Live Like It Only Gets Better (because it does)

(Isaiah 25:6-9)

Imagine you are paging through a travel magazine filled with articles about trips people have taken to destinations all over the world. One traveler is sharing his experience off the grid at some remote getaway while another vacationer is raving about a posh family-friendly resort. And of course the articles are sandwiched between endless pages of ads to fly with this airline or set out to sea with that cruise line or to remember to use this agency when renting your next car. 

Then, a certain page suddenly catches your eye. It is a beautiful mountain. As your eyes zero in on the text on the page, it’s an invitation to visit a mountain destination that is like nothing else. In fact, as you start reading, you recognize these are the words of Isaiah 25! They almost read that way, don’t they, like some ad in a travel magazine attempting to lure you to some ideal destination like no other? It’s as if Isaiah is a travel agent, trying to coax us to set our sights on visiting the most unforgettable place we could ever imagine. 

And what a destination it is that he’s describing! Only… where is it? Where is this spectacular place Isaiah mentions? Where can one find this magnificent menu? Where is this mountain?

Technically, the answer is one of Isaiah’s favorite references throughout his whole book: Mount Zion. Located in Jerusalem, Mt. Zion has been and still is considered one of the most sacred destinations in the world. However, if you want to get to where Isaiah is directing us when he mentions Mount Zion, you won’t find it by booking a trip with your travel agent or punching it into your GPS for directions. As with so much of Isaiah and Scripture in general, real names and locations are often used to depict spiritual concepts and truths. So where is Isaiah talking about?

The question is not so much where, as it is “who?”

Isaiah is referring to the Church. Now, that is admittedly a confusing answer… until we remember that his Church isn’t a building, but people, people who have been made holy and are being made holy through faith in Jesus. But it isn’t just Isaiah who uses this picture to describe believers.

In the visions given to him which he records for us in the book of Revelation, St. John shares similar figurative imagery. “Then I looked, and there before me was the Lamb, standing on Mount Zion, and with him 144,000 who had his name and his Father’s name written on their foreheads” (Rev. 14:1). Those believers represented by the figurative number of 144,000 include God’s holy people filling churches all over the world on Sunday morning, and not just sanctuaries, but homes, and even filling heaven itself!

So this destination Isaiah is pitching to us is right here in front of us, wherever believers are gathered. And it’s also where we’ll be in heaven. What makes this destination the ideal? Only here, in the body of Christ, believers everywhere, Christ’s Church, does the promise that it will get better hold true.

Sure, we extend those words of hope and optimism to others – “it will get better” – but outside of the Church, on any other mountain, we have zero authority to back up such a promise. The individual who just got out of a bad relationship may in fact slip right into one that is even more toxic. The employee exasperated by a lack of ethics may quit working for that company and end up unemployed for months or even years. The friend struggling to recover from some complicated surgery may come through it only to become diagnosed with an even more threatening illness. We can wish each other well and wrap the nice tidy bow of “it will get better” around the words we offer to others, but the truth we all know from experience is that it may not get better and it may in fact even get worse!

Unless you are on this mountain. Unless you are in the Church. Unless you are a believer.

And what’s more, it being so isn’t exclusive! It isn’t only for this heritage or that culture, this people or that language. It’s for everyone. Isaiah’s word choices are not accidental. He intentionally refers to “all peoples” (v.6,7), “all nations” (v.7), “all faces,” (v.8), and “all the earth” (v.8).

One of the most beautiful aspects of the Christian faith is that it is for everyone! All people! When people truly know what we have here, on this mountain, can you imagine anyone not wanting it? Of course not! No one wants to remain where the words “it only gets better” are nothing but an empty expression. Everyone wants those words to be true. And here alone, for believers in Jesus Christ, they are.

To help us appreciate how good we have it as the people of God, Isaiah uses a very relatable picture: food. The Scriptures include so many pictures of gathering around great food for that we can hardly ignore them. There’s a reason. Consider how many milestones and memories in our lives revolve around people gathering around a meal. Sure, a great meal can be enjoyed alone, but it doesn’t come close to comparing when we are surrounded by those we love and care about, taking in that meal amidst conversation and laughter. So many of our fondest memories include enjoying good food with family and friends. 

And to be sure, what Isaiah is holding out for us isn’t some Happy Meal or something from the discount menu, but a feast – a feast with the best stuff imaginable! The best cuts of meat, marbled with just the right amount of fat to fill it with flavor. He isn’t describing some boxed wine that is more concerned with value than quality, but the best stuff, the boldest, most full-bodied bottles of wine you’d ever have. Isaiah’s point is that God doesn’t hold back from his people! He’s got the goods, and he has every intention of laying out such a feast for us!

