The Conversion of St. Paul

Today we thank God for the conversion of St. Paul, the Apostle to the Gentiles. Not only does his conversion story show that God can convert even the worst of sinners, but also that He can and does recruit and use just about any kind of person for the proclamation of His Gospel. Much can be said about St. Paul, his conversion, and his subsequent ministry of preaching and teaching the Truth of God in the Flesh, our Lord Jesus Christ, but here I'll simply give some reflections on the readings given for today's feast in Lutheran Service Book (p. xxii)

Acts 9:1-22
What an amazing miracle! God converts a persecutor and murderer into a believer and apostle! He who persecuted Christians - and thus also Christ Himself - is now turned around by God's grace and mercy to proclaim Christ crucified and risen for sinners. Yes, persecuting Christians is tantamount to persecuting Christ. However, God can change those who persecute His people. This gives some added insight into Jesus' command to pray for those who hate us and persecute us. After all, God still wants them in His kingdom too, and God even uses them to promote and extend His kingdom. What an amazing miracle!

And what a miracle for Ananias as well. I can't even imagine the horror he must have felt, when God told him to go to Saul. After all, he knew Saul's reputation as a persecutor and murderer. If he went to this man, would he, Ananias, be summarily arrested, handed over to the Jewish leaders, or even killed? Yet Ananias also shows the miracle of God's grace: trust in the Savior, even in the midst of perilous circumstances. And God used Ananias as His earthen vessel to proclaim the Gospel to Saul. Humanly speaking, Ananias brought the soon-to-be Apostle Paul into God's kingdom via the laying on of hands and Holy Baptism.

As a result of being filled with the gift of the Holy Spirit, St. Paul - his new name meaning "little one" - proclaimed that Jesus is the Son of God. The miracle we celebrate today is this: the man who persecuted the Church became one of its greatest proponents and Apostles. If God can do such great things for St. Paul, He can certainly free us from our pasts, no matter how sordid or shady; He can certainly liberate us from the sins and death that blinds us to His goodness and forgiveness; He can certainly use us, with all of our weaknesses, faults and foibles, to proclaim His Son and His forgiving mercy. What an amazing miracle!

Galatians 1:11-24
Here St. Paul relates more about his ongoing conversion, if you will. The amazing miracle of Acts 9, the divinely given revelation of Jesus the Son of God, is followed by yet more learning and growing. The Apostle was certainly called by God's grace, but I would sure like to know what he did and learned when he went away into Arabia. What did the Apostle learn and study for those three years before he went up to Jerusalem to visit Peter? I'd like to think it was a time of prayer and study on how this crucified Jesus truly is the Son of God, the King of kings, the Lord of lords. Whatever happened, the great thing about Paul's conversion is that "He who used to persecute us is now preaching the faith he once tried to destroy." Because of this, God was glorified!

Matthew 19:27-30
On this day when we thank God for His gift of a persecutor turned Apostle, we also get to hear what our Lord told Peter about leaving all to follow Him. When Peter wanted to hold on to a little something that he had done for Jesus - leaving everything and following Him - Jesus reminds him, and us, that "everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands, for my name's sake, will receive a hundredfold and will inherit eternal life." We need not fear losing all this side of eternity, because we have already received all of eternal life in our Lord Jesus Christ.

St. Paul's own words explain this truth quite well: "Whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own tha tcomes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith" (Philippians 3:7-9). What an amazing miracle to lose everything in this world and yet to gain everything in Christ Jesus!

Collect of the Day (LSB):
Almighty God, You turned the heart of him who persecuted the Church and by his preaching caused the light of the Gospel to shine throughout the world. Grant us ever to rejoice in the saving light of Your Gospel and following the example of the apostle Paul, to spread it to the ends of the earth; through Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Collect:
O God, by the preaching of your apostle Paul you have caused the light of the Gospel to shine throughout th world: Grant, we pray, that we, having his wonderful conversion in remembrance, may show ourselves thankful to you by following his holy teaching; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (The Book of Common Prayer)

Collect:
O God, who didst call Saul, the persecutor of the Church, to be the Apostle Paul, and to proclaim the gospel of thy Son Jesus Christ to the Gentiles: Grant that, as thou hast called us also, we may be true to our calling, and count everything loss for the gain of knowing Christ Jesus as our Saviour; to whom with thee and the Holy Spirit be all honour and glory, world without end. Amen. (Church of South India; quoted in For All the Saints: A Prayerbook for and by the Church, v. III, p. 1298)

Hymn Verse:
Praise for the light from heaven
And for the voice of awe;
Praise for the glorious vision
The persecutor saw.
O Lord, for Paul's conversion,
We bless Your name today;
Come shine within our darkness,
And guide us on our way.

Gospel Pot-rattlers

Reflecting on St. Timothy in particular and the Pastoral Office in general reminded me of a most excellent quote that I have treasured for years. It's certainly not intended to lead the preacher to give in to the temptations of his own laziness in sermon preparations. Rather, it's intended to comfort the preacher that his homiletical task is to feed the flock and to do so in a faithful manner, using the gifts and talents that he has received from God. Once again I give thanks and credit to Robert Farrar Capon for a most excellent insight, especially in giving me the phrase (and the mindset) of a "Gospel pot-rattler."

After all the years the church has suffered under forceful preachers and winning orators, under compelling pulpiteers and clerical bigmouths with egos to match, how nice to hear that Jesus expects preachers in their congregations to be nothing more than faithful household cooks. Not gourmet chefs, not banquet managers, not caterers to thousands, just Gospel pot-rattlers who can turn out a decent, nourishing meal once a week. And not even a whole meal, perhaps; only the right food at the proper time. On most Sundays, maybe all it has to be is meat, pasta, and a vegetable. Not every sermon needs to be prefaced by a cocktail hour full of the homiletical equivalent of Vienna sausages and bacon-wrapped water chestnuts; nor need nourishing preaching always be dramatically concluded with a dessert of flambéed sentiment and soufléed prose. The preacher has only to deliver food, not flash; Gospel, not uplift. And the preacher’s congregational family doesn’t even have to like it. If it’s good food at the right time, they can bellyache all they want: as long as they get enough death and resurrection, some day they may even realize they’ve been well fed. (Robert Farrar Capon, The Parables of Grace, Eerdmans, 1988, p. 92)

St. Timothy, Pastor and Confessor

Today the Lutheran Service Book calendar thanks God for St. Timothy, Pastor and Confessor. It's more than just a "Commemoration"; it's a full "Feast and Festival" with three readings appointed for the Divine Service (Mass). Here are some reflections on those readings.

Acts 16:1-5
In the first reading for this feast day, we read how St. Paul first met Timothy and how he recruited Timothy to join him in the service of preaching the Gospel. Timothy was "the son of a Jewish woman who was a believer, but his father was a Greek." How interesting that Timothy came from a family of one pious parent and one parent who was, well, we just don't know, aside from his nationality. For whatever reason, most likely his father's will, Timothy was not circumcised. So as St. Paul recruited Timothy into the service of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, he chose to circumcise Timothy in order that the Gospel might have a hearing among the Jews. From this reading we see that God most certainly can and does use us weak, earthen vessels, with all of our family and personal baggage - actually, despite all our baggage! - to proclaim His goodness and mercy in Christ Jesus crucified and risen. After Timothy joined St. Paul's missionary entourage, "the churches were strengthened in the faith, and they increased in numbers daily." A great testimony to the Messiah and the message that St. Timothy was called to preach!

1 Timothy 6:11-16
In this reading St. Paul exhorts Timothy on being a faithful pastor, that is, a shepherd of souls. He urges the young pastor and confessor to flee the self-serving, wealth-seeking ways of the false teachers (6:3-10), and then he lists severals things that are to characterize faithful pastors: "righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness." St. Paul urges Timothy - and, by extension, all faithful pastors - to "fight the good fight of faith" and "take hold of the eternal life to which you were called." While the pastor may indeed serve and help people in this life, even with bodily needs, his ultimate aim, his chief goal, for himself and his hearers, is faith and eternal life - that is, life in communion with God, both now and into eternity. As Timothy also learned from St. Paul, the pastor's main business is to make the good confession. And what a great example of the good confession the Apostle gives to Timothy in verses 14-16! How different this is from so many modern views of the pastoral office that urge us to be congregational CEOs, junior psychotherapists, company men always on the lookout for the next faddish way to excite people, lure people, gather crowds, etc. Faithful Pastor Timothy shows us what truly matters: confessing Jesus Christ crucified and risen, "the King of kings and Lord of lords."

Matthew 24:42-47
While the Gospel reading does not mention St. Timothy, per se, it does extol the pastoral office. Just as Timothy was, so are all pastors called to be "the faithful and wise servant, whom his master has set over his household, to give them their food at the proper time." The pastor is certainly set over his congregation, but only as the servant of the Master, answerable to Him. No, not a servant who kowtows to the whims of the fellow servants and merely seeks their momentary pleasure and all-too-fleeting approval. Rather, the servant who does the Master's bidding for the spiritual benefit and eternal life of his fellow servants in the Master's household. And what is the "faithful and wise servant" - the pastor - given to do? "Give them their food at the proper time." Of course, he is not to mistreat his fellow servants, nor lord it over them, etc.; but neither is he free to give them whatever faddish pablum or worldly false nutrition that he can innovate on his computer or unveil from the denominational corporate office. Like Timothy, the faithful pastor is to give out the Master's food - the very Bread of Life - the Master Himself in His Body and Blood and in the "bread" of His Gospel message. And once again we hear a clue about the ultimate aim of the pastor's work: not this life, but eternal life - life with the blessed and holy Trinity. He is to keep his fellow servants awake to the life and love that God gives in His Son. His message is this: "Here comes the Lord Himself, both now - in the Gospel's message of mercy and in the Sacraments of water, bread and wine, and absolving words - and on the Last Day - when the Master returns."

