Category: Sermons

God Calls Me to Bear My Cross

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(Luke 9:21-26)

If you want to tune out for a bit, this might be the sermon to do so, because Jesus isn’t speaking these words to everyone. How do we know that? Because he’s only addressing “whoever wants to be [his] disciple” (v.23). That’s not everyone. That’s rather obvious when it comes to unbelievers. But it isn’t just unbelievers; it’s a whole lot of people inside the church that aren’t really interested in being disciples either. They may be quick to identify as Christians, but the blunt truth is, there’s no shortage of Christians who have little interest in being disciples.

Does being a Christian automatically make one a disciple? Consider two individuals enrolling at SDSU in the fall. One of them attends all the classes, completes the homework, studies hard, and eventually graduates. The other is there to party, making zero academic effort. Which one is the student? In that they are both technically enrolled and pay tuition, each would be considered a student. But an honest evaluation would conclude that only one of them is in reality a student. So also, Scripture lays out criteria that apply to disciples of Jesus: they hold to his teaching (Jn. 8:31), they love one another (Jn. 13:35), they bear fruit (Jn. 15:8), and they make other disciples (Mt. 28:19), to name a few. To that list, Jesus adds yet another challenge: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (v.23). There you have it. Jesus’ disciples are called to bear our cross. Doing so involves a three-step checklist: deny self, bear crosses, and Follow Jesus. 

Do you know why this is such a struggle for us? We want to jump right to the cross-bearing part, which is tough enough as it is… but made even tougher if we don’t address the bigger obstacle in the way before we even get to the cross-bearing part: ourselves. Imagine if every time you opened your eyes, no matter what you were trying to look at or which direction you were looking, all you saw directly in front of you was a mirror, reflecting yourself back to you. While there isn’t literally a mirror right in front of you 24/7, that really is the problem each one of us has – it’s completely natural for us to see ourselves before we see anyone or anything else.

Trace that reality all the way back to Eden. Adam and Eve believed Satan’s lie that God was trying to hide their true reflection, that he didn’t want them to see how god-like they really were, convincing them that they’d see what they actually looked like if they just ate the fruit. The reality was, they had a perfect view – the wonderful image of a gracious, caring, loving God who designed an amazing world for them! But they traded it in to be able to replace that image with a picture of themselves.

They got it, but it wasn’t what they had hoped. The mirror with their reflection was completely cracked. It has been ever since, and sin’s curse has carried with it the desire to see only self and nothing else. So what does it mean to deny self? It means shattering the mirror so we can see beyond the reflection of self, so we can put up a fight against our selfish, self-absorbed worldview.

Then we’re ready to pick up a cross, right? We might think so, but we’re not done just yet denying self. There are two other obstacles that we often need to address. We need to slow down and put down. We think the more efficiently/faster we get things done, the sooner we’ll have time for God… but that only speeds up the treadmill; it doesn’t actually ever free us from it. We end up running ourselves ragged because we never slow down. 

And we need to put down. When we finally arrive at the cross we are to take up, we won’t be able to pick it up if we insist on having our hands full with the other things we are carrying! What do you insist on hanging on to that won’t free your hands to pick up your cross? To what are you so attached that it’s worth disqualifying you as a disciple, and possibly even resulting in a forfeit of eternal life? Jesus gave a very blunt warning and then followed it up with a very pointed question. “For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit their very self?” (v.24-25). Hang on to your loves in this life, whatever they may be, and you run the risk of losing out on eternal life. Put those things down.

Then, assuming we have slowed down and put down enough stuff to finally free up our hands so we can take up our cross, we’re ready to bear it, right? Just one problem: crosses aren’t pleasant! We want to avoid them! We don’t naturally gravitate toward them or ask the Lord for them, and when we see them in our lives, often our first reaction in prayer to the Lord is to ask him to remove them, to get rid of them. They get in the way of our best life now, of the life we’ve been trying to design for ourselves. Crosses, by definition, are not convenient! 

So why do we ever bother bearing any cross at all??? Because bearing crosses bears blessings. It wouldn’t seem like it, but each time you lift up that cross, to carry it, what you find on the other side are the blessings that God had hidden beneath it. Paul mentions many of those blessings in his letters, reminding us that suffering produces perseverance, character, and hope (Romans 5), patient endurance, and comfort (2 Corinthians). We also know that in cases of suffering that the world cannot solve or explain, we are compelled to lean more and more on the Lord, to anchor our trust in him, which ultimately brings us into a closer relationship with him. And each of these blessings from cross-bearing ready us for the next cross to bear, which may be even slightly larger than the previous cross. That’s less daunting… when we realize that blessings are hidden beneath that cross – the larger the cross, the more blessings are hidden beneath it. 

Take that imagery literally. Picture a small cross, one the size of an earring or a necklace. We naturally want to avoid it because remember, bearing a cross will involve hardship and trial; it will in include some measure of suffering. But eventually, when you pick up that small cross, you see the blessings that were hidden underneath it, blessings that would have remained hidden had you never picked up the cross to carry it. Then you come across a little bit bigger cross, one the size of your hand. You immediately remember the difficulty that resulted the last time you picked up the smaller cross. But then you also remember the blessings hidden beneath it. So you pick up this cross, too, and sure enough, beneath the larger cross are hidden even more blessings. And so it goes throughout life – God allows one cross after another to come into your life, sometimes bigger than the previous. Our natural inclination is to avoid the cross, to leave it where it is. But each time we have picked up that cross, an abundance of rich blessings were hidden beneath it, blessings we could not have experienced without the trial or hardship that preceded them. So it is – we bear our cross, and God blesses our cross-bearing. 

We’ve denied, we’re picking up the cross. Now we follow Jesus. “There’s more?!? Weren’t the first two enough?!? What about when Jesus goes a direction I’d rather not, when he veers this way and I’d rather go that way?” Recently I met someone for coffee. It was a place I hadn’t been to yet, so I did what we all do and punched in the address to my navigational app and off we went. It worked just like it was supposed to… until I arrived at the address and there was no coffee place. It wasn’t hidden or tucked away somewhere that I couldn’t see; it was just gone, not at the destination I had punched in. A little looking around online revealed that it had recently moved – very close by, thankfully – but at a different address altogether.

Isn’t that often how our lives work? We punch in where we want to go or where we think we need to go and then we arrive and there’s nothing there, or at least not what we expected. Our own navigation system just isn’t trustworthy, is it? But you know what will never steer us wrong? Following Jesus.

Now following Jesus doesn’t mean that he will provide little signs along the way throughout our lives on every little decision we make. Following him doesn’t mean waiting for him to reveal which menu choice he wants you to make when you go out for breakfast. Neither does it mean he’ll reveal to you whether you should date this person or accept that job. But following him does mean that we look to God’s Word for guidance in our decision making. It does mean that we follow his guidance toward paths that help us avoid sin rather than paths that bring us closer to it. Following Jesus does mean that our relationship with the Bible ought to better resemble our relationship with our phone than it does our relationship with the unused treadmill or exercise bike sitting in the garage. 

And I know it seems like a tall order to follow in the footsteps of perfect Jesus! It IS a tall order! It is impossible. But think of it the way a small child follows in dad’s footsteps after piles of freshly fallen snow. He’d never be able to get through on his own without getting stuck in the snow. But what an easier time is made of it when he simply traces dad’s footsteps ahead of him, each step having packed down the snow in a clear path that makes it much easier to follow. That child will go his own direction at his own risk, but he can’t fail when he follows in his father’s footsteps.

Why is that the case when it comes to following in Jesus’ footsteps? Because we know that the value of following him is not in making it possible for us to perfectly keep in step with him; no, the value is in seeing where those footsteps led: to the cross. Ah, and we have come back to it again, haven’t we? The cross. But this time not to bear it ourselves, but rather in faith to gaze on the One who bore it willingly for us. For if we do not follow his steps to his cross daily in our lives, we will struggle mightily to ever see the point in bearing our own crosses. But to see his cross is to see the price Jesus paid to forgive self-absorbed, imperfect disciples, who prefer to go their own way and avoid any cross placed before them. To follow Jesus to his cross is to see that my forgiveness means freedom for cross-bearing!

Before calling his disciples to pick up their cross and follow him, Jesus reminded them that he had to be rejected, had to suffer, had to be put to death, and had to rise from the dead. All this had to happen so that we could call ourselves his disciples, bought and paid for with his own blood. All this had to happen so that we can now bear our crosses and follow him.

Is any of this easy? Will any one of us ever attain the status of perfect cross-bearers this side of heaven? Never. So God addressed that problem by sending the perfect cross-bearer. Literally. Jesus bore the cross for those who couldn’t as well as those who wouldn’t – he bore it for everyone. He bore his cross so that we can bear ours. We do so because cross-bearing brings blessings. THAT is our calling.

God Calls Me to Use My Unique Gifts

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(1 Corinthians 12:12-27)

Body image is a big deal. Advertisements and social media give a great deal of attention to body image, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. How you look and how others see you are frequently on your radar. We compare and frame a picture in our minds of what we’d like to look like and how we’d like others to see us. While we may blow it off to others or pretend it’s no big deal, the way our body looks matters to us. 

So make sure you pay attention to the healthiest body image you’ll ever have for the rest of your life. It’s found in the last verse of our lesson from 1 Corinthians today: “Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it” (v.27). Together you – along with all Christians – make up the body of Christ. Each of you is a part of it! Now imagine if someone complimented you on your body and said you had a body that reminded them of so-and-so. That would be quite a compliment. Yet, so long as you’re being compared to someone else, that other person is still the standard, right? But what if you were the standard? What if others were complimented because of how much they look like you? Notice Paul isn’t comparing you to something or someone greater; rather, he is paying you the greatest compliment – you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it. How could we ever question our own worth or value if we are the body of Christ? And that, friends, is what we are. 

