. It’s kind of creepy, actually. But then Jesus teaches them. He tells them he hasn’t come to be their bread king, to replace the government and establish a perpetual welfare state where you won’t have to work for your daily bread. No, he’s come to give his flesh and blood on the cross to pay for the sin that would drag us down to hell, and the flesh he gives is true meat indeed and his blood true drink. And when the people heard that, when Jesus told them the Gospel, that life, the life worth living here on this earth, the eternal life spent with God and his holy angels, this life comes only through the flesh and blood of Jesus lifted up for us on the cross, they left him. They didn’t want him anymore. They didn’t want to hear about sin and death and forgiveness and blood and the cross, no, they wanted their best life now. So the very people who chased after him, stalked him, because they saw his miracle and wanted free earthly bread, they abandoned him when he offered them the bread that comes from heaven. The people who stalked him to make him king would not have him when he told them he already was King. And Peter alone, that comically bumbling fool of a disciple, Peter stayed with the twelve at Jesus’ side; and when Jesus asked them, “Will you too leave me?” Peter answered the beautiful words of faith, the words that drove us all here this morning, not for bread or wealth or a cornhole tournament, but for the flesh and blood of Jesus, “Lord to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life!”


    And that’s what’s going on here at the end of our Gospel for today. This strange command of Jesus: “don’t tell anyone,” is a preliminary command, not a final one. Don’t tell anyone yet. Stay and be taught. I know you’re excited but your present excitement won’t get you through the hard times, the memory of one miracle will fade, and you won’t know me, you won’t know what I am willing to do for you, why you need me for more than bodily hearing and speaking, unless you stay and you learn what this miracle means, until you know the miracle of my own death and resurrection.


    But don’t let this first amazing thing overshadow the second amazing thing. The people simply disobey Jesus. That’s amazing. He tells them not to talk about it, and they talk about it anyway. They’re like excited little children who find out what their brother is getting for his birthday. “Don’t tell David,” I say, but they can’t help it and even if they don’t tell David they tell everyone else who will listen. That’s what these people are like. They can’t hold in their excitement. They’re like the shepherds, they tell everyone of what they have seen and heard. Now it’s not an admirable thing to disobey Jesus, we should never do it, but it is an admirable thing, something we should mimic, to get excited like little children about what Jesus does.


    Jesus isn’t condemning their excitement, he’s not, he wants you excited about what you have seen and heard, he is no despiser of emotion. (I just translated some Luther in fact where he says that anyone who reads the psalms coldly with no emotion is like an ass trying to play a harp- it makes no sense, when we see the evils around us, not only the sin, the destruction of the family, the self-love and the fornication, the greed and the cynical disregard for God’s clear word, not only the sin, but the pain it causes, the relationships it tears apart, and the sickness and death it brings, when we see it not just around us but among us and in us, as the devil continues his assault on our souls, and we run for refuge to the God who forgives, the God who became one with us and shed his blood for us, then it makes no sense that we would be anything but excited, anything but filled with emotion at the fact of our Lord’s conquering this sin and bringing life and immortality to life by his resurrection, because it crushes our enemies and sets God Himself the almighty and the victorious against every evil that we see and every pain we experience, not simply as bystanders seeing a man get his hearing and speech back, but as personal recipients of the love of God Most High).


    So Jesus is no despiser of emotion, but he does temper it. Because emotional highs won’t get you through life. And your emotions will betray you.


    I don’t want to go to church, I don’t feel like reading my Bible, I don’t have the energy to pray, or worse, and this one particularly pains Jesus, I don’t feel I need to learn more because I know Jesus loves me and that’s all that matters. No, that won’t hold you up in affliction when all signs point to God not loving you. You need more than emotion. So Jesus directs our emotion, not simply to how amazing He is, but to Him, all of Him, who He is, why He came down to earth, what he thinks of sin and death and the devil, who we are and why we need him in every step and circumstance of our life, and this all takes instruction and humility on our part to learn and submit our minds and emotions and everything to Jesus’ words, in the Bible and preached at this church.


    So those are the two amazing things at the end of our Gospel. But the beginning teaches a lesson too. There Jesus gives no command not to talk about him. There instead we see what every Christian, what you can do, and know every time Jesus will smile on it. The people bring their friend to Jesus. They bring a friend who needs Jesus, whom only Jesus can help. And you have those friends. Invite them to church. Bring them to Jesus.


    I get it a lot, people will tell me they’re not good at explaining the Bible, answering people’s questions about God, arguing about the truth, and I get it. I never have and I never will, God help me, preach a sermon telling you in the pews to go convert the world, as if God called you all to be preachers and pastors at large. Those are the worst sermons, seriously, and if I ever do it, get a copy of this sermon and throw it in my face and tell me never to do it again. It is not your job individually to go out preaching and converting the world. It’s not a burden that Jesus lays on you to go preach to everyone you meet. He says confess, he says live as a Christian, talk as a Christian, be a Christian, and that means praying at home, doing devotions at home, forgiving those who sin against you, loving one another as Christ has loved you, yes, but that doesn’t mean, like the apostles, that God will give you everything you need to say every single time to every single person you come across. You might not know things, you might not be able to articulate what you do know, don’t worry about it. No one is going to go to hell because you aren’t the greatest theologian and orator. God knows those who are his. And He will have them in his heaven come hell or highwater. Speak about Jesus when you can and where you should, stand up for truth according to your ability, but don’t ever burden yourself with another’s faith, as if converting people is all up to you. That’s God’s business.


    But what you can do is invite them to church. Do it. Especially when you see your neighbor in need, having trouble with marriage, with divorce, with alcohol, with drugs, with homosexuality, with abortion, with pain or sickness or death, invite them to church, or to Bible Class if that’s easier, but bring them to the Savior who alone can help them, who wants to help them, whom they need. Do as these friends did to the deaf man. You know where to go when sin and guilt and pain overwhelm you, the words of Peter’s are yours, Lord to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.


    And look at Jesus. What does he do? He receives the man. And he gives him his hearing and his speech. He proves what we just sang, that God forsakes them never who in true fear shall seek his love. And in so doing he teaches us - this is why he wanted those people to stay and be taught and not run off with emotional testimonials- he teaches us that He is the God who created the tongue and the ear. And the tongue needs the ear. You can’t talk well unless you can hear. I had two deaf grandparents, I know. There was nothing physically wrong with their tongues, nothing, but because their ears didn’t work, they couldn’t talk. And so it goes with speaking about Jesus. We hear first, then we speak.


    Jesus, as with all his miracles, shows himself here to be God. Only God makes the deaf to hear. But he also shows what kind of a God He is, and this is important, he’s a God who isn’t ashamed of the body, of your body, of the stuff that He created; look at Him, he spits and puts his saliva on the man’s tongue, he puts his fingers in his ears, this God doesn’t think our bodies are gross and below him, he made them, he took a body on himself, he wears a human body today as he reigns over all things, he conquered our sin in His body, He gives His glorious body to us, and by this same body He will raise our bodies incorruptible and sinless on the Last Day. Because the body that bore our sins, and the blood that quenched the anger of God against us, that rose victorious over our death and sin and the devil, he now gives to us. He uses means to save us, stuff like water and bread and wine and body and blood, just as he did with that deaf man with spit and fingers. This is our God, and there is none other.


    And when he gives this to you, he speaks, he uses words, he says, I baptize you, I wash you clean, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, he says, I forgive you all your sins, he says, this is my body given for you and my blood shed for you. Just as he said then, Ephphatha, be opened, and it happened, so now He says it, and as high as heaven above us, as dawn from close of day, so far because he loves us, he puts our sin away.


    They were astounded then; be astounded now. And don’t let it be for a moment, don’t let it resolve in one emotional experience. No, keep listening to the Savior who opens your ears to hear the words of everlasting life, know that he gave you ears for a reason and a tongue for a reason, and you are not here as some spectator of a miracle, but as the one on whom your Lord Jesus has compassion now in this time and forever in eternity. So let the Amen sound from his people again, gladly forever adore Him. Amen.

  • Trinity 13

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Luke 10:21-37

    Trinity 13, 2019


    How does Jesus end our Gospel? He ends it with a command. Go and you do likewise. He’s teaching us here that love requires action. It isn’t simply a feeling in your heart. If I love my wife I will do and say certain things. Love requires action. That’s the way love works. The priest and the Levite pass by on the side of the road as they see a man half-dead in the ditch. We can point to this lack of action and say, there’s no love there. But we can’t judge the heart, can we? No, in fact, I’m sure the priest and the Levite felt very sorry for the poor guy in their heart. I’ll bet you they even said a prayer. Maybe they even said, “I’ll pray for you,” as they kept going their way. They had the best of intentions in their heart. But they didn’t do anything. That we can judge and that’s the point. Love that doesn’t act is useless. It’s a fake love.

    The word for love used in the Greek is agape. It’s translated into Latin as caritas, where we get the word care. Love cares, and in caring it acts. The father who doesn’t work hard to care for his children, who doesn’t act out and discipline them to be respectful, who doesn’t act out and teach them what is right and wrong, who doesn’t act out and love their mother and treat her with respect, isn’t loving his children. Little children, St. John says, let us not love in word and speech but in action and in truth. Saying I love you doesn’t cut it. No matter how often the husband says, “I love you,” he will never convince his wife of it unless he backs his words up with action.

    The lawyer thought he loved God with all his heart and his neighbor as himself. Jesus told him a story to show him that love requires action. You can’t simply say it. O yes, I love Jesus, but I don’t really pray to Him all that often, or give my money to support His bride, the church, or read His word, or confess it or even think about it. O yes, I love my neighbor, but he’s really annoying and I really just try to avoid seeing him. It’s like what Lucy said in Peanuts, “I love humanity. It’s people I can’t stand.” No. That’s not love. It’s loving the idea of love.

    The entire Bible teaches not love as an idea but love as a concrete reality. The parable of the Good Samaritan sums it up beautifully. This is love. It is continual action. The Samaritan finds the man half-dead and the pity, the mercy in his heart, doesn’t stay there, it bursts out. He acts. He gives of his own time, his own money, his own sweat. He pours out oil and wine. He puts the man on his own donkey. He goes out of his way to bring him to an inn. He puts him up at his own expense. That’s all action.

    And of course this is the action of God. We know this. The eternal Son of the Father finds us half-dead and beaten on the side of the road, molested by our own sin and the devil our enemy. He looks down from heaven and pities in His heart, and it drives Him to action, to become a man, take on our flesh and blood, and pour out his blood to heal our wounds and bring us to the safety of his Church, where we live by the payment He made of His precious suffering and death. He acts, concretely and specifically, for us. In this is love. This is summed up beautifully in those words we all have memorized, “God so loved the world,” that means God’s love works itself out in this way, concretely, with real actions, “that He gave His only Son into death, that all who believe in Him may not perish but have eternal life.”

    This is what is so tragic about where the liberal Protestant denominations have gone. They talk about the love of God a lot. God loves. He loves all. He loves the homosexual. He loves the adulterer. He loves the illegal immigrant. He loves. Yes, of course, I agree, absolutely, God loves, God is love, but how? How does He love them? What does He do to love them? What does He do to love me? I don’t need some feeling in God. I need the action of God. The man beaten and left half dead by robbers, doesn’t need the nice feelings of the Levite and priest, doesn’t need their heart-felt assurance that he’s going to be okay, they love him after all, as they leave him to fend for himself. No, he needs help, action, mercy worked out in real, concrete works.

    And this is the point. We, sinners, every one of us, no matter what sin attacks us, are the man left half-dead on the side of the road. That’s what sin does to us. It’s what homosexuality does, sex outside of marriage or pornography does, it’s what greed does and obsession over the things of this world, it’s what gossip does, what selfish pride does. And if we were to say with the liberal churches of our day, don’t worry, God loves you as you are, we would be describing God as a priest and Levite who walks on by and leaves the poor guy to die in the ditch. That’s a horrible god and a horrible love. That kind of love will never win. We sinners, since we are the man half-dead and beaten on the side of the road, need actual help from God, not good feelings from God, not approval from God, not a safety pass to continue in the very sins that bring us death and hell. No, we need a God who acts, who confronts our enemies as His enemies, who wins by fighting against our sin by bearing it in Himself to the cross of His suffering and there crushing the head of the devil.

    So this is the first thing Jesus teaches here, that we need a God who acts, and no other love will do. When St. John says that God is love, He is saying that God acts, that He cares by action. This is what all the Psalms pray for, for God to act, to actively destroy our enemies, to put sin to death in us, to teach us to hate it, to protect us from all evil, to forgive us, and God answers our prayers by acting, by being born of a Virgin by the power of the Spirit, living for us and dying for us and rising for us and baptizing us and teaching us and feeding us with the body and blood of our Lord for our life on this earth and our eternal life with God in the resurrection.

    Now to the second point. Jesus says, “Go and you do likewise.” It’s the last thing he says. And He’s not condemning the poor lawyer here. He’s treating him like a Christian. So we should pay careful attention to these words, Go and you do likewise. The law of God, you all know, consists of commands. Do this, do that. Honor your father and mother. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Don’t gossip. And it always accuses us, because we remain sinners this side of glory. But when Jesus tells us the Gospel, when He tells us that He has met every one of the law’s accusations in our place, that every bad thing, every careless thing, every misspoken word, every evil desire, every nasty thing we have spoken or done or thought, He has paid for with His own blood, when He says the law cannot accuse us any longer, because it cannot accuse Him who died and rose for us and we are His and He is ours, when He stands between us and God’s wrath and says, “No, but I have borne it all for them, and these are my brothers and sisters, sons and daughters of my Father, inheritors with me of everlasting life, to whom I have given my Spirit,” then when Jesus says, “Go and you do likewise,” we are to get rid of any tinge, any fragment, even the slightest thought of condemnation. Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Go and you do likewise are words spoken to children who honor their Father in heaven, who want to mimic him, whose delight is in His approval.