As St. Paul wrote to St. Timothy: "The saying is trustworthy: If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task" (1 Timothy 3:1). What a "noble task" this Office of the Holy Ministry is! What a great example we have in St. Timothy! Thank You, Lord, for Your saint who learned from St. Paul and who passed on the "good confession."! And so, for all pastors who want to be faithful and follow in the footsteps of St. Timothy, we can do nothing better than emblazon on our minds and hearts the words of 2 Timothy 4:1-5:

I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching. For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.

Hymn Verse:
All praise for faithful pastors,
Who preached and taught Your Word;
For Timothy and Titus
True servants of their Lord.
Lord, help Your pastors nourish
The souls within their care,
So that Your Church may flourish
And all Your blessings share. (LSB 517:11)

Collect of the Day:
Lord Jesus Christ, You have always given to Your Church on earth faithful shepherds such as Timothy to guide and feed Your flock. Make all pastors diligent to preach Your holy Word and administer Your means of grace, and grant Your people wisdom to follow in the way that leads to life eternal; for You live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen. (LSB Collects of the Day)

Homily - Septuagesima

God’s End to Our Bookkeeping
Matthew 20:1-16

This year the Epiphany season was very short, and now we enter the season of Pre-Lent. Now it’s time to start preparing for our Lenten journey to begin in two and a half short weeks. To this end, the Church gives us the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard. Yes, God brings us into the vineyard of His kingdom by His grace, and, yes, that also involves work, especially during Lent. So, let’s prepare to get busy in the works of repentance and living in our Baptism. And to help us prepare, let’s hear the Parable of the Workers with a modern twist. What you are about to hear comes from Robert Farrar Capon (Parables of Judgment, Eerdmans, 1989, pp. 51-56) with some slight modifications.

There was a man who owned a vineyard. His operation was not on the scale of E & J Gallo, but it was quite respectable: let us put him in the Robert Mondavi class. We first see this gentleman on the evening of the second Sunday in October. September has been a perfect month—hot and dry, bringing the grapes to 20º brix—but his meteorological service tells him that the weather is about to turn into cold soup. So what does our friend Robert do? He gets up first thing Monday morning, goes down to what passes for the local hiring hall and contracts for as much day labor as he can pick up. Unfortunately, every other grower in the neighborhood uses the same weather reports, so he has to promise higher pay to attract the workers he needs: $120 for the day is the figure that finally guarantees him a crew….

No,… $120 is not a ridiculous figure. A denarius was a day’s pay; I have simply taken the liberty of making it a good day’s pay….

Anyway, Robert loads his crew into a couple of old school buses and puts them to work, chop-chop. Just before nine A.M., though, he gets another weather bulletin. They have moved the start of the three weeks of rain from Wednesday back to Tuesday: he has one day, not two, to get the harvest in. Out he goes at nine, therefore—and with increasing panic at noon and at three—to hire on still more hands. Each time he succeeds in rounding up all the available help, giving them the by now practiced line that he is Robert Mondavi, the famous payer of top dollar who is also Mr. Fairness himself: whatever is right, they will get.

It’s a huge harvest, though, and with only one hour left before dark, Robert realizes he won’t get it in on time without still more help. So out he goes again, but the hiring hall is closed by now and the village square has only its usual crowd of up-to-the-minute losers hanging out in a haze of smoke. You know the types: lots of leather, some girls (and their boyfriends) with more mousse than brains, six-packs everywhere, and music that ruptures the eardrums. What the [heck], Robert thinks in desperation: it’s worth at least a try. So he walks up to the group, ostentatiously switches off the offending ghetto-blaster, and goes into his spiel: he’s Robert Mondavi; he’s famous and he’s fair; they could probably use a buck; so what do they think? What they think, of course, is also What the [heck]: whatever he wants them to do, it won’t take long; and whatever he pays, at least it’s a couple more six-packs for the night. Off they go.

Now then: run your mind over the story so far. I’m sure you know exactly what happens each time one of those new batches of workers gets dropped off at the vineyard. Before they pick even a single grape, they make sure they find out from the workers already on the job the exact per diem amount on which Robert Mondavi is basing his chances at the Guiness Book of World Records. And since they are—like the rest of the human race—inveterate bookkeepers, they take the $120 figure, divide it by twelve and multiply it by the number of hours they’ll be working. Then and only then do they lay hand to grape, secure in the knowledge that they will be getting, respectively, $100, $70, $40, and $10.

Robert, however, has a surprise for them. At the end of the day, he is a happy man. With his best and biggest harvest on its way to the stemmer-crusher, he feels expansive—and a little frisky. So he says to his foreman, “I have a wild idea. I’m going to fill the pay envelopes myself; but when you give them out, I want you to do it backwards, beginning with the last ones hired.”

Once again, I’m sure, you know what happens. When the first girl with purple hair gets her envelope and walks away opening it, she finds six crisp, new twenties inside. What does she do? …No,…She does not go back and report the overage; she just keeps on walking—fast.

But when her shirt-open-to-the-waist boyfriends catch up with her and tell her they got $120, too…well, dear old human nature triumphs again: they cannot resist going back and telling everybody else what jerks they were for sweating a whole day in the hot sun when they could have made the same money for just an hour’s work.

The entail of Adam’s transgression being what it is, however, the workers who were on the job longer come up with yet another example of totally unoriginal sin. On hearing that Robert Mondavi is now famous for paying $120 an hour, they put their mental bookkeeping machinery into reverse and floor the pedal. And what do they then come up with? O frabulous joy! They conclude that they are now about to become the proud possessors of, in order, $480, or $840, or even—bless you, Robert Mondavi--$1,440.

But Robert, like God, is only crazy, not stupid. Like God, he has arranged for their recompense to be based only on the weird goodness he is most famous for, not on the just deserts they have infamously imagined for themselves: every last envelope, they find, has six (6) twenties in it; no more for those who worked all day, and no less for those who didn’t.

Which, of course, goes down like Gatorade for the last bunch hired, like dishwater for the next-to-last, like vinegar for the almost-first, and like hot sulfuric acid for the first-of-all. Predictably, therefore—on the lamebrained principle that those who are most outraged should argue the case for those who are less so (wisdom would have whispered to them, “Reply in anger and you’ll make the best speech you’ll ever regret”)—the sweatiest and the most exhausted decide to give Robert a hard time. “Hey, man,” they say; “you call this a claim to fame? Those punks over there only worked one hour and we knocked ourselves out all day. How come you made them equal to us?”

Robert, however, has his speech in his pocket. “Look, Pal,” he says. (Incidentally, the Greek word in the parable is hetaire, which is a distinctly unfriendly word for “friend.” In three of its four uses in the New Testament—here, and to the man without the wedding garment in the King’s Son’s Wedding, and to Judas at the betrayal—it comes off sounding approximately like “Buster.”) “Look, Pal,” he tells the spokesman for all the bookkeepers who have gagged on this parable for two thousand years, “Don’t give me agita. You agreed to $120 a day, I gave you $120 a day. Take it and get out of here before I call the cops. If I want to give some pot-head in Gucci loafers the same pay as you, so what? You’re telling me I can’t do what I want with my own money? I’m supposed to be a stinker because you got your nose out of joint? All I did was have a fun idea. I decided to put the last first and the first last to show you that there are no insiders or outsiders here: when I’m happy, everybody’s happy, no matter what they did or didn’t do. I’m not asking you to like me, Buster; I’m telling you to enjoy me. If you want to mope, that’s your business. But since the only thing it’ll get you is a lousy disposition, why don’t you just shut up and go into the tasting room and have yourself a free glass of Chardonnay? The choice is up to you, Friend: drink up, or get out; compliments of the house, or go to [you fill in the blank]. Take your pick.”

…It is the evil eye, you see—…the eye that loves the darkness of its bookkeeper’s black ink, the eye that cannot stand the red ink of unsuccess as it appears in the purple light of grace—that is condemned here. Bookkeeping is the only punishable offense in the kingdom of heaven. For in that happy state, the books are ignored forever, and there is only the Book of life. And in that book, nothing stands against you. There are no debit entries that can keep you out of the clutches of the Love that will not let you go. There is no minimum balance below which the grace that finagles all accounts will cancel your credit. And there is, of course, no need for you to show large amounts of black ink, because the only Auditor before whom you must finally stand is the Lamb—and he has gone deaf, dumb, and blind on the cross. The last may be first and the first last, but that’s only for the fun of making the point: everybody is on the payout queue and everybody gets full pay. Nobody is kicked out who wasn’t already in; the only bruised backsides belong to those who insist on butting themselves into outer darkness.

For if the world could have been saved by bookkeeping, it would have been saved by Moses, not Jesus. The law was just fine. And God gave it a good thousand years or so to see if anyone could pass a test like that. But when nobody did—when it became perfectly clear that there was “no one who was righteous, no not even one” (Rom. 3:10; Ps. 14:1-3), that “both Jews and Gentiles alike were all under the power of sin” (Rom. 3:9)—God gave up on salvation by the books. He cancelled everybody’s records in the death of Jesus and rewarded us all, equally and fully, with a new creation in the resurrection of the dead.