And don’t doubt it, because Paul lays out the certainty by which we can know we are the body of Christ. Back in verse 13 he stated, “For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body… and we were all given the one Spirit to drink.” Whether by itself or attached to the water of baptism, the Word proclaimed, heard, and believed is always what brings a person into the body of Christ. There was no application, no criteria that had to be met to qualify to be accepted. The Holy Spirit opened our eyes to see the seriousness of our sin, the solution in our Savior, and the certainty of our salvation. So the Holy Spirit has connected you to the body of Christ, his church, made up of all believers everywhere.

As believers, we have made a commitment to stay connected. The Holy Spirit connected you to the body of Christ, he calls you the body of Christ, and he is the one who will keep you connected to the body of Christ. So if he’s the one doing all the work, to what are you really committing? Why are you bothering to promise anything if the Holy Spirit is responsible for keeping you connected?

Because you know how he does his work. You’ve learned that God the Holy Spirit uses his Word and Sacrament to feed and fortify our faith. So taking ownership of your faith and making the commitment to God and to a congregation and church body means that you will not rob the Holy Spirit of his ability to keep you in the faith. It is a very unpopular commitment in our world today: you will go to church, read and study the Bible, gather together with others to do so, pray, give offerings, serve, and for the rest of your life stay connected to Jesus by staying connected to his body, the Church, of which you are an important part. 

Another way to say it: be a consumer. We typically understand that term to refer to someone who buys or purchases goods or services. Such a person is a consumer. But it simply refers to anyone who is going to consume or use something. As a Christian, you are committing to being a consumer in church. You will gather around the Word to hear the Word and to use the Word. Be a consumer, a consumer of grace.

I cannot stress to you the importance of continuing to be a consumer of grace continually for the rest of your life. Grace is what makes us who we are, and if we neglect to be filled up with it, we not only run the risk of drifting apart from God, but we cut ourselves off from the spiritual blessings that cannot be found anywhere else in the world. Grace is like the gas that fuels a car and keeps it running, or like the battery that powers your phone to keep it functioning. Without gas or a battery, there is nothing to make us go. So be consumers of grace.

And be careful of what can happen when you aren’t. Do you know what are two of the most common – but also very avoidable – impediments to growth (both for Christians individually and for congregations collectively)? They are both connected to being a consumer of grace. The first one is probably pretty easy to identify: it’s a failure to faithfully keep the promise that we make at confirmation to continue to be a consumer of grace. We gradually drift away from attending church, we couldn’t even locate a Bible in our homes if our life depended on it, and so we fail to fill up on grace. We are no longer consumers. We forget that the very grace that brought us to faith is the same grace that keeps us in faith. Eventually this can result in our falling away from Christ and his body.

The second is maybe not so easy to identify, but can also stymy Christian and congregational growth: it’s only being a consumer. That happens when a person takes the limited view that belonging to a church means little more than showing up on Sunday morning. When that is the extent of a person’s connection to a congregation, it can skew expectations to take a rather selfish turn. Over time the expectation can become that the church only exists to meet my needs, to cater to my preferences, to serve me as I prefer to be served. Oh, you will see such a person regularly enough at church on a Sunday morning, but what is missing is an understanding of the rest of what Paul covers in our verses this morning from 1 Corinthians: when you are connected to the body of Christ, you aren’t called just to be a consumer, but also a contributor. God has made you a part of his body so that your unique gifts could be used in service to the rest of the body of Christ. So as you commit to remaining connected to the body of Christ, his church, don’t just be consumers, be contributors.   

You know what’s really cool? You don’t have to wait. There isn’t some process where you have to wait for approval or reach a certain age when you suddenly can become contributors. You’re already a part of the body of Christ right now. You already have gifts right now. You can use them to contribute to and build up the body of Christ right now. Notice the different body parts Paul mentions: the foot, hands, eyes, ears, and nose. What is his point? It isn’t to make a case for one body part being more important than another, but rather to observe how each part has a role, each part is important, and each part serves the body as a whole. “But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body” (v.18-20). It’s a fruitless discussion to debate which parts of the body of Christ are most important, because God’s answer to such silliness is simply, “You are.” “She is.” “He is.” “They are.” You are all important. You all matter. If you are a part of the body of Christ, then you have a role to play, a contribution to make. 

What might that look like? My encouragement to you would be to spend less time contemplating and more time contributing; less time second-guessing and more time serving. Contributing has far less to do with finding your perfect niche in the congregation, and much more to do with a willing heart that seeks to do what serves the body best. So rather than asking, “Where do I fit in best?”, ask “Where can I serve now? What is needed today? What opportunities are there” 

Young and old alike have a place to serve in the body of Christ. The longer I’ve been a part of the body, the more I have come to realize what a significant part young people actually play. See, something happens as we grow up and become adults: the world wears on us and we can become more cynical, more sour, more grumpy. Do you know what one of the best solutions to that is? Seeing young people in action. Seeing them contribute. Why do our faces light up during the Children’s Christmas service, or when the school children sing on a Sunday, or when they play chimes, or as they’re putting on a play? That’s not just because they’re cute kids, but because they give hope to adults. They provide optimism for the future, and not just because they’ll make a difference “someday,” but because they’re making a difference right now. Young people are a reminder in a difficult and sometimes very dark world, that God and his Word are very much alive and active, and they are the proof. We see young people serving, we see their gifts being used to build up the body of Christ, and they inspire us and give us hope. So let everyone contribute, and keep on contributing, because we all are encouraged by everyone’s contributions, served by them, and blessed by them. 

In Christ, your body image will always look good. So stay connected to the body of Christ, be a consumer of grace, and contribute with full confidence that you are a valued part of the body, and Jesus will use you to bless the rest of his body. THAT is your calling.

God Calls Me to Love and Serve My Neighbor

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(Luke 10:25-37)

It’s a modern re-telling of the story Jesus told, but without the happy ending. About ten years ago now, Hugo, a young homeless man from Guatemala, was stabbed on the streets of Queens, NY.  He had intervened to help a woman escape from an angry man and was stabbed in the process. After stumbling for a bit, Hugo fell to the ground bleeding. Tragic as that was, the account which was all caught on camera, gets more troubling when it reveals what happened over the next hour. One individual came upon Hugo, bent down on the sidewalk to shake him, and even moved him enough to see the pool of blood beneath him. He then walked away. Another two men saw him, talked about him for a bit, and even took a picture of him. Then they walked away, too. One passerby after another walked past, glanced his way, and kept right on walking. Hugo laid their dying for an hour before anyone called the police, at which point it was too late. Experts and psychologists have attempted to offer rational explanations for why no one helped a stabbed man, but they all seem to fall short, leaving us with the ugly reality of how easily mankind is inclined to avoid his vocation, his calling, to love and serve his neighbor. 

It’s interesting, isn’t it, that this is the type of story Jesus told to convict an expert in the law that his take on God’s call to love God and neighbor missed the mark. This story from Jesus, perhaps as much as any others he tells, makes us uneasy. We’d feel a lot better if Jesus had told a story about a cheating husband or a murderer or a liar or any number of other bad things that bad people do, because it’s easier for us to pretend we don’t belong lumped together with those kinds of people. But this one leaves us uncomfortable. This one doesn’t really leave us any easy loopholes by which to escape. It’s pretty clear when Jesus illustrates what it looks like to love and serve my neighbor, that I have neglected my neighbor often. 

And it’s not that we disagree that it’s important to help others. I don’t know too many people – believer or not – who would disagree that we ought to love and serve our neighbor. Most would agree that we’d all be better off as a society following this approach. So if so many people agree about it, then why isn’t it happening? The reason is profoundly simple, and I want to challenge you not just to hear it – don’t just listen for the reason – but take the lead in addressing the problem. You want to know what the problem is? We all agree that our vocation, our calling, is to love and serve our neighbor. In fact, we’re so much in agreement with the statement, that we spend most of our time monitoring how well everyone is doing it.

That’s the problem. How do we address it? Do it yourself, rather than living as if your life is a permanent stakeout, observing the lives of others while overlooking the neighbor you could be loving and serving right next to you. The world doesn’t need more arm-chair quarterback Christians, making it their business to assess how well the world is neighboring; the world needs more Christians – the world needs you – to step up your game in carrying out your calling to love and serve your neighbor. 

Admittedly, there is a HUGE obstacle that gets in the way of our serving our neighbor. The challenge with this obstacle is that we carry it with us everywhere we go: it’s our heart. Proverbs 20:9 asks, “Who can say, ‘I have kept my heart pure; I am clean and without sin?’”  Since the Fall, our hearts have been hijacked by the prince of this world, and even though we belong to God by faith, our hearts still betray us and commit treason, serving the prince of this world instead of the Prince of Peace. Frankly, it shouldn’t surprise us when we struggle to love and serve our neighbor if our hearts, the very source of that love, are sour. Here are three ways that sour hearts stain loving service to our neighbor.