    Go and you do likewise are words of privilege, of honor. The glory of God is to have mercy in concrete actions. And so it’s an honor for us His children to copy Him. Christian faith trusts in the actions of God. So Christian faith acts out in action for the neighbor. It’s not enough for us to say we’ll pray for someone, if we can actually help the person with our actions. Praying is good, and sometimes that’s all we can do, and God our Father smiles on these prayers and hears them, but our Lord Jesus didn’t just pray for us, He acted out for us and continues to do so as He feeds us with the bread of life from heaven. And so we act. We can’t be content with well-wishes, we can’t be like the priest and the Levite. Because our God wasn’t. Husbands, don’t just say you love your wives, show them by your actions, listen to them, give them the attention they need. Wives, don’t just say you love your husbands, but act out in love for them, forgiving their faults and encouraging them to lead your home as God has commanded them. Children, don’t just say you love your parents, show you love them by obeying them and speaking respectfully to them.

    We don’t just say we love humanity, we love people, actual people in our lives, and we love with actions. If you have grievances against one another in this church or in your family or at work, don’t let them boil over into hate and resentment, learn from your God’s mercy to have mercy on others, and not just in the heart, but with words of I’m sorry and I forgive you. Seek reconciliation always. If you see anyone in need, especially here at this church, make it your priority to help them in whatever way you can. Get involved in this church as we try more and more to help those in need, we’ll be having a benefit next month for little Brooklyn Crane who is suffering from cancer, we’ll be starting a program soon, I hope, to help poor mothers get clothes for their babies, we have a school where the least among us are taught the word of God. We have tons of opportunities in our families, at work, at this church, to help our neighbors, and it’s our honor given by God Himself to do it.

    I don’t really like the hymn we sang for our opening. In fact, our hymnal had to remove one of the verses because it was simply false doctrine and taught that God’s mercy on us depends on us having mercy on others, which is simply horrible, because it’s the opposite – our mercy toward others depends on God’s mercy toward us. But she gets it right when she has us sing,

    Lord of Glory, who hast bought us
    With Thy life-blood as the price,
    Never grudging for the lost ones
    That tremendous sacrifice,
    Give us faith to trust Thee boldly,
    Hope, to stay our souls on Thee;
    But, oh! best of all Thy graces,
    Give us Thine own charity.

    Give us thine charity, give us your love, make us so love your love for us that we love one another as you have loved us. There can be no thought, not the least thought, that any act of mercy we do will make God have mercy on us or will win His favor. It’s exactly the opposite. Jesus says Go and you do likewise, because He’s done it first, because His boundless love for us is our joy, our treasure, and our crown, our obsession here on this earth and our glory forever in heaven.

    In the name of Jesus. Amen.

  • Trinity 14

    Trinity 14, Lk. 17:11-19, September 22nd A+D 2019

    Rev. Andrew Richard, Mount Hope Lutheran Church, Casper, WY


    Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.


    A woman with a high fever.  A paralytic.  A man with a withered hand.  A boy who was sick and about to die.  A boy who had died.  A woman with a constant flow of blood.  A woman who was bent over and couldn’t straighten herself.  A man suffering dropsy.  A blind beggar.  Ten lepers.  And Jesus restored them all, and many more, to life and health.  These are factual, historical events, and not merely nice stories that illustrate some deeper point.  Yet, that does not disqualify them from also illustrating some deeper point.  Yes, Jesus cured each of these maladies, and that showed that he is the Christ sent from the Father.  And yes, these various maladies also have something to say about man’s life in the presence of God.  The paralytic, for instance, couldn’t bring himself to Jesus, and neither could you.  The boy who died had received the wages of sin, yet received life from Christ.  The leprosy of the ten men in today’s reading, and its cleansing, also says something about you.


    Leprosy is an infectious disease.  It causes damage to nerves and lesions in the skin, and can also affect the respiratory tract and the eyes.  Leprosy sometimes causes tenderness when certain nerves become enlarged.  But the real trouble with leprosy is not feeling pain.  It’s feeling… nothing.  As leprosy damages the nerves the leprous person begins to lose feeling in the extremities: hands and feet and arms and legs.  Dash your foot on a rock?  You don’t notice until you look down and see the trail of bloody footprints behind you.  Burn your hand in a fire?  You have no idea until you smell burning flesh or look and see scorched skin.  You don’t realize what a great gift of God it is to feel pain until you can’t.  And then you realize it was keeping you from destroying yourself.  The flesh is corrupted, and it leads to self-destruction, as unintentional as that self-destruction may be.


    Now these are just the physical symptoms.  There were also regulations in the Old Testament law that governed how lepers had to live.  We heard in today’s Gospel that the lepers “stood at a distance.”  This is because of the law in Leviticus 13, “The leprous person who has the disease shall wear torn clothes and let the hair of his head hang loose, and he shall cover his upper lip and cry out, ‘Unclean, unclean.’  He shall remain unclean as long as he has the disease.  He is unclean.  He shall live alone.  His dwelling shall be outside the camp.”


    The leper had torn clothes and unkempt hair like people who were mourning, like life was nothing more than one long funeral.  The leper was unclean, meaning he could not go into the temple.  He was cut off from the presence of God.  Moreover, the leper had to live alone outside the camp, cut off from the society of men as well.  The dead in the graves had it better than this living death of leprosy, if it could be called “living” at all.


    There you have it: the physical symptoms and the Old Testament regulations of leprosy.  And what does this leprosy have to do with you?  Human beings are born in a state of spiritual leprosy.  Original sin infects and corrupts the flesh, and continues to corrupt the flesh, even the flesh of Christians, as Paul noted in today’s Epistle reading from Galatians 5, “For the flesh desires against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh, in order that the things you want are not the things you do.”


    As a Christian you don’t want to sin.  You want to live according to the commandments of God.  But the corruption of original sin continually shows itself in sins you commit.  You go along dashing your foot on rocks and burning your hand in fire – you sin.  Like the leper, sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve sinned.  What?  How could you not notice that you’ve offended against your Maker in whose image you were created?  How could someone not notice that he’s inadvertently cut off his own finger?  Leprosy.  But even when you do realize you’ve sinned there are times you feel nothing.  No pain, no guilt.  And the most dangerous thing you could do is conclude that because you don’t feel the way you should, you’re no longer a Christian.


    Feeling isn’t everything.  The leper can look in the mirror and see that he’s a leper, even if he doesn’t feel like one.  We can see ourselves plainly in the mirror of God’s Word.  When you don’t feel like a sinner, or you don’t feel like you need the Gospel, this is what you do: You stick you hand into your shirt and see if you’re made of flesh.  Then believe what the Scriptures say about your flesh, because they know you better than you know yourself.  You heard in Galatians 5, “Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these.”


    These are the sorts of things that your leprous, sinful flesh loves to do.  You may feel differently about your flesh, but it doesn’t matter how you feel.  It matters what God’s Word says, and God’s Word says that your flesh is inclined to all these evil things.  And you don’t have to feel it.  God’s Word says it, and so it’s true.  Thus we believe that we have a leprous, sinful flesh, not on the basis of our feelings, but on the basis of God’s Word.  And at the same time we believe that there is cleansing for our leprosy, because the same Word of God that diagnoses the disease also presents the cure.


    The lepers had heard that Word of God.  They were living like dead men because they had been pronounced unclean by God’s Word.  But they had also heard the report about Jesus, who had at this point in his ministry healed all manner of diseases, including leprosy.  So they ventured on that Word they heard.  Jesus was entering the city, they were living outside the city gates, and they “lifted up their voices, saying, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.’”


    Jesus saw them and responded, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”  This was part of the procedure for admitting cured lepers back into the society of God and men, as laid out in Leviticus 14.  But that procedure was for lepers who were healed of their leprosy.  Jesus was telling these leprous men, who were still fully leprous, to begin the procedure for those who had already received healing.


    Notice, not one of them says, “I don’t feel any different.  Let’s wait around for a while and see what happens, whether this Word is true or not.”  No.  They don’t wait for feeling to come.  They have the Word!  That’s more certain than feeling!  When they felt nothing it was the Word of God that told them they were unclean.  And even though they feel nothing now, the Word of their cleansing has come.  At that Word they went immediately, “And as they went they were cleansed.”


    These ten lepers are not alone in their cleansing.  Jesus cleanses you as well.  Cleansing was not a light matter in the Old Testament.  Cleansing always required water and death and blood.  Cleansing meant a sacrifice.  It seems like a mere side note at the beginning of today’s Gospel, that Jesus was “on the way to Jerusalem,” but in a way it’s the most important phrase in the entire reading.  It was because Jesus was journeying to the cross to become a sacrifice that he cleansed the lepers.


    And his sacrifice is the basis of your cleansing too.  Jesus is the one who was forced out of the city like an unclean man.  He became the one cut off from God, crying out in his death, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  He bore your corruption while himself remaining uncorrupted.  He took up your sins in his body, carrying them as his own while having none of his own.  Jesus died, and cleansing came – water and blood flowed from his pierced side.


    And the dead one lives, no longer in the living death of our leprosy, but in the eternal life of God himself.  Jesus lives, and has brought the blood and water from his body to you in Holy Baptism, washing you clean.  The writer of Hebrews uses the language from the rite for cleansing lepers to talk about Christian Baptism, Hebrews 10:22, “Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.”


    Now what does this cleansing of Holy Baptism mean for you?  First it means that you can approach God, regardless of whether or not you feel like you can.  You can “draw near” as it said in Hebrews 10 instead of standing at a distance.  When you sin you can approach Christ and confess your sins, knowing he will forgive.  When you suffer all manner of afflictions and crosses you can approach Christ in prayer, “Lord, have mercy,” knowing he will answer.  We were reminded at the beginning of the service that through Baptism we can approach God.  We called upon the name that was put on us in Baptism, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” and then you heard the words, “let us draw near with a true heart.”  We have been washed, and so we can draw near to Christ with confidence.


    Second, this cleansing means that you start to feel again.  Certainly the sinful flesh remains leprous, but in Baptism we have received the Holy Spirit, who strives against the flesh.  Because of the Holy Spirit you will feel terror of God’s wrath when you sin, or you will feel joy when you hear that your sins are forgiven.  There are times you will feel your corrupted flesh starting to sin and you’ll catch yourself and stop.  Or after you’ve sinned you’ll feel your sin and feel a need to confess it.  But best of all, you’ll feel a need for Christ and the cleansing that he gives.


    Yet, because the Spirit and the flesh are both at play and contend against one another in this life, full restoration of feeling doesn’t happen until the resurrection on the Last Day.  So the third thing this cleansing means for you is that the Word of God remains more trustworthy than your feelings.  Remember: it’s not your feelings that give Baptism its power and effect, but the Word of God.  The Word will never lie to you, though your feelings will.  If you don’t feel like you’re a sinner and become proud or even, God forbid it, begin to fall away from Christ, the Word will tell you the truth about yourself and show you your need.


    And on the other side, when you don’t feel like your sins are forgiven, or you don’t feel like a child of God, or you don’t feel like God is with you, then feelings be hanged!  You have something more honest.  You have the Word of God.  The Word of God grants faith and forgiveness and salvation regardless of whether feelings are present or not.  So when feelings fail, there still stands the Word coming trustworthy and sure from the mouth of him who gave himself for your cleansing, Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

  • Trinity 15


  • Trinity 16

    Pastor Christian Preus

    Trinity 16, 2019

    Luke 7:11-17


    We often hear Christians say, “I’m not afraid of dying.” In fact, we all just sang this, “And thus I live in God contented, and die without a thought of fear.” But when we say this we have to realize that we’re confessing our confidence not in ourselves, not even in our faith, but in Jesus. Otherwise, it’s a very silly thing to say. It’s the spirit that says, “I’m not afraid of death,” because the Spirit of Christ convinces our spirit of the truth that God has faced our death in our flesh and risen to tell of it. And this means that when we say, “I’m not afraid of dying,” we’re arguing against our own flesh, against the sinful mind and feelings we were born with and still carry with us in this vale of tears. It’s an assertion against our doubts, against our fears. And we have to admit this. Our flesh is terrified of dying. There’s nothing more horrifying. Every doubt we have of God, every doubt of our worthiness to stand before Him, every thought of hell or of vanity, of nothingness and emptiness, the great unknown, as the heathen call it, it all gets concentrated in the thought of dying.


    So we’re not denying the horror of death when we say we’re not afraid of it. It’s exactly the opposite. We’re confronting its horror with its Conqueror and saying with the Apostle, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”


    I say this because you hear not only Christians say, “I’m not afraid of dying;” you hear it from all sorts of people. And they say it for a completely different and a completely wrong reason. The trend today is to explain away death, to imagine it’s some sort of natural phenomenon, the circle of life, the evolutionists say, or simply the gateway for everyone to a vaguely defined better place. Funerals, where Christians confront death with the death of Christ, have been replaced in our day with celebrations of life, where everyone tacitly agrees to ignore the elephant in the room, that death is horrible; it’s our enemy and the wages of sin, the gateway for unbelievers not to a vaguely defined heaven but to a very specifically defined hell of fire prepared for the devil and his angels.