And therefore the only adverse judgment that falls on the world falls on those who take there stand on a life God cannot use rather than on the death he can. Only the winners lose, because only the losers can win: the reconciliation simply cannot work any other way. Evil cannot be gotten out of the world by reward and punishment: that just points up the shortage of sheep and turns God into one more score-evening goat. The only way to solve the problem of evil is for God to do what in fact he did: to take it out of the world by taking it into himself—down into the forgettery of Jesus’ dead human mind—and to close the books on it forever. That way, the kingdom of heaven is for everybody; hell is reserved only for the idiots who insist on keeping nonexistent records in their heads. (Robert Farrar Capon, Parables of Judgment, Eerdmans, 1989, pp. 51-56)

Longing for the Saints

In his book The Presence, Pr. Berthold von Schenk has some pretty interesting, and insightful, things to say on the communion of saints. If I didn't know better, I'd think that he were writing today, in 2008, not "way back" in 1945! I guess some things just don't change that quickly after all! :-)

Pr. von Schenk begins by saying that "the connecting link between Heaven and earth is the Holy Communion.... It is the ladder by which the risen, ascended Saviour comes down to us" (p. 123). Then he discusses the saints, first by clarifying that they were not some kind of spiritual supermen or wonder women [my phrase], but rather people who were tempted and who struggled and suffered just as we do.

Then von Schenk says, "It was a sad loss to the church, a grave mistake, when a few stupid people pushed the saints out of the picture. It was a sad mistake when they took them out of the life of the church, but it was even a greater mistake to place them into the niche of supernatural people. What has the church substituted for the saints and their glorious triumphant lives? Perhaps respectability, which is not holiness" (p. 124).

After critiquing such "respectability" in the church, von Schenk continues to lobby for the usefulness of the saints in the life of the church: "In place of that smug, cold, soulless respectability we must put the passionate love, first for Jesus, and then for sinners for Jesus' sake. We must have a reckless, supernatural, sacrificial love, supernatural in its vision; supernatural in its power to transform our lives; supernatural in its power to heal the souls of men. Let us get off that pedestal of respectability and fall on our knees and learn to be saints!" (p. 125).

I think von Schenk may be on to something here. Instead of groping for respectability in the eyes of the world and/or people around us (even respectability measured by mere numbers or even mere increasing numbers!), let's learn to be saints - those who live only by the grace and mercy of our God and Savior Jesus Christ, those who learn to love Him and the people around them with a sacrificial love, and, yes, those who even suffer trials, temptations, and even death for the sake of confessing Christ crucified and risen. As von Schenk also says, "The saint has only one motive. This motive is the love of Jesus guiding and dominating everything he does or says. It is not his life, but Christ's life" (p. 126).

And I just cannot resist including this snippet from The Presence. It really puts things in perspective. We don't need more humanly derived notions, plans, and programs to save the church! We need the divine Love, the Calvary Love, the very love that sparked and warmed the saints, the very love that unites us with them. Here's von Schenk's juicy little morsel:

"What men have done men can do again. The world needs saints; men who will free themselves of self, who love with the divine love. Church leaders are looking for [something] to save a declining Church. They start all sorts of campaigns, drives, calls of the Cross. And while the Church is deliberating, men's hearts are aching, are hungering for the supernatural, for saints, for glimpses of heaven, for romance. Conferences, synods, arguments, eloquence, committees, campaigns are merely stopping leaks in a weak dam. The world needs saints; it needs the mad vision of saints, which alone can keep us sane, the supernatural vision which will turn the world, which is upside down, back to where God wants it. The saints are not mere figures in history; they speak today. They are part of the Church, the mystical Body of Christ. Certainly the Body of Christ cannot be divided. Death cannot separate the members of the Body of Christ, the Church. The Church on earth knows of no separation from the Church beyond the grave. What is this bond of union? Why, the Communion. At the Altar we link ourselves with the saints. Here we are caught up with them. The Blessed Sacrament is the link which binds us to our risen and ascended Lord, and the whole company of Heaven. Here at the Altar I get a glimpse of the saints. Here I am united with them, and here heaven is made real to me as my faith is nourished" (pp. 126-127, emphasis original).

Confession on the Ascent

Here's a most interesting article on the comeback of saying, "I'm sorry" - that is, the comeback of Confession. The article quotes LCMS Ohio District President Rev. Terry Cripe on the value of Confession and Absolution: "There is such power in getting things off your chest. But that's only part of the equation. You must seek absolution. You can't do better than God's forgiveness." Great quote!

I rejoice at this now second article that I've seen on the reemergence/resurrection of Confession and Absolution, and both of them refer to the resolution from last summer's LCMS Synodical Convention commending the practice of Confession and Absolution. However, I also take it as a clarion call for greater teaching and improved practice regarding this soul-comforting and faith-strengthening Sacrament. When I ponder people "confessing" in an anonymous online venue, or in a shopping mall venue, or even turning to the likes of Dr. Phil and Dr. Laura (for all the good that they certain do for many), I must pray, "Lord, have mercy!" They're missing out on the greatest part of Confession: the Absolution!

So, thank God for the resurrection of Confession and Absolution, for both Lutherans and Roman Catholics. Thank God for this prime opportunity to return to the proper care of souls that occurs in Confession and Absolution. And I especially rejoice in what our Lutheran Confessions say on this Sacrament (and, yes, they even call it a Sacrament!):

It is taught among us that private absolution should be retained and not allowed to fall into disuse. However, in confession it is not necessary to enumerate all trespasses and sins, for this is impossible. Ps. 19:12, "Who can discern his errors?" (Augsburg Confession, XI)

It is taught among us that the sacraments were instituted not only to be signs by which people might be identified outwardly as Christians, but that they are signs and testimonies of God's will toward us for the purpose of awakening and strengthening our faith. For this reason they require faith, and they are rightly used when they are received in faith and for the purpose of strengthening faith. (Augsburg Confession, XIII)

If we define sacraments as "rites which have the command of God and to which the promise of grace has been added," we can easily determine which are sacraments in the strict sense.... The genuine sacraments, therefore, are Baptism, the Lord's Supper, and absolution (which is the sacrament of penitence), for these rites have the commandment of God and the promise of grace, which is the heart of the New Testament. When we are baptized, when we eat the Lord's body, when we are absolved, our hearts should firmly believe that God really forgives us for Christ's sake. Through the Word and the rite God simultaneously moves the heart to believe and take hold of faith, as Paul says (Rom. 10:17), "Faith comes from what is heard." As the Word enters through the ears to strike the heart, so the rite itself enters through the eyes to move the heart. The Word and the rite have the same effect, as Augustine said so well when he called the sacrament "the visible Word," for the rite is received by the eyes and is a sort of picture of the Word, signifying the same thing as the Word. Therefore both have the same effect. (Apology, XIII:3-5)

Thus we teach what a wonderful, precious, and comforting thing confession is, and we urge that such a precious blessing should not be despised, especially when we consider our great need. If you are a Christian, you need neither my compulsion nor the pope's command at any point, but you will compel yourself and beg me for the privilege of sharing in it. (Large Catechism, A Brief Exhortation to Confession, 28)

If you are a Christian, you should be glad to run more than a hundred miles for confession, not under compulsion but rather coming and compelling us to offer it. (Large Catechism, A Brief Exhortation to Confession, 30)

Therefore, when I urge you to go to confession, I am simply urging you to be a Christian. (Large Catechism, A Brief Exhortation to Confession, 32)

(All quotes from the Tappert edition of the Book of Concord. I'd love to quote from Concordia: The Lutheran Confessions, but for some strange reason, the editors decided to omit some of the key quotes on this subject! In AC XI, they go with the Latin and thus omit the phrase "and not allowed to fall into disuse." And in Luther's Large Catechism, they omit the whole section called "A Brief Exhortation to Confession," which follows the section on the Sacrament of the Altar.)

Homily - Transfiguration of Our Lord (Observed)

Okay, so I'm a bit behind schedule for posting this homily. Due to the truncated Epiphany season this year, we celebrated the Transfiguration of Our Lord at our Wednesday evening Divine Service on 16 January. Here's the homily:

Delivered and Transfigured Matthew 17:1-9

Peter thought he had a great plan. “I will make three tents here, [Lord,] one for You and one for Moses and one for Elijah.” He thought it was only natural for the glory of this magnificent event to continue. He thought it would be great if the Lord could remain transfigured before them. He certainly believed that this is where he and his buddies should be. Forget all that stuff the Lord had mentioned earlier—that nonsense about going up to Jerusalem, about suffering many things, about being killed! Here, up on the mountain, they could escape from and avoid all that messiness, all that sorrow.

But Jesus had a different plan. His plan was to carry out the mission that He undertook when He was baptized by John in the Jordan River – the very mission He undertook when He took on our human flesh and bone. You see, John also had a different idea about how Jesus ought to do things. But Jesus told him, “Thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” So now, from the glory of His Transfiguration, Jesus would continue to carry out His mission of fulfilling all righteousness. He would descend from the mountain. He would continue on His way to the Cross, to His suffering, to His death.

However, this brief moment that He shared with Peter, James, and John was necessary. He gave them a glimpse of His glory—not to terrify them, not to show off His power, and certainly not to distract their thoughts from His mission of suffering and dying. After all, He had told them time and time again that He must do that. No, our Lord showed them His glory as a sign and foreshadowing of the victory that awaited Him on the other side of the Cross and Tomb. He gave them a foretaste of the glory of His resurrection. And He gave it to comfort and strengthen them on the dark path that would soon lead them through His suffering and death.

Our Lord did not do all this to show off His power. He did not do this to inspire His followers to do something for Him. No, He did it because He knew their frail condition. He knew the weakness of their flesh. He knew the afflictions they would go through. He knew the sufferings they would endure. He wanted to assure them that He had come to deliver them and rescue them.