One: we prequalify those we are willing to help. When it comes to credit cards, no one likes to have to take the extra step of prequalifying. Credit card companies know this. It’s why you get all the junk mail for new credit cards that advertise that you’ve been prequalified for their latest, greatest card. Yet we prequalify those who need our help all the time. We have certain standards or expectations or opinions on those we’re willing to help. If we decide someone is taking advantage of unemployment, shame on them – they’ll get no help from me. The homeless drifter I am convinced is probably just going to use anything he gets to support his addiction will get nothing from me. The single mom who had children outside of marriage made that choice and now has to accept the consequences – don’t look to me for help. We prequalify all the time. We determine whose need is worth our time, when the better way is to see any neighbor in need, and take advantage of the time God has given us to meet that need.

A second way our sour hearts stain loving service to our neighbor: the motivation behind our service. What is prompting me to serve my neighbor? Is it genuine love for my neighbor, to meet her need at that specific time and place? Or, is it love for self, to feel better about doing something nice for someone? Or, is it a greater concern of other people’s opinion of me – that others take note of my kind actions? Is it a matter of quickly addressing what is perceived as merely an inconvenience for me? How often is my motivation so pure that it is nothing but genuine loving compassion for my neighbor that prompts me to love and serve him? Not very often.

This has a direct impact on the third way our sour hearts stain loving service to our neighbor: the extent to which we help. This deals with the wrestling match between helping to actually meet someone else’s need or to meet my need to feel good about helping someone. I’ll help meet someone’s needs… to the extent that it’s convenient for me. When that is the case, I am less concerned about whether or not what I offered actually helped the person, and more concerned with feeling good about having done anything at all. But real sacrifice, when it puts me out, when it takes more time than I have, when I have to return to square up the bill like the Samaritan? That is rare.

Then, in addition to these three heart issues, we Christians also have an escape clause that acts as a catch-all to get out of meeting my neighbor’s needs: we justify our neglect of others’ needs by reminding ourselves that Jesus is more concerned about people’s salvation and souls than he is their temporary needs. But why do we pit one against the other when Jesus clearly calls us to care about both? Did Jesus ever take anyone to task for feeding the hungry, telling them, “Stop that – they need spiritual food more than physical food. Don’t waste their time with silly things like hunger”? Or on the flip side, did he ever take anyone to task for talking about sin and grace and faith and forgiveness, saying, “Stop that – they don’t need all that religious talk; what they need is a hot meal”? No, Jesus says to do both, so why do we pit one against the other instead of looking for the countless opportunities he gives us to do both? 

Don’t be so shocked by any of the above – it’s all just a reflection of how corrupt our hearts are in a fallen world – so much for “people are basically good!” Yes, we’re pretty good at making sure our exteriors are nice and polished… as long as you don’t dig beneath the surface! No, don’t be shocked by the ugliness of what’s in here; be shocked by something else – that Jesus came to love and serve hearts like that! 

Wouldn’t it be something if the Samaritan did something else? Wouldn’t it be something if he tracked down the Levite and the priest and offered them some random act of kindness? How would we feel about the Samaritan if he reached out and helped those schmucks? It might make us bristle a bit. We’d cringe.

Until we connect the dots and realize that is our situation. Jesus was much more than a Good Samaritan; he is a perfect Savior. He didn’t just come for the left-for-dead on the side of the road; he came for those who heartlessly passed by the left-for-dead on the side of the road. He came to save sour hearts and souls. He came for you and me. Jesus is the solution David begged for in Psalm 51:10, “Create in me a pure heart, O God.”  Through Jesus, he did! No more sour hearts; our hearts are pure! Take up the invitation extended in Hebrews, “let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience…” (10:22)!

Friends, if that doesn’t change your heart, I am at a loss as to what possibly can. If the reality of the absolute best – Jesus – giving himself for you at your absolute worst doesn’t soothe your sour heart and cause it to start beating with an unyielding and relentless desire to pour yourself into loving service for others, then I am out of ideas. That’s all I have. I can’t drum up some inspirational, moving story that can ever pull at your heart strings like holy Jesus giving himself for heartless us. Rather than desert or ignore us, he mercifully rescued us. And we weren’t even his neighbor; we were his enemies! 

But not anymore! Now we are his friends. For eternity. Forever. What do friends do? They love and serve each other. Jesus continues to love and serve us with his Word and Sacrament to provide us with peace and forgiveness and gush over us with grace. How do we love and serve him? By loving and serving our neighbor. By loving and serving his other friends, the other souls precious and dear to him, the other souls for whom he died, the other souls with whom he longs to spend eternity. And no, you don’t need to wait until someone is left-for-dead to love and serve him; just look for someone who has a need – any need at all – and lovingly meet it as you’re able. THAT is your calling. 

God Calls Me a Dedicated Mom

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(1 Samuel 1:21-28)

What is “my calling.” That might be a good Jeopardy response if a contestant chose “Vocation for $500.” Simply put, your vocation is your calling. Today we begin a series that will clarify what our calling is and guide us in carrying out. While some talk about discovering their calling or feeling a calling from God, it’s actually much simpler than that. Your calling is the role God has given you to carry out right now where you’re at in life, and to carry it out in a way that serves God and others to the best of your ability with the unique gifts and responsibilities that God has given you. Are you a student – that is your calling. Employee? So is that. Single? Coach? Church member? Community volunteer? Instrumentalist? Sibling? Yes – each of these, all of these, some of these – any combination of these and so many other stations in life are what make up our calling. This morning we focus especially on one vocation: motherhood. And one doesn’t have to have children for this vocation to be worth our consideration, because none of us would be here today if not for mothers. So we appreciate the calling of motherhood from God.  

Hannah isn’t a bad mother to look at. Sadly, part of the reason she appears especially godly is because the men in the account don’t! Her own husband, well-intentioned as he might have been, comes off looking rather insensitive in his poor attempt to console her at her inability to have children. He points out that she shouldn’t be taking it so hard, because he should mean more to her than not being able to be a mother. Husbands, that’s how not to do it! Then the priest Eli, when he witnesses Hannah pouring out her soul in prayer to the Lord for the gift of a child, wrongly presumes she’s been drinking. Eli, who fails miserably at managing his own sons, assumes the worst of godly Hannah praying for a son of her own! So in stark contrast to the less than stellar examples provided by others in the account, Hannah’s godliness stands out. Her relationship with the Lord was not an afterthought. It wasn’t a means to an end. It was a priority, and it showed itself especially in the realm of motherhood.

It’s rare to see anyone with that kind of a dedicated faith-focused relationship with God. Moreover, mothers especially have the unique challenge of Satan pitting the blessing of children against God. One of the most subtle idols in our culture today is the devil’s elevation of children. While not a shock in the world, do not be naive and suppose that only the world struggles with such an idol as a child. Do not presume it is such a large leap for a child to jump from being a gift from God to becoming a gift over God. Now none of us would be terribly quick to admit that we can allow our children to become idols in our lives, but then, are we terribly quick to admit any idols in our lives? Isn’t that often the criteria that applies to something being a dangerous idol – we aren’t even aware that it is crowding out or already has crowded God out of our hearts as our first love? Or, we’re very aware of it, and will guard it tenaciously!

Children become our idols when our worlds either intentionally or unintentionally revolve around our kids. It happens when we are concerned more about their friends, finances, and future, than we are their faith. It happens when we allow their sports and their social schedules to push aside our Savior and our own spiritual growth. It happens when we spend more time worrying about their temporal life than we do praying for their eternal life. 

That’s a real danger, mind you – the idolatry of allowing our children to hold the primary place of importance in our lives. It’s one that God helped Abraham be aware of. Remember how God finally granted Abraham his own son with Sarah? That promise was a long time coming! All of God’s future promises hinged on that one child, and God finally granted him Isaac. Then, in a demand that knots up our hearts, God commanded Abraham to slay his own son and kill him. Why such a gut-wrenching request? God knew how easily a parent’s love for a child can replace a parent’s love for the Lord. That experience not only made it clear to Abraham, but it also was an opportunity to put his faith into action and demonstrate that Isaac had not replaced God as number one in Abraham’s heart.

How did Hannah – whose desire for a child was no small thing! – guard against her child, young Samuel, replacing God in her heart? She gave him away. How does a mother do that? She realizes her child is not hers; her child is His. Like absolutely everything else in this world, children belong to God first and foremost, and like everything else with which God blesses us, they are gifts on loan to be managed well. Her dedication to the Lord first and foremost was evident by her willingness to dedicate her own son in service to the Lord. She was so filled with gratitude at the gift of a son God had given her that in thanksgiving, she gave him back. It is not an easy thing to send a son or daughter away to high school like CLHS or MLS or LPS or college like MLC for possible service to the Lord in ministry, but it is one way to reflect that children are God’s gift on loan to us, and to dedicate them to possible future ministry is no small sacrifice. Hannah would have agreed.

But it isn’t just idolatry that mothers have to worry about. There’s another struggle that goes on in a mother’s heart, one that may not be so obvious to others: guilt. There is constant comparison to every other mother with children, and a natural tendency to zero in on the one other mother in the store or at the park who seems to effortlessly execute her mothering skills and ought to be teaching a “Momming 101” class somewhere. Or, when a mom thinks she may just be getting the hang of the motherhood thing, her own mom or mother-in-law deflates her with an observation or offers a “helpful” suggestion on how to handle something differently. Or, if she feels like a rockstar mothering and managing the children, feelings of failure in the marriage or neglecting her husband or not getting a job or some other perceived deficiency settles in. Guilt for mothers, whether self-imposed or brought on by others, can be crippling. So it isn’t the weight of a stroller, a diaper bag, or her child’s backpack that is the heaviest burden a mom often bears, but rather guilt. Guilt can easily outweigh them all.

