4th Sunday in Lent; Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

"The Father and His Sons"

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Amen.

A loving father has two sons; two sons who are sinners.  The younger son is rebellious.  He goes to his father and demands his inheritance; he cares more for the money than he does for the father. He demands that his father’s last will be put into effect.  “Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.”  In other words, “Father, hurry up and die, I want the money.”  The father, then, does the foolish thing and divides the property.

            The son goes out, sows his wild oats.  He lives the highlife, he’s the life of the party. He gets all his sinful heart could desire.  He goes to a far away country, with his inheritance, to live the debauched life that he never could at home. 

            But, at last, the money ran out.  The party ended, and the morning-after suffering begins.  He hires himself out so that he could serve the pigs by bringing them their food.  And for a Jew, this was the worst job they possibly could have had.  Those pigs that he’s feeding are unclean.  But he became so hungry that he became jealous of the pigs that he served.  He longed to lower himself down into the pen and eat what they were eating.

            Finally, when he realized that he had hit rock bottom, he came to himself.  He rehearses his speech.  “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you.  I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.” 

            When he was a long way off, the father sees him in the distance.  What does the father do?  He hikes up his robes, bares his knees, and runs.  Dear people of God, land owners don’t run, noblemen don’t run, men of dignity don’t run.  But this father sprints to his lost son.  The son, who no doubt rehearsed his speech several times, begins to say to his father, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you.”  The father’s silence confirms his agreement of this statement.  “I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”  Again the father’s silence gives his approval to this statement as well.  But before the son can get out the words, “Treat me as one of your hired servants,” the father interrupts, cuts him off, the son will settle to be the father’s servant, but the father won’t have it.  The father, not the son, calls the shots when it comes to reconciliation.  He will not allow him to call himself a servant.  There is no condition to the father’s, love, compassion, and forgiveness.

            “But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.”

            But there was one who refused to celebrate.  The older son wants his brother to work his way back into the family.  He wants punishment.  He wants his brother to be cast into the servant’s quarters.  His father’s grace and love is a vile stench in his nose, he rejects it, he refuses to celebrate in the joy of the father’s love being poured over his younger brother. 

“He was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, 29 but he answered his father, ‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends.  But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!’” 

The older brother doesn’t understand his father’s love.  He thinks he has to work for it.  Look at his words!  He’s saying, “I never disobeyed your commands, yet you never threw me a party for me and my friends.  If we’re keeping score, I’m way ahead of my brother but you never celebrated my working for you, you never slaughtered a fattened calf for my obedience. ”  He expects punishment for his brother; after all, isn’t that what disobedience deserves? 

He doesn’t get it.  The father’s love isn’t conditional on his works of righteousness.  The father isn’t pleased when his son whips out the scorecard and compares himself to his brother.  He isn’t pleased when he demands a party for his loyalty.  The father’s love is unconditional.  

Look at how the father responds to the older brother.  He says to him, “Son,” (that one word is a big deal!).  “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.  It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.”

Which son are you?  Are you the lost sinner, who lives as if the Father is dead?  Or are you the son who’s Mr. Scorekeeper, who begrudges the Father’s undeserved love, who expects some sort of reward for your own works of obedience?

We know this parable as the “Parable of the Prodigal Son,” but, though we identify with the prodigal son, the star of the parable isn’t the son won wishes his father was dead and later repents.  The star of the parable is the father.  Who lavishes his undeserved grace and kindness upon both his prodigal son and his stubborn son.

  That’s the point of the parable: Despite your sin, despite your rebellion, the Father says to you, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.” Through the death of the obedient Son, our brother Jesus Christ, who does the Father’s will and leaves His inheritance, dwells with us unclean sinners, and wallows in shame and death on the cross, all that belongs to God is ours. We have a heavenly, eternal inheritance!  Through Christ, the Father shows foolish, reckless love to you and to me, calling us back from prodigal living, calling us back from self-righteousness and forgiving all our sin!  Who refuses to call us servants, but sprints to us, bowling us over in His love.

And God says that He’s always with us; He is ‘God with us,’ who dwells among us in grace, who celebrates when we repent. That’s where we receive this inheritance, this is where we dwell with God: at the celebration, the marriage feast of the Lamb in His Kingdom. “It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.” It is fitting, necessary that God would celebrate the finding of the lost, the making alive of the dead, for nothing else gives Him as much joy as making Prodigal Sons and Stubborn brothers His beloved children, to rejoice with Him forever.  Aman.

The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, unto life everlasting.  Amen.