Our Lord gave the same message in His vision to Moses about 14 centuries earlier. Our Lord appeared to Moses on the mountain of God, in a bush that was transfigured yet not consumed in a flame of fire. As He told Moses, “I have seen the afflictions of My people. I know their sufferings. I have heard their cries for help. And I have come to deliver them, to save them, and to bring them to a land of rest and refreshment.” And that’s exactly what the Lord did. He led His people out of their bondage in Egypt, because they could not save themselves. He brought them through the waters of the Red Sea. He showed them the way to the land of their promised rest.

You know the story. After their miraculous deliverance, the people grumbled and complained in the wilderness. After being saved from their terrible condition, they rebelled against God on their way to the land of promise. They didn’t like the harsh conditions of the wilderness. They didn’t like all the trials and afflictions that confronted them there. They had a different notion about how life should work. They longed for the comfort and security of Egypt. At least there they could escape and avoid all the messiness and sorrow of that wilderness. But our Lord remained faithful to His promise. He brought His people to the land that He promised.

Now come back to our Gospel reading. Again our Lord was working to deliver His people—in fact, all people—from a greater bondage and to bring them to a greater Promised Land. He did so because of His love and mercy. You see, all human beings are under bondage to sin and can do nothing to save themselves. But our Lord knew their sufferings—not simply because He saw them, but because He Himself went through them. Not only did our Lord clothe Himself in our humanity, but He also carried and absorbed the sin that held us in bondage. And that is why He continued His path to Jerusalem. That is why He came down from the mountain and proceeded to His suffering and death on the Cross.

Yes, our Lord’s path on earth was a path to the Cross, but it was also a path to the glory of His resurrection. So the light of the coming resurrection breaks through on the Mount of Transfiguration. It’s just a little sneak-peek of a light, but it is what lies ahead for Jesus. And that light comforts and strengthens His disciples and us. But, dear friends, we have something more sure. We have the prophetic word and the testimony of the witnesses. They bear witness to His resurrection from the dead. They announce our Lord’s saving work on a cross to comfort and strengthen us. And we sure need that as we continue on the path of this world’s wilderness, to the Promised Land of heaven.

But all too often we are too much like the Israelites, aren’t we? We often complain and grumble about the harsh conditions of this life, about the people who just won’t do things our way, about all of the messiness and sorrow that keeps crashing into us. All too frequently we rebel against God under the trials and afflictions we have to endure. And all too often we are like Peter. We think we have a better plan, a better notion of how things should work in our lives. We long for the comfort of our Egypts, even if they are the places of slavery to our sins. We crave the security of our mountains perched above all the messiness and sorrows of this world.

But our Lord knows us. He knows our situation. He sees our afflictions. He understands our sufferings. And still He comes to save and deliver us. Not by showing off His power or terrifying us with His majesty, but by giving us a glimpse, a sneak-peek, of His glory and by going to the cross for us.

And yet He does show us His glory, even now. He shows us His glory, because heaven and earth are full of His glory. They are full of His glory especially where He puts His crucified, risen, glorified Body and Blood given and shed for us. And our eyes see His salvation even as our tongues taste the bread that’s His Body and the wine that’s His Blood. It’s the Light to lighten the Gentiles. It’s the Glory of His people Israel. It’s the glory of His very own transfigured, crucified, resurrected and living Body. That Glory made flesh and blood comforts and strengthens us here and now. It preserves us until He brings us to the Promised Land of heaven. And just you wait: He will transfigure and transform our lowly bodies to be like His glorious body. Yes, our transfigured Lord makes us co-heirs with Him in His glory. And He will bring us to the fullness of our inheritance with Him in heaven. Amen.

Homily - Baptism of Our Lord

This homily was delivered by Seminarian Carl Lehenbauer for the Baptism of Our Lord on 13 January 2008, and is posted here with his permission.

Matthew 3:13-17 “A Picture of Perfection”

Dear friends in Christ,

It’s more of a picture than a story. Our Gospel text this morning takes us to the Jordan River for a holy Kodak moment, a picture so powerful that no film would be able to capture it, and even the inspired words of Matthew are not quite enough to portray the splendor of Jesus’ baptism. We see the Jordan River flowing around Jesus, as the Son of God stands up and the pure water pours off of him, reflecting the light like crystals. A dove, white as snow, is descending from heaven, the Holy Spirit of God. The river bank stretches out behind him, earthy and subdued in the background. We look to the top of the scene, but human language is not enough to fill in the gaps, and so our imagination does its best to sketch in a sky that has been physically torn open. Maybe we use light, blindingly white, as bright as we can visualize, to show us the glory of heaven bursting through on Jesus. We can’t see it, but we can hear the words. The Father speaks in a voice we only begin to imagine. “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased” resonates across the river valley.

And then, after our eyes have adjusted to the glory and our hearts have stopped pounding at the voice of God, after we have torn our eyes away from the face of Jesus, wet with the water of his baptism and shining with the glory of his divinity, perhaps then our eyes will find their way to the face of John. Our pupils have compensated now, filtering out the brilliance of the moment, and gradually the hazy, shaded, sun-burnt face of John the Baptist comes into focus. His eyes, too, are taking in the scene. But what do we see in his face?

Matthew doesn’t tell us. The gospel writer keeps the focus exactly where it should be, and the picture he paints shows us the King of kings and Lord of lords, dripping wet with the radiance of God’s glory glowing around him. But it is the face of John that beckons us to come closer, to examine this painting for details in the artist’s blurry background. The face of John beckons us closer, because in truth we are searching for ourselves. In the blurs, and shadows, and the pale background, we must find the face that we recognize as our own. And so our eyes rest on John’s face.

Perhaps we see eyes widened with fear. His lips are parted slightly as he gasps for the breath that has been suddenly snatched away. His hands, raised to his face to block the assault on his vision, the brilliant glory streaming from heaven, reflected from the water, resplendent in the man he just baptized. The glory that threatens to consume him like light vanquishing a shadow. The words, “This is my beloved Son, with Him I am well pleased” are still echoing in his ears, and the downturn of his mouth tells us that the man in the river has found himself lacking. He is bent at the waist, leaning away from Jesus, and his overpowered posture cries out with Peter, “Away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

This was the face behind the blur for Isaiah when the prophet stood in the throne room of heaven. This was the face painted in the background of Paul’s encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus. It is the face of the man or woman who suddenly sees the way things really are. A God who burns with wrath against sin. Fire from heaven destroying a city of sinners called Gomorrah. Water from the deeps drowning the sin of the world in the righteous, indignant anger that cannot be appeased by anything in you or in me. All of it is written there in the glory streaming from heaven, inches away from the sin stained hands of the one who just baptized the Son of God. It is a face that too often we don’t recognize until it’s too late, until the last tears have been cried, the bottle of pills emptied, the casket closed. Despair is the name of that face.

When we come face to face with the all-consuming glory of God, what can we do but despair? If God truly does hate sin, if God truly does burn with wrath against the sinful man I was born as, then the glory streaming from heaven is nothing less than my destruction. And so this would be a picture of despair. This would be a picture of John, in the shadows, searching desperately for some safe place to hide himself.

Maybe that’s why Matthew doesn’t mention what John saw. In fact, none of the Gospel writers tell us what anyone besides Jesus saw. Only Luke implies that others may have seen the glory of God, and even he doesn’t say so explicitly. So maybe John was shielded from the glory. For his eyes there was no terror in that day, no reason to despair at his sin. Then all his eyes could see was the water that dripped from Jesus just like it did from everyone else he had baptized. The heavens opening were for Jesus’ eyes only, and in John’s view the sky held together, blues and grays carelessly mingled like any other day.

Maybe this is where we find our face in the painting. John’s eyelids are drooping just a little bit. You can see the weariness in the slump of his shoulders. A few lines of disappointment crinkle his forehead, and the hands that were expecting an electric sensation at the touch of the Christ are limp, now, at his sides. The water that drips from his fingertips melds with the river the same way that it drips from Jesus, and the turn of John’s head betrays the fact that in his eyes the world hasn’t changed.

This is the face we know from Nicodemus, who brought his hopes and his questions to Jesus in the night and turned away puzzled at the answers that did not seem to fit. This is the face of Naaman, the leper who traveled mile after mile for a miraculous cure from leprosy and instead received instructions to bathe in the river seven times. But we know it even better as the face in the mirror. We have seen these downcast eyes return our gaze when days, weeks, and months pass, and the miracle does not come. Doubt is the name of that face.

If we had the photograph of this moment, maybe that is what we would see. Doubt blanketing John’s face, or despair overthrowing him in a moment. But we do not have a photo, instead we have the words, the inspired, holy words of Matthew. And so we can’t search the background of this painting until we find our face in John’s. Instead Matthew rushes us onward, this picture of the glory gives way to another and another and another. First the wilderness, the temptation, the sinless Lord. The healings, and the perfect Jesus Christ. Food for thousands from the hands of the flawless Son of God. Storms calmed, water becoming a sidewalk, a mountain transfigured in a blaze of glory and there, always there, always in focus, the guiltless Messiah. Image after image, and each picture reflecting in one way or another the fact that this is the beloved Son with whom God is well pleased.

And then the filmstrip stops. The image freezes. Something has gone wrong. The peaceful face of sinlessness is contorted in righteous anger. A whip hangs in the air and animals flee from the temple. Then the image changes again, the face is wounded, red streaks trickle from the forehead. Another shift. A new image. The face is red and purple, swollen and in agony. It’s been abused, almost past recognition, and yet there is something familiar there. The lips curled, the eyelids are drooping, the mouth open in a shout. No longer, “This is my beloved Son,” this voice cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And there it is, bleeding through the agony, the face you recognize: the face of doubt, the face of despair, the faces of lust, and greed, idolatry, deceit, immorality, rage, hatred, gossip, everything that God hates all poured at once into that perfect face. Here at the cross, it’s easy to find our face in the painting. No matter who we are or what we’ve done, it is here, revealed behind swollen eye sockets and innocent blood. It is not his face on the cross. It is ours, contorted by the wages of sin. We have found our face at last.