Want a real solution to the danger of idolatry and the dread of guilt? Let’s talk about identity on Mother’s Day. If you are a mom, it’s easy to see that as your identity. It’s who you are. It’s where your focus is. It’s what you do around the clock. You care for your kids. You meet their needs. You schedule their appointments. You drive them around. You bandaid their scrapes. You grab their snacks. You wash their clothes and fold their laundry. You pack their suitcase. You make their bed. You do it all – you’re their mom!

But all moms are something else before they are mothers: they are daughters. And I am not talking about daughters to your own father and mother; I mean you aredaughters of the Lord. You are children of the heavenly Father. You are his. Before even the first thought of a name for your child crossed your mind, the Lord knew your name from eternity as his. Before God ever blessed you with the joy of holding a nursing infant in your arms, he held you in his heart. He chose you to be his long before ever blessing you with the status of motherhood. In Isaiah 43 he says as much: “But now, this is what the LORD says – ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine’” (v.1). 

And he went to the greatest of lengths to solidify your relationship with him! He himself was born of a woman so that he might redeem women, mothers included. He perfectly honored and respected his own mother in a way no one else ever has or could, so that his keeping of the Fourth Commandment might count as our perfect track record. He loved his Heavenly Father with a holy, perfect love. He never allowed another idol to displace that love in his heart, so that his pure heart would count in the place of our own idolatry, whether a mother’s disordered love for her children before God or any other idolatry that takes root in our heart. Finally, he bore all the sin, and all the shame and guilt along with it, when he was pierced for us, crucified, and gave his life not just for his own mother, but for every mother – to guarantee that every failed mother would be first and foremost his prized daughter.

And oh, how he cared! Even in the midst of unbearable suffering and pain, his heart went out to his own mother, as we were reminded in the Gospel for today. Even then he cared for Mary, not just as his mother, but as a daughter of the Lord. He looked after her. He cared for her. He cares for you, mother. Even when your own children do not appreciate you. Even when your husband doesn’t support you. The Lord cares for you and always will, for you are his daughter. 

The right relationship with the Lord allows mothers – and all of us – to have a right relationship with others. When the Lord is our first love, we are freed to be more concerned about our child’s faith than our child’s future. My child doesn’t need me to make sure that he’s never bored by ensuring around-the-clock entertainment – my child needs Jesus. Planning birthday parties and play dates aren’t priorities – Jesus is. Coordinating amazing experiences and unforgettable family vacations for my kids right now does nothing for my child in eternity the way Jesus does. The best thing a mom can do for a child is repeatedly point that child to Jesus and Jesus’ love for their child. That way everyone wins. The child will come to love Jesus more and more, which will in turn result in the best kind of love a child can give to a mother. Mom, help your child love Jesus more than your child loves you. They’ll love you for it. They’ll get a sample in you of the dedication the Lord has for them. And they’ll see you the way Jesus’ perfect life and payment for your sin has made you to be – as a dedicated mom. Happy Mother’s Day.

“Help Me See… that God Keeps His Promises”

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(Luke 24:13-35)

The most memorable movies almost always have a great ending. What makes for a great ending? While there are a lot of factors that contribute to a great ending, the one that I think stands out the most is when something completely unexpected happens. We recently had this experience in the Grand Canyon. One of the most spectacular hikes was because it was unexpected. While it was impressive to finish the first part of the hike that involved a significant descent, once we got to the first lower section, everything sort of started looking the same. It was as if the hike could have been in any number of other National Parks – it wasn’t too special or unique. But then when we shot off on another trail, almost out of nowhere, an unexpected view caught us by surprise: the steep walls that had surrounded us cracked open and revealed miles of canyon upon canyon, all splitting right from where we were. It was completely unexpected and breathtaking. A good movie ending is like that, leaving the viewer completely caught off guard by a twist that didn’t feel at all forced, leaving him almost speechless. We love those kinds of endings. They’re the ones that make for the most memorable movies. 

So one might expect that we’d also love those kinds of endings in real life, right? Wrong. A movie is one thing; our life is another. No, in life we prefer to know exactly what is happening next. We like to have control. We like to see how we’ll be getting from where we are right now to where we want to be or need to be. We don’t particularly care for the twists or the turns, but would rather see the road ahead of us maintain the straight trajectory that we’re currently on. Keep your twists and turns, thank you very much. 

The problem is, have you noticed by now that the twists and turns are often how God tends to keep his promises? We confuse the path of God’s promises for God passing on his promises. We conclude that God is overlooking his promises when he is in fact overseeing them. A recent devotion used the picture of a detour, which is really a great illustration of how God keeps his promises. We’ve driven a familiar route long enough and expect to get there a certain way. A detour throws everything off. It throws us off. It frustrates us. It leads us to conclude that God has checked out and is no longer interested in keeping his promises, when in reality the detour is God keeping his promise. Just not using the means, methods, or map that we had in mind! 

Wasn’t that how the disciples on the way to Emmaus were seeing things? They recounted all of the details that had happened. “The things concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet powerful in action and speech before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him. But we were hoping that he was the one who was about to redeem Israel. Besides all this, it’s the third day since these things happened. Moreover, some women from our group astounded us. They arrived early at the tomb, and when they didn’t find his body, they came and reported that they had seen a vision of angels who said he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they didn’t see him” (v.19-24). They had just captured everything that had happened, just as it was supposed to happen – as Jesus had said it would happen – but they concluded that something was wrong. Something was out of place. Something hadn’t played out the way it was supposed to. In fact, everything had played out just as it was supposed to, but they didn’t see it that way. God was in fact doing just what he has always done – carrying out his promise. Yet they drew the entirely wrong conclusion – that it wasn’t happening the way it was supposed to. 

Since Jesus knew better, it doesn’t surprise us to hear the response that he gives – “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken!” (v.25). As if Jesus was saying, “Guys, how are you missing that everything you just explained was like a movie that perfectly followed the script from beginning to end, not ad-libbing or changing things on the fly, but playing out according to the script God had revealed through his prophets from day 1? It’s happening just as it was written, yet you’re somehow befuddled by the reality of what it looks like. How can this be?”

Indeed, how can it be that we would ever conclude that the events in our life not playing out exactly as we expected must mean God isn’t keeping his promises? We can’t relate to that at all, can we… except on an almost daily basis! God is busy keeping his promises to his people day in and day out, yet as we track the way by which he chooses to do it, we conclude that God must be overlooking his promises instead of overseeing them, as he actually is. Take a brief waltz through the significant events in your life and make a mental list of how they played out. Did you get through school the way you planned to? Did you find your spouse the way you planned to? Did you come by your current job the way you planned to? Are you current living where you planned to? Not too much of our lives plays out the way we planned, but our altered plans are not God’s altered promises – they are rather the means by which he was carrying out his promises all along!

Now it’s one thing to look back and see this play out in hindsight, but it’s not so easy when we’re in the middle of it. It doesn’t look like God is keeping his promises to provide when I’m in a season of unemployment. It doesn’t feel like God is keeping his promise of peace and unity in the middle of so much division. God promises that he’s always with us, but that’s hard to experience when those closest to me have abandoned or forgotten me.

Sometimes the issue in these cases is because God has just begun the detour in keeping his promise; other times it’s simply my disobedience. What I mean by disobedience is that we fail to act on the direction he provides that allows us to see him carry out his promise. He promises peace when we place our trust in him. But we don’t have peace because we don’t trust. He promises relief from anxiety when we cast our cares on him. But we’re anxious because don’t cast our cares on him. He promises freedom from bitterness and anger when we forgive. But we’re bitter and angry because we refuse to forgive. So our disobedience doubles the damage – it is not only sin against God, which is wretched enough in its own right, but on top of that it is also debilitating to us! It’s not that God isn’t keeping his promise; it’s that we rob him of the opportunity to do so by our disobedience! When God says “Do this” and we don’t, is it reasonable for us to expect the promised blessings he attached to that act of obedience? Not really!

The good news is that whether our struggle to see God keeping his promises is due to our impatience with the detour he has chosen to take, or because of our disobedience, the solution to both is found in the same place. How did Jesus help the disciples see that God was simply carrying out his promises? He explained the Scriptures to them. “‘Wasn’t it necessary for the Messiah to suffer these things and enter into his glory?’ Then beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted for them the things concerning himself in all the Scriptures” (v.26-27). Jesus, the incarnate God, the One who breathed everything into existence, who has no beginning and no end, is right there with the two disciples, and how does he open their eyes? He uses the Bible. Jesus used the Bible to unfold for the two exactly how God was overseeing – not overlooking – his promises. Jesus’ go-to was the Word of God. And that in-depth search of the Scriptures pointed them more clearly to Jesus. The Word was how they saw God keeping his promises.

So detour or disobedience – it doesn’t matter; the Word will always help us see that God keeps his promises. It will always be the necessary first step in reminding us of this because it is always the first step in finding forgiveness. Why do we begin every service with confession and absolution? Because that comes from the Word, where alone and more than anything else we find the forgiveness we need. Oh, the day we stop sinning we won’t need to hear that assurance of forgiveness again… but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. So forgiveness is the first aid we need most for our disobedience and our doubts about God keeping his promises. 

And it is the same Word that records for us promise after promise that God has made and delivered. Hang on to this worship folder just for the Lessons, if nothing else. Keep it accessible so that when you next question God’s promise-keeping, you can go back to these Scriptures and be reminded that the issue is NEVER going to be one of God’s failed promises. That will never happen. But we need to be reminded of that truth again and again. We need to hear the refrain in our heads. We need to meditate in our minds over they myriad ways God has always kept his promises. Promise-keeping is what he does. He’s the best in the business – no one else even comes close to delivering on promises the way God does! His Word is his diary of kept promises for you.

