Sermons from Our Savior

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Matthew 28:1-10

                1 After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.
                2 There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3 His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. 4 The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.
                5 The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. 6 He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. 7 Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.”
                8 So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. 9 Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. 10 Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

Do Not Be Afraid

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ. (Romans 1:7) Amen.

                Mary Magdalene and the other Mary needed to hear it twice. “Do not be afraid.” Why? When does anyone need to hear, “Do not be afraid”? Only when there is a reason to fear. So what reason did Mary and the other Mary have to fear?
                These two women had been long-time followers of Jesus. Matthew tells us “they had followed Jesus from Galilee to care for his needs” (Matthew 27:55). And they had watched the crucifixion. These women were Jesus’ disciples. They served him. And when all others had abandoned him… When eleven of the twelve of his closest friends were nowhere to be found, these women stayed and watched.
                And how were they repaid for their devotion? There are some things you can’t unsee. How long would it be before they could close their eyes and not see his back pocked with holes where the Roman whips had pulled off chunks of skin and flesh? How many sleepless nights would pass before they could forget the spurts of blood that shot from the holes the nails made in his hands and feet? For how long would the crown of thorns, the pools of blood, the darkness, the earthquake, the cries of pain… for how long would these sights haunt their dreams? Was it enough to make them afraid to sleep? Afraid to close their eyes?
                Did it make it better or worse to see him buried? To watch Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea wrap him and put him in that cave of a tomb and roll a stone over its mouth. To know that this waking nightmare was real. He’s dead.
                Did the fear subside over the next day or did it increase? Did the quiet Sabbath bring them rest and relief? Or did they expect more? They saw how the Jews and Romans treated their teacher. Were they satisfied with just him? Or would they come after his followers too? Hadn’t the Romans killed countless others with less good reason? Would the disciples… Would these women have to life the rest of their lives in fear?
                The day after the Sabbath Mary and the other Mary went. Whether locked away or out and about the fear was the same so what’s the difference? May as well go see the tomb. But on the way what happens? Another earthquake. At the last earthquake their teacher died. What could be happening now? They came to the place and they see bodies. The big, bad, Roman guards have been so terrified that they went into a dead faint. And there, casually sitting on the stone door of the tomb is a being of pure light. “Do not be afraid.”
                His news is mind-boggling. How would you even make sense of it? Not here… Just as he said… Go and tell… Mary and the other Mary hurry off. “Afraid yet filled with joy.” They’re happy but their fear isn’t gone. One intense emotion is merely pilled on another. Happily-terrified. Fearfully joyful.
                And then they see him. The face they saw pale with death after Joseph and Nicodemus washed off the blood. The hands and feet and side from where blood had poured. Is he still wearing burial clothes? Does he still smell of myrrh and aloes? Their dead teacher stands before them in the morning glow. “Do not be afraid.”
                “Do not be afraid.” That’s not something you say, unless someone has reason to fear. And weren’t Mary and the other Mary afraid?

                But we’re not, right? We’re not afraid. After all what is there to fear? Of what should we be afraid?
                How about the world? Look at the news. Every day, horrible things happen all around the world. Disasters. Disease. But more than that. Every day, people do horrible things. Every day, people invent new ways to behave like monsters and every day the media brings word of it right into our hands. Word of what people do to each other. What some countries do to their own citizens. What some people do to their own spouses. What some parents do to their own children. Here in America, how long has it been since the last random killing made front page news. And we all breathe a collective sigh of relief to hear that the lone gunman had “a history of mental illness,” because that means we can label them different, a freak,  a monster and forget that anyone is capable of anything at anytime. That anyone else could be millimeters away from similar monstrosity. That a world of 7 billion people is a world of 7 billion reasons to be afraid.
                And if we’ll admit that the world is a scary place, we have to also admit to what scares us the most. It’s death. We’re afraid to hear about the horrible things that happen in our world, because one day some horrible thing is going to happen to us. Death is a horrible thing. Have you ever thought about it?  How, even in a country like ours, how few people get a “good” death? Quietly, in their sleep.  Surrounded by family. That’s not normal. Much more common is months of pain after years of infirmity and then dying alone. That’s if you’re so lucky as to not get hit by a bus or some such accident. If you so lucky as to get a chance to grow infirm. But “good” or “bad”, our death is coming. Every day is a step closer to that horrible thing we all fear.
                But what are we really afraid of? Afraid of death? Afraid of other people? Afraid of this world? These are just symptoms. Consequences of the real problem. What we are really afraid of isn’t out there. It’s in here. It’s our sin.
                The suffering people inflict on each other in this world; it’s a symptom of our sin. The death that will one day rip us out of this world; it’s what we deserve because of our sin. Our sin separates us from God. Because of our sin he ought to abandon us with the 7 billion other sinners on this rock. Because of our sin God ought to leave us to die alone and unloved. Because of our sin God ought to throw us into the endless death of eternity in hell. What is there to fear? Of what should we be afraid? It’s us. It’s ourselves. It’s our sin. And it’s what our sin means for our eternity.