    And so it’s for us Christians not only to say with confidence that we’re not afraid of dying, but also to own death for what it is, and to admit, or better, to confess, that our flesh is terrified of it and rightly so. It’s an amazing thing that our Lord Jesus himself admits that He fears death. He isn’t a sinner. His flesh isn’t sinful. But it’s from His own experience that He says, “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” He took our infirmities, our weakness, on Himself, so that He could cry in the Garden to His Father, “Take this cup away,” while he sweat blood in anxiety over pain and death. And there in Jesus’ anguish in Gethsemane, you see Him conquer His fear of death by saying exactly what we just sang, “My will has to God’s plans consented,” not my will, Jesus says, but thine be done. And here you see that it is no sin to weep over death, to fear it as an evil, to give some license to your soul to pour your complaint to God over the pain that death brings. It’s the example our Lord leaves us, even as He convinces us by His death and resurrection that death is conquered and the wages of sin paid and the way to everlasting life open.


    This is why, before Jesus comes on the scene, you see no celebration of life at the funeral of the widow of Nain’s son. It’s a funeral. They’re sad. They’re scared. They weep at death. And there’s no shame in this. It’s the way it should be. There’s not a hint of reproach, no scolding whatsoever, when Jesus tells the widow not to weep. He doesn’t say, “O you of little faith,” He’s not commenting on her faith at all, He’s stirring it up to believe in Him. He knows her weakness, He’s the one who says, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful even to death,” the one who cries at Lazarus’ tomb, the one who weeps over the destruction of Jerusalem with all her children.


    But Jesus comes to turn weeping into rejoicing. Jesus says stop weeping because He has the power to give life to the dead. He does. He’s the only one with the right to tell a grieving mother to stop crying. Because unlike the empty condolences of well-wishers, He celebrates life by confronting death.


    The sequence of events in our Gospel is comforting beyond compare. Jesus raises other people from the dead in the Gospels, Jairus’ daughter, Lazarus, but always he’s asked to do it. Not here. No one asks Him a thing. He comes unbidden, moved by His love alone. He ignores everything else, the crowds all around Him, the crowds all around the weeping mother, and focuses His eyes and His words on her. He doesn’t wait to be asked. He knows what we need. And it’s no accidental detail that St. Luke records when He says Jesus touched the dead man’s bier. This is divine sign language. The God who is the author of life touches death. He takes it on Himself. He pledges Himself to bear the wages of sin that ended this man’s life. And it’s no insignificant detail that Jesus then, unlike Elijah, unlike Elisha, says, “Young man, I say to you, arise.” I say to you. He doesn’t call down God’s help, He doesn’t pray for assistance, He asserts His own authority, the authority of God, to raise the dead. And His words work, they do what they say, because they’re grounded in what death and hell and the devil cannot deny, that God has come in the flesh to conquer death by His own death.


    Now what happens next? It’s, I think, the most beautiful part of this Gospel. Fear fell upon them. That’s what the text says. Fear seized them all. What they saw was frightening. Not death, that’s not what they’re afraid of anymore. The dead man’s not dead anymore. No, fear seizes them because they see Life conquer death. That’s the Gospel; it inspires a totally different fear in us, not the dread of death or the horror of hell, but the opposite, the fear of God that conquers every other fear, that confidently says, “I’m not afraid of dying.” With you there is forgiveness, that You may be feared, says the Pslamist. The Son of God’s taking on our flesh and confronting the misery and punishment of our death inspires fear in us, not of death, but of the One who conquers it. This is how the Almighty visits His people. This is how He speaks to us. He shows Himself to be the God not to be cringed at because He punishes with death, but to be loved and feared and trusted because He takes our death on Himself.


    And with such a price paid for death, God Himself swallowing up our death by His blood, why should we be afraid to confront death not simply at funerals, but every day of our lives? Why should we not be happy to do so? Faith is. That’s the point. Christian faith is. It doesn’t shrink from thinking about death. Far from it. It wants nothing more than to sing victory songs, paeans, over death, “Death you cannot end my gladness, I am baptized into Christ,” or what we just sang, “My many sins blot out forever, since Jesus has my pardon won; in mercy robed, I then shall never fear death, but trust in Thee alone.”


    Because Jesus visits our funerals, He visits His Church, and He touches us our mortal lips with His body and blood, he comes to us here who fear death and mourn over it, He comes unbidden, moved by His love alone, intent that we receive from His own hand double for all our sins, to inspire in us fear of His power to bring us everlasting life and feed us with the body pierced and the blood poured out to end our death. Hosea prophesied long ago what Jesus earned on the cross and gives us now, “I will be your death, O death; Hell, I will be your destruction.” And Jesus words remain forever sure, “I am the resurrection and the life, he who believes in me, though he may die, he will live.” Then may death come today, tomorrow, I know in Christ I perish not; He grants the peace that stills all sorrow, Gives me a robe without a spot. My God for Jesus’ sake I pray, Thy peace may bless my dying day.





  • Trinity 17

    Pastor Christian Preus


    Trinity 17, 2019


    Ephesians 4:1-6


    One is the loneliest number. So sang Three Dog Night. And that may be true if you’re thinking of being lonely after a break-up, or spending the holidays alone. But in the Bible and so in your Christian life one is actually the most comforting number; it’s as far from being lonely as you can get. There is one Lord, one faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of us all. It’s a beautiful trait of the Bible that this number, one, speaks not to loneliness but to unification. And this starts with God, of course. God isn’t lonely. He’s one. I suppose the Muslim god, if he existed, would be lonely, because he would be by himself. But our God is three in one, He is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, three persons so inextricably united, that they are called and are One God. And this One God converses with Himself, the Father in love for the Son, and the Spirit through them both.


    And as God is, so He works with us. When God first created man, He said it was not good for him to be alone, to be lonely. So he made another, a woman, to be his helper. But immediately when there were two, God joins them together as one in marriage. The two shall become one flesh is what God says. Two can be as bad as one, Three Dog Night sang, but it can actually be worse. If the two aren’t united in one, they fight, they hurt one another. This is what happens when husband and wife break their marriage vows and hurt each other by what they say and do. This is what happens when two people act like they’re husband and wife, use each other for sexual pleasure, and yet don’t actually become one under God in marriage, because they refuse to entrust themselves to each other as one. That brings loneliness and pain and distrust. They’re lonely precisely because they’re not one. It’s becoming one under the one God that makes things very good.


    And so when St. Paul says that we Christians are all one, that we should strive to keep the unity, the oneness, of the Spirit, in the bond of peace, he’s again repeating this divine pattern, that one makes for our good. We are all one because our God is one. There is one Lord. That’s a reference to Jesus. He is one. But even here, we see He is two natures, He is both God and man, a man who sat at table with the Pharisees in our Gospel lesson, the only true God who healed the man with dropsy. But He is not two, but one. There is one Lord Jesus. Not two, a man and God, but one, both God and man. And God joined the two, He took on our humanity, and became one with us, to make us one with Him. This is exactly what He prays to His Father before He suffers and sheds His blood to take away our sins, “That they may be one.” We who believe in this one Lord, become one with Him, even though we are many.


    And we are one, because we have all the one faith. It seems an odd thing, that all of us, with so many different upbringings, different talents, different worries, different sins, different sizes and statures and abilities and sexes and ages, we are all one. But this is what we confess every Sunday. I believe in one God, the Father almighty; And in one Lord, Jesus Christ; I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord. One gets repeated. And only then do we say, “I believe in one holy Christian and apostolic church.” One Church.


    It doesn’t look that way. Look at how many different Christian congregations are in our own city, with all our divisions! How can we say there is one Christian church? It’s true what we sing of the church, “Though with a scornful wonder, the world sees her oppressed, by schisms rent asunder, by heresies distressed.” We see we are divided. But the world sees me and my wife divided too, and God says we are one flesh. The world can’t imagine one God in three persons, but He is one. When the Pharisees looked at Jesus, they didn’t see God, they saw a man, but that man was God, one Lord. The oneness of the church is not seen, it’s believed. And blessed is the man who does not see, but believes.


    Now we call the Christian Church one, because she has one faith. Here we’re talking about an objective faith, not first and foremost the faith in your heart, but the faith that your heart believes, the teaching of Jesus, what we call doctrine. The doctrine of the Church is one. It’s what the Bible teaches. What we see in the proliferation of different churches, that we have Baptists, and Catholics, and Methodists, and non-denoms, and Lutherans, is only that some have lost sight of the one faith taught in the Bible. It’s the one faith that makes us one. And just as there are not many Christs, so there are not many faiths, or many Christian churches, there is only one.


    But how do we know where it is? Well where is the faith taught? Where is Baptism given? Where is the Holy Supper put into the mouths of hungry sinners thirsting for Christ’s righteousness? That’s where the one Christian Church is. Unity comes from the one God and the one God comes to us only through the one faith, the one Word of God. That means that if we want to say we are one Christian Church, we will all give up on our pride, on any devotion to human teaching or opinion, on any thought of ourselves through our own works or wisdom forcing unity on ourselves, and we will submit ourselves together to the one Lord who teaches the one faith. Nothing else gives unity.


    Let me give you an example. I just attended this last week with a few of our members a fundraiser dessert for TrueCare, which is a wonderful organization in our city that helps mothers decide against abortion and to carry their children to birth and hopefully raise them in a Christian home. But I was struck at what was repeatedly said at this fundraiser. That we were all one church united. The reason given is that we were all coming together for one cause – to fight abortion. But that’s to put the cart before the horse. It’s not what we do that makes us one. I can unite with a Muslim, with an atheist for that matter, to help save babies’ lives. I’d gladly do it. But that wouldn’t make us one church, that’s ridiculous. We believe totally different things about God and about ourselves. And the same goes for anything we do as a church or as churches. Giving our money to support the school doesn’t make us one. Helping people in need, as we’ll do next week with little Brooklynn Crane, that won’t make us one either. And we certainly won’t become one by putting aside our differences and coming together to give money to support TrueCare. I may have been united with everyone there at that fundraiser for a specific cause, but we are divided so long as we don’t all submit to every Word that comes out of the mouth of God. It’s God’s Word that has to unite. When God says this is my body, this is my blood, we believe it and this true Word unites us. When God says to baptize all nations, we bring our children to be baptized and this one Baptism makes us one. When God says we are sinners and fall short of the glory of God and are justified freely for Christ’s sake, by His blood and passion, we believe it and this one Word makes us one. That’s how it works, and no other way.


    This is why we pay attention to the true doctrine first and foremost in this congregation. There are all sorts of things we want to do together as a church. And the Bible urges good works among us, to love one another, to bear with one another with patience. Do we want this? Do we want to be rid of everything that could possibly divide us in this church, worries about money, grudges long held onto because of what someone said or did in the past that hurt our feelings, guilt or shame because we know in our tarnished conscience that we could be the object of other church members’ judgmental eyes? Do we want to act in unity? Then let’s realize where our unity comes from, what makes us one.


    He who exalts himself will be humbled and he who humbles himself will be exalted. It is humility under God’s Word that unites us. Look around and you will see sinners, not a one of those sitting in the pews next to you can climb the ladder to heaven. Not a one of them can claim perfection, can brag of being a better Christian than you. Not one of us can look at another and say we belong in the higher place. The eyes of all look to you, O Lord, and you give them their food at the proper time. If this is true of food, it’s much more true of our honor and our glory before God. We despair of our pride, of sin, that evil multiplicity, that so divides us all, that makes us think we’re better than this one or that one, we despair of it all and come to the same Lord with nothing to offer but our sin and our guilt, and we all receive from Him the one faith, the one Baptism that washes away all our sins in the blood of Christ, we all hear the one Word, “Friend, move up higher,” take eat, take drink this is my body and this is my blood shed for you; and this makes us one. And as the finger doesn’t envy the toe, as the eye doesn’t begrudge the ear, we who are the body of Christ learn to value and love one another, because our value and our worth come alone from the one God who is Father of us all. This is the only reputation we care for with one another. I don’t care about your faults or your foibles or your appearance or your past, only that you humbly submit to the same Lord, the same faith, the same Baptism, that make us one.


    There is nothing lonely about being one under our God. All loneliness disappears here. It’s not simply that He makes us one with Himself. He does. He removes everything that could separate us from Him, our sin, our guilt, our shame. He calls us His children. He gives us the highest reputation in heaven. He washes us clean and presents us before Himself as holy innocents by the blood of our Lord Jesus. But He also makes us one with one another. We can disagree on all sorts of trivialities, and we do and we will in our time together as Christ’s Church on earth. We’ll have different opinions on what to spend money on, a new roof, remodeled bathrooms, another teacher for the school, we’ll have disagreements about color of carpet or when to schedule our voters meetings. We’ll even have pain and heartache and guilt because we’ll end up sinning against one another. But none of these things can divide the one Church of God, because we have this one faith and our one Baptism. No sin and no guilt and no shame can divide those who confess their sins and take the lowest seat before God and before one another. No devil can rip one of Christ’s lambs from Christ’s one flock. No pain, not even death itself, can separate us one from another, when we have the one Word that unites us all as happy beggars from the hand of our Lord’s mercy. God, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, keep us united in His Word and loving one another, now and forever. Amen.

