I have had a few inquiries about the sermon preached on October 20 and 21. I preached it from an outline, as opposed to a manuscript, but since a few people have asked about it I will post what I used.
Psalm 31: 1—5
Part One: We don’t always feel that “it is well with our soul.”
David in Psalm 31 (verse 9)
Examples from life today
Part Two: We can know that it is well—with the Lord’s presence.
David in Psalm 31 (verses 3 and 5)
The ability to turn to God for deliverance was put it you when you were baptized.
Part Three: Difficult times can be times of special blessing.
The story of Horatio Spafford and the writing of “It is Well With My Soul.”
(Spafford lost all four of his daughters at sea, but remained faithful, eventually writing his famous hymn.)
God has promised to wipe away our tears in glory (Isaiah 25: 8 and Revelation 7: 17), but he also comes to us now in our suffering.
Part Four: It is well with my soul—in Christ.
The mission and message of the LWML—Rest On Christ the King
God has brought you into the fortress of his care.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Reformation Day--Hans' Story
For my Reformation Day sermon, I took an imaginative and narrative approach, creating a character named Hans who lived in Wittenburg at the time of Luther. I was inspired yet again by reading "Luther the Reformer" by James M. Kittelson. If you have any interest in Luther's life, you owe it to yourself to check out this book.
Greetings. My name is Hans. By some wrinkle in time I find myself in your midst today, and I am delighted and amazed to see you celebrating a Day of Reformation! It is incredible to find myself here in a church that calls itself Lutheran. You see, I was born in 1490 AD, and Martin Luther was my pastor.
I was born and grew up in the north-central part of Germany, in a town called Wittenburg. There weren’t many more than 2,000 people living there at the time, though that would change. My family scratched out a living. My father worked for the local brewery, and most of what was brewed stayed in town. I wish I could tell you something romantic about life back then, but I can’t. Existence was hard, sometimes brutal, often short.
Death haunted Europe in our time. The Plague, which is just a history book story to you, was a real thing to us. 16,000 people died in the city of Strasbourg in one year’s time. 300 villages in the region around this city were left deserted. More babies died than survived after childbirth. Beggars and panhandlers were everywhere, not to mention thieves and swindlers. We German peasants were far from being peaceful workers of the land. We tended to solve a lot of things with fists, knives, and clubs. It’s a wonder I lived as long as I did.
Having said all that, the Church was an ever-present part of life, even in Wittenburg. On our town square sat the city church and the Castle Church was a few blocks away. An Augustinian monastery and a small university were there, too. I was baptized the same day I was born, because my survival was not guaranteed. I made it, though, and grew up like so many others in our little town, aware of the great importance of the Church, but with very little understanding of basic Christianity. I know how strange this must sound to you, but back then, we simply did what the Church told us to do. The idea of picking up a Bible and reading what it said wasn’t even a thought that we had. We believed what the priests told us, without question. Of course, no one wanted to suffer the torments of hell. So we did as we were told. And what we were told was this: We were told that all people have a little spark of good inside them. God gives you some grace to get things going, and then it’s up to you to make your salvation sure by doing enough good in the world. I suppose another way of saying it is: we were taught that we could earn the grace of God by doing our best. So that’s what we did.
That meant doing our best for our beloved dead. The Church had told us of a place called purgatory, a kind of holding tank for the souls of our departed loved ones. Their souls stayed there for thousands upon thousands of years, unless we did something about it. And we did our best. We spent more money than we should have buying certificates called indulgences, which promised that our loved ones would escape purgatory more quickly and be in heaven sooner. Please understand, we were just doing what we were told. We truly didn’t know better.
Well, what can I say…in 1511, when I was 21 years old, a monk named Martin Luther was sent to Wittenburg to begin teaching at the university and preaching at the Castle Church in my town. This was news, but not big news. Everyone thought he had come to ask for more money to be sent to Rome. Were we wrong.
At first, Dr. Luther’s preaching was not all that different than what we had heard before. But it seemed that the longer he stayed in Wittenburg; and the longer he studied and taught at the university, the more his messages changed. We started hearing more and more about Christ Jesus. For Dr. Luther, everything came right back to Christ. But this was a different Jesus than we were used to—we were used to Jesus the Righteous Judge, Jesus the Perfect Example of what we were to strive to be. The Jesus that Dr. Luther preached was different—he showed us Jesus our Savior; Jesus our loving sacrifice for sins; Jesus our peace. At first this was hard to understand because it was so different than anything we had heard before. But then one day Dr. Luther read to us a passage from Romans that said: “This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” I’ll never forget the way Dr. Luther explained that passage. He said, “If some complaint should be registered against a heart that believes in Christ, and testify against it concerning some evil deed, then the heart turns itself away, and turns to Christ, and says, ‘But he made satisfaction. He is the righteous one, and this is my defense. He died for me, he made his righteousness mine and made my sin his own; and if he made my sin his own, then I do not have it, and I am free.’ ”
This, I had never heard before. It seemed too good to be true. I struggled to grasp what Dr. Luther was saying. I wanted very much for such words to be true for me, but I could not escape feeling not good enough. I felt my sins surely had disqualified me from God’s favor. I approached Dr. Luther one evening about five years after he had come to Wittenburg, and I poured out my heart to him, confessing my guilt, my sinful acts. He looked me right in the eye, with a look of great compassion, and told me, “Hans, learn Christ and him crucified; despairing of yourself, learn to pray to him, saying, “You, Lord Jesus are my righteousness, but I am your sin; you have taken on yourself what you were not and have given me what I was not.” I prayed that prayer for the rest of my life.