The menu isn’t the only thing that catches our eye on this mountain. In fact, it isn’t even the most notable thing. There is something missing from this mountain. Isaiah describes it this way: “On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever” (v.7-8). Did you catch what’s missing?

Death! There will be no more death! The veil that covers the face of those mourning the death of a loved will be removed. The sheet laid over top of a the dead body will be unnecessary. And if something has been swallowed up that means it’s gone, there’s nothing left of it. So it is with death!

How can this be? It may be no surprise to you that these verses also serve as one of the readings for Easter Sunday. How appropriate! On the day we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection from the dead, we are assured that death has no permanent hold over us. The Resurrection means sin has been paid for and the eternal death sentence has been served and so yes, it will get better when death is no longer a part of our vocabulary because it will no longer be a part of our experience.

And right along with the removal of death itself will be the removal of any tears accompanying it. Isaiah described, “The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove his people’s disgrace from all the earth. The Lord has spoken” (v.8). No more death results in no more tears. 

Isaiah is so full of rich picture language to help provide perspective to what we have right now and what is waiting for us. Yet no matter how picturesque and impactful the imagery is, we’re still left with our imagination. We’re still left wondering. We’re still left waiting for what it will be like.

But as we observe All Saints Day, we also have on our hearts and minds those who aren’t left wondering. They aren’t imagining. They aren’t waiting. Because what Isaiah is describing here in order to help us grasp what is ahead for us, is the present reality for them. They do not have to settle for the earthly picture of the mountain as it is reflected in the church and Word and Sacrament; they have the real thing. They do not have to settle for an earthly menu of rich food; they have the real thing. They do not have to imagine what it will be like to be on the other side of death and living forever, freed from tears; that is their present reality. Yes, we are saints, but they have been sainted. They have joined the church triumphant, their praises of God’s salvation now echoing alongside every saint in Christ Jesus who has gone before them. 

And we will join them. We WILL live forever with them, and with the One who made it possible, with our Savior Jesus himself. Therefore, when we say it will get better, we absolutely mean it, because it will. Now that may not be the case for the remainder of our days here on earth; in fact, they may very well digress and get worse! Tomorrow and the next day and the day after that may increasingly disappoint us!

But not forever. Not by a long shot. No, forever is guaranteed to be better. And you’re probably aware of this, but just to remind you, forever is a pretty long time. A forever of “better” makes the temporary “not-so-good” that we may face here on earth pretty insignificant, doesn’t it? So let’s live like we’ll live forever. Let’s live like it only gets better. Because it does.

How does that change things for you? For starters, you don’t have to exhaust yourself trying to make right now the best. It won’t be. It can’t be. It will never measure up to the best that is coming. So why are you trying to make heaven on earth? There is no perfect job, no perfect relationship, no perfectly raised children. Give yourself a break from pretending you can manufacture those things or usher them in when the best is reserved for the life to come. 

And when you don’t have to restlessly chase after those things here and now, running yourself ragged in the meantime, you are free to live differently. You are free to live right now, with everything as it is – not as you think it should be or wish it would be – but as it is, with an eye toward preparing for the best to come.

That means you can empty the junk drawer, declutter the closet, and pitch all the dead weight in your life right now so you can zero in on life on the mountain. Make your decisions and take action from a mountain perspective, from the vantage point of Christ’s kingdom. Make sure that you are solidly stationed there. Make sure that we crowd as many as we possibly can on that mountain with us, where the menu is delectable, where mortality is not even a thing, and where our mantra never gets old: “Surely this is our God; we trusted in him, and he saved us. This is the Lord, we trusted in him; let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation” (v.9).

You’ve probably heart the story of the fork. A young woman – far too young from our human perspective – was diagnosed with a terminal illness and was given a few months to live. As a believer, she wanted to arrange to meet with her pastor to work through the details of her memorial service. They had discussed her preferred Scripture readings, her favorite hymns, and agreed on a sermon text. As their time together was wrapping up, the pastor was getting ready to leave. That was when the woman recalled her one last request.

She wanted to be buried with her fork.

The request puzzled the pastor, so he asked her why. She explained that, having grown up in the church, she was no stranger to plenty of potlucks and social gatherings involving food. On more than one occasion, when the tables were being cleared off, a sweet member nearby would lean over to her and tell her to keep her fork. It didn’t take her long to figure out why. If the tables were being cleaned, that meant dessert was going to follow. And that meant cake or pie or some other delectable dessert. She held on to her fork because the best was yet to come. So she explained to her pastor that when people see her in her casket holding on to a fork and ask why, he can share her story and explain to them that she was holding on to her fork because she knew the best was yet to come.