  • St. Michael and All Angels

    Christian Preus St. Michael and All Angels, 2019Matthew 18:1-11 The great irony and tragedy of people denying that babies and little children can have faith in their Lord Jesus is that their Lord Jesus not only explicitly says babies can have faith, he makes them the model of Christian faith. Jesus says here, and this is what I have all our confirmation students memorize, “whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me,” who believe in me, “to stumble” –  without any doubt Jesus is saying these little ones believe in Him, have faith. And this fact alone destroys every reason for the Baptists and the so-called non-denominationals denying baptism to infants. And I want to stress this especially in our day where we Christians feel so oppressed and we find comfort in the fact that there are other Christians around us who are our friends and stand up for the Christian faith, and we should, I thank God for the Baptists and other Christians who stand up for Christian morality, for marriage between one man and one woman, for family, for the holiness of unborn babies’ lives, and we should stand in solidarity with them, but we can’t then deny the differences among us and act like it doesn’t matter whether you’re Lutheran or Baptist or whatever. You young people who are thinking of dating or getting married, especially, realize this. Your Lord Jesus talks about babies believing in Him, He welcomes them into His arms and blesses them, He says that for anyone to push them away from the faith it would be better for him that a millstone be tied around his neck and he be drowned in the depths of the sea. Jesus is divinely serious here. He loves babies, loves the little children, and He wants them believing in Him and He wants them baptized in His name. In fact, He makes children the model of Christian faith. If you want to be a Christian, if you want to enter into the Kingdom of God, Jesus says, you need to become like a little child. “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” So let’s talk of this humility, this humbling yourself like a child. Because it’s what Jesus says is necessary to enter into His Kingdom, and outside His kingdom there is nothing but weeping and gnashing of teeth. The humility of a child is his vulnerability, his helplessness, his dependence. Now I know from experience, because I used to be a kid and because I have seven kids, that little children are stubborn and proud. Once when one of my daughters was two and we were visiting her grandma and grandpa, she walked into my dad’s bedroom, stole one of his cigars, and then, when Dad caught her and very gently said, “Honey, that’s my cigar,” she responded with her first sentence, “No. It’s my cigar.” Stubborn and proud. They’re sinners – I simply don’t understand how anyone could deny that, it’s, as G.K. Chesterton once said, the only Christian doctrine that’s empirically obvious, you can see it with your own eyes. And of course this quality is not what Jesus is talking about when He points to the humility of children, but it’s another reason we have to insist with Jesus on the faith of little children, because they’re sinners and they need their Lord Jesus. So when Jesus points to their faith, to their humility, and tells us to copy them, he’s pointing to their helplessness and their dependence. Look at a one-year old or a two-year old who hasn’t been potty trained yet. It’s time to change your diaper, you say, and the child plops down on the ground with legs up. Two things are immediately obvious. One, if the kid tries to clean himself off, he’s going to get dirtier. I actually saw this at the carnival on Friday. Isaac got a sucker, and of course got his hands sticky, and in order to solve the problem, he rubbed his sticky hand in his hair, which did nothing but make his hair sticky, increase his dirtiness. I’ve got a niece who does the same thing when she needs a diaper changed, but I’ll spare you the details on that. The point here is that they are helpless to clean themselves. They only make themselves dirtier. This is why in our Gospel lesson, if we had continued to read, Jesus goes on to compare Christians to the sheep who wanders off. It’s helpless. It can’t find its way back. So that’s the first thing, faith is humble because it’s an admission, a frank admission of helplessness, just like a kid plopping down and admitting by that an objective fact: I can’t do this, I’m dirty and stinky, and I can’t do a thing to make it better. The second thing that’s obvious is that a child is dependent and happily so. A child feels no shame in being dependent, not when it comes to getting cleaned at least. He puts his feet in the air and exposes himself and lets his mom or dad clean him. No shame. Complete confidence and dependence on the one he trusts. It’s a beautiful thing. Compare that to how shame-filled an adult is when he goes to the nursing home and has to have a nurse clean him. And it’s only in this context, when we Christians admit that we’re like children, helpless to clean ourselves of our sin and all the problems they cause, that we’d only make a further mess of it if we tried, and we then depend like children on our God, our Lord Jesus Christ, to wash us clean by His blood, we expose all our dirtiness, all our shame to Him, and see Him get His own hands dirty to cleanse us, without a hint of judgment that we should be ashamed before Him, only then can we understand what Jesus means when He says only those who humble themselves like little children will enter into His Kingdom. It’s St. Michael and All Angels day. The angels are of course God’s messengers. That’s what angel means; it’s simply the Greek word for messenger. And as messengers they are seen throughout the Bible as preachers. They preached the coming of Christ to Daniel and Zechariah and Mary, they preached at Christ’s birth to the shepherds, they preached to the women at Jesus’ resurrection. They preach because they love what God has done for us; because they wonder at His love for us. And that means they’re not simply preachers. They’re watchers too. That’s what Jesus says when he’s talking about the faith of the little ones and our faith. Our angels watch the face of our Father in heaven. Think of that. Why does Jesus stress this? He says be careful not to despise these little ones who believe in me, and then He says, “For I tell you that in heaven their angels always watch the face of my Father who is in heaven.” Why doesn’t He say something more threatening, like, “For I tell you their angels will avenge them, will take offense themselves and will come down to put an end to your despising the little ones who believe in me?” But that’s actually the point. What do the angels see when they behold in glory the face of the everlasting Father? They see Him watching us with utter joy; they see God almighty rejoicing that His little ones, His Christians young and old, in all our helplessness and vulnerability and dependence, cry out in faith to Him, “Lord, have mercy,” as we take comfort in this vale of tears at the words of everlasting life, won by our Lord Jesus’ suffering for us. Because the angels not only look at our Father’s face. They looked at our Savior’s face, bloodied and torn by thorns, in anguish on the cross, the sacred head now wounded, as we sing. They looked on as God Himself, the eternal Son, took on human flesh and honored our race. They looked on as He suffered the pangs of hell to wash away our sin. The angels saw it all. And they, as we just sang in our introit, do the will of God, they know it and they love it. The hymn gets it wrong when it says, “Ride on, ride on, in majesty! The angel armies of the skies look down with sad and wondering eyes to see the approaching sacrifice.” No, they weren’t sad; they looked on with joyful and wondering eyes as Jesus rode into Jerusalem to sacrifice His life for us. Because they saw our Father’s face, a face gleaming with holy pride and happiness to see His love carried out in His only Son, who would love us to His death and rise again to give us His Spirit and open the way to everlasting joy with our Father who is in heaven. And so the fact that the angels see and watch our Father’s face means everything. It means they will most certainly protect you. It means that when you pray every morning and every evening to your Father in heaven, “For into your hands I commend myself, my body and soul and all things; let Your holy angels be with me, that the wicked foe may have no power over me,” you can be sure that your prayer is heard by our Father in heaven and His angels are happy, eager to protect you from every evil, because they see from God’s own face that nothing makes Him happier than to have you as His own, to live under Him in His kingdom. This means that the angels rejoice when you come to church, when you confess your sins, when you hear and believe the absolution, when you eat and drink the body and blood of your Lord for the forgiveness of sins, when you pray to Him in time of need, they rejoice, because they see Your Father rejoices. They desire to look into these things, St. Peter says, because this love of God toward us sinners passes even their understanding. They see clearly that all history, all things whatsoever, hinge on what our God suffered at Calvary and what He now gives us here. We will sing in a little bit that angels never had the food we’re about to eat. And so they wonder at it, that their Lord and our Lord would feed us with the body and blood that conquered their enemy and our enemy the devil. The angels acknowledge us as brothers, with whom we sing and commune now and forever. They love us. The devil is scary, sin is frightening, death is horrible, we don’t deny these things. The devil hates us. He’s a fallen angel, the author of sin and death and all our troubles. He wants our souls in hell, would tear us away from the faith, would tell us our prayers are nothing, that we are forgotten by our God, that our sins are too much, that this world and its never-ending problems and griefs is all there is, that we should embrace our sins and give up the fight because all is vanity; he’s so enraged at his fall from heaven and at God’s love for us that he roams about as a raging lion seeking you to devour. But as the child is afraid of the dark, so all your fears and all your anxieties are childish, and the angels know it – the fear of death, the anxiety over work, the fear even of the devil. What do you have to worry about? If you could see what the angels see, you would know it. Your Father smiles on You in mercy. Nothing in the dark, nothing in hell, nothing in this world can snatch you from His hand. Nothing and no one can stand against you, because Christ has claimed you and His holy angels fight for you. And they will, as we will pray shortly, when our last comes, bear us home and when our bodies are raised we too will see with them the glorious face of God in our Lord Jesus Christ, His precious face. Lord Jesus Christ, my prayer attend, my prayer attend, and I will praise you without end. Amen.  

  • Trinity 18

    Trinity 18, Mt. 22:34-46, October 20th A+D 2019

    Rev. Andrew Richard, Mount Hope Lutheran Church, Casper, WY


    Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.


    Today’s Gospel reading takes place in the temple during Holy Week.  As Jesus has journeyed closer and closer to his death, the people have become more and more sharply divided into two groups.  On the one hand there are those who love Jesus and hang on his words and believe he is more than a mere mortal.  On the other hand there are those who hate Jesus and despise his words and refuse to believe that he is anything more than a man.  Those who love Jesus waved palm branches and spread their cloaks on the road, while those who hate Jesus lamented, “Look, the world has gone after him.”  Those who love Jesus came to Jesus in the temple to be healed, and the children cried out, “Hosanna to the son of David!”  And those who hate Jesus were indignant.  Those who love Jesus “heard him gladly,” as it says in Mark 12.  And those who hate him “plotted how to entangle him in his words,” as it says in Matthew 22.


    Today’s reading is one of those accounts of the Pharisees conspiring against Jesus.  Right before this Jesus had a conversation with the Sadducees, who questioned him in no friendly terms about the resurrection.  Jesus had silenced them, and the Pharisees figured they’d give it another go.  So it says, “one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him,” a question about the Law of Moses, the Torah, the first five books of the Bible: “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?”


    We know he asked this to test Jesus.  Somehow the lawyer was hoping Jesus would hang himself with his own words.  But that’s not the way the conversation went.  You can’t talk with Jesus about his own Torah and escape unscathed.  You want to talk about commandments?  Jesus will give you commandments.  Which is the great commandment in the Law?  “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.  This is the great and first commandment.”  Jesus quotes Deuteronomy 6:5, a very familiar passage for Jews, and not the least bit debatable as an answer.


    But Jesus doesn’t stop with this great, first commandment.  You see, the Pharisees had convinced themselves that they did love the Lord as they should according to the Law.  “I mean, look at us,” they would say.  “We have all the right clothing, with big tassels on the corners and everything.  We pray, we fast, we tithe.  We love the Lord.”  But then Jesus continues, “And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”


    It’s easy to say you love God.  Love of God happens with the heart and soul and mind, things people can’t see.  But you don’t love your neighbor with your heart and soul and mind.  You love your neighbor with your hands and feet and lips, with your words and deeds.  The Pharisees couldn’t fool anyone into thinking they had kept this commandment.  It was obvious to all the people that not a single one of the Pharisees loved anyone but himself.


    And the reason they were breaking this second commandment was because they were, in fact, breaking the first.  Instead of using their words and deeds for their neighbors, the Pharisees were using their words and deeds to get something from God.  But that first and great commandment isn’t about loving the Lord your God with all your works, as if he needs them; rather, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart.”  Loving the Lord with all your heart means believing his Word, trusting him, not seeking security or salvation from anyone but him.  Those are the sort of things that the heart should do.  Yet, as Jesus says of the Pharisees in Matthew 15, “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.”


    There are two possible responses to hearing the two commandments that Jesus speaks.  You can stand with the Pharisees and join in their unbelief and hatred of God’s Word.  You can lie to yourself and say, “I love the Lord like I should,” and meanwhile act selfishly toward your neighbor and do “good” works for all the wrong reasons.  Or you can stand with the tax collectors and prostitutes and confess, “My heart has not been completely faithful to the Lord, neither have I loved my neighbor as I should.”  And this is true of you whether you want to confess it or not.  You’ve gone after other gods, trusted other things, favored your opinion over God’s Word.  And because of it you’ve then misused your words and deeds, seeking your own selfish purposes with them instead of seeking the good of others.


    The lawyer asked about God’s commandments, and he heard about God’s commandments.  But Jesus wants us to know more than God’s commandments.  He wants us to know God’s promises as well.  So Jesus asks his own question, not about what man must give to God, but about what God is giving to man.  “What do you think about the Christ?  Whose son is he?”  Jesus asks about the promised Messiah who will come to save God’s people.  “They said to him, ‘The son of David,’” a descendant of that great king of Israel.  And they’re right.  Their answer is not incorrect, it’s incomplete.  But their answer is very much in line with their view of God’s commandments and their view of themselves.  The Pharisees don’t think they’re that bad, not bad at all, and God’s commandments, in their minds, are certainly in the realm of possibility.  And so for them the Christ doesn’t need to be anything more than a human being who will establish an earthly kingdom, save them from their earthly enemies, and make life easy.  Unfortunately, Christ is still proclaimed this way today among those who understand neither the high requirements of God’s commandments nor the depths of their own sins.


    But Jesus shows the Pharisees that their answer is lacking something.  Certainly the Christ is descended from David.  But he’s also something more than that.  In Psalm 110:1, which Jesus quotes to the Pharisees, David calls the Christ his Lord, “The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand, until I put your enemies under your feet.”  People don’t call their descendants their lords.  People call their descendants their children or offspring.  But here David, the greatest king who ever ruled God’s people, calls the Christ who was to descend from him “Lord.”  And not only was the Christ to be greater than David, he was to sit at the right hand of God himself.  Jesus brings up this verse to make the point: Not only is the Christ the son of David.  The Christ is also the Son of God.


    Now if this is the sort of Christ that Jesus is – and he is that Christ – then it’s clear that Jesus didn’t merely come to establish an earthly kingdom and give us an easy life and a good time.  If Jesus is fully man and fully God, then he came to rule over far greater things than the things of earth.  He came to conquer sin and death and the devil and hell – things that we brought on ourselves because we didn’t do God’s commandments.