And is there greater proof of those kept promises than the vacant tomb? Talk about unexpected twists and great endings! It appeared as if the credits were ready to roll when he breathed his last on Good Friday, but in the greatest ending ever, he didn’t stay dead! Let Jesus’ resurrection help us see that God keeps his promises. And let it help us see that it really isn’t the end of the story, but our lives are a continuation of God’s perfect promise-keeping record. We hold on to that until this chapter of the story concludes and the final twist takes place: Jesus returns and fulfill his final promise. Come, Lord Jesus!

“Help Me See… that I have a Good Shepherd”

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(John 10:11-18)

Last Sunday we were reminded of our purpose to feed, care, and follow. Today we see what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that care as we focus on the picture of our Risen Savior as our Good Shepherd. That picture may be one of the most well-loved images of our Savior. It’s virtually impossible to consider this picture of Jesus without reflecting on Psalm 23 and this chapter of John’s Gospel. There is no shortage of hymns that pair these pictures of our Good Shepherd with song. The Church has highlighted it for centuries and for generation after generation. If you have a picture of Jesus up in your home, it is as likely to depict Jesus as the Good Shepherd as any other image. Inside our sanctuary we have three beautiful stained glass pieces above the cross that display our Good Shepherd, a Shepherd who cares about his sheep.

Receiving care gets mixed reviews from us. On the one hand, one of the big fears that adults express is the fear of aging and requiring 24/7 care from family members or friends. We don’t want to be a burden to others. On the other hand, who doesn’t appreciate being on the receiving end of care as we recall fond memories of mom or dad taking care of us when we were sick at home? We are grateful for a spouse who goes above and beyond to show us care. When deployed or away at college, care packages from loved ones mean the world. We appreciate receiving care.     

But after this one Sunday of the year when we focus on the Good Shepherd, what is the real significance of this picture in our lives? What does it really matter that Jesus is our Good Shepherd? Who cares? Who cares when my marriage is imploding, when my spouse’s or my own repeated wrongs have brought our house to ruin – what good is a Good Shepherd then? Who cares when my own habitual sin keeps haunting me and the guilt is overwhelming – what good is a Good Shepherd then? Who cares when my wayward kids no longer listen and I am afraid not only of losing them, but their wandering from the faith – what good is a Good Shepherd then? Who cares about this Sunday School picture of a Good Shepherd – what real difference does it make when I have real problems that need real solutions? Who cares?

Well, he does. He cares. That’s just it. The Good Shepherd cares. Your Good Shepherd cares. Do you imagine that the Lord had no good reason in mind for weaving the imagery of himself as a shepherd throughout Scripture? Or do you envision the Triune God brainstorming with himself trying to come up with some filler for his Holy Word and after they sorted through all of the other suggestions, the picture of a shepherd was the best they could do and so they settled on that one? No, there is a reason the Lord wanted this picture of a shepherd to be one of the many ways we understand our relationship with him. Because he wants us to know how much he cares. Jesus even set up that contrast in verse 13 by highlighting how different the shepherd is from the hired hand. “The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep” (v.13). Jesus cares, and he wants you to know he cares about you, the way a shepherd cares about every single sheep in his flock. 

He cares because you are his. Watch children interact with each other when one of their belongings is involved. Show and tell is an opportunity to showcase a favorite item or toy. Kids are thrilled to be able to show other children something of theirs that means a lot to them. However, what happens later on when another child wants to explore or play with that show-and-tell item? “No. You can’t. It’s mine.” A teacher or parent trying to referee a similar issue between siblings points out that it’s OK to let someone else enjoy playing with the item for a little bit, but the owner of said toy refuses. Why? “It’s mine.” There isn’t often a much more profound answer than that: “It’s special to me. It’s mine.”

Taken in a positive way, the Good Shepherd feels the same way about you, his sheep. “It’s mine. You’re mine. You belong to me, and no one else may have you.” The Good Shepherd owns the sheep. He bought and paid for every sheep of his flock, unlike the hired hand, as Jesus pointed out: “The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep” (v.12a). Implied is that the Good Shepherd does own the sheep, and Jesus doesn’t leave any doubt as to the price he paid to own the sheep. Five times in these verses he refers back to the price paid for the sheep, starting in verse eleven: “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” The sheep – you! – belong to the Good Shepherd because he paid the highest price ever for anything that has ever been purchased: he paid with his life. 

No one makes a sacrifice for something they don’t care about or value. Think about how many appeals you receive on a regular basis, how many causes come asking for support. There’s the call from the police or fire representative asking if they can count on your support. There’s mailings from ministries and organizations. There’s youth sports teams and community causes, stations, channels, here, there, and everywhere. While I’m guessing you probably don’t say yes to all of them, there are some that are dear to you, so you support them with your time and/or money. 

But for which of them would you be willing to give your life? What would that take? How precious, how valuable, how dear to you would something have to be for you to give your life? I imagine there may not be a cause for which you’d be willing to die, but there might be a person or two who mean that much to you that you would give your life. 

But now let’s take that a step further. They probably don’t hate you and treat you like dirt. They probably don’t trash you and disrespect you and want nothing to do with you. But those are exactly the types for whom the Good Shepherd laid down his life.

You, are exactly that type. I, am exactly that type. We wanted nothing to do with the Good Shepherd. We prefer to wander off on our own, without being confined or corrected, regardless of the danger lurking around every corner. But the Good Shepherd, Jesus, cared too much to leave you to your own destruction. So he died. He cared that much – to die so that you could live. So whatever anyone might say about Jesus, let it never be that he didn’t care. No one ever has nor ever will care about you as much as Jesus. He laid down his life to quiet any who might say otherwise.

Dear friends, news gets better: the Good Shepherd doesn’t just care for you; he knows you. “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me–just as the Father knows me and I know the Father” (v.14-15). Does that comfort you… or terrify you? No one knows you better than Jesus. Yes, it means what you think you have hidden from others, you cannot hide from him. He knows. He knows your past. He knows about last month, last week, last night. He knows it all. Your sin is not hidden from him. You cannot hide it from him. Ever.

But. Still. He. Stays. Do you understand? He knows you, he knows the worst that you could ever do, and still has not abandoned you. And will not ever abandon you. How refreshingly unlike so many relationships we’re used to! He knows us at our worst. And still the Good Shepherd stays. In our Twitter-dredging, social-media-scrutinizing, history-hacking, cancel culture society that tirelessly tries to dig up even the slightest scoop of dirt on everyone and anyone, the Good Shepherd already knows it all. You don’t need to be afraid that he’ll uncover your shady past – he already knows! And still he stays. The Good Shepherd knows you. He knows his sheep. And he will not abandon them. He will not abandon you.

Think about it: if death itself didn’t mean he was deserting you, then what possibly would? He didn’t even let death keep him from a relationship with you, but the Good Shepherd who laid down his life “took it up again,” just as he said he would. You mean too much to him. He cares too much. He knows you and loves you too much to turn from you. His resurrection helps us to see that. It helps us to see that he isn’t just the Good Shepherd, but he’s my Good Shepherd, and that’s when our relationship with him deepens.

I get the privilege of pointing you to your Good Shepherd every Sunday. Do you know what drives me to do that? Do you know why there is nothing that I will ever experience that will be more exciting, more delightful, than seeing sheep come to faith in their Good Shepherd? Do you know why that is the best thing ever? It’s because he’s my Good Shepherd first. He’s mine. And when that clicks for us, that we aren’t just spinning our wheels week in and week out talking about some general God or superficial Savior or a Good Shepherd, but instead my God, my Savior, and my Good Shepherd, then it sinks in. Then that relationship deepens. Then it means something altogether more to know that my Good Shepherd cares for me and knows me. Then I want more than anything else for other sheep to see that their Good Shepherd cares for them and knows them, too.

“Help Me See… that I Have Purpose”

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(John 21:15-25)

“When they had finished eating…” (v.15). Did John catch your attention with these words? Remember who the “they” is made up of – it includes Jesus! The dead guy was eating a meal with the disciples! They had been out on the Sea of Galilee fishing, not catching anything, and then Jesus told them to throw the net on the other side of the boat. When they did, the haul of fish was too great that one boat alone could not drag it to shore! Then, once they were on the shore together, they ate. Jesus, the dead guy, was eating. The one who had taken his last breath on the cross, whose lifeless corpse had been removed from the cross and placed in a tomb, was there. Eating. Doing something that only living people do. John tells us this was the third time Jesus had appeared to the disciples. Were the disciples still in awe of it at all? Had the magnitude of the Resurrection begun to sink in yet… or had it already lost its luster?

It’s been two weeks already since we celebrated Easter Sunday. Does the magnitude of the Resurrection still sink in for you… or has it already lost its luster? Another question: is the Resurrection simply an historical event that we celebrate, or is it an eternity-altering, life-changing shift in how we view ourselves and our reason for being in this world?

How we view it makes a difference, as we seem to be lacking purpose. It seems like people are more content than ever to just ooze through life, like molasses slowly dripping off a spoon. There’s no drive. There’s no motivation. There’s no yearning to make a difference. In fact, indifference is maybe the best description of it. People don’t care. We just exist. We wake up. Eat. Do nothing for a whole day. Go back to sleep. What are we here for? What is our purpose? Today’s message is needed, because Jesus provides us with the purpose many are lacking.