Midweek Lenten Service; Genesis 25:29-34, 27:15-26, 33:1-10

Sermon Series: "Slowly in Type from Age to Age"

Title: "Esau and Jacob" or "The Younger Brother Gets What Belongs to the Older Brother"

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

            Sibling rivalry is something many go through.  The jealousy.  The fighting.  The deceiving.  The vying for mom and dad’s attention.  For Isaac’s twins, Jacob and Esau, the rivalry began immediately.  If you remember, as Esau, the first born, came out with Jacob grabbing his heel.  Thus, he was named Jacob, meaning heel grabber- a Hebrew idiom that means one who deceives.  And we can pretty plainly see that Jacob lives up to his name.

            Look at how Jacob, the younger brother, deceives his older brother Esau.  “Once when Jacob was cooking stew, Esau came in from the field, and he was exhausted.  And Esau said to Jacob, “Let me eat some of that red stew, for I am exhausted!” (Therefore his name was called Edom.) Jacob said, “Sell me your birthright now.” Esau said, “I am about to die; of what use is a birthright to me?”  Jacob said, “Swear to me now.” So he swore to him and sold his birthright to Jacob. Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew, and he ate and drank and rose and went his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright.” 

            The birthright was Esau’s, it was rightfully his, and yet he exchanges it for a pot of red stew.  But there’s more going on here than what appears.  Bear with me here…  The text describes what Jacob is doing as cooking stew.  Literally the text says that he’s boiling the boiling stuff.  The Hebrew word that’s used, (waw-yizeed) is also a word used for rebelliousness.  Jacob is, in a way, cooking up a pot of rebellion against his brother.  They exchange that which belongs to each them.  In exchange for Jacob’s stew, or his rebellion, so to speak, Jacob gets Esau’s birthright.

            But Jacob doesn’t stop there.  When Isaac sends Esau out in the field to hunt game for him, Rebekah sends Jacob into Isaac’s tent dressed in Esau’s clothing, in order to trick Isaac into giving the younger brother the blessing that belongs to the older brother. 

            You’d think that for all of this, Esau would have held a life-long grudge against Jacob.  And, initially, Esau does want to kill Jacob.  Wouldn’t you?  Jacob has taken, by deception, all the good stuff that belongs to the older brother, while Esau gets the short end of the stick.

            But a Cain and Abel style murder scene isn’t how this story resolves.  After Jacob had been away for a time, he returns with his wives Leah and Rachel, and his children.  He sees Esau coming with 400 men and assumes his life is quickly coming to an end.  So, he does what any terrified younger brother who stole the birthright and the blessing would do… He grovels.  He sends gifts to Esau, his children bow down to him, Leah and Rachel bow down to him, and he, himself, bows down to him.  But Esau doesn’t slay his brother, rather, he forgives him.  Jacob exclaims, “For I have seen your face, which is like seeing the face of God, and you have accepted me.” 

            Doesn’t this relationship that Esau and Jacob have, in many ways mirror our relationship with Christ?  Like Jacob, we’re the younger brother who cooks up rebellion.  We rebel against God by our many sins of thought, word, and deed.  We deserve death for our rebelliousness; everlasting death.  By all rights, our older brother, Jesus, should strike us down… But He doesn’t.

 Rather Jesus, like Esau, forgives.  He undergoes sorrow and the cross in order that our sins would be forgiven.  In Esau, Jacob sees the face of God in his absolution and with our brother, Jesus, He shows us the face of God as He forgives you again and again.  Jesus, too, forgives our rebelliousness. 

Our older brother, Christ, gives to us His, younger brothers and sisters, that which belongs to Him.  We give Him our sin and rebelliousness and He gives us His birthright and the Father’s blessing.  He endures the suffering, going to the cross, and we receive the good stuff.  He takes our sin and He gives us His Salvation. 

            And, like Jacob, you are even clothed in His very garments of His holy righteousness and presents you to the Father.  And the blessing that the Father gives to Jesus, “You are my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased,” He also gives of you in your baptism.

              Because Jesus has gone to the cross for you, there is no sibling rivalry between Him and us.  He takes our sin and rebellion willingly, because He loves us.  Though we are undeserving of it, He shows us the face of One who seeks to absolve and forgive each of our rebellious thoughts and deeds.  Our older Brother forgives, without condition.  For you.  Amen.

The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus unto life everlasting.  Amen.

3rd Sunday in Lent; Luke 13:1-9

"Disasters, Repentance, and the Cross"

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Amen.

            Turn on your T.V. when you get home and, no doubt, there will be coverage of some disaster that has occurred somewhere in the world.  It seems now days, the birth pangs of which Jesus speaks are happening with increasing frequency.  There’s fires and earth quakes in the west, blizzards and flooding in the north, tornadoes in the Midwest, hurricanes in the south and east. 