    If you want to stand with the Pharisees and say, “Oh, the Law?  I can do the Law, at least well enough,” if you want to take that stance then you get to become one of those enemies forced down into eternal torment under Christ’s feet.  But if God’s commandments reveal your sins to you and make you alarmed at what you deserve, well then Christ comes to you with a far different tone.  Jesus comes to you as a valiant king, not to fight against you, but to fight for you.  And he is no mere human king like David.  Jesus the king is the God-man, divine and human: the son of David who has your flesh and can act in your place, the Son of God who has all authority in heaven and on earth.


    Jesus left the Pharisees dumbfounded.  “From that day no one dared to ask him any more questions.”  But the sinners continued to watch and listen.  They watched their Christ suffer.  They watched their Christ die.  And if this Christ had been nothing more than another one of us it wouldn’t have mattered.  But because Jesus is fully man and fully God, his death was not merely man giving his life for man, which would have done nothing.  Jesus’ death was God giving his life for man, and that did everything.


    At the cross sin, death, the devil, and hell came against the son of David, the man who because he was man could act on behalf of man.  “An easy target,” they said to themselves.  “Just another man to kill and condemn.”  “Just another man,” they said, and that was their fatal mistake.  Because that wasn’t just the son of David hanging on the cross.  That was the Son of God.  Sin and death and devil and hell had always succeeded, they always won.  But not this time.  This time they realized too late, to their great shame and everlasting defeat, “in Christ the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily,” as it is written in Colossians 2:9.  Sin and death and devil and hell fled from before this mighty king who had tricked them with his seemingly weak appearance.  But there was no escape for them.


    None of your sins survived to he held against you on the Last Day.  Your death has been thrust through with Jesus’ death.  The devil has been captured and bound, held as Jesus’ prisoner and awaiting his final judgment.  And hell has been told that it can’t have you.  All of your enemies were either slain or mortally wounded on Mount Golgotha, while the God-man who was crucified is alive and well to this day and to all eternity.  So you see that Jesus asked, “Whose son is the Christ?” not because he wanted to present you with more commandments, but because he wanted to present you with himself as your Savior.


    So what do we learn from today’s reading?  Two main things.  First, we learn the very high requirement of God’s holy commands.  As Christians we understand that God has given his commandments for our good, we desire to live according to them, and we greatly benefit when, by his grace, we begin to keep them.  But we also understand, the greatest service of God’s commands is that they constantly show us our need for a Savior.  God’s commandments send us running for dear life to Jesus.


    And this leads directly to the second thing we learn.  When we flee to Christ for refuge we don’t find a mere mortal, but we find God in human flesh.  This is how he gives himself to us week after week at the altar.  Sure, the bread looks about as impressive as Jesus did on Good Friday, but that doesn’t change the fact that the living Christ gives you the same divine flesh that conquered sin and death and devil and hell on the cross.  It’s easy to stand with the Pharisees, and belittle God’s commandments and think lightly of our sins, much easier than it is to stand at this altar as a sinner.  But the confidence of sinners is that we have a Savior, the God-man, Jesus the Christ, who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.  Amen.

  • Trinity 19


  • Trinity 20


  • Trinity 21

    Pastor Christian PreusThird to Last Sunday, 2019Matthew 24 In our Gospel this morning, Jesus does two things. First, he predicts the destruction of Jerusalem. Second, he predicts the end of the world. To the disciples, who were staring at the beauty of the temple in Jerusalem and had just asked Jesus if he’d ever seen anything so beautiful, the destruction of Jerusalem and the end of the world seemed like much the same thing. Before their eyes, in that temple, was represented everything human power and industry could make. It was called Herod’s temple, because King Herod had spared no expense in making it as beautiful as anything the Greek and Roman world had to offer. It belonged with the great pyramids and the Temple of Artemis in Ephesus as the eighth wonder of the world, and it was by far the most amazing thing the disciples had ever seen. And Jesus says, it’s going to be destroyed. Completely. Along with all Jerusalem. Not one stone will be left on another. That’s what all human ingenuity and work get you in the end. Where are the seven wonders of the ancient world? All of them except the pyramids are destroyed. And the same thing happened to the Temple at Jerusalem. And these great destructions of man’s creation, Jesus points to, and He wants us to see that if they fall, so does everything else, every human work, every human achievement, every empire, every political system, all of it. The cycle is always the same with sinners, one tower of Babel after another. Only the Word of the Lord endures forever. And Jesus wants His Christians to know this and to be prepared for it.So He warns about Jerusalem. He warns His Christians that it’s not going to last, neither will the temple. So don’t put your trust in temporal things. Don’t stay there. When you see the warning signs, get out and get out fast. Now this warning from Jesus is a remarkable thing. Jerusalem fell in 70 AD to the Roman general Titus. St. Matthew penned his Gospel sometime in the 50s or early 60s AD, years before Jerusalem fell. And Jesus made this prophecy in about AD 30, forty year before Jerusalem fell. So the Christians, because Jesus warned them, got out of the city before the Romans surrounded the it and put barricades around it in AD 66. When Jerusalem fell, which saw probably the single greatest slaughter in the history of the world, the Christians were safe, far away, across the Jordan River. So it turns out believing Jesus does work out. His words were stronger than the walls of Jerusalem. His words were more admirable than the beautiful stones of the Temple. His words are truth, the psalmist says, every one of them.Some of these words seem harsh. That Jerusalem would fall seemed a horrible thing to the disciples. Especially since they were still thinking that Jesus was going to set up an earthly reign here on this earth and make Jerusalem the capital of the world. But Jesus’ words are always sweet to the Christian. We have no reason to run away from them or avoid them or be ashamed of them. I am not ashamed of the Gospel, St. Paul confesses, for it is the power of God for salvation to all who believe. And the psalmist says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”It’s true that God is merciful, that he’s longsuffering. We know what that means. God will suffer, allow, sinners to sin for a long time. He knows our frame. He knows we are but dust. He knows we are sinners and succumb time and again to our flesh. And He wants to have mercy. He doesn’t immediately push us aside. He doesn’t renounce us. If we are faithless, He remains faithful. He cannot deny Himself. And this is what we so love about our God. It’s the essence of the Gospel, what stirs the Christian heart. When St. Paul defines love – and God is love – the first thing he says about it is, Love suffers long, it’s patient, and the last thing he says about it is, it endures all things. That’s love, and that’s what we see in our God. It’s what you see throughout the Bible – why we should continue to read the Bible at home, not as some religious obligation, but because it’s comforting – God was patient with Israel the complainer, patient with David the adulterer, patient with Peter the denier, He was longsuffering, and even though He punished, He forgave, and so we expect the same from Him. It’s why we come back Sunday after Sunday thirsting after the very same thing. Because you’ve sinned again, because you’ve tried and you’ve failed again, because your patience has failed, and once again your sin troubles your conscience, but you know One who has suffered all, endured all, and He welcomes you again, forgives you for the sake of His innocent, bitter, sufferings and death, feeds you with the same body and blood that took all your sin away. He doesn’t stop having mercy on us who confess our sins and run to Him our treasure. And it’s proven again and again what David prayed, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart, these O Lord, you will not despise.”But this longsuffering of God is found only in Jesus. Only in Him. There was no longsuffering of God on Mount Sinai. His stubborn, stiff-necked people turned aside to another god, to the works of their own hands, to the beauty of a golden calf they could see, and what does God say to Moses? “I have seen this people, and behold, it is a stiff-necked people. Now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them, in order that I may make a great nation of you.” He says He’s going to destroy them. Judge them, consume them in fire, every last one of them. And why doesn’t He? Only because Moses intercedes and reminds God of His promise to send Jesus. It’s only the Father’s will to send His Son to suffer God’s wrath in our place, only the Son taking our sins on Himself, only the Spirit’s preaching of Christ crucified, that gives us a longsuffering and merciful God. He has sworn and will not relent, that only in Jesus’ holy name, only for Jesus’ sake, He will bless us and forgive us and protect us and love us as children.That’s why you see what you see with Jerusalem, why Jesus predicts its destruction. He says earlier on actually that he wished he could gather them up like a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but they were unwilling. They rejected Christ. St. John says it, “He came to his own, but his own did not receive him.” The apostles would preach Christ in Jerusalem. And the people of Jerusalem would stone them and kill them. The gospel of Christ would be preached in the Temple, but they would silence it and offer up instead the abomination of their own self-promoting religion. And that is where the longsuffering of God ends. I expect God to suffer long for me, to be patient with my sin, not because I deserve it or because I think God doesn’t care much about my lack of love and my sin, but because I know that God has suffered long for me, I know He has taken on my flesh and borne my every sin, and it’s faith pointing to the blood shed for me that brings me again and again to ask and expect and receive forgiveness from my God. But outside of Christ and His cross, there is nothing but judgment, the angry God of Mount Sinai with no Moses to stop Him from annihilating the idolaters.And so the destruction of Jerusalem is a warning and an example. You see why it is so intimately connected with Judgment Day, actually. Those who rejected Christ and trusted instead in their man-made religion, their own virtue, God sent judgment on them, real, concrete judgment, in the very real armies of Rome, the city, the people, the temple, all destroyed. But God saved His Christians, they all escaped, not one of them died there, because they listened to Christ their Savior’s warning and fled from the abomination of desolation, fled from the rejection of Christ in what was supposed to be the City of God.This is a picture of Judgment Day. God will judge those who reject Christ, who mock Him, who don’t care about their sins or about their Savior. He will send them to what St. Paul calls eternal destruction, what our Lord Jesus calls the fires of hell. His longsuffering will come to an end. Because it is only for Christ’s sake that He suffers long, that this world still exists, in fact. But He will save His Christians. Not one of them will perish. They will rise from the dead. Those who are still alive will join the saints who have gone before them, rescued from all misery and join their Savior whom they have loved and trusted in heaven. And so we will always be with our Lord.And to make sure this happens, Jesus speaks today in our Gospel not simply to his disciples, who were entranced with the beauty of the manmade temple, but to us who find ourselves entranced with the stuff of this world. Take Jesus’ warning to heart. He told them to flee Jerusalem. He tells us to flee the world. That obviously, as Jesus says to His Father on Maundy Thursday, doesn’t mean that we leave the world, but that we learn not to trust in it. Heaven and earth will pass away, Jesus says, but my Word will never pass away. Blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it.Jesus said, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up again.” The people were offended at the very thought of destroying the temple, and even more at the thought that Christ would build it again in three days. But the temple was destroyed. And it has never been rebuilt. And everything you have, your retirement, your house, your sports, your guns, your alcohol, your food, it will pass away. Don’t be offended at the thought. Learn what it means. My brother Mark taught the kids at the Youth Retreat in Laramie by asking them a simple question. How did God create the world? With his Word. So how did God give you your house, your family, your money? By His Word. So what is more powerful? God’s Word or your stuff that you like so much. God’s Word. How could you trust in anything else, then? When Jesus said, “Destroy this Temple, and in three days I will raise it up again,” he was talking about His body. It would be destroyed. It would die. It would bear the wrath of God against sinners. But as Christ prayed in Psalm 16, “You will not allow your Holy One to see corruption,” He rose from the dead. Death, which comes to all because all have sinned, destruction, which comes to everything we get addicted to on this earth, could not hold our God and Brother. And it is the word of His resurrection that cannot fail, because it is the Word of death’s destruction, sin’s end. And it gives us what our souls thirst for. It’s OK. It’s not depressing. Everything you see and own and love in this world will die or be destroyed. Meditate on that. Know it. See sin’s ravages. Mourn over your own sin. But remember that as Jerusalem burned, Christ’s Christians were safe beyond the Jordan, rejoicing in what they had and would not be taken from them, what you have and I have, the pure Word of our God. Don’t trust in princes. They’ll fail. Don’t trust in yourself and your own feelings and your stuff. They’ll all fail you. Trust in Christ. He can never fail. Listen to His word. He will come again. And it will be unmistakable. As lightning flashing from the east to the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. And He will give us joy that far surpasses anything we have ever felt on this earth.I was reminded again yesterday by a pastor of Jesus’ words, there is no one who forsakes the pleasures of this world for Christ’s sake who will not receive a hundredfold not only in heaven, but here on earth too. Here on earth. These are beautiful words. You have everything now by God’s Word. The mountain is yours, your house, your home, your family, your Christian friends, your job, your everything, sanctified by the blood of Christ. Because Christ is yours, God’s love is yours, forgiveness is yours, a Father in heaven who watches out for you for the sake of His Son by His Spirit, all yours. The Christian joy we have here on this earth, to know that our God loves us in Christ, to know that He has blessed us with all we have, to know that when it all passes away, He will give us a hundredfold again and again in the resurrection, that He has sealed all this, made sure of it, by His own suffering and blood and resurrection, that this is God’s love for us, this will keep us now and forever in the true faith, as we come to this holy place and receive from Him what angels desire to look into, until we see our Judge on that last and beautiful day, to welcome us into His Kingdom, which has no end. God keep us free from false doctrine and forever trusting in Christ’s unfailing Word. Amen.   