The word “purpose” needs clarification. We can use it to mean two things: what? and why? Both are essential when it comes to Jesus helping us see our purpose. It is one thing for a person to know the “what?” of his purpose, but if there is no “why?” to his purpose, no drive, no determination, no motivation, then it’s possible that nothing changes. A child knows the purpose (what?) of school – to learn and receive an education. But parents and teachers alike realize that the child/student also needs purpose (why?) – motivation, encouragement, drive, to carry that follow through. 

And Jesus gives it both to us – the “what?” and the “why?” of our purpose. And there is nothing more noble than the purpose Jesus provides. Do you hear that? There is nothing more noble, no greater achievement than the purpose Jesus assigns to us as his disciples. We’ll focus on the “what?” of our purpose in just a moment as we see Jesus dialogue with Peter. But Jesus’ resurrection also provides us with the “why?”  After all, what is more inspiring than his resurrection from the dead? What could be more impactful than the dead end of death being overcome and stripped of the chokehold it would otherwise have on anyone’s purpose? For if the end result of anything we accomplish in this life would simply be the meaninglessness of death, why bother? Why care? Why get up in the morning? What would be the point if death had the final say?

But it doesn’t. There is more. So much more than the here and now, and Jesus’ resurrection helps us see it, helps us see our purpose, and propels us to carry it out with enthusiasm and vigor because we know something that far too many don’t: there’s more. There’s a life waiting for us that by comparison would make the best days of this life seem like a nightmare. Sure, had Jesus remained in the tomb and stayed and decayed, we would have reason to be deflated and defeated, like a boxer getting pummeled who is encouraged to just stay down and give up. But that’s not how it ended. The finality of death was flung off by Jesus’ resurrection. The whole picture of rising up is one of intention and purpose! His death by itself would have been the end, but his Resurrection was just the beginning. It means purpose, purpose for Christ which means purpose for you and me, and by the very same act he propels us to carry out our purpose, meaning that our work makes a real difference! So let us explore and embrace his purpose for us, and let the Resurrection help us see what a profound impact the risen Jesus can make in and through each and every one of us as we feed, care, and follow. 

Jesus told Peter to feed, and he told him twice. The first time he told him to feed lambs, which could mean either little ones, children, or also those who are new to the faith. The second time Jesus told Peter to feed, he used a different word, the word “sheep,” which would include everyone. So his purpose was to feed everyone, little ones, grown ups, and those new to the faith – all of the sheep of God’s flock. 

You don’t have to be a pet expert to realize there is one key requirement for having a pet that matters more than anything else. This key requirement pretty much applies across the board, regardless of the type of pet – dog, cat, bird, hamster, lizard, fish, snake, etc. Whatever type of pet you have, it needs to be fed. You might occasionally miss a meal here or there, but if you go too long without feeding your pet, you won’t have a pet for very long.

I don’t know if there is a simpler analogy in the whole Bible than the concept of needing to be fed to live. Everyone understands that basic truth. Eat and live. Don’t eat and starve. Yet as simple as it might be to comprehend, it may be one of the most difficult to make stick spiritually. Go to church every week. Participate in Bible study. Read your Bible. Have devotions. “But why? Why do I need to do those things?” Because you’ll die if you don’t. Because you want to live. Because you need to be fed to stay alive. And if you don’t take Jesus’ command to feed and be fed seriously, thinking these things don’t really matter or make much of a difference, please see me after the service and I will sadly provide a list of names – many of them names we know – of those who have either died or are dying because they are not being fed. “Feed my sheep” (v.17). That is your purpose!

And care for them. In addition to feeding his sheep, Jesus gave to Peter the command, “Take care of my sheep” (v.16). Feeding sheep is essential to keeping them alive, but it’s not the only thing that is necessary. They also need to be cared for. Whether you’re caring for a newborn or an aging parent, you know that making sure they are fed is not the only thing they need. They aren’t able to carry out basic functions on their own. They aren’t able to know what pills or medicine they need. They need care. 

All of us do – especially in a world that is sending conflicting messages about what it means to care. Consider the messages we’re used to hearing: “Distance yourself. Isolate yourself. Stay away from others. Don’t say anything negative about others living their truth. Mind your own business.” While it isn’t overtly stated, how can anyone ignore that the overall message being received in all of this is “worry about yourself,” and is that really any different than, “stop caring about others?” One of our members just recently commented on how nice it is to come to church and frequently be asked by one person or another, “How are you doing?” Think about where else we can expect to receive such a simple, yet impactful, expression of concern in our world today? Working remotely? From neighbors we don’t know? From distance learning on a screen? But the church is called to care. That is our purpose. That is why you are here – to care for each other. Why does the Acts 2 church have to be the standard for what care should look like among believers in the church? Why can’t we raise the standard even higher? What is stopping us from caring about each other in such a radical way that our neighborhood and community couldn’t help but be attracted to how deeply we care for each other? 

Jesus gives us purpose. He calls us to feed, to care, and also to follow. He told Peter in verse 19 and again in verse 22: “Follow me.”  Not casually. Not occasionally glancing up. Not the way we find ourselves trying to follow two or more screens at the same time when we watch a movie, with the television on, with our phone in hand and another screen on our lap. That’s not focus. That’s not following. That’s being distracted. But it’s also perhaps a better illustration of how many of us follow Jesus. We glance up on occasion from the other stuff in life when we get a break, but we’re not really engaged. We’re not really focused. Jesus is there, and we keep tabs on him and check on him. But we don’t follow him the way he calls us to, we don’t follow him the way the winter storm driver clings to the wheel, white-knuckled, when the road itself is hardly visible and she’s locked in to the red taillights on the car in front of her. THAT’s the kind of following Jesus calls us to do.

Why? Why should you follow, feed, and care for each other? We need to revisit the “why?” of our purpose. Why should you carry out this purpose to which Jesus has called you? Because of what he did for you in the first place to even enable you to not only have a purpose, but to live. Being reminded of our purpose this morning is a double-edged sword, isn’t it? It convicts and condemns each of us for how indifferent we’ve been to his purpose for us, and how infrequently we concern ourselves with carrying it out, and how inadequate even our good days really are. So for all of that, Jesus died. For all of that, more importantly, Jesus rose. He did not need to die and rise for himself, remember. He did not need to depart the holy majesty of heaven for himself. He died and rose so that your purpose would mean something. So that as you feed and care and follow, it would actually matter. For eternity and for this life. The past two Sundays Jesus’ resurrection has helped us overcome negatives – fears and doubts, but too often we fail to see how the Resurrection amplifies our lives, the positives it brings to us. It isn’t just about what he’s freed us from – Satan, sin, and death itself – but also what he has set us free for – purpose! You are not only on this planet for a purpose, but you are here in this place, in this church, around these people God has brought together, for a purpose, for each other. Love your brothers! Love your sisters. And show it.

Did you make that connection that Jesus did for Peter? Three times he asked Peter if he loved him. Each time Peter responded with a resounding “Yes!” Each time Jesus then gave Peter the opportunity not just to speak his love, but to put it into action. Feed. Care. Follow. Jesus loves you fiercely. Do you love him? Really? Then feed, care, follow. You have purpose. Carry it out purposefully with the strength his Resurrection provides.

“Help Me See… that I don’t Have to Be Afraid”

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(John 20:1-18)

Over the years when people have commented on the relatively tiny Bible I use while preaching, the running joke has always been that you’ll know when my age is showing and my eyesight is going because that’s when I’ll start lugging around a bigger large-print version. Well, it’s probably time to at least acknowledge that I am increasingly becoming more and more aware of quickly that need is arriving. It’s nothing major, really – just a word or two here or there that I mistake for another, or adjusting its distance from my eyes. While I don’t think it’s yet a significant issue, I can tell that certain details here and there do seem to be a little fuzzier than they used to be, and not just to an aging brain, mind you, but to aging eyes.  

But our eyes aren’t the only way we see. In fact we talk about it in quite another way, when another person doesn’t “see” things the way I do. We aren’t talking about physical sight in those instances, but sharing a similar perspective or opinionated view about something. Teenagers lament that their parents don’t get it. What they mean is that parents don’t see things the same way they do (BTW, it’s true – and thank God that they don’t!). And this past year has exposed so many different ways that so many different people see so many different things. People see things differently. One sees excessive police brutality; another sees an officer doing his job under extremely stressful circumstances. One sees the government just doing its job; another sees it far overstepping its role. One associates a mask and vaccinations with saving lives; another associates it with control and loss of freedom. We see things differently.

Here is a question we have to answer before we go any further: Am I willing to acknowledge that there may be another way to see something than the way I see it? It sounds so absurd to even have to ask that, but in this day and age, we seem to be much more interested in solidifying our own deep-seated personal opinions than we are in learning why someone else might see something differently. So if you are too proud or too entrenched in your own opinion to ever be open to the possibility that in some cases, there may be another way to see something, then you might want to tune out right now. This isn’t for you. But if you are open to seeing things differently, then pay attention, because Easter specializes in this department. The Resurrection helps us see differently. When unprecedented, historic events take place, we forever see things differently afterward. Man couldn’t fly. Then he flew, and we’ve never seen things the same way. Man could never land on the moon. Then he did, and we’ve never seen things the same way. 

So if ever there was something that just might lead me to see things differently, it’s when something happens that isn’t typical, ordinary, or normal. And the resurrection of Jesus from the dead is anything by typical, ordinary, or normal. So when there’s a claim that someone rose from the dead, and when billions of people throughout history have believed and still believe that claim, it merits consideration. This morning and in the weeks that follow, we want to be open to the possibility of how the single boldest claim in all of history – the Resurrection – might Help Me See.