                 “Do not be afraid.” That’s not something you say, unless someone has reason to fear. And weren’t Mary and the other Mary afraid? Aren’t we? Don’t we have reason to fear? Yes! So? “Do not be afraid.” Why not? Why shouldn’t we be afraid? “Come and see.”
                Look with Mary and the other Mary. See the tomb? It’s empty. Jesus isn’t here. So what? What does that mean for our fear?
                We fear our sin. We fear it’s consequences in this life. We fear what sin deserves from God. But what we deserve, Jesus endured. He was in that tomb because he died. The perfect Son of God died. He had no reason to fear the consequences of sin or its punishment. He never sinned. But he took our sin on himself. He was punished. He died for our sins. Jesus lived the perfect life we can’t and died the eternal death we deserve to save us from our sin. Sin still has consequences in this life but not punishment. Not anymore. Jesus took it all. How do we know? Because he is not here. He’s not in the tomb anymore. Sin really has been paid for and Jesus’ life proves it. So sin is nothing to fear. “Do not be afraid.”
                “Come and see.” Look with Mary and the other Mary. See what Jesus has done? He rose. Just as he said. So what? What does that mean for our fear?
                We fear death. We fear the pain and the loneliness. We fear this life coming to an end. But the end of this life is not the end of our life. Death could not hold Jesus, just like he said. He died and rose again just as he said he would. He paid for sin and the proof is his life. So that means Jesus has robbed death of its sting. Of its victory. Jesus conquered death. Death could not hold him and it will not hold us. Any of us. We live in Jesus. Now and forever. Even if we die in this life we have a place in the life to come because of Jesus. Jesus is exactly who he said he is. He is our Savior. He is our life. So death is nothing to fear. “Do not be afraid.”
                “Come and see.” Look with Mary and the other Mary. See Jesus appear to you? He is here. Not here in the tomb. Here before you. Here with you. So what? What does that mean for our fear?
                We fear this world. We fear the things sinners do. We fear the things that happen because of sin. But none of that can harm us. Not really. Because Jesus is with us. He rose and appeared to Mary and Mary and the disciples. He rose and he comes to us in his Word. In Baptism. In his Supper. Jesus rose and took his place at God’s right hand to rule over all things for our good. Nothing can happen that he doesn’t want for us. Nothing can happen that he can’t use to draw us closer to him. In him we are safe. In him we are saved. The whole world is nothing to fear. “Do not be afraid.”
                “Do not be afraid.” “Come and see.” See what Jesus does to our fear. Hear the message of what Jesus has done and “do not be afraid.”
                “Do not be afraid.” And then? “Go… Tell.” Jesus rose from the dead for Mary and the other Mary. Jesus resurrection; the message of what Jesus has done. It was theirs. Theirs to trust. Theirs to do away with their fear. Theirs to bring to others. Jesus sent them. “Go… Tell.”
                The message of Jesus is ours. Jesus rose from the dead for Mary, and Mary, and the disciples, and for you, and for me. This message is ours. Ours to trust. Ours to do away with our fear. Ours to bring to others. Jesus sends us with his message. Our message. “Do not be afraid.” But “go…Tell.”
                This message is ours. And because it’s ours we want to share. We want others to have what we have. Forgiveness. Peace. Faith. We want them to know why we aren’t afraid. Not of the world. Not of death. Not of sin. We want them to know why they don’t have to fear. Jesus is not dead. Jesus is who he says. Jesus is here. Jesus is risen.

                Mary and the other Mary would never forget Good Friday. They would never forget the blood. The cross. The tomb. But they also would never forget what Good Friday meant. Because they would never forget Easter Sunday. They would never forget that in that blood sin was washed away. They would never forget that on that cross death was conquered. They would never forget that that empty tomb meant that God is our Savior. That our Savior is King.
                Mary and the other Mary would never forget what they got to see. They would never forget what they got to tell. They would never forget what that message did to their fear. And neither will we. The message is life. Jesus is alive. Do not be afraid. Come and see. Go and tell. This message is ours. Amen.

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7) Amen.

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The Needed Warrior

                “Religion is a crutch for weak people.” Someone said that. It doesn’t matter who. I don’t want to give anyone credit for saying that because it’s not a very clever thing to say. As far as criticisms of organized religion—criticisms of Christianity—go, this one is probably the dumbest. “It’s a crutch for weak people”?
                “So, you’re saying that religion is bad because it helps? You’re saying that a thing that supports me when I’m weak is made worthless by the very support that it gives me? You’re saying that you have the right to criticize my faith because I, a weak person, need it? What kind of sense does that make?”
                And here’s the other reason calling it a crutch is a dumb reason to dismiss the Christian faith: Whoever said that, they are weak, too.