And so, with trembling hands, we turn the page. And Matthew has another image for us. A tomb stands empty. A Savior stands exalted. And then we gaze at Matthew’s last image. The hands of Jesus raised in blessing, final instruction on his lips: Go. Make disciples. Baptize. The last image takes us back to the first, and we find ourselves again at the water, staring at the painting where the whole journey began. The heavens torn apart. The dove on Jesus’ shoulder. The beloved Son of God, His face tranquil and at peace.

But now we know where to find ourselves. We’re not hidden in the background or in the face of John. It’s not the pale, shadowy backdrop that conceals us. No, we are hidden in the glory itself. The pure glory that consumes sinful men, like light vanquishing the shadows, pouring down on Jesus. There you see the face that belongs to you. There, where the same water drips from Jesus that fell from your forehead. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, baptismal water carries you into that picture. The faces of despair, and doubt and everything else that separates us from God, washed into the glory of the cross and vanquished, darkness fleeing from light. And so you see yourself in Matthew’s portrait, in the face that’s turned toward a rift in the sky, that’s turned toward indescribable glory.

It’s the face of Jesus, but also the face of Naaman, who left the river cleansed of leprosy and believing the God of Israel. It’s the face of Jesus, but also the face of Nicodemus, who left that night full of questions, but found his answers in the cross and empty tomb. It’s the face of Jesus, but also the face of Isaiah, cleansed by the sacrifice from the altar. The face of Jesus and of Paul, by faith a child of God.

There’s a purity in that face. The concerns of this world are smoothed away from the forehead. The lips are parted in perfect worship of the Almighty God. The eyes gaze unblinking into the light. The ears are turned toward heaven to catch the words, words intended now, for you, “This is my beloved child. With you I am well pleased.” Through Jesus Christ our Lord, to the glory of God the Father, Amen.

Homily - Epiphany of Our Lord - Midweek DS

At our Wednesday evening Divine Service tonight, we will celebrate the Epiphany again (yes, stretching the "liturgical girdle" just a bit, but, hey, Epiphany is well worth the repetition for folks who may not have been able to make it on Sunday :-). This homily actually comes from last year's Epiphany Divine Service, on 6 January, but here it is with a little spit and polish for this evening.


O Holy Light
Matthew 2:1-12

Tonight we celebrate the Epiphany of our Lord. Centuries ago, Epiphany used to be bigger than Christmas. It used to be more like Easter. In fact, for churches in the East, places like Russia, Greece, and the Middle East, Epiphany is Christmas. The word “Epiphany” means “revealing.” On Christmas we celebrate Jesus being born in the flesh of the pure Virgin Mary. On Epiphany we celebrate Jesus revealing Himself, making Himself known, as the flesh and blood Savior of the whole world. If Christmas is about the “O Holy Night” when Christ was born, Epiphany is about the “O Holy Light” when Jesus, the bright Morning Star, reveals Himself to the world.

And notice how our Gospel reading is chuck full of night and light, of dark and day. First, we are told that wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, saying, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews?” We need to remember that this happened after Jesus was born in Bethlehem. The wise men were not there the day when Christ was born. Instead, they were in the east. They saw the star at the time of Jesus’ birth. Then they set out to travel to Jerusalem. And why go to Jerusalem? Well, it seems to make sense. Aren’t kings born in large, luxurious palaces? Don’t rulers live in the capitol cities? But the stargazing magi were a bit mistaken. They saw the star in the east. That got them headed in the right direction, but then their own thinking, their own wishing, their own assuming got in the way. Their own dark notions eclipsed the star’s holy light.

So the magi asked King Herod where the King-to-be might be. Probably not the wisest thing to do! A bit like asking the current president if you can talk to the next president! King Herod—who was disturbed in more ways that one—inquired of them where the Christ was to be born. You see, dark, disturbed King Herod unwittingly helped the wise men to see the light once again. The preachers told Herod and the wise men, “The Savior is supposed to be born in Bethlehem of Judea.” Not in the nation’s capitol, but in a little, back-water bedroom town. And what was the holy light that told this to the wise men? The Word of God from the prophet Micah. The light of God’s Word had to dispel the darkness of the wise men’s personal opinions about Jesus.

But as the light dawns on the wise men, Herod’s night only gets darker. In this great story of Jesus boldly revealing Himself, King Herod wants to deal in secrets and undercover operations. “Psst! Go and search diligently for the child.” As if the wise men would do something else, now that they knew where to look? “And when you have found him, bring me word.” “But why, King Herod?” “That I too may come and worship him.” Now, is that the kind of thing you want to keep secret—worshiping the King of the Jews, the Savior of the nations? Only if you live in darkness! Only if your darkness is hiding something you don’t want the wise men or King Jesus to see!

After the wise men listened to the dark, disturbed king, they proceeded on their journey to the King of holy light. Now that they had heard God’s Word and promise, they also had the star leading them once again. How marvelous! God’s Word—preached, read, sung, poured over you, spoken to you, and put in your mouth—that is the true guiding star. Notice that the wise men did not find the house where Mary and Little Jesus were on their own. No, the star led them there. And what happened next? When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy. O holy Light! The star’s light led them to the Light of the world, the Light made flesh to dwell among us. Once in His bright, glorious presence, the wise men fell down in humility and worshiped. They saw His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.

What does all this mean for us? The first thing is this: the wise men give us a good picture of ourselves. They saw the star in the east, and so they set out to follow it. But they were a bit confused about the light. God opens our eyes with the light of His gracious forgiveness, life, and salvation. Then we set out to follow it. But we often get confused about the light. We think it’s supposed to lead us to the large, luxurious, capitol city glories of Jerusalem. We want our “religion” to take away life’s struggles or burdens or confusions. When we hear the Gospel message, we want it to be a means to success, or some kind of easier, better living. We have our own personal, private ideas and opinions of Jesus—who He is, what He should do for us. In other words, we often want Jesus and His Gospel to be more our earthly treasure than our heavenly treasure.

Here’s a second thing this Epiphany story means for us. Dark, disturbed King Herod also gives us a picture of ourselves. It disturbed Herod that the wise men were looking for a king other than him. He was going to be replaced?! Nobody likes being replaced. But when Jesus comes to rescue you from your dark, disturbed sinful state, someone gets replaced. That old, dark, Herod-like sinner in you gets dethroned and replaced. You see, we all want to think of ourselves as king or queen. So much of our life revolves around “me, myself, and I.” We want all the people around us to bow to our leading and guiding, to our wishing and desiring. And this dark royalty can sound so religious and devout: “Of course I want to worship Him too.” But ulterior motives abound! Herod wanted to preserve his dark reign by killing Baby King Jesus. We want to preserve our selfish reigns by making Jesus fit our moulds. But that way He’s not the Savior; that way He’s only our palace slave. Each of us is born with this dark royalty. But being dark kings and queens will only lead us to eternity with the prince of darkness, Satan. And his destiny is hell, separated from God forever.

The wise men had their personal opinions of Jesus and where He should be. And so do we. Herod did not want to be replaced. Neither does our sinful self. But, you see, the personal opinions don’t amount to anything. They lead us on a goose chase that ends up in wrong places as we search for the Christ. The sinful self tries to replace Jesus instead of letting itself be replaced. It’s a cursed darkness. So, yes, we truly need the holy light of God’s Word who is Jesus.

Epiphany is about Jesus revealing Himself and where we can find Him. And Jesus reveals Himself in His grace and mercy. Once the wise men heard the Word of God telling them where the Christ would be, then they held fast. Well, God is equally gracious with us. He likes to reveal Himself to us—not in grand, majestic, ecstatic ways, but in humble, Bethlehem, ordinary-house ways. Where does Jesus reveal Himself to you, to bless you and forgive you? In His house, the Church. Here we get to cling to His words. Here we get to adhere to the preaching of His Gospel, to His washing of Baptism, to His words of Absolution, and to His meal of life in the Holy Supper. With these “holy lights,” we see the Christ. With these divinely appointed “stars” guiding us, the journey in bright, heavenly forgiveness and life is clear. Because of Jesus—born of Mary, revealed to the wise men, crucified under Pontius Pilate, and risen the third day in bright glory—your sins are forgiven. God sees the Light that is Christ in you!

And we respond as the wise men did. We bow down and worship Him. See how the Light of Christ leads to corporate worship—not to every individual having their own private, little faith, their own private, little church. No, the wise men worshiped together. After seeing the holy Light of Christ, they wouldn’t miss out on bowing down for all the treasures in the world. In fact, they were glad to give their treasures to the Tiny-tot King—no, not to win His favor, but because they already had His favor. The gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh were sacrifices of thanksgiving. There’s no better way to thank little King Jesus for rescuing you from your dark self and dark sin than by bowing down and worshiping where He lives in His house! There’s no better way to enjoy the holy light of God’s mercy and life than by clinging to Jesus’ Gospel preached from His pulpit and the Sacraments given out at His altar!

Isaiah preached it well: “And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising” (Is. 60:3). The holy light of Epiphany, the exceedingly great joy of Jesus and His mercy, is not to be stored away in a safe. By all means, bring the nations here to Jesus’ house to see His holy light of mercy. By all means, bring your family and your friends to see Jesus reveal Himself as their Savior from dark sin. It’s a dark world out there, but here in God’s house we receive the light of God’s Truth. So, let’s all say, “Come on in. Come, leave your darkness behind. Christ shines the light of His mercy on you.” Here you may worship and adore Him. Here you may receive His gifts.