So live like you’re hanging onto your fork. Rejoice that you’re on this mountain, gathered here with God’s people for a foretaste of what is to come. Live today and tomorrow and the next day with the absolute confidence that it only gets better, because Jesus had made sure that it does. 

The Courage of “No”

(Daniel 3:16-28)

As the loud chant bellows out from the nearby minaret beckoning all to bow down in prayer, those around you pause whatever they are in the middle of doing to roll out their prayer rug. They kneel down in the same direction and the sea of random people involved in a variety of activities all around you quickly becomes an ocean wave, curving and swaying as arms and bodies are raised up and then curled back down again in prayer.

You stand out like a sore thumb.

Everyone else is on the ground kneeling in prayer while you are the lone standing figure, as if to announce to everyone around that you are a clueless foreigner. What do you do? Do you go with the flow and lower yourself to the ground, at the very least to avoid drawing attention to yourself? Do you go so far as going through the same motions as everyone else to blend in, even though you don’t worship their false god? 

We can speculate and imagine the mix of emotions that might come over us in such a hypothetical situation. But in Daniel 3, when Nebuchadnezzar’s call and command to worship was sounded, there is no need for speculation over how the three displaced Israelites might have responded. The details of the account are clearly provided for us.

But before we get to their response, it’s important to know that they knew what they were getting into. Prior to their actions, Nebuchadnezzar’s warning had been communicated: “Then the herald loudly proclaimed, ‘Nations and peoples of every language, this is what you are commanded to do: As soon as you hear the sound of the horn, flute, zither, lyre, harp, pipe and all kinds of music, you must fall down and worship the image of gold that King Nebuchadnezzar has set up. Whoever does not fall down and worship will immediately be thrown into a blazing furnace’” (Daniel 3:4-6). It did not matter what religion a person practiced or what language he spoke, to choose not to worship the ninety-foot image of gold was to face imminent incineration.

The flames of jealously spreading from other officials ensured that word would quickly spread regarding the three foreigners who had the audacity to ignore the king’s command. Those three, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, were brought before King Nebuchadnezzar, who was beside himself that anyone would so brazenly disregard his command. He said to them, “Is it true, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, that you do not serve my gods or worship the image of gold I have set up? Now when you hear the sound of the… music, if you are ready to fall down and worship the image I made, very good. But if you do not worship it, you will be thrown immediately into a blazing furnace. Then what god will be able to rescue you from my hand?” (v. 14-15). Talk about a terrifying threat!

But Nebuchadnezzar’s overconfidence would be outshined by the courageous confidence of the three men who stood up to him. “Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to him, “King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up” (v.16-18). 

See how courageous they were! Compare their courage with today’s version of courage, where activists throw tomato soup or some other liquid on works of art. Where groups of people park themselves in the middle of the road. Where protests are organized and rallies are coordinated. How much real courage do such actions require?

But take note of the radical approach taken by the three. They said “No.” That was it. They didn’t have to coordinate some widespread effort. They didn’t rally the other exiled Israelites to join them in some major rebellious protest. They didn’t manufacture something online in an effort to make it viral.

They simply refused to heed a command to sin by worshiping an idol. Think of it: one of the most legendary of all Sunday school narratives – this account before us – was simply a matter of having the courage to say “no.” Before we jump right to the miraculous conclusion of this account, let’s just linger here a bit on the power of “no.” 

Today (Reformation) has historically been a pretty big deal in the Lutheran church. We are observing the Reformation. It may be a relatively unfamiliar term to many, but Reformation refers to a period of church history often considered to have been set in motion by an event that took place on October 31, 1517. That was the date on which a monk named Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenburg, Germany. Through these theses, his intent was to establish points for discussion with the leaders of the church of his day over concerns he had about what was being taught and practiced. 

Luther had been doing a “dangerous” thing: reading his Bible. Doing so allowed the Holy Spirit to bring to light legitimate concerns that weren’t lining up with the Word of God. At stake amidst these concerns was the very foundation on which the whole of Scripture stands: justification by grace alone, through faith alone, revealed through Scripture alone. The more the Reformation was fanned into flame through the words and writings of men like Luther and other reformers, the more the church of his day dug in its heels. It refused to acknowledge that it had not only drifted away from Scripture in its teachings, but was brazenly contradicting the clear teachings of the gospel, that we are not saved by our own works, but by faith in Jesus’ merits alone.