I mentioned how this last year has revealed how many different ways we see things. Yet the real issue is not just seeing things differently – that has always been the case and always will be. The real issue is that we have become so polarized over those differences. THAT is the issue. Why were your grandparents and their grandparents able to see things differently without being so polarized by those differences like we are today? Do you know what the difference today is? Fear. The polarization comes from fear.

Before you quickly dismiss that notion, let me suggest a possible reason you may not see it that way: the older we get, the better we get at hiding our fear behind other things. We hide it behind anger – one of the more popular options of our culture today – that a person really only cares about something if he’s angry enough to do something about it. So we have cancel culture. We also hide our fear behind indifference. We claim not to care about something or have an opinion about something because we’re afraid that if we actually express it, it might not be the popular one or might get shot down, so we quietly pretend it doesn’t matter to us one way or the other. And we can also hide our fear behind humor. We suppress our concern behind jokes that seek to downplay one view or another, so that others would conclude that it’s not really a big deal to me if I am joking about it all the time. And fear is such a crippling thing that we’ll hide it behind anger, indifference, and humor for years, decades, even, rather than deal with or address the fear that is behind them. 

Mary brought her fears with her to the tomb. “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!” (v.1-2). One can understand why she was so distraught. The past several days had been an emotional tug-of-war. Her Savior had died as she helplessly watched. The least she could do was provide him with a proper burial. She would be honored to carry out that responsibility. But her heart, still heavy with thoughts of the crucifixion weighing it down, would find no relief even in serving her Savior in his burial, for he wasn’t there! And after she had returned from telling the disciples, John tells us she remained outside the tomb mourning, not for her dead Savior, but from the overwhelm of not knowing where his body was. She explained her fears to the angels, and even to Jesus himself, thinking he was the gardener. She didn’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do!

Then everything changed. Jesus spoke to her. Called her name. “Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’ She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, ‘Rabboni!’ (which means ‘Teacher’)” (v.16). Take note of what happened that changed everything! It wasn’t seeing – she had already seen the empty tomb. She had even already seen Jesus himself, but it wasn’t until she heard that she could really see. She had to hear to see. And when she heard Jesus call her name, when she heard the voice of her Savior, the fear melted away. After Jesus explained to Mary what would happen next, John tells us, “Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: ‘I have seen the Lord!’ And she told them that he had said these things to her” (v.18). So when she heard, she saw, and when she saw, her fears melted away. She arrived at the tomb filled with fear that it was empty, but she departed that tomb that day leaving her fear behind. 

I can tell you from my experience, and many of you would agree, that is precisely the power the empty tomb has. Before we arrive at the tomb, we are filled with fear, but after we hear the voice of our risen Savior and see, we leave our fears behind. Just like Mary, when we hear, we see. When we hear his voice speak to us in the Scriptures, we see that we have nothing to fear. 

What is your greatest fear? Listen to the voice of your resurrected Savior, and he will help you see. Is your greatest fear that you’ll never have enough, that you’ll never be able to keep up with the Joneses’? Jesus said, “life does not consist in an abundance of possessions,” (Lk. 12:15), but “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (Jn. 10:10). Is your greatest fear not being loved or accepted by others in general, or by someone specific? Jesus said that God loved you so much that he gave up his only Son for you (Jn. 3:16). Is your greatest fear not knowing how something is going to play out or what the future holds? Jesus encourages you to look at how he cares for all of nature and the animal kingdom and that you are much more valuable than they – don’t worry, he will take care of you in the future (Mt. 6). Is your greatest fear being overcome by circumstances in a world that feels as if it is slowly splitting at its seams? To that fear, Jesus says, “Take heart! I have overcome the world” (Jn. 16:33). Is your greatest fear having to take your last breath and not knowing what happens next, not knowing where you stand with God? Fear not, for Jesus “shared in [your] humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death – that is the devil – and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death” (Hebrews 2:14-15).

So many of our fears are based on the unknown. We don’t know what’s on the other side, and so we fear. But let us leave today with the same encouragement a doctor gave his patient. The patient explained that he was afraid of dying, because he didn’t know what was on the other side of death. He looked to his doctor for answers. “I don’t know,” replied his doctor. “You don’t know? Aren’t you a Christian, and you don’t know what’s on the other side?” While they were talking, the doctor was holding the handle of the door to the room, and there was scratching and whining on the other side of the door. As soon as he opened the door, a dog eagerly darted into the room to smother the doctor. The doctor turned to his patient and asked, “Did you see how eagerly my dog flew into this room? He’s never been in this room before. He didn’t know what would be inside of this room except for one thing: me, his master. That was enough for him to spring into the room without fear. I may not know all the details about what is on the other side of death, but I do know that my master, my Savior is on the other side. And that is enough.” May we all continue to hear the voice of the resurrected living Jesus, so that he would help us see that we, too, don’t have to be afraid. Christ is risen, he is risen indeed!

“Habits of His Grace: Humility”

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(Mark 11:1-10)

A mutual friend recently sent this message to my wife: “What I love about myself is I work hard to gain humility.” We realize the irony of a statement like this is quite humorous. It also shows why humility is such a challenge for us – we want to be recognized for it when/if we achieve it! To demonstrate that truth, how would you rate your development in this department over the past year or two? Would you give yourself a fairly decent rating on a scale of 1 to 10 for having gradually improved in being more humble? And here’s the meta question: if you would be inclined to give yourself a strong or even respectable score in growing in humility, wouldn’t that actually be an indicator that you haven’t grown? If you were truly humble, wouldn’t you consistently give yourself a very low score? And, to take it a step further, if you’re now saying to yourself, “yes, I do give myself a low score in the area of humility,” doesn’t that come from a place of wanting to be recognized or acknowledged for your humility, which is of course the exact opposite of humility?!? Ach! Our lack of humility is humiliating!

The reason behind this frustration has been quoted frequently by C.S. Lewis: “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.” The greatest concern that man has had ever since the Fall is self-preservation. Putting others first is not our default mode. Thinking of how we might serve others with all that we are and all that we have is not the first thought that fills our head when we wake up in the morning. We don’t think of how the day’s events affect others, but how they affect me. Humility isn’t natural; it is a habit of his grace. And Palm Sunday (Passion Sunday), the start of Holy Week (Passion Week), puts Jesus’ humility on display. 

The colt is a picture of humility. A donkey was not a picture of greatness or royalty, but a work animal, and nothing more. A horse, on the other hand, can be a fickle animal, prideful even. If it doesn’t want to be ridden, its rider won’t have an easy time mounting it. But a donkey puts up no fuss when being forced to labor or carry a burden. It humbly does what it is asked. Little girls don’t clamor for a donkey, but a horse. No one says they want to buy a farm and raise donkeys. We associate them not with greatness, but with humility. So how appropriate that a donkey would be the animal chosen to carry the humble Savior to Jerusalem, his final destination.

But perhaps you’ve found yourself wondering the same thing I wondered this recently: if this is an act of humility in the first place, then why is Jesus riding anything into Jerusalem? Why not quietly sneak in the back door, unnoticed? Why not just walk into Jerusalem without making a big scene? Why ride? Why all the fanfare? Is that really humility?

The colt and the praise-proclaiming parade of people have less to do with humility or some overt attempt on Jesus’ part to draw attention to himself, and much more to do with fulfilling Scripture. The Word of God said these things would happen, and so they had to happen that way. The prophet Zechariah prophesied that Jesus would enter into Jerusalem amidst rejoicing and on a donkey. “Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (9:9). 

Maybe it isn’t a surprise to see people shouting in the middle of a parade, but… why were the crowds present in the first place? They hadn’t received a text message that the Messiah was coming. There weren’t billboards announcing Jesus’ arrival. There were no television or radio ads publicizing the date and time of the Savior’s arrival, so from where did these crowds suddenly appear? God’s divine hand was clearly intervening to clarify the magnitude of this event. And they didn’t just shout any old thing, but very specific words that Mark recorded: “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” (11:9-10). Was it mere coincidence that the shouts of the people echoed Psalm 118? No – prophecy was being fulfilled. 

So no, these details don’t detract from Jesus’ humility so much as they draw attention to the fulfillment of Scripture. For that reason, Jesus’ humility is ironic and one-of-a-kind: his humility is by its uniqueness attractive. The one quality that goes against drawing attention to oneself is exactly the quality that makes Jesus so attractive. It wasn’t pride – to be known for the sake of being known, or to be famous for the sake of being famous – that compelled Jesus. Rather, his perfect humility set him apart. His humility is attractive because it’s unlike any other humility the world has ever seen.

There are two elements of Jesus’ humility that make it stand out (aside from the simple fact that his humility was perfect!). First of all, his humility is remarkable because of who he is. Don’t you love how Paul put it in Philippians? “Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage” (2:6). Jesus, eternal Jesus, God-in-the-flesh Jesus, answers to no-one Jesus, did not use his divine nature to trample over every earthly authority – which was itself established by him in the first place! 

Aren’t those the examples of humility that stand out most to us? When we see the highly regarded and those to whom society looks up act in humility, it is more noticeable because of who they are. So when Jesus acts in humility, it stands out so much because of who he is.

The other element of his humility that makes it stand out? Who we are. We know who Jesus is, and that he would humble himself for anyone defies our understanding; that he would humble himself for the likes of us takes humility to a whole other level. Turn the table for a moment. For whom are you more likely to humble yourself – a king, a president, a brilliant professor, or… your garbage collector, the barista who messed up your order, or the less-than-helpful customer-service rep on the phone? It’s one thing to humble ourselves before those we look up to, but to humble ourselves before those we perceive to be beneath us? That’s not so easy. 