May God grant us His grace to see His marvelous light in Christ. May He strengthen us in clinging to His Son and His ways of revealing His “O Holy Light.” Amen.

Homily - Epiphany of Our Lord

Actions Speak Louder than Words
Matthew 2:1-12

“Actions speak louder than words.” No doubt, you’ve heard that saying, and you know exactly what it means. Another person can speak a promise to you, but his action of keeping that promise says much more than the mere promise. A spouse can say, “I love you,” but unless those words are backed up by actions of love, devotion, and commitment, then the words ring hollow. “Actions speak louder than words.” Somehow, we just know how true it is.

It’s even truer for God, especially on this day of celebrating the Epiphany of our Lord. As soon as Adam and Eve had fallen into the deep, dark hole of sin and death, the hole of separating themselves and the whole human race from God, God made a promise to save them and the whole human race. You remember the promise. God spoke to the deceiving serpent and said, “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel” (Gen. 3:15). God gave His promise, and the human race would eagerly wait to witness His actions of fulfilling that promise. Actions speak louder than words.

Through the centuries God gave plenty of actions to save and redeem His chosen people, Israel – the exodus from Egypt; the tabernacle worship; the royal line of David; the temple worship; the return from Babylonian exile. But what about the rest of the human race? The rest of the world was still waiting for God’s actions to confirm His gracious words. As we heard in our first reading, the Prophet Isaiah had promised God’s actions for all nations: “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.” And speaking of those nations from around the globe, Isaiah also said, “They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall bring the good news, the praises of the LORD.” Those were God’s words. Now, what about His actions to speak His grace and mercy loudly and clearly for all nations?

That’s what Epiphany is all about. God’s action in sending His Son into the world speaks quite loudly. The Son of God taking on human flesh to restore us to God’s favor and life with God speaks quite loudly. But if He had remained secluded in a tiny corner in the little town of Bethlehem, unannounced and not adored, then a small whisper would speak much more loudly. No, the Infant God in the flesh chose to reveal Himself beyond the bounds of Israel and to all nations. And His epiphany, His appearing, to the Magi speaks louder than words. Isaiah’s words gave the promise; Jesus’ appearing to the Magi gives the loud-sounding action.

We can see how the actions of the Magi spoke at first. They sought the newborn King of the Jews, and so they journeyed to Jerusalem. Resting on their own wisdom, their actions showed that they didn’t quite get it, not just yet. The divine King would not be found in the human centers of power. They still needed to hear the words and promises of God.

We can see how the actions of King Herod spoke. He was greatly troubled at the mere thought of a king other than himself. Even though he said that he wanted to worship the Child, his later actions betrayed him. Instead of seeking to worship the Holy Child, he wanted exterminate Him. We can see this by his action of slaughtering the Holy Innocents in Bethlehem.

So, let’s return to the Magi, now as they are led to the Christ Child. Their actions speak louder than words. And have you ever noticed that now the Magi say absolutely nothing? No words; just actions. The star leads them to the house where they find Mary and Jesus. Yes, “they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy” when they saw the star. And they don’t say a word – at least not as Scripture records the epiphany for us. But their actions speak quite loudly and quite well.

“And going into the house they saw the Child with Mary His mother….” Actions speak louder than words! They saw the Christ Child – the Word of God made flesh, the Savior of the world, sitting in His mother’s lap. Imagine the awe and wonder. I don’t know about you, but I’d sure be speechless. Notice how God’s actions of coming and appearing sparked their actions of bowing and offering.

“…They fell down and worshiped him.” Their worship did not make Him the Christ-Child. Their worship did not cause Him to come and appear for all nations to receive. Rather, they fell down and worshiped because that’s just what you do when you come into the presence of the living God. Actions speak louder than words! Being in the presence of the Creator and Savior of the world calls for different actions, non-everyday actions.

“Then, opening their treasures, they offered Him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.” As Leo the Great proclaimed, the gold was for the King, the incense, for God, and the myrrh, for Man. The action of this offering spoke quite loudly: this Child is the God-Man, the King who comes to save all people from their sins. This royal Child, God in humble human guise, comes specifically to live our human life, to die our death, and to bring us back to life with God. After all, it’s through His death on a cross that He conquers death and forgives sins. And since He is God in the flesh, death cannot contain Him. His resurrection brings life for all who cling to Him in faith, for all who bow down before Him. Yes, actions speak louder than words. His actions rescue and redeem us, and they free us to bow before Him just as the Magi did.

This is the great mystery that St. Paul proclaims to us today. This Christ Child, this Infant Savior, comes not just for Israelites, but also for us Gentiles. This Infant King who would ascend the throne of His cross comes not just for the “good religious people,” but also for sinners such as us. St. Paul said it this way: “This mystery is that the Gentiles are fellow heirs, members of the same body, and partakers of the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.” God’s actions in sending His Son and revealing Him to the nations spoke quite loudly: He reconciles all people – even us – to Himself!

So, what about our actions in response? Do our actions speak loudly that we are followers of the Holy Child? Do they speak loudly and clearly that this Holy Child is the God-Man who comes to reconcile us with God? We could go in many different directions, but today let’s focus on actions in worship. Yes, actions speak louder than words even in the liturgy. For example, do you join in singing the hymns, or do you just stand there and gawk around? Do you participate in the prayers by bowing your head, folding your hands, and saying, “Lord, have mercy” or “Hear our prayer,” or are you figuring out what’s for lunch when you get home? Actions do speak louder than words.

When we process in at the beginning of the Divine Service, our actions communicate something: we are entering the presence of the living God, God-in-the-Flesh, God-with-us even now. When we stand for the Gospel reading, for the Creed and the Prayers, and for the liturgy of Communion, we confess that God is truly with us, to reveal Himself by forgiving us. When we kneel at the Communion rail, we tell the world that we humbly bow before our King, and we gratefully receive His mercy in Body and Blood.

Let me recommend another action that speaks quite loudly, and it goes with some familiar words. In the Creed we say, “who for us men and for our salvation came down from heaven.” Let’s bow when we say these words. After all, it’s a great mystery that the Son of God would come down from heaven, take on our skin and bones, be one of us, live among us, die for us, and rise again for us, and thus bring us salvation. Let’s bow, literally and physically, when we confess our Lord’s Incarnation. And then, right after we say, “and was made man,” let’s stand up straight again. After all, we wouldn’t want to join the mock worship of the soldiers when our Lord “was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate.” So, don’t be shy to bow when we confess our Lord’s Incarnation. Christians have done it for centuries.

Yes, actions speak louder than words. Certainly our Lord’s actions of coming and revealing Himself speak quite loudly to save and comfort us. Our actions can speak quite loudly too, as we bow before Him for His great mercy and life. Amen.

Homily - Eve of the Epiphany

This homily was proclaimed earlier this evening at our Evening Prayer on the Eve of the Epiphany. Usually we celebrate an evening Divine Service on Epiphany (6 January) and showcase our children's choir called the Kantorei (with a benefit reception following the service). However, since Epiphany itself falls on Sunday this year, we chose to begin the Epiphany celebration with Evening Prayer, complete with Kantorei singing and brass and strings playing. What a joyous way to open the door to tomorrow's Epiphany Feast!

Gifts for the King
Matthew 2:1-12

“What do you get for the person who has everything?” We often ask that when we go Christmas shopping. Some people are just hard to shop for. Either they already have everything that you may want to give, or you just don’t know what they need or want. What do you get for that person who has everything?

We can ask the same thing of the Christ Child. What do you give to the King who has everything? After all, even as a newborn infant on Christmas or as a toddler on Epiphany King Jesus already owns everything, doesn’t He? “The earth is the LORD’s, and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell in therein” (Ps. 24:1). Also remember, this Word-made-Flesh made all things long before He took on Flesh, “without Him was not anything made that was made” (Jn. 1:3).

What do you give to the King who has everything? The Magi can show us. They came all the way from Persia, or modern-day Iraq. Perhaps they knew of the coming Messiah from Daniel and other exiles from Israel over five centuries before Christ came. Perhaps they figured out the coming of the Bright Morning Star from studying the stars themselves. At any rate, they came. They came specifically to worship the Newborn King. A brief stop in the royal city of Jerusalem revealed that the New King was not there; only wicked King Herod was. The star led them on to Bethlehem. Once in the house with the Virgin and Child, they gave their gifts. Of course, we remember the gold, frankincense, and myrrh, but let’s not forget the worship. First, they fell down and worshiped Him, and then they opened their treasures.

What do you get for the King who has everything? Why, of course, gifts that honor who He is—God and Man in one Person. Incense is a gift for God. It speaks of the gift of faith. It speaks of prayer ascending to God in response to His goodness. Myrrh is a gift for a Man. This gift looks ahead to the death of Jesus, true God and true Man, on the cross and His proper burial. And gold—it’s the gift fit for a king. Some say that this gold probably supplied the needs of the humble Holy Family for many years.

But the Magi offered much more than these material gifts; they offered their faith and their worship. The incense, the myrrh, and the gold were simply the first fruits of that faith. The Magi fell down and worshiped Him. You see, they trusted the promise of God’s Savior who would come into the world to restore all humanity to God Himself. When these Wise Men looked at the humble Infant Jesus, their physical eyes see Him in “such mean estate.” But their eyes of faith see beyond the lowliness. They see the God who came to make all people rich in His mercy.

The Magi saw in this humble Child “the Sun of righteousness” Who arises “with healing in His wings” (Mal. 4:2). This holy Toddler would heal all people from the wounds, the sores, and the scars of their sins. The warmth of His mercy and forgiveness would radiate out for all to enjoy. He would heal the breach between Jew and Gentile; He would make them one nation in His Church.