  • Reformation Sunday

    Pastor Christian Preus Reformation Sunday, 2019 Matt. 11:12-15 Many have commented on how ironic it is that we celebrate Reformation Day every year by commemorating Luther’s posting of the 95 theses. Luther posted them on Halloween, the hallowed eve of All Saints Day, in 1517. And you can read them – they’re actually framed out there in our narthex – you can read them and you’ll see quickly they aren’t very Lutheran at all. Luther still talks as if purgatory exists. He still considers the pope the head of the church. He certainly doesn’t believe at this point that we’re saved by faith alone and not at all by our works. He’s mostly what we would call a good Roman Catholic. He’s only speaking against the abuse of selling indulgences in Germany, how in a bid to pay off the debt of rich bishops, poor Germans were being led to believe that by buying a piece of paper, called an indulgence, they would have all their sins forgiven by God, or that they could spring their grandmas and grandpas from the torture of purgatory. So here we are celebrating the commemoration of the Reformation by looking back to a day when Luther wasn’t even a Lutheran yet. So there’s the irony. But there’s very good reason to celebrate it on this date – and by the way we’ll be celebrating it on the actual date, on Halloween, this Thursday at 6:30 here at Mount Hope. What did Luther start that day? He started a fight. He insisted that forgiveness from God was not so cheap as to be paid off with a few dollars. It was earned by the cross of Christ, God Himself in the flesh, by His life and death, and no money could possibly buy what Christ died to give. And then the pope, the bishops, the professors of universities, the princes of nations within and outside Germany, the Holy Roman Emperor himself, the most powerful men in the world, they all attacked him. And when they attacked – with excommunication, with a death sentence, with the murder of pastors, with lies and propaganda and false teaching, and eventually with war and bloodshed – Luther had no recourse, no comfort in this life, no source of certainty or surety to run to, except God’s clear Word. Everything else was taken from him. And it was the Bible that gave him everything he could ever desire, gave him the certainty that he didn’t need man’s approval, he didn’t need the favor of princes and emperors and popes, because he had God’s favor, that God smiled on him and loved him, despite his many wicked and filthy sins that should have called down God’s anger and punishment, because he had Christ, who faced the cross for him, Christ who faced and endured the anger of God against sinners, whose blood, the precious blood of God Himself, cannot fail to wash away sin and open the way to everlasting life. This is what made Luther bold to stand before princes and confess the truth even with the punishment of death hanging over his head. Because Luther knew what was worth fighting for. The question then for us today is, Do we? Well we need to. That’s what Jesus says in our Gospel lesson. Since the days of John the Baptist until now the Kingdom of God has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force. John the Baptist was beheaded for teaching the truth about marriage between one man and one woman. Jesus was betrayed, crucified, and killed for preaching that in Him and Him alone were life and salvation and forgiveness and eternal joy. His apostles were imprisoned and murdered for preaching the Kingdom of God. Men have always attacked the truth of Christ crucified for sinners, and they always will. And this isn’t simply some matter of historical concern, as if it concerns only others. This is your fight. The devil and your flesh will not rest until they have ripped the Kingdom from you. Jesus himself says, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the world. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” The peace that Jesus gives, and He does give it, the peace of knowing God as a gracious Father who loves us and cares for our every need, of despairing of our own pride and our own sinful desires and finding in Christ our reconciliation before God, who bled for us and died for us and rose again in triumph over all our enemies, this peace of the heart comes together with a fight with the devil, the world, and our sinful flesh. Husbands and wives will fight over their pride, over money, over petty things they find annoying in one another. Children will fight over their toys. Politicians will fight for their seats of honor and prestige. Pastors will fight for recognition in the church and by the world. Think of this, are these things worth fighting for? Are we serious? All of it will perish. All of it will pass away. But do we fight our lazy flesh to come to church, for the bread of life, which, if a man eat of it, he will never die? Do we fight the world and its ways and make Christ our highest priority, above sporting events, above hunting, above job and money and whatever pleasures we have? If some conniving charlatan tried to steal your house and your inheritance, everything you have, on some legal technicality, you’d fight him, you wouldn’t hesitate and you wouldn’t give up. If someone tried to take your kids away, you’d fight it tooth and nail. But if the world and the devil and your own sinful flesh want to take Christ away from you, will you fight? Well they do, and you must. What Luther was forced to see, what inspired him to write, “And take they our life, goods, fame, child, and wife, let these all be gone, they still have nothing won. The Kingdom ours remaineth,” what forced him to write that and sing it and actually mean it, was that he couldn’t see what else could be worth fighting for than the truth that Christ Jesus, His Lord and His God, had bled and died for him. Because Luther actually knew his sin. You look at everything else Luther faced, all the problems, all the persecution, the threat to his home, his life, his job, his reputation, and all those concerns paled to nothing in comparison with his need for a gracious God. Luther wasn’t so concerned about death. He wasn’t so concerned about his reputation. He wasn’t concerned about money – he spent it all on helping others and told his loving wife not to worry about it, God would provide. He didn’t mind so much that he had to suffer for confessing the truth, no, he counted it an honor – Jesus had promised suffering for his Christians. He wanted only the peace of knowing, without doubt, that he had a gracious God in heaven, who would not punish him for his sins, knowing that he could preach Christ to his people and to the world, and all who were weary of their sin and heavy laden with their guilt would find in this same Lord Jesus the rest they needed. That’s what’s worth fighting for – God’s Word, what God blesses, God’s Kingdom, His ruling over us by teaching us and forgiving us by the blood of Jesus our Lord. The people in Luther’s day were willing to pay for forgiveness. Think of that. To them, it wasn’t so cheap. They’d give their savings for it. They’d buy a useless piece of paper hoping it could give them peace of mind, peace of conscience, things a piece of paper could never give. We can look back at them and pity their ignorance. Who would try to buy forgiveness with a few dollars? But we may be better off learning a lesson from them instead. They wanted forgiveness so bad they were willing to pay for it. They considered forgiveness costly at least this much. They were afraid of God’s anger, afraid of God’s punishment. They knew they deserved it. And they wanted relief, peace between themselves and God. Is this what we want? Or do we see in church something else? A recent survey in America found that most people sitting in the pews of Christian churches were what they called moralist therapeutic deists. Deists. They believed some God exists. Therapeutic, they believed God was there to give them therapy, make them feel better when they needed it. Moralistic. God did that by giving them good, moral advice. This god bears no resemblance to the God who exists. God is not there to give us therapy. He’s not here to make our lives on earth that much better. Yes, He gives moral commands, yes, He offers comfort to the sorrowful, but He does it all on this one foundation, that what He offers here is forgiveness, bought by the blood of a very specific Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, born of the virgin Mary, and He offers it to sinners, who know their sin and find that every other problem in their lives, everything, pales in comparison to this their great need, to be at peace with the God who made us and against whom, even this week, even this morning, I have sinned and deserved His anger, and come to receive what I pray the Holy Spirit never let me take for granted, what I need above all else, the justification and forgiveness won by my Lord Jesus. Luther’s point with the 95 theses was not that forgiveness was free, that it shouldn’t cost anything. His point was that it was the most costly thing in the world, in fact, more costly than the world itself. Blessed are those who preach the cross, the cross, Luther says in his 93rd Thesis. So the chief battle we fight is the devilish thought that forgiveness is cheap, that God’s grace is cheap, that we can waltz into these doors and into this church and absent mindedly confess our sins and inattentively endure a sermon and casually receive the body and blood of Christ into our mouths. No. The price paid for our forgiveness with God inspires awe in us, forces us to look into our hearts, to look at our lives, to see our petty fights, our damnable pride, the laziness, whatever it is that steals true, godly joy from you, the porn watching, the jealousy, the impatience with those who annoy you, see it all and realize God is angry with it, He seriously and sincerely threatens hell, as the Psalmist says, “God is angry with sinners every day.” This is a fight. Especially in our day. It sounds so medieval. Concern over sin? God angry? No, He’s a heavenly teddy bear. He’s just there to help you through the bad times. You’re not that bad. That’s the religion of the moralistic therapeutic deists. And it’s the lie of the devil, the total destruction of the Reformation and the truth of the Bible. Believe it. God is angry with sin. God’s law is good. We need to hear it. Not to produce some existential angst in us, not a mere feeling of sorrow. We need to see as Luther did that the law is God’s truth, it exposes a reality in us, that the problem is us. Your chief problem is not a pope, not a tyrannical government, not a disobedient wife or a mean brother or an insensitive husband or a crappy job or not enough money or a weight problem. These things should not be taking over your mind. Jesus says he who sins is a slave to sin. St. Paul, even as a Christian, even as he knows the gospel of Christ crucified, confesses he still does what he does not want to do and cries out, Who will deliver me from this body of death? What Luther and the Reformation teach us we have largely forgotten in our day, and we need to return to it. Sin is serious. My sin is serious. It is and will remain throughout all my life my greatest problem. And then we see why Luther actually meant it when he said he’d give up everything for the joy of knowing Jesus. Why St. Paul says he considers everything else rubbish in comparison. Why we can sing the hymn we just sang with conviction. My sin is serious, but my God is more serious about forgiving it. If the first fight you have is to allow God’s law to show you as you really are, a sinner, your second fight is to say to hell with the devil and your flesh, that would make you doubt what is most certainly true. The Lord is on my side. I will not be afraid. What can man do to me? Who will bring a charge against God’s elect, it is Christ who died, who is risen, who sits at the right hand of God, who makes intercession for us. There is therefore no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. The Father gave His dearest treasure. The Son suffered in His eternal person all the anger against your sin. He swallowed it up in incomprehensible love, as the Holy One bore our corruption. The sinner cries out, Can this be for me? Can God so love me? And the word of Christ rings out, For you. Believe it. Take eat this is my body. Drink of it, this is my blood. Don’t question this love; it’s the love that drove God to die; take all your doubt and all the devil’s lies and see them drown in Christ’s words on the cross, It is finished. The debt is paid. You are reconciled to God. His own Son pleads for you in heaven. Nothing you have ever said or done or thought, nothing that has so burdened your conscience, can stand against the words of God Himself, “I forgive you all your sins, all of them, because I have already suffered their punishment, I have already faced their death and their hell, and I’ve done it for you.” This is our fight. It’s the only fight worth fighting in the end. And it’s a fight our God fights for us. And He cannot fail. Amen.