            But what about those disasters that are really bad; those disasters that seem to linger on in the collective conscience of the country for a long time: 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, Super Storm Sandy, the Minot flooding, the Newtown tragedy, the earth quake in Haiti, the typhoon in Japan.  Were the people in New Orleans, New Jersey, Minot, Japan, or Haiti worse sinners than anyone else?  That’s Jesus’ question.

             Many would say, “Yes.”  In fact there’s one T.V. preacher named Pat Robertson who said that Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans because of the city’s rampant immorality.  He said the earthquake struck Haiti because the people there once made a pact with the devil, long ago, when they were under the heel of the French.  He also attributes the country’s poverty to this deal they supposedly made.  New Orleans, Minot, Haiti, New Jersey; are they greater sinners?  Well, if that’s the case, then it follows…

            When your neighbor get sick, they’d better search their past and figure out where they went wrong with God.  When your neighbor has money problems, they’d better try and figure out why God is angry with them.  Where there’s a tragic death in the family, those who mourn should wonder where they went wrong.  Do these things happen because they’re greater sinners than anyone else?  Are their sins greater than yours? 

            Maybe, when we drill down to the center of what these people, who are coming to Jesus, are really asking is this, “How do we know if God is pleased with us or is angry with us?”  Is God smiting you with disasters because you’re a worse sinner than anyone else?  So, how do you know?  Is God angry with you when you’re sick?  Is God angry with you when you have money problems?  Let’s flip the question around: Is God especially pleased with you when things are going well?  When there’s plenty of money in the bank, the family is healthy, and there’s no apparent problems? 

            That’s what these people in the text thought.  “There were some present at that very time who told [Jesus] about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.  And Jesus answered them, ‘Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered in this way?  No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.  Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fall and killed them: do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others who lived in Jerusalem?’ “ 

            How can we tell God’s disposition, His attitude toward us?  Not by the things in life.  When you suffer, know that God doesn’t regard you a worse sinner than others.  Nor when you find yourself with many earthly blessings, is that a sign that God is more pleased with you.

            Then what reason does God allow us to suffer?  What reason does God have to allow the Tower of Siloam to kill 18 people?  What reason does God have to allow flooding, hurricanes, and earthquakes?  I don’t know.  God doesn’t reveal the specifics of His divine will.  We don’t always know why; God doesn’t always give us answers, He gives us promises.  He promises that through His Son, who has suffered in your place, you have a place in that eternal kingdom.  So that you would remain in His care, and that your trust would hold to none other than Him, He sometimes gives us crosses to bear.  That’s the lesson of the fig tree:

            “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it and found none.  And he said to the vinedresser, ‘Look, for three years now I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I find none.  Cut it down.  Why should it use up the ground?’  And he answered him, ‘Sir, let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and put on manure.  Then if it should bear fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’ “

            The fig tree, though it was bearing no fruit, continues to live by the grace of the master.  At the imploring of the vinedresser, who most literally in the text says to the master, “Forgive the fig tree,” the master allows time for the tree.  The vinedresser does his work, which may seem very cruel from the perspective of the fig tree.  He digs up the soil around its roots.  He dumps manure over the top of it.  And as vinedressers do, he no doubt cut off some limbs.  Cruel work, indeed, if you’re the fig tree.  The vinedresser must have seemed to be a cruel overlord.  Disaster upon disaster befalls it, but by the snipping of limbs, digging of soil, and dumping of manure, the fig tree, at last, bears fruit.  The master of the vineyard allowed the fig tree a time of grace for it to bear its fruit.

            So it is with us.  God has, by his grace and mercy, allowed time for us to repent and believe.  He stays His judgment for a time that we would be given a time to repent and believe.  And when that time of grace ends, all who are not bearing fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire. 

So that doesn’t happen sometimes He must pour manure over our heads, snip some limbs, dig around our roots; all which seems to be loveless work at the time.  But by this work of God, He seeks to bring about the fruit of repentance and trust.

            We repent because Jesus has died on the cross for you.  We are contrite, we confess, we feel sorrow because of our sins but we never need to despair because of them.  For you have One who has undergone suffering for you; who went to the tree of the cross and bore, for you, the best fruit of all: forgiveness and eternal life. He bears, for you, fruit that you shall taste unto the ages.  That we live each day, draw each breath in the grace and mercy that Christ has given to us from His cross. 

            And that, dear people of God, is how we know God’s disposition toward us.  Not by the circumstances in life, not whether we seem to suffer more than others or are more comfortable in life.  We know what God thinks of us through the promises that He gives through the cross.  You’re loved by God because of Jesus on the cross for you.  You’re loved by God because you’re baptized. 