When the Magi looked at this holy Son of Mary, they saw that the light had come; they saw that the glory of the LORD had risen upon them (Is. 60:1). Their eyes of faith could see that “because of the tender mercy of our God…the sunrise shall visit us from on high” And why did He come? “To give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” (Lk. 1:78-79). Yes, this holy Child brings the new day of life with God and resurrection from the dead. Even as you face the darkness of death—whether in ill health or in the midst of grief—the dawn of a new day has come. The holy Child sitting on the Virgin’s lap is “the bright morning Star” (Rev. 22:16). The best gift that the Wise Men bring to the King of the universe in humble guise is their faith.

So, what will you give to the King who has everything, the Child who radiates God’s boundless mercy? What will you give to the Savior who makes you whole and gives you peace with God? What will you give to the Word made Flesh who heals you from your disease of death and the sores of your sins?

You could certainly offer Him gold, the gift befitting a King. Actually, since all things and all wealth already belong to Him, your Lord Jesus bids you to give Him gold by giving it to the poor. As Jesus will say on the Last Day, when you feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, visit the sick and imprisoned, you do it to Him. And what better way to give your gold to your King than to the poor in our own midst, in His family, the Church. You might even consider giving it to the children’s choir called Kantorei, because you know that they will use that “gold” to “Sing out! Ring out” and “Tell the story!” that “Great is he, the King of glory” (LSB 395:5).

I suppose you could certainly still give incense, both literally and figuratively. As we sang tonight in Evening Prayer, “Let my prayer rise before you as incense.” Offer your prayers to the God who promises to hear you and answer you, because He identifies with you and your troubles in this world. Not only did God prescribe sweet smelling incense for the tabernacle and temple worship, but now that the Son of God has a human nose and enjoys the sense of smell, He’s sure to enjoy the sweet fragrance that accompanies your prayers. That’s why we gather in the Lord’s house regularly—to offer up prayers on behalf of the Church, the world, and all sorts of needs. And we offer them as sweet-smelling incense to our God and Savior.

As for giving myrrh to the Child King, that’s definitely not necessary. Remember, the myrrh was for His crucifixion and burial. And since “we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all” (Heb. 10:10), He does not need to die again. “For the death He died He died to sin, once for all, but the life that He lives He lives to God” (Rom. 6:10). And because of Jesus’ one-time sacrifice, you get to “consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 6:11).

What else can you give to the King who has everything? Most of all, you can give Him your faith and your worship, just as the Wise Men did. Just as they left their country in the East, you can leave the country of your self-serving desires and sinful ways. Just as they endured the arduous journey, you can endure the trials of your journey through this world, learning to trust your Savior. And just as they bowed down to the Almighty King when they saw Him in humble guise, you can bow down to your God who still comes to you in humble ways.

Behind the humble water, you can see God’s life-changing washing of forgiveness and life. Behind the humble words from the pastor’s mouth—in sermons or in Absolution—you can hear and recognize the voice of your Savior who heals you from all sins and enables you to live with God again. And behind the humble bread and wine, you can see Jesus coming to you in the Body and Blood that He assumed from His Virgin Mother, Body and Blood that are the “medicine of immortality.”

Just as the Wise Men saw the Child Jesus sitting on His Mother’s lap, we get to see Jesus in the bosom of the Church. She is the Mother of our faith and life with God. So, the best thing you can give to this King is … yourself, your faith, your worship, your whole life. After all, that’s what He has done for you. “For Christ goes with us all the way—Today, tomorrow, ev’ry day! His love is never ending!” (LSB 395:5).

Homily - Eve of the Circumcision and Name of Jesus

This homily was delivered by the Rev. Prof. Thomas Egger on the Eve of the Circumcision and Name of Jesus (31 December 2007) and is posted here with his permission.

The Enduring Name of Jesus
Luke 2:21

In the name of Jesus.

Our Gospel text is very short this afternoon, just one verse from Luke, chapter 2:

"And on the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child, He was named Jesus, the name the angel had given Him before He was conceived."

Do you know any Name more beautiful? Can you think of a better way to end the closing Year of Our Lord 2007 and to step into the New Year of our Lord 2008, than with this strong and enduring Name ringing in our ears and springing from our lips.

Today we gather here in the place of God's Holy Word and God's Precious Sacrament – for here in this place God has caused the precious Name of Jesus to dwell. Here the name of Jesus resounds for you. Here the name of Jesus lifts from you the burden of your sins. Here the name of Jesus imparts eternal life to your dying body. Here the name of Jesus rekindles hope in despairing hearts, rekindles joy in drooping souls, rekindles courage in faltering spirits.

Here the name of Jesus draws us home again, to the Father whom we keep stubbornly forsaking but who has not forsaken us. For He has given us the Christ Child. Here in this place, we have heard the angels heralding His birth. Here in this place, we have seen Him wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in lowly manger. Now today, here in this place, we behold our Infant Lord at age 8 days, being circumcised and being named.

After 8 days, this Mighty, Holy, Precious, Wonderful Name was given to Mary's Son. After 8 days, this Mighty, Holy, Precious, Wonderful Name was given as a gift to all the world. And now today, after 734,883 days (give or take a few) – 734,883 days since his parents named Him, the name of Jesus is just as Glorious, just as Renowned, just a Mighty and Holy and Precious and Wonderful as the day when it was first given. 734,883 days of Jesus' name, resounding in the world.

Where does all the time go? We ask it all the time, even in our own short lives. Where does all the time go? Every one of us can identify with this sentiment – the feeling of time slipping forward, the feeling of the present constantly being nudged off-stage and into the past. You can see it in your family photos. Especially the ones from the 1960s and 70s! In one of my family pictures from the 1970's, I'm about 5 years old and my parents have me dressed in a dark green polyester sportcoat with brick-red polyester pants and a gigantic plaid bow-tie – also polyester! Where does all the time go?

So often our lives seem to be full of anticipation and waiting. Some big event is looming out there in the future, and then, it comes….and it's gone, and after just a few years we can only remember a few things about it…it seems so long ago. That's what life is like, as the years continue to roll past.

As an adolescent, you wonder whom you will marry some day. When you are engaged to marry, it seems like the day will never come and then for the last few weeks it seems like it's coming way too fast and then (!) it's past and gone and even that big day fades into the past, back into distant memory. Maybe you can remember being a child and thinking what it would be like to drive a car. Now, however, I bet you grown-ups can't even remember the first time you drove, unless you crashed or something to make it memorable. Maybe you can remember having young children at home and wondering what they would be like as teenagers and adults…and the next thing you know, they are…and it's hard to remember what they were like as young children. We're fortunate to have cameras, aren't we? Where does all the time go?

It seems to me like life changes dramatically within about every five years. Five years ago, I bet your life was quite a bit different than today – you had some different interests, some different friends, different routines, different problems and worries, different joys, different recipes that you regularly made. And five years from now, your life will be very different again.

If things change that much in just half a decade, think about all of the changes that time has brought through the centuries….through the 734,883 days since our Lord was circumcised and named. The world has seen many changes, large and small, during that time.

But the name of Jesus has not changed, nor will it ever. Long ago, God sent His angel to visit Mary, and to speak to Joseph also, in a dream. There would be a child born who would reign on David's throne forever, He would be called the Son of the Most High, and they were to name Him "Jesus" because He would save His people from their sins. The blood of bulls and goats could never have atoned for the sins of humanity, but God provided this One Jesus to be a very different Sacrifice – a once-and-for-all Sacrifice and a once-and-for-all Savior. And the name that God chose for this once-and-for-all-Savior was "Jesus." The name Jesus means "He saves" or "The Lord saves" – either one fits this Child well, for He does save and He Himself is the Lord who saves.

One great Name, to endure forever. Very early on, still almost 2000 years ago, the enemies of God tried to stifle the Name of Jesus by putting Him to death on a cross. But death could not hold Him. Risen victoriously, Jesus commanded that repentance and forgivness of sins in His name be preached to the ends of the earth, beginning in Jerusalem.

Soon after, Peter and John were arrested for healing a crippled man in the name of Jesus and for preaching to the crowds about resurrection and eternal life in the name of Jesus. The Jewish leaders in Jerusalem were at a loss about what to do with Peter and John. Here's how the book of Acts tells the story: "What are we going to do with these men?" they asked. "Everybody living in Jerusalem knows they have done an outstanding miracle, and we cannot deny it. But to stop this thing from spreading any further among the people we must warn these men to speak no longer to anyone in this name." Then they called them in again and commanded them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus. But Peter and John replied, "Judge for yourselves whether it is right in God's sight to obey you rather than God. For we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard."

From that day on and to this very day, and throughout eternity for that matter, the precious Name of Jesus has been and will be on the lips of His people. Lord Jesus, have mercy. Help me, Jesus. I love Thee, Lord Jesus. Don't leave me, Jesus.

In Hebrew, they would say, "Yeshua."
Greeks pronounce "Iesous."
He is called "Jesu" by Germans,
And "Jesus" by Mexicans.

It's all the same Name, the name of the Son of the Most High God, born of Mary to save His people from their sins. The name chosen by God, announced by an angel, and finally declared by His parents on the 8th day.

It is the name we pronounce "Jesus." Jesus: this Name has endured for 734,883 days, for over 2000 years. It will hold us in its strength also in the year ahead. Whoever believes in this Name will be saved, for "salvation is found in no one else, and there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved." God has declared this Name to be the "Name above every name." Christians of every age have counted themselves privileged to be insulted, to suffer, and even to be killed for the sake of this Name. It has long been and will always be, in the year 2008 and in the year 8008 (if the world endures) the most Mighty, Holy, Precious, and Wonderful Name and our most enduring Treasure in this ever-changing world.