On numerous occasions, both formally and informally, Martin Luther was expected to take back his words and writings opposing the church so that he might remain in good standing. The most famously recorded incident was before the Diet of Worms, on which occasion he is famously quoted as saying, in response to the church’s demand that he retract and recant, “Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise. God help me. Amen.” If you allow me to paraphrase what Luther said and simplify it just a little bit, Luther said directly to the sacred and secular authorities who demanded his compliance, “No.” The refusal that three young Israelites in Babylon had boldly uttered before Nebuchadnezzar was boldly uttered before the highest authority of Luther’s day, too. “No.”

Yes, it takes great courage to say “No.” But there is also great power in “No.” And we don’t have to stand before princes or kings to utter it. In fact, it isn’t likely that any of us will ever find ourselves in that position. But that doesn’t make our “no” any less powerful. Your “no” to the social hour invitation after work that inevitably ends up with inebriated coworkers is powerful. Your “no” to your significant other’s invitation to cross the line sexually is powerful. Your “no” to another of your child’s club team tournaments because it’s on a Sunday morning is powerful. Your “no” to “just try” the drug everyone else around you is high on is powerful.

Your “no” is not nothing. It is much more. It is a yes to what is right. It is yet one step further removed from the edge of the abyss that sin beckons us to stumble over into unbelief. It is a yes to my identity as a believer and child of God who is walking in the light. It is a yes to the blessed paths of righteousness that hold out so much more for us than any invitation to sin ever can or will. 

Notice also that the “no” of the three before Nebuchadnezzar did not need to be accompanied by added insults or denigrating of the king. There refusal was, in fact, carried out quite respectfully. There was no badmouthing behind his back or even to his face.

Could we learn from that? Could our “no” be just as effective – dare I say even more effective, when not accompanied by the disparaging remarks that are so common in our culture today? Can we politely disagree without tearing down the person with a different view? Can we show our disapproval of the words or actions of another without raising our voice or boiling over? How puzzled would others be to see such responses that are so out of the ordinary today? What might result? Could the reaction of others look something like that of the Babylonian King?

Note again his reaction after the three men’s “no” resulted in a date with the incinerator, only for them to walk back out of the furnace, bearing not even the slightest hint of flame, no smoke or singe of even as much as a hair on their head or hands. King Nebuchadnezzar said, “Praise be to the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, who has sent his angel and rescued his servants! They trusted in him and defied the king’s command and were willing to give up their lives rather than serve or worship any god except their own God” (v.28).

Yes, the miracle was absolutely amazing, but what was it that truly struck King Nebuchadnezzar? They were willing to die for God! They were willing to give up their lives for the Lord rather than bow down to an idol and easily escape death in that way. 

Yet even on the heels of such a bold show of courage, it wasn’t Shadrach, Meshach, or Abednego whom Nebuchadnezzar praised, but God. Let that sink in! Their “no” resulted in an unbeliever praising God! And their “no” results in believers praising God today, as we are still inspired by their courage. Surely if three young believers in a foreign country can utter a “no” to the face to he most powerful authority in the world at the time, we can courageously do the same much more frequently.

But it isn’t easy! It takes courage! So what empowers our “no”?

Our Savior who said yes.

No, not to sin, but to the condemnation resulting from sin. Jesus knew the furnace of hell awaits all who challenge God’s command of perfection and rebel against it and he said yes to that condemnation anyway. He knew Satan’s relentless efforts to convince him to call the whole thing off and not give his perfect life up for repugnant mankind would only intensify during his weakest moments at the end, and still he said yes. He knew the Father, to whom he had turned again and again during his life and ministry, would turn away from him in excruciating abandonment, and still he said yes. Jesus, and all that he willingly said “yes” to in our place to spare us from eternal hell – he is what empowers our “no.” 

If you’re familiar with the Jack Pine, you know what it takes for its seed to spread and eventually sprout. It takes heat. Not just a hot day, mind you, but the heat of a flame. Only the heat of flames are enough to soften the resin surrounding the seeds that are protected inside the pine cone. So the wildfire, the very source of destruction of so much else in a forest fire, is what allows the Jack Pine to reproduce.

So it is with our faith. Life is relatively easy when all is well. When it is, though, our faith is like a fallow field, resting, unused and mostly inactive.

But when the flames are kindled or when the fire is raging in our lives, faith cannot remain fallow. It will not. Faith responds to the fire by burning brighter, fueled by the gospel and charged by the Holy Spirit. Faith is inspired by the believers who have gone before us, the Shadrachs, Meshachs, and Abednegos, the Martin Luthers, our forefathers and our grandparents and parents. Emboldened and all the more courageous because the fires demand its response, faith grows, it thrives, and tears down enemy strongholds, calling out Satan and those in service to him and with a gospel-generated fearlessness that can’t come from anywhere else. And what does such a bold, courageous faith proclaim? It says… “No,” one of the most courageous words God’s people can ever speak.