John 6:66-68

66 From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.
67 “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve.
68 Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

                Peter needed Jesus. And so did the disciples who turned their backs on Jesus. We, Christians, need Jesus. And so do the people who call religion a crutch for weak people. All people need Jesus, because all people are fighting a battle we can’t win. Every single human being is at war with sin, with death, and with Satan himself. We are all of us fighting against the evil in the world—the evil in our own hearts—and the consequences of our sins. And we are, all of us, losing.
                We are weak. We can’t stop sinning. We can’t beat temptation. We can’t defeat the evil in the world. We can’t fight Satan. All human beings, left on our own, are doomed to lose this war. Whoever you are, you are not strong enough to win. You need Jesus because you are weak.
                But needing Jesus doesn’t make you weak. Needing faith in your Savior doesn’t make you dumb. Recognizing that without the crutch of the religion we call Christianity you will fall into the pit of the hell that you deserve for your sins does not lessen in any way the value of your crutch. The wisdom of your Savior. The strength of your Jesus. Sin makes you weak. You need Jesus, because Jesus takes your sin away. Jesus makes you strong, by being strong for you.
                “To whom shall we go?” “Lord, what other option do we have?” Does that sound like a strong person, to you? Probably not. But that is an honest person. That is a weak person who knows his weakness. He knows his need. He knows that he is desperate and that there is no other option. “Jesus, whom have I but you? Jesus, you’re my only hope. Jesus, I’m a weak and desperate sinner. Jesus, I need you because I need life. I need forgiveness. I need help. I need mercy. Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
                You need Jesus. You need a warrior who is a human being like you, who can face the battle you face. You need a warrior who is God and who, unlike you, can win your battle for you. You need Jesus. You need to lean on him like a crutch, with all of your weight. And he’ll hold you up because he’s the only one who can. He’s the warrior you need. Amen.

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The Warrior of Truth

Words are weapons. “Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” they say. But it’s a lie. Words hurt all the time. Because words are weapons.

Weapons hurt. Knives cut. Guns kill. Drones and bombs maim and destroy from thousands of miles away. But always and only because that’s how people decided to use them. Weapons hurt people because people want them to.

The same with words. Our words have hurt. They’ve cut. They’ve killed. Our words have wounded and destroyed. Sometimes because they are lies and they mislead and misinform and they damage reputations. Probably, far more often, though, we hurt one another with the truth. We say facts without considering people’s feelings. We share information that is true but not helpful or loving. We say what we really, truly think and feel, and all too often that’s when we do the most damage because what we think and feel is sinful. And sin is always hurtful.

But weapons can also help. Knives prepare food that nourishes. Guns can be used to protect and defend people. Even when they hurt, weapons, in the right hands, can serve the greater good and punish evil and even prevent it. But, again, only if that’s how they are used. Weapons help when that’s how we use them.

The same with words. If that’s how we use them. It’s just… We’re not good at it. Human beings are not good at making the best decisions about words or weapons or anything else we wield. Sinful people use what we have to sin. To hurt. To be selfish instead of helpful. To love ourselves more than we even pretend to love others. So, it’s easy to be cynical about words and weapons and our ability to use them correctly; lovingly. We’re not good at it. We’re good at sin.

John 18:38

“What is truth?” retorted Pilate. With this he went out again to the Jews gathered there and said, “I find no basis for a charge against him.”

Pilate knew the power of words and it made him cynical. As a politician, a leader, and a military man he was an expert in how people use words and weapons and words as weapons. And he didn’t have high expectations, not even for the truth. Because he’d seen the harm it could do.

But still, Pilate was forced to speak the truth that Jesus had done nothing wrong. That’s the thing about the truth: words can try to hide it or words can try to use it to do harm, but the truth isn’t changed by words. Eventually the truth has to be acknowledged. Even by a skeptic like Pilate.

And if Pilate would have pursued the truth he would have seen another truth; that Jesus had done nothing wrong for him. For you. For me. For us. Jesus did nothing wrong. He only spoke the truth. And with the truth Jesus has set us free. Free from sin. Free from all the ways we’ve used words and more to hurt others. Jesus did nothing wrong, so that when God looks on us, he sees people who have done nothing wrong. People who have been forgiven. That’s what God says about us. And if he says it, it’s the truth.

So, God’s Words are a weapon. Wielded by the Warrior of Truth, God’s Word called us into existence at creation. And God’s Word declared us forgiven at the cross. And God’s Word planted faith in our hearts to make us who God always wanted us to be: his.

Jesus’ words are weapons. They cut our sinful hearts. They bind us up with his forgiveness. They make us his. And then Jesus gives them to us. To help one another. To fight back evil and protect God’s people. To remind one another and to proclaim to the world: the truth. The truth that sets us free. Amen.

Here is a sneak peek at a new devotional podcast coming from Our Savior Lutheran Church. It’s called Dust and Breath: A podcast for Bible people about the people of the Bible. Each episode will take a brief (around 5 minutes) look at one character from the Salvation Story. And we’ll start at the beginning…