For Jesus, Himself, knows what it is to suffer.  He knows what it is to feel pain.  He knows what it is to lack in earthly things.  He knows what it is to be hated.  He knows what it is to be shamed.  He even knows what it is to die.  Yet, God declares Him to be “My beloved Son with whom I am well pleased,” and, through Jesus’ suffering and dying on your behalf, He says the same of you. 

            Why do bad things happen?  I’m not God, I can’t tell you the specific reasons why God does or allows the things that happen in your life, that hasn’t been revealed.  But, as Jesus says in the text, all disasters are a call to repentance… for everyone. 

            When hurricanes hit the south, it’s a call to repentance even for us here.  It’s a sign that we live in a sin-sick world.  It’s a sign that we live each day, draw each breath by the grace of God.  That’s the lesson of the parable of the fig tree.

            Disasters shall befall us, be certain of it.  But know that through the crosses and trials that you must endure, God draws you ever closer to Him.  He is pleased with you and loves you that He gave His only Son for you.  As Jesus suffered and died but arose again, so it is for you.  After the cross comes glory.  Here, in this life, we must suffer, at times, but suffering shall end, and give way to the unending joys of Paradise.  This is the promise Christ has made to you.  And His is faithful, He shall do it.  Amen.

The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus unto life everlasting.  Amen.

In Memoriam +Lenora Sommer+

 Job 19:23-27

To the family, friends, and all who knew and loved Lenora: Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Amen.

Lenora is a dear saint of God.  She was active in her church, loved to serve with the other ladies in the Lutheran Women’s Missionary League, and was even the hospital and Wedgewood’s volunteer of the year.  There was much good that she did for those around her but even more that she received from her Lord. 

Lenora’s Jesus loved her so much that He was willing to die on the cross for her, that she would stand before the Father washed clean in the tide of His blood.  Lenora’s Jesus loved her so much that He went to the cross to win for her everlasting life.  But, Lenora’s Jesus didn’t remain in the tomb, but He is risen from the dead!  Death has been defeated; it no longer has hold on those whom cling fast to His promise.

Though we’re in the midst of Lent, today we get a glimpse of that Easter joy.  Today we sing of Lenora’s risen Savior, the One who died but rose from the dead and conquered death for her.  We sing of the One who lives and reigns to all eternity, who was in the tomb for three days but is dead no more.  Today we heard the words of Job and sang them triumphantly, “I know that my Redeemer lives,” and Lenora trusted in this as well.

This Easter proclamation is one of the last memories I have of her.  Shortly after she fell asleep in the Lord, as we were all leaving her room, I looked at back at this dear departed saint one last time and above her head on her bulletin board was a purple cross, adorned with Easter lilies with the words, “He is risen!” blazed across it.  And that’s our comfort for today, right now…  Our Redeemer lives!  And because He lives, so does she!

Lenora’s soul is at the side of the Lord, but our risen Jesus isn’t done in fulfilling His promises.  Today her soul is with the Lord in Paradise, but her body awaits its raising to live forever, body and soul, for eternity in the New Jerusalem.  She’s been given this because Christ has already put Himself into the clutches of death but was raised again for her. 

And this is the beating heart of our Christian hope: that Jesus shall come again and raise Lenora out of her earthen bed.  The eyes that are now closed shall open to behold her Lord, and not another.  The mouth that is now shut shall open to sing praises to her Savior.  The ears that are now stopped shall hear the sweet sound of her risen Jesus calling out to her, “Lenora, wake up, it’s Resurrection Day!” 

And this Jesus who has gone into and out of the grave for Lenora is also for you.  The Savior who has redeemed her body and soul is also the Savior who has redeemed you.  Jesus has also taken upon Himself Your sins, and in Christ you, too, are forgiven.  Jesus comes for sinners- that’s you and me.  He died for you.  He rose from the grave for you. Death couldn’t hold Him! The resurrection of Jesus on the third day is the turning point in world history that we, who deserve nothing from God, would receive everything from Him.  Forgiveness, eternal life, is given to all who, in faith, make the same confession that Lenora made throughout her life.  For her Jesus is also for you.

Here is the comfort for those who miss Lenora:  God made a promise to her and God keeps His Word.  Lenora was Baptized a child of God and remained steadfast in true faith until the end of her earthly life.  Jesus, who never forgets His promises, shall make good.  The trumpet will sound.  The graves will open.  There will be a reunion, laughter, food, and joy; God’s people at peace, free form sin, from the devil, and from death.  Thanks be to God.  He does all things well.  May He deliver us all in His grace to the same blessed end. Lenora’s Redeemer lives, and so does she.  Amen.

The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus until life everlasting.  Amen.