It is this Name which God has placed on you in your Baptism. It is in this Name that we gather tonight around this altar. It is in this Name that we end the year behind and enter the year ahead.

"Jesus" – the Name fills our hearts with comfort and peace.
"Jesus" - the power of that Name fills our prayers with boldness and confidence.
"Jesus" – the life of that Name gives us strength and vitality and quiets our fears even in the hour of death.

And in the world to come, the book of Revelation tells us, as we stand around His throne, we "will see His face, and His Name will be on our foreheads. And [we] will reign [with Him and praise His Name] forever and ever."

"On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child, He was named Jesus, the name the angel had given Him before He was conceived."

A happy and blessed New Year to each of you, in the Name of Jesus. Amen.

Homily - First Sunday after Christmas

This homily was delivered by Seminarian Louis Boldt on the First Sunday after Christmas (30 December 2007) and is posted here with his permission.

Light to the Nations
Luke 2: 22-40

Grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Imagine. Imagine total darkness. Imagine the darkness of a moonless night just before the dawn of a new day. Even though they had an arduous journey from Bethlehem the day before, Mary still woke up very early – it was just before sunrise; the time of day when the sky was starting to change from black to purple. She knew that she should go back to bed, but she couldn’t - she was too excited. And as she continued to watch the sky, it began to take on a reddish hue. Barely able to contain herself, Mary thought - Today is a great day, great things are going to happen on this day. Finally, after 40 days of not being able to enter the temple or touch anything holy, I will become ritually clean. I will offer my purification sacrifice and be restored to the community of God’s people. And as she continued to watch the sky, it changed from a reddish hue to a golden color and she was overcome with joy and excitement because she knew… she knew that this was the day that she and Joseph would dedicate, Jesus, her first born son to the Lord. Today He will be set apart for the Lord, today He will be made holy, she thought to herself. And nothing, nothing could diminish her excitement, not even the clouds that partially filled the sky.

So, she woke up Joseph and Jesus and got them ready to go. She made a no frills breakfast which they ate very quickly after the blessing and then they left for the Temple. When they arrived at the Temple, Joseph demanded that they catch their breath before heading up the steps to the East Gate because they had practically run the whole way. Mary’s sense of joy and excitement continued to rise with each step she took until she finally entered the Court of Women and then she saw it… a large pillar of smoke ascending into the sky, smoke rising from the altar of burnt offerings, rising up to Yahweh. And just then, the wind shifted and… [breath in] she smelled the fragrant aroma that would please Yahweh. And she couldn’t wait to offer her atonement sacrifice to God, the required sacrifice of two turtle doves. [pause] Now Mary had been so focused on the smoke from the altar and the aroma from the sacrifices that she had not noticed the man standing in the darkness of the Temple shadows. She did not see this old man, stooped with age, move into the light and begin to shuffle over to her and her family as fast as his feet would move. He was driven by a sense of haste that was beyond his control. He was driven by the Holy Spirit right up to these people whom he had never met before, yet… he knew exactly who they were – the Lord’s Christ and his parents. He knew because the Holy Spirit had revealed it to him. He knew he would see the One, the Consolation of Israel, before he died and he believed in that promise.

And when he reached her, Simeon startled Mary with these kind and gentle words, “My what a lovely baby, may I hold him?” When she looked into his eyes twinkling with love and compassion, she said, “Certainly”. So, Simeon reached out and took the child, and lifted him up to bless God by saying, “Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.” While you could see Joseph and Mary beaming with pride and joy, there was also a look of marvel and wonder on their faces as they listened to the old man. But this sense of pride and joy would soon disappear and the looks of marvel and wonder would soon transform into looks of dismay and trepidation. For after blessing Joseph and Mary, Simeon turned to Mary and said, “Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.”

We live in a world filled with darkness. Now, when I say darkness, I am not talking about the darkness that occurs at night. No. No, I am talking about the darkness that exists in broad daylight – the darkness that exists in our hearts. The darkness of sin. [pause] It creeps into our thoughts. I must get that new toy I just saw on TV. I can’t believe he just said that – what a jerk. Our burning desire to be with someone we’re not married to. [pause] It seeps into our words. Did you see the new car they just bought…. Did you hear what she said about…. So, do you think you’d like to…. [pause] It sneaks into our deeds. We go out of our way trying to impress our boss to get that promotion and pay raise. We lash out at someone or something in a moment of anger. We act out those burning desires. But we are not alone in this world.

We live in a world that is governed by a holy, righteous and just God, the one true God, the Triune God. And this God… this God ABHORS SIN. He DETESTS IT. He DESPISES IT. And because He cannot ABIDE WITH IT, He PUNSISHES ALL WHO SIN. And that punishment is DEATH – ETERNAL SEPARATION FROM GOD. This God does not distinguish between sins. There is no such thing as a large sin or a small sin – SIN IS SIN. He does not distinguish between sins of thought, sins of word and sins of deed. Thinking it is the same thing as saying it which is the same thing as doing it. And God has pronounced His judgment – THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH AND ETERNAL DARKNESS.

But our God, the Triune God, is also a God of love, a God of mercy and a God of grace. From the moment Adam and Eve brought sin into the world by disobeying God’s command, He enacted a plan of restoration – a plan of salvation. And though He spoke His promise of restoration and salvation directly to the serpent and Adam and Eve in the Garden, it was a plan that would gradually unfurl through time and space. A plan where God worked through specific people as He completed one aspect of His plan after another, after another. A plan where God continued to interact with His people directly, and indirectly through His prophets, to remind them of His promise. To call them back to His plan when they strayed from it. And to reveal more aspects of His plan of salvation. And when the fullness of time had come, God sent His light into the world in the form of His Son, to be born of a woman, to be born under the law. To redeem those living in darkness, those people living under the law, by fulfilling the law. And Simeon KNEW that the child he held in his arms was the fulfillment of God’s plan of salvation, a light to the Gentiles and for the glory of Israel.

I think we live in a culture that has no real appreciation for light. We have become desensitized and unappreciative because of a little invention by Thomas Edison - the light bulb. We have light at the flip of a switch and we take it for granted – it has no power, no meaning and no strength. But, I am sure that there have been times in each of our lives when we have experienced the power, meaning and strength of light. For me, it was associated with camping. Not so much today, but when I was younger, I used to do a lot of rustic camping. The kind of camping where you are out in the middle of a forest in the middle of nowhere. The kind of camping where the only light you have at night is the light you bring with you or the light of the fire you make. One day I went off exploring in the late afternoon and I didn’t take my flashlight because I knew that I would be back before dark. Well one thing lead to another and before I knew it, the sky had gone from yellow to red to dark blue and I was far away from camp without a flashlight. So I started to head back to camp as quick as I could, almost running, but when the sky went from dark blue to purple, I had to slow down to avoid injury. And as the sky went from purple to black, I moved even slower as I began to stumble over things I couldn’t see. As I moved slower, I started to hear sounds from things I that I couldn’t see and I started to imagine what might be out there in the dark and I became afraid. Afraid that something might attack me. Afraid that each stumble would be my last. Afraid that I would fall and injure myself and no one would be able to find me. Afraid that I was lost and would never find my way back to camp. And as the darkness and fears were beginning to overwhelm me, I saw what looked like a very faint light flickering in the distance. I didn’t know what it was for sure, but I focused all my attention on it and I placed all my hope and faith in it as I moved toward it. The progress was slow at first, but with each step the light got brighter and brighter and my fears got smaller and smaller. The light was a beacon drawing me to the safety and security of my campsite; a light that brought me home. This is the true power, meaning and strength of light. This is the kind of light that Simeon was referring to when he spoke about the baby Jesus. The kind of light that would draw all people to it. The kind of light that provides complete safety and total security. The kind of light that was revealed in Jesus’ death on the cross where we find a Roman centurion proclaim, "Truly this man was the Son of God!" The kind of light that returned three days later with an empty tomb pronouncing the final judgment and victory over darkness.

As we gather together this morning in the light of a new day, we do not gather together as individual men and women or individual girls and boys, we gather together as children who have been called out of darkness. Children who are clothed with The Light. Children who walk in The Light. Children who have The Light of Eternal Life through our faith in Jesus Christ. And we gather together today as children united in worship of the one True God. And in a short while, we will gather together at the communion rail to partake of the Lord’s Supper. We will gather to receive the very body and blood of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ in the bread and wine for the forgiveness of our sins and the strengthening of our faith. We will taste and see that the Lord is Good… the Lord is Very God. And then we will break forth in song and sing the Post-Communion Canticle. During most of the Church year, we sing “Thank the Lord” after communion, but during Penitential Seasons like Advent and Lent, we usually sing the “Nunc Dimittis” which contains Simeon’s blessing to God when he saw the Christ child. It is during these seasons of the Church year when we purposefully reflect on our sinful condition and express our remorse and sorrow commonly through fasting and abstinence in our personal lives. And we do the same thing in our corporate worship by removing liturgical songs that praise and thank God. The “Nunc Dimittis” is placed after the Lord’s Supper so that like Simeon, we too, can bless God for having seen Christ in the flesh and blood within the bread and wine. But, it also serves another purpose in the liturgy. It serves as a reminder of our role as children of Light. St. Peter tells us that, as children of Light, we are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that we may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called us out of darkness into His marvelous light. (1 Pet. 2:9) And St. Paul tells us that, as children of Light, we are to be a light to those who are still in darkness (Rom. 2:19) with the purpose that all may be saved and come to the knowledge of truth (1 Tim 2:4) and come to faith in the One True Light - the Light to the Nations – Jesus Christ. Lord now let Your servants depart in peace and serve as Your light to the people around them. Amen

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.