Jesus achieved both in his humility. His divine nature didn’t go to his head, so to speak, and he humbled himself for you. For you, who think too highly of yourself too often. For you, who think too little of Jesus too often. For you, who stumbles back into sin so effortlessly. For you, so disinterested in really putting any effort into your life of sanctification and these habits of his grace. He, who is everything, humbled himself and “made himself nothing” (as Paul put it in Philippians 2:7) for you, who are nothing apart from him.

The One who is everything made himself nothing so that you, who are nothing, might have everything. And because of what he humbly rode into Jerusalem to do, you do have everything. Do you understand that? His humility is the reason you have everything. Humility that will see him serve the least of his disciples on Maundy Thursday. Humility that will see him scorned and suffer on Good Friday of this week. Humility that will see him die and be damned by the Father. 

All so that you could not only avoid all of that, but also in its place receive everything. Your sins are forgiven. You have peace. You have no reason to fear death. You have the promise of never having to go without what is needed. What does the world offer that compares to the “everything” you have through your humble Savior? Nothing that lasts. Nothing that endures. Nothing that makes a real difference. Nothing but fickle, fleeting, empty promises that will never satisfy. Let go of your attachments to the nothing of this world in favor of the “everything” you have in Jesus.

And then take seriously Paul’s encouragement: “In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5). Be humble like Jesus. You already have everything. Treat others as better than you. Think of others before yourself. Serve others before you serve yourself. Let the person cut in front of you in line. Let the driver into your lane. Let her go first. Put yourself beneath everyone else and in your humility find genuine joy that comes from being able to because you already have everything through him who made himself nothing for you.

“Habits of His Grace: Forgiveness”

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(Luke 7:36-50)

What would the scenario have to look like today? You are the host of the party. You are Simon. While unlikely, perhaps your motives in inviting Jesus are pure and you’re still searching to discover what you should think of him. Or, the whole thing is just a setup to see to hopefully see him stumble in a sticky situation. So in comes the woman with a sordid reputation… only in our day and age, we’d have to replace her with someone else? Whom might that be? Who would it really ruffle your feathers to see Jesus interact with in this way? A leading politician of the other political party you can’t stand? An outspoken activist for social justice? A proponent pushing pro-choice? An advocate for sexual or gender fluidity/orientation/preference? Because honestly, we’re so familiar with interactions Jesus had with sinful women in the Bible that we find ourselves rather sympathetically siding with the sinful women when we know those “no-good rotten Pharisees” are looking down on them. But would we have the same sympathy if we replaced the sinful women with the types of people that would make us cringe if Jesus were to treat them the same way?

In other words, forgiveness is nice and tidy when we see Jesus extend it to a sinful woman in Scripture, but perhaps that leaves us unable to see in ourselves a bit of Simon who was so offended that Jesus would engage in any way whatsoever with such people. But maybe we’d see more of Simon in ourselves if we replace the sinful woman with one of today’s equivalents that would bring our blood to a boil to see Jesus treat them as he did the woman. Then perhaps we would grasp what is central to understanding the unique challenge of this habit of his grace, forgiveness: that the problem is rarely the way we prefer to frame it – with the sinner on the other end, but rather the sinner on this end who by nature is selectively stingy with forgiveness toward others.

That’s the real reason this habit of his grace is so difficult. It’s honestly because it shows what’s wrong with ourselves more than what’s wrong with anyone else. It shows how unlike Jesus you truly are. It shows how undeserving of Jesus’ forgiveness and mercy you truly are when you can’t apply forgiveness to someone else. It shows how unworthy of heaven you really are to choose a to bear a grudge rather than to forgive. It shows that hell is not actually some really awful place reserved for really awful people, but that it’s a place for people like you who cannot forgive. So when you’re ready to stop hanging on to the idea that forgiveness is so hard because of what someone else may have ever done to you and instead accept that it’s so hard because it shows the painful picture of how unJesus-like you actually are, then progress can be made. 

Because that’s when Jesus’ forgiveness for you reaches a new depth of meaning and significance. Like, say, such a stream of tears flowing down your cheeks that they are substantial enough to wash Jesus’ feet. “As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them” (v.38). Compare the night and day difference between Simon and the sinful woman in the presence of Jesus. One can’t keep it together because she’s so emotionally overcome by the gracious forgiveness that rightly connects with its source, Jesus. The other can hardly keep it together because he’s nearly emotionally overcome with outrage by the sight of supposedly upstanding Jesus allowing a sinful woman to touch his feet! One was well aware of her sin and the joy of forgiveness; the other knew nothing of either. 

This was not only evident to Jesus, who alone can see the heart of each individual and know what is in it; but, that forgiveness had taken root in one heart and not the other was evident in their outward behavior, which Jesus didn’t hesitate to point out in front of everyone. “Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet” (v.44-46). That’s what forgiveness does – it won’t be kept concealed or hidden away to remain unseen; rather, it flows seamlessly into service. It blossoms into fruit. Forgiveness is the fertilizer which brings forth an abundant harvest of good works of love and service to others. The whole life of a Christian and anything good that comes from us can be traced all the way back to the radical power of forgiveness. Jesus connected that forgiveness to the woman’s humble service of gratitude: “Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown” (v.47a). Forgiveness had made itself so evident and obvious through her act of great love.

And in that respect, faith’s forgiveness is so radically different than any poor imitation forgiveness the world tries to offer up. The world is willing to grant forgiveness only when it determines the guilty party to be deserving of it. The world demands certain qualifications must be met. A level of remorse must not only be expressed, but also shown by actions. The world decides when punishment must be rendered in place of forgiveness. Appropriate actions must precede forgiveness. And, if these qualifications aren’t met and someone still extends forgiveness, it leaves a bitter taste in the world’s mouth. It resents it and sees that kind of forgiveness as weak and powerless. That’s why not everyone had the same reaction when Brandt Jean extended forgiveness to his brother’s murderer in the courtroom about a year and a half ago. Some expressed disgust and disappointment over video of the high-profile case that showed him leave the witness stand to hug Amber Guyger, who murdered his brother, Botham Jean, in his own apartment. While many applauded his powerful words and actions expressing his forgiveness, others saw no place for such mercy.

While every one of us knows that we ought to praise such a fine example of forgiveness and imitate it, too often we imitate the world’s poor excuse for forgiveness instead of faith’s forgiveness. We take up our gavel as judge to determine when others deserve forgiveness. We decide who is forgiven and who is not. And sometimes we are even less inclined to forgive each other – fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, justifying it because we have a different standard for Christians… instead of remembering that being a Christian does not mean one has ceased to be a sinner. So if we decide that forgiveness is applied on the basis of one’s actions, then we have forgotten how forgiveness came about in the first place.

The sinful woman’s forgiveness wasn’t earned by her actions. Her washing of Jesus’ feet did not open the floodgates of forgiveness. Rather, it was the other way around! The floodgates of forgiveness brought on the tears and grateful foot washing. She was forgiven so much that it burst forth from her heart in a loving act of gratitude.

That was the point of the quick illustrative story Jesus told. “Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?” (v.41-42). We all know the type of story Simon would have preferred, the same type of story that little Pharisee in each of us would also prefer. That’s the one about the moneylender to whom two borrowers owed a certain amount of money. One of the borrowers was always on time with his payment. In fact, sometimes he was even early! Other times he even paid back more than his monthly payment. And, he had even been known to help others with their payments on occasion! The other borrower, however, was rarely on time with his payment and had a habit of just coming up short each month with what he owed. The moneylender was delighted in the borrower who was on time and went above and beyond to pay back his debt. But he was displeased by the other borrower who clearly was less than desirable. Simon and the proud Pharisee in each of us would love to have Jesus tell that story just once in his ministry! Oh, that we could find such a story somewhere in the Bible that would validate why we’re so deserving of what God gives us, because we are fine, upstanding Christians, doing our part to pay back the debt we owe!

Alas, Jesus never tells such a story. His story is always one about the borrower never being able to pay back a debt, and the lender having to cancel his debt. But if the other story would be told then we would be justified in withholding forgiveness from others who have wronged us or whom we perceive to be inferior in their Christian faith – those who never seem to pay back what they owe on time! But there is no such story. For there is no such borrower who can pay back a single cent of what is owed to a Holy Righteous God. Luther said it best: “wir sind alle Bettler” (“We are all beggars”). If we ever approach God with even an ounce of expectation, confident in self, thinking we just might have earned so much as a crumb from him, we will always be underwhelmed by what he gives us. But when we come to him with the heart of a humble beggar, holding out our hands desperately to receive whatever he might give us in her mercy, we will always be overwhelmed by what he gives us. And when we are always overwhelmed by what he gives us, we are on our way to establishing this habit of his grace as we overwhelm others with the same forgiveness Jesus has lavished on us.

At the beginning I asked who we’d have to replace the woman with for this account to strike a chord with us today. Who would really get under your skin to see Jesus interact with and lavishly forgive? But the greatest takeaway from this account is not to leave you today feeling more like Simon, guilty for being selectively stingy with forgiveness. No, today see yourself as the sinful woman. Because that’s who you are in this account, by God’s grace. We are always the sinful woman, which is to say we are always the forgiven woman. Let Jesus speak to you daily the words he spoke to the woman: “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you; go in peace” (v.48, 50). Then, let our love show that we are forgiven. We have been forgiven so, so much. Let us love as much as we forgive others.