  • All Saints Day

    Pastor Christian PreusAll Saints, 2019Matthew 5:1-11 I have yet to hear anyone say “I’m blessed” when mourning over the death of a loved-one, or when despairing over some sin, or when suffering slander and mockery for being a Christian. It’s not our immediate reaction, is it? Religious people have taken instead to saying, I’m blessed, almost exclusively to describe how good things have happened in their lives. Go into suburbia, where dad makes a couple hundred thousand a year and mom brings the two kids to soccer games and the family can afford the nice house and the vacations and the Target shopping, and everything is going well, and you’ll hear the words, “I’m blessed” a lot. It’s a lot like the trend nowadays for religious people to say, “It’s a God thing,” when something good happens. They never say, “It’s a God thing,” when something bad happens, even though our God explicitly promises that bad things will happen in our lives, calls them crosses, and says they’re good for us, so bad things too, are God things. Now it’s not that calling good things in our lives blessings is wrong. Not at all. God does bless with good things, with earthly things, with health and food and enjoyment. This is what we confess when we pray the psalm before dinner, “The eyes of all look to You, O Lord, and you give them their food at the proper time. You open up your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing. Lord God, heavenly Father, bless us and these Your gifts which we receive from Your bountiful goodness, through Jesus Christ our Lord.” We pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.” We pray for earthly blessings from our God. Just recently I was skiing on the mountain, thank God, and the obvious conclusion to the beauty all around us and the joy it gives the heart is “God has blessed us.” That mountain is all the proof the atheist needs that all his silly God-denying theories are ridiculous. Beauty and goodness exist, and their source is God. And in our day, where the word God is used for a cuss word far more often than it is called upon as the giver of all blessings, it’s refreshing, to say the least, to hear someone say “Thank God,” or “I’m blessed,” when they receive good things on earth.But we need to realize that Jesus uses the word “blessed” differently. He never uses it to describe how good things are materially in your life. The word he uses is Makarios and it’s never used in the entire NT to refer to anything but the state of being good with God, with being right with Him. Imagine that. Jesus never calls you blessed for having lots of stuff, for having a nice house, for having healthy kids, for having a decent job, for having a happy marriage. He only uses it to describe how things are between you and your God. And this is a ridiculously important distinction. Listen to Jesus. His words are pure comfort to the Christian heart. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven. Your relationship to God matters above everything. How you stand before Him, that’s what matters. Everything else can be falling apart in your life. You can be suffering from sin and mourning over loss and death and face persecution and rejection from family and friends, and Jesus still calls you blessed, points you away from everything that is passing away and to the present and future reality, you are blessed now with Christ’s righteousness, and you will share with the saints this blessedness forever.Now, on the one hand, it should be obvious that how you stand before God is the real determiner of blessedness. What else could possibly matter in the end, for you or for anyone? I know it’s easy nowadays to simply forget about God, to go days and weeks without thinking of Him, for religious people, churchgoers, to do it even, because life is so busy, and Face Book is calling, and the Packers are playing, and there’s so much to enjoy or to fret about in this life. Now this is an impossibility for the Christian. Christians don’t live life not thinking of our Lord, not thirsting for His righteousness. Read over again the lessons for this morning and understand what Jesus says, that Christians cannot possibly be so apathetic, simply not care, about our God and where we stand with Him.The fact is you are here, in this world, and it’s God’s world, He put you here, He made everything you enjoy, by Him you live and move and have your being, and this is something the world can try to ignore but no conscience will be able to deny in the end. We describe the worth of human life by saying it’s created in God’s image, and we’re right to do so, but let’s realize what this means, what we’re saying here, that the worth, the meaning of human existence, of your existence, why the unborn should be protected, why all men are created equal with God-given rights, is because God created us and established a relationship with us, that we should love Him and know Him and fear Him and trust in Him. And without this, all is vanity. All will pass away into nothing. All the enjoyment of this brief time on earth, meaningless. But with this, with God’s favor, with knowing Him and loving Him and trusting in Him as the God who comforts those who weep, and gives His righteousness to those who hunger and thirst for it, with this is pure satisfaction, relevance now, meaning to life now, and eternal fulfillment with God, what Jesus calls “blessedness.”Nine times he says, “blessed,” and nine times he points to what this world never calls blessed or happy. We call these nine “blesseds” of Jesus the beatitudes. And we could divide them up in several different ways. But today I’m going to point out the difference between them in time. Three of the beatitudes, the first and the last two, speak in the present tense, in the here and now. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs IS the kingdom of heaven. Right now. Not simply in the future. Now. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs IS the kingdom of heaven. Again, it’s now that the kingdom of heaven is theirs. And then Jesus gives the ninth and last beatitude, which personalizes it all and speaks directly to you, “Blessed are you when they revile you and persecute you and speak all kinds of evil against you falsely for my sake, rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven.” All in the present. Rejoice now. Be exceedingly glad now. Your reward in heaven is great NOW.We all know what it means to be poor in stuff. It means to have nothing, to own nothing. To be poor in spirit is to have nothing to claim before God. To own no righteousness of your own, to own no boast, to own nothing but your own sin and lack. And that means making no claim to yourself before God. Blessed is the one who comes before Him with nothing in his hands, with no boast of what he has done, with no claim on God because of anything you are or do, but only with an appeal to Christ, to His riches, which we beg God give us freely because of His rich love for us. It is as we sing – I have naught my God to offer save the blood of Thy dear Son, graciously accept the proffer, make His righteousness mine own. His holy life gave He, was crucified for me, His righteousness perfect He now pleads before Thee. His own robe of righteousness, my highest good, shall clothe me in glory through faith in His blood.Theirs is the kingdom of the heavens. Now. Think of that. The kingdom of the heavens, the reign of God Himself, it descends on the poor in spirit, to those who say and mean, “I a poor miserable sinner,” and gives us the riches of God. This is exactly what St. Paul says, “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich.” The Kingdom of heaven is Jesus. He is ours now. He is the eternal Son of God, the God who is rich, who created heaven and earth – as the Psalm says, “The earth is the Lord and all its fullness, the world and those who dwell therein.” He whom the sea and wind obey takes on our poverty, is born in the filth of a stable, laid in a lowly manger, he lives our human life, he is persecuted for righteousness sake, he is poor in spirit, claiming nothing but His Father’s will; He mourns for our sins, as He bears them Himself to the cross and faces God’s wrath against them; He becomes meek and lowly, as He himself says, “Come to me all ye who are weary and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. For I am meek and lowly of heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” He hungers and thirsts for our righteousness and wins it by his life for us and his bitter suffering and death; He is merciful to sinners, pure in heart, always speaking the truth, He makes peace between us and God, and does it all by suffering for righteousness’ sake, for our righteousness, our innocence before God. Jesus is the Kingdom of heaven, the blessed One, blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are we sinners who beg for Him, because He is ours, He gives Himself to us in body and blood and we are rich in Him. He who embodies and fulfills all the beatitudes is ours. So ours is the Kingdom of heaven now.Now the parallel to this, the only other beatitude that says, “Theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” is blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. Theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Isn’t that perfect? These are the two things Jesus so intimately connects – to be poor in spirit also means to be persecuted for righteousness’ sake. This is what every Christian knows. If Christ is my treasure, my riches, then I guard and keep that treasure, because without it I have nothing. And the world wants to rip it away. My own flesh despises it. The devil hates it, of course. If I insist that sin is sin, that living together outside of marriage is wrong, people get angry with me. It’s the way it goes. If you insist that no, you won’t go to a gay wedding, because marriage is between one man and one woman, then people think you’re a hater. If you insist on God’s law, in other words, on Christ’s words, then people will dislike you. And they’ll dislike it especially if you get to the point of confessing that Christ is the only God, the only way to heaven, the only one who can remove the stain of sin from us. The devil hates it, the world fights against it, your flesh despises it. But God loves you. That’s the point and all that you need. He loves when His children confess His Word. It used to be the world would kill you for confessing. That’s what happened to the martyrs of old. And they were happy to endure it, because of the joy set before them. It’s what Christ did. For the joy set before Him, the joy of winning us as children of God, He endured the cross, despising the shame. And so we, for the joy of our treasure, endure, confess, and take what little suffering comes our way. If we want to say we are willing to die for it, we’d better say we’re willing to be mocked and insulted and have people say all kinds of evil against us falsely for Christ’s sake. Jesus says this is our blessedness, because now, right now, even as we suffer it, our reward is great in the heavens, because the angels rejoice, the saints who went before us rejoice, God himself rejoices at our good confession, and how can we not join in their happiness? Rejoice and be exceedingly glad. God is on your side. What can man do to you?  This is why we sing it and mean what we say in that beautiful hymn, “In faith Lord let me serve You, though persecution, grief and pain, should seek to overwhelm me, let me a steadfast trust retain. And then at my departure, Lord take me home to you, your riches to inherit as all you’ve said holds true.”Now this gets us to the rest of the beatitudes, the middle six. They all point to the future, the riches we will inherit. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God. All in the future, and it's a future we look forward to. It’s what we see in our lesson from Revelation, a picture of heaven, of those there now, our fathers and mothers and grandfathers and grandmothers, our brothers and sisters, our children who have died in the faith, and it is what we will see in short time, “These are they who came out of the great tribulation,” they’ve come out of the sin of this world and it’s pain, and they don’t hunger or thirst anymore, because righteousness is theirs perfectly forever. They don’t mourn anymore. It’s all gone forever.This isn’t to say that these beatitudes are only for the future. They apply now. There is no joy a Christian knows of greater than receiving the body and blood of Jesus for the forgiveness of yours sins. Nothing. Jesus stills all your fears and comforts you beyond measure, assures you that your pride and your lust and your doubts and your laziness have not kept Him from coming again to you and forgiving you, because He will not have His death for you be in vain, but invites you to see Him as He really is, your God, who will never leave you or forsake you. And there you see Him in faith but not by sight. You see who God is, as the Son unites you to Himself and makes heaven itself declare you a child of God. And you are comforted in your mourning over your sins. You are satisfied with the righteousness that Jesus gives you. All of this is true now.But we wait for the fulfillment of it all. Your flesh remains. Doubt remains. The joy of sins forgiven is soon tainted with the devil’s tempting and his lies. You face the persecution and uncertainty this sinful life brings. But there in heaven and in the resurrection none of it will remain, because you will know as you have been known, you will see with your eyes what you have confessed is most certainly true on this earth, you yourself will confirm with your own eyes the resurrection of your Lord Jesus and see with Thomas the scars of His suffering for you, you will gaze with all the saints of heaven on the Lamb on His throne. There will be no pangs of conscience anymore, the righteousness you have hungered and thirsted for you will feel and know as Christ’s and yours forever, you will see the great throng of saints washed clean in Christ and you will be thankful for every one of them, love them all, never be jealous again; and the joy that you feel now at hearing your Savior’s love for you will reach such a pitch that St. Paul and St. John could not describe it in human words. It is as St. John says, “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. Beloved, we are God’s children now, but what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when He appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as He is.” And John beautifully ends his thought with this: “And everyone who thus hopes in Him purifies himself as He is pure.” Think on these things. Think on heaven, on the resurrection, on your Lord Jesus. Think of the Christians who have gone before you and now have received the crown of life that does not fade away. Look forward to the future of seeing your Lord Jesus’ glorious face, of being as He is. And this will purify your heart now, to join with the saints of heaven now, with angels and archangels, and all the company of heaven, in glorifying and praising the holy name of our God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen. 

  • Trinity 26

    Jesus describes those on his right hand as sheep because his sheep hear his voice, and they know him, and they follow him, and He gives them eternal life. And no one will snatch them from his hands. When our Lord Jesus comes with all his angels, heaven will be empty for the first time since the creation of the world, no one will be in heaven at all, except God who is everywhere, all the angels, all the saints, will be here on earth to hear the voice they know and love so well, and hell will be emptied too, all the souls in hell, all the demons, the devil himself, all will hear again the word of the King they rejected; and all, every last created being, will bend the knee to the Son of Man. Time will stop here. What we know of it will cease to exist. It will end with the words of our Savior, these very words we heard read today, they will end time and usher in eternity. So let’s pay attention.


    It’s as if Jesus is too eager to speak with His Christians. It’s a wonderful thing. He gives no introduction. He doesn’t need it. His sheep know Him. He doesn’t wait till the end to speak to them. He doesn’t first condemn the unbelievers and the loveless, he doesn’t leave his sheep in suspense. He wants to talk to His Christians, take every fear out of their hearts and replace it with sheer joy, so the first words out of his mouth are, “Come.” It’s a word His sheep know very well. He’s said it so many times to us while we’ve lived here on earth and struggled in this evil world. Come to me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Come to the supper, for all is now ready. Come, behold the works of the Lord. Come, follow me. This is the command that has comforted Christians for ages, that our Lord Jesus would bestow this dignity, this worth and honor, on poor sinners, that He would not cast us away in disgust, but instead welcome us to receive from His hand double for all our sins. Come.


    And he continues, “you blessed of my Father.” The Greek word for blessed here means, “well spoken of,” you who have had my Father speak good things about you, that’s what Jesus says. And again, this is the Christian’s delight now. Our Father speaks good things to us for Christ’s sake by His Spirit now. He doesn’t curse us or speak the evil we deserve; He looks at His Son, from whom He turned His face on Good Friday, whom He forsook for us on the cross, on whom He poured every curse of the Law that should have landed on us, as it is written, cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree, and He can find nothing in Christ’s sacrifice and love except to speak the love for which His blood pleads. Speak well of them, my Father, bless them, make them your sons for My sake, dear Father, because I have loved them to my death. And so the Father blesses His Christians. He speaks well of us. That’s what happened this morning when He heard your confession and forgave you your sins. That’s what will happen again when your Lord Jesus puts His body and blood in your mouth and the Father’s words in heaven are heard here, given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins. His sheep hear His voice here, and so they will hear His voice on Judgment Day, Come, you blessed of my Father. This is why we sing, “His body and His blood I’ve taken, in His blest Supper feast divine, Now I will never be forsaken, for I am His and He is mine. My God for Jesus’ sake I pray, Thy peace may bless my dying day.”


    Jesus’ next words are again a command, a welcome. In the ancient languages a welcome is always a command. To say hello in Latin, you say “Be strong!” To say hello in Greek, you say, “Rejoice.” And so the command, “Inherit,” acts again as a welcome into eternity with God. And this word stresses so beautifully what heaven is. An inheritance. Children inherit. They do nothing to earn it. Their father gives it, with no conditions. Jesus’ words here crush any lie of the devil or this world or our flesh that would make us think we could earn everlasting life with our God. We inherit what the Son of Man won for us. I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. God put his name on you in your Baptism. He promised you an inheritance. He removes every doubt. What doubts I would have if God told me I had to make myself good enough for Him! I haven’t loved enough, my sins, as the Psalmist says, go over my head. I read the Bible and see even the greatest saints fell and sinned, and who am I compared with them? But Jesus will not say, “Receive what you worked for,” those words would be a terror if they were written. He will say, Inherit. And those words are so sweet. Inherit what I earned for you. Inherit what was rightfully mine, because I am the Son, but what is mine is yours, because I wear your flesh, I carried your sins, I put my name on you, I fed you with my body and blood, My peace I give to you.


    And this inheritance, to make what is beautiful beautiful beyond comprehension, is a Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. Before you did a thing. Before you or anyone else existed. Before this world was created. When there was nothing but God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit prepared this Kingdom for you. The Father planned to send His Son, the Son planned to give His life and then His Spirit, and the Spirit planned to persuade you to repent and believe on Christ, your Savior. And it’s happened. All of it. God did it. As surely as the Father sent His Son, as surely as the Son became a man, died and rose again, as surely as the Spirit has come to you in the Word of God and convinced you of your sin and your forgiveness in Christ, so surely the Kingdom has been prepared for you as your inheritance from before the world began.


    “For I was hungry and you gave me to eat, thirsty and you gave me to drink, a stranger and you took me in, naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.” When did we do these things? And Jesus explains, “Inasmuch as you did it to the least of these my brethren, you did it unto me.” Jesus asserts it. So we believe it. Christians do good works. It’s impossible to love Christ and His blood shed for us, and not love the Christians who share this love with us. And this comes out in concrete acts. Love that doesn’t act isn’t love. When St. Paul describes love, he describes it with 15 verbs, 15 words of action. Love does stuff for other Christians.


    When Martin Luther preached on this text, he named the ones who were hungry and thirsty and strangers and naked and sick and in prison as pastors and teachers in the church. In Luther’s day, they were the poorest. And while the government might take care of others, it wouldn’t take care of them. They depended only on the love of Christians for their food and their drink and their clothing and their home. I don’t think it’s much different today. Luther actually goes after the sham beggars who pretend they need money and enrich themselves at the expense of Christians instead of working hard for their money. He instead points to those who get their clothes, their food, their drink, their house, their health, from Christians for preaching and teaching God’s Word. And this so beautifully shows what our Lord is speaking about. What do Christians love above all else, above their house and home, their clothes, their retirements, their vacations, their money? They love God’s word. Everything that is said about the blessed of the Father, the inheritance prepared before the foundation of the world, the invitation to come and enjoy it, applies to sheep who want nothing more than to hear the word of their Shepherd, want nothing more than to hear the Word of God from pastors and make sure children hear it from their teachers, so that we all hear together those beautiful words from our Savior’s mouth on that last day, Come. And so Luther was right to say that Jesus was describing here Christians who give in love their money for the support of the preaching and hearing of Jesus’ Word. And it’s right for you to hear this today too. You love the Gospel, love giving your mammon to support it. You love Jesus, love His Church. Do it because you want to. Not because you think you’re earning anything with God by it, not to make you into a better Christian, not to make your inheritance sure, but because you know that your inheritance is sure, because you have heard that you are blessed of the Father, that Jesus says to you come, and you come and He gives you more than you could have ever imagined.


    Jesus will point to our works on the last day not because our works earned us anything, but because they are the fruits, the result, of faith in Him. The sheep are so surprised at Jesus’ words because they know their works didn’t earn them anything. They know they are sheep, who have been given everything by their Shepherd. But Jesus does love the good works of His Christians. He forgives whatever is lacking in them, the greed, the pride, the doubt, the jealousy. And he asserts this beautiful assertion, that he counts everything we do for one another as done to Him. I can’t imagine a greater encouragement to do good than this.


    Jesus turns next to the goats. He names them goats not because goats are bad. They’re actually usually good in the Bible. The Passover lamb could be taken from the sheep or the goats. He calls them goats because goats are hard to distinguish from lambs. When they’re young at least. And so it is, sadly, in our world. There are many who will say to me in that Day, Lord, Lord, Jesus says, and I will say unto them, I never knew you, you workers of iniquity. They look like decent people. They may go by the name Christian. But Jesus says they didn’t pay any attention to Him when He suffered. Here we should point out that Jesus did suffer all these things. He was hungry and thirsty on the cross and cried out, “I thirst.” He was led to prison and beaten and mocked. He was stripped of his clothes and suspended naked on a cross. And they didn’t care. And the fact that they didn’t care is obvious by their works. They didn’t care for Christians, they didn’t care for the Church, they didn’t care for the preaching of the naked, thirsty, suffering Christ. The goats object, “When did we not do these things for you?” And Jesus responds, “Inasmuch as you didn’t do it for one of the least of these, you didn’t do it to me.”


    These are words that should kill our flesh. We are Christians. We have still sinful flesh. We trust in our Lord Jesus to forgive, and we fight against our sins. It is a fight. Because our flesh wants to put anything and everything above Christ’s Church. But if you want anything to do with Christ, you want everything to do with Christ’s Church. If you insult my wife, you insult me. If you insult and ignore Christ’s Bride, you insult and ignore Him. My sheep hear my voice. The voice of Christ echoes in the Church. It’s what we need. I think I need other stuff more, my house, my wife, my children, my clothes, my skis, my food and drink, whatever it is that captivates my mind, but the Christian soul cries out for her God, and she comes to hear the voice of her shepherd, she loves those who come with her and beg from the hand of the same Lord, she comes in thankfulness, and she prays, “May God bestow on us his grace and favor, to please him with our behavior, and live as brethren, here in love and union, nor repent this blest communion.” The goats don’t care for the Church, and so they don’t care for Jesus. They put everything else above the church, because she looks so weak and unimpressive, just as Christ looked weak and unimpressive on the cross. And so they go into the place prepared not for them, because God wants no one to be lost, for everyone to find life in Christ, but the place prepared for the devil and his angels. God wishes this on no one. He planned it for no one. But it is the horrible end of those who, as our hymn says, “here despised His precious Word and loved their earthly treasures. With shame and trembling they will stand. And at the Judge’s stern command, to Satan be delivered.”


    So Jesus ends this scene. Those on his left will go into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life. He ends, as Jesus loves to do, with this little word of Gospel. The righteous will go into eternal life. But is this enough to comfort us, after all this talk about hell? Jesus speaks too clearly to be ignored. That’s why people don’t like Him. You can’t read our Gospel lesson and not think about hell and all the horrible things associated with it. And we don’t want to think of these things, do we? It makes us uncomfortable. And it makes us uncomfortable when pastor insists on talking about them. Fire and brimstone, right? Can’t we just skip that part? No. We’re not more pious than Jesus. And we’re not more gospely than he is either. Jesus loves the Gospel more than we do. He laid down His life, the life of God, to establish it. He suffered hell’s torments. He knows what the Gospel is worth, because He knows what we’ve deserved, knows it personally; He bore it in His own body on the cross. He doesn’t remind us of hell and of the lack of faith and love that lead to hell to torment us. He reminds us to drive us again to the Gospel, to find in Jesus our rescue, our fortress, our deliverance from all evil. To realize that this evil is real. This isn’t just religious language for churchy people. Sin is real. Death is real. Judgment Day is real. Hell is real.


    So thank God you have a real Savior. Never take it for granted. He loves you. You are in His mind constantly. He knows you by name. He wears the scars of His suffering for you. He speaks to you here in His Church because He has sworn that no one will snatch you from His hands. You’ve taken His body and blood. He won’t forsake you. You are His and He is yours. That means it’s your Lord who will come to be your judge. Your Lord. He is your judge. Your Lord who spilt His blood for you. Your Lord who stilled God’s wrath against your sin. Your Lord who rose triumphant from the grave. Your Lord who feeds you with His Gospel. He is the One you wait for. And if death comes in the meantime, so be it. It doesn’t change a thing. Your Lord is the victor over death and the judgment He will render on Judgment Day is the same He has rendered to you in His Word. My sheep hear My voice. And I know them. And they follow me. And I give them eternal life. And they will never perish. And no one will snatch them from my hands.


    Let us pray:


    O Jesus Christ, do not delay,

    But hasten our salvation;

    We often tremble on our way

    In fear and tribulation.

    Then hear us when we cry to Thee;

    Come, mighty Judge, and make us free

    From every evil! Amen.

  • Last Sunday Of Church Year

    Last Sunday of Church Year

    November 24, 2019


    The parable of the ten virgins is a parable about Christ’s Church. It’s not about the world. It’s about us. Jesus doesn’t even mention anybody else, the open unbelievers, the atheists, those who used to come to church but don’t anymore – they’ll receive their judgment, but Jesus says nothing about them here. He speaks only to us who come to church and hear His Word and sing His praises and take His body and His blood in our mouth. This isn’t a come to church parable. It’s a parable to those who come to church, who think it a sin, and you should, to miss church for any silly reason. And this, by the way, should teach us something from the outset, that Jesus would actually preach a parable exclusively to us who are here constantly, who haven’t been skipping church, have kept up devotions and prayers at home, who look like Christian. Because all this isn’t enough. This is Jesus’ warning to us. Not to those who aren’t coming – he’s got plenty of warning for them, but not here, and that means you shouldn’t think of anyone but yourself when Jesus specifically addresses you, no one else. And he warns us, us churchgoers, us Christians who read our Bibles and pray at home, He warns us that coming to church is one thing, looking like a Christian is one thing, being a Christian is quite another. All ten virgins looked the same. All ten virgins were in the same place, the church, waiting for the same bridegroom, the Lord Jesus. But the foolish had no oil, no faith, and they never enter the wedding feast.

    Now this fills the Christian with fear. It fills me with fear. Because we want to prove to ourselves we’re Christians, that we actually believe, and this can be a very nasty thing. Where do I look? If I look at my life, I see sin. If I look at my faith, I see doubt. I want to know for certain that I am one of the five wise virgins, but this I know, my prayers have faltered, my mind has wandered, I’ve done and thought and said things I’m ashamed of. So how do I know? Coming to church isn’t enough? Doing what Christians do doesn’t cut it?

    And this is a healthy fear, so far as it goes. Faith is the most precious thing we possess. And it can be lost. Listen to St. Paul in our epistle, “Let us not fall asleep as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober.” It’s a hard thing. The world pulls at us. Its delights enchant us. We hear the Word of Jesus, but we see nothing but bread and wine and water. Jesus said, I come quickly, but His “quickly” has taken some 2000 years and we grow tired.

    But what does Jesus say? He says of the ten virgins, not just the foolish ones, but the wise ones, “As the bridegroom was delayed, they all became weary and slept.” All of them. The wise ones too. Those who had faith, who were waiting for their bridegroom and were prepared with oil for his coming, they fell asleep, they failed to watch. I can’t describe how comforting this detail is. It means I don’t have to look at my failings, all the times I have sinned, all the times I have failed to be the Christian God made me to be in my Baptism, all the times I have taken the body and blood of Christ into my mouth and then gone home to fail to do what I vowed. But here we see our Lord Jesus, we hear from His mouth, that Christians fail, that we sin, that we grow weary and fail to keep the watch. And this directs you outside of yourself. It’s not your great virtue, your great works that distinguish you from fake Christians, from pretenders – no you look like them, you sin like they do, you fall asleep on the watch, your flesh gets the best of you. Look at Jesus’ own disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane, as Jesus sweats drops of blood from his sacred face, and they can’t keep awake, they fail to keep the watch, and Jesus returns and in pity and mercy says, “The spirit is willing, but your flesh is weak.” Jesus knows. Your God knows. And He never casts aside the weak and weary who seek His rest.

    What makes a Christian is faith in Christ. And faith doesn’t look at itself. It doesn’t trust in itself. It trusts in Jesus. As the Easter hymn confesses, “Faith’s strong hand the Rock has found, grasped it, and shall leave it never.” The five foolish virgins didn’t bring any oil. Oil is faith. They sat with the wise virgins, and waited with them, they fell asleep with them, but when they woke up, they were filled with dread and terror. They had no oil. They couldn’t light their lamps. They were in darkness when they heard the word that the Bridegroom was actually coming. Totally unexpected. He actually came. He waited so long, but this was reality. He came. And this they never prepared for. For His actual coming. To look him in the face and see it was all real. Everything they heard in church, the body and blood they took into their mouths, the water that washed them, real. Not so much religious ceremony. Divine reality. And so it is with the unbelievers who pretend to be Christians, who come to church, who mouth the words, but don’t believe it’s all real.

    The tragic thing about unbelief is that it remains so cold, even when the truth is right before its eyes. The foolish virgins ask for oil. They ask others for faith. Hey, you’ve seen me in church, I’m like you, give me what you have. They still don’t get it. They still don’t get that faith is a trusting that can’t be bought or given away, it’s a love and expectation for what we know will come. Instead of running to the Bridegroom and begging for his mercy, they run away in fear to purchase what they can’t buy. This is unbelief. It’s like the rich man and Lazarus. The rich man is in hell and he still doesn’t get it. He wants Lazarus to go and tell his brothers. But Abraham refuses – he says, they have Moses and the Prophets. No, the rich man says, no, but if they see someone rise from the dead, then they’ll believe. No. Not even if someone rises from the dead. Look at this. Someone rose from the dead. His name is Jesus. He is God almighty in human flesh. He bore our sins. He suffered their punishment. He destroyed the death that belonged to us. He conquered the devil and hell. He rose from the dead. And He will return to welcome His Christians into eternal bliss. This is reality. Why we’re here today. The foolish virgins didn’t believe it. The fake Christians don’t hope for it. They live their lives and hope in the few years God gives them on this earth, but they never stop to consider that all of what is preached from the Bible and what Jesus gives in His Church is real, he means it, it happened and is happening, He lived and died and rose to give it.

    This is what the faithful believe. This is why the five wise virgins have oil. They actually believe he’s coming. Despite their sin, despite their falling asleep, despite the fact that with everyone else they can’t claim to have been as vigilant, as watchful, as perfect as they could have been and wanted to be, they trust this, he is coming, and when he comes, I’ll be ready, because there is nothing that could rouse me from my sleep, nothing that could bring me more joy, than to finally see him, though he’s delayed so long. So I have my oil, and I will trim my lamp, and I will see His face, the face I’ve longed to see through it all.

    And this is faith. It looks to Jesus. It expects Him to come. It knows it will happen. He said He would. And He can’t lie. Yes, He’s delayed. Yes, He said He will come quickly. But hasn’t he? He’s come to you. That’s why you’re here. He tells you your sins are forgiven. He’s washed you in your Baptism and made you His child. He’s fed you with His body and His blood. He comes to you now, He rouses you from your sleep, He tells you that His blood was shed for you and His body pierced for you, that He lives and reigns to all eternity to erase your sin and your death and give you His Spirit, He comes now to you, and so He will come, and you will see His face, your eyes and not another, as we sing in that beautiful hymn, “And then from death awaken me that these mine eyes with joy may see, O Son of God, thy glorious face, my Savior and my fount of grace.”

    Jesus tells this parable to us, His church, not so that we can look with suspicion on one another, wondering if others are fake Christians and looking at our own lives to see whether we are the real Christians. That’s not the point at all. It’s not like an even half of all people who go to church are faking it and the other half are genuine believers. And it’s certainly not the case that Jesus ever wants to point you inside yourself for your certainty. No, Jesus’ point is to rouse all of us from our apathy to realize what faith is – an expectation, a trust in reality, that locks eyes on Jesus and says, He is my Savior, He has lived for me, died for me, my sins which torment me, He has removed from me as far as the east is from the west, and this has happened, and so I really eat his body and his blood, I really hear his forgiveness, because his tomb is really empty and He reigns now over heaven and earth, and He will really come and I will see His face. This is faith, and so it brings us to the feast today and every Lord’s Day, to expect what our God promises and what our eyes will see on that Last Day.

    And think of that day, when He does come. With all sin and all pain and all doubt removed forever, all we can’t see now we see with our own eyes. His hands pierced for us. His side wounded. The body and blood put into our mouths, now there before our eyes in splendor. What we believe proved true, as we join in the feast of the Lamb in His Kingdom, which has no end. Let us pray:

    Oh, joy to know that Thou, my Friend,
    Art Lord, Beginning without end,
    The First and Last, Eternal!
    And Thou at length--O glorious grace!--
    Wilt take me to that holy place,
    The home of joys supernal.
    Amen, Amen

    Come and meet me,

    Quickly greet me,

    With deep yearning.

    Lord I wait for thy returning.

We are a confessional Lutheran congregation of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod (LCMS). Committed to teaching the truth of God’s Word, with Christ crucified for sinners at the center, our worship follows the historic liturgy of the Church. We sing the great hymns of past and present that reflect the reverence, dignity, and joy of the Christian confession.