When I was 27 years old, Dr. Luther began publicly asking questions about the sale of indulgences. On October 31, 1517, he posted his 95 theses against the sale of indulgences on the door of our church. His life would never be the same. Neither would my life, nor Wittenburg’s, nor, dare I say, would the world ever be the same. Maybe you know the story of how Dr. Luther was declared a heretic, how he went into hiding, how he came back to Wittenburg to preach and teach again. Maybe you know about his writings, such as the Small Catechism; maybe you have sung his hymns, like “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” And perhaps you know about the protection the German princes gave his fellow pastors when they made their statement of faith at Augsburg. You may even know how many millions of people worship in churches that were part of the Reformation that accompanied and followed Dr. Luther’s work. Whether or not you know about those things, here’s what I know.
Dr. Luther was my pastor. If it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve bought indulgences for my loved ones until the day I died, and then hoped that they would buy them for me. If it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve never had a Bible in my own mother tongue—the Scriptures in the German language! And if it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve never known Jesus Christ the way the Bible describes Him—not as a frowning judge but as a loving brother, who went even to the cross to purchase my soul. It was also Dr. Luther who taught me that being a good husband and father and doing my job well honored God as much as a priest or pastor honored God with their duties. Was Dr. Luther a perfect man? He’d be the first to emphatically tell you “No.” But he was my pastor. He showed me who Jesus really was. I am eternally grateful.
That’s my story, part of it, at least. But before I go, I’m fascinated to ask you brothers and sisters who bear the Lutheran name, what is it like? What is it like to live free from the ignorance that held people like me captive? What is it like to have the Bible so easily accessible—right in your own language, available everywhere? What is it like to have Jesus Christ clearly and rightly proclaimed in pulpit and classroom and home? Certainly the good news of Christ crucified and risen is still reforming the Church and the world, isn’t it? Please tell me it is. Please tell me you are running to your world with Jesus’ own words: “If the Son sets you free, you are free indeed.” Please tell me you are letting Jesus’ Words reform you.
Amen.
Greetings. My name is Hans. By some wrinkle in time I find myself in your midst today, and I am delighted and amazed to see you celebrating a Day of Reformation! It is incredible to find myself here in a church that calls itself Lutheran. You see, I was born in 1490 AD, and Martin Luther was my pastor.
I was born and grew up in the north-central part of Germany, in a town called Wittenburg. There weren’t many more than 2,000 people living there at the time, though that would change. My family scratched out a living. My father worked for the local brewery, and most of what was brewed stayed in town. I wish I could tell you something romantic about life back then, but I can’t. Existence was hard, sometimes brutal, often short.
Death haunted Europe in our time. The Plague, which is just a history book story to you, was a real thing to us. 16,000 people died in the city of Strasbourg in one year’s time. 300 villages in the region around this city were left deserted. More babies died than survived after childbirth. Beggars and panhandlers were everywhere, not to mention thieves and swindlers. We German peasants were far from being peaceful workers of the land. We tended to solve a lot of things with fists, knives, and clubs. It’s a wonder I lived as long as I did.
Having said all that, the Church was an ever-present part of life, even in Wittenburg. On our town square sat the city church and the Castle Church was a few blocks away. An Augustinian monastery and a small university were there, too. I was baptized the same day I was born, because my survival was not guaranteed. I made it, though, and grew up like so many others in our little town, aware of the great importance of the Church, but with very little understanding of basic Christianity. I know how strange this must sound to you, but back then, we simply did what the Church told us to do. The idea of picking up a Bible and reading what it said wasn’t even a thought that we had. We believed what the priests told us, without question. Of course, no one wanted to suffer the torments of hell. So we did as we were told. And what we were told was this: We were told that all people have a little spark of good inside them. God gives you some grace to get things going, and then it’s up to you to make your salvation sure by doing enough good in the world. I suppose another way of saying it is: we were taught that we could earn the grace of God by doing our best. So that’s what we did.
That meant doing our best for our beloved dead. The Church had told us of a place called purgatory, a kind of holding tank for the souls of our departed loved ones. Their souls stayed there for thousands upon thousands of years, unless we did something about it. And we did our best. We spent more money than we should have buying certificates called indulgences, which promised that our loved ones would escape purgatory more quickly and be in heaven sooner. Please understand, we were just doing what we were told. We truly didn’t know better.
Well, what can I say…in 1511, when I was 21 years old, a monk named Martin Luther was sent to Wittenburg to begin teaching at the university and preaching at the Castle Church in my town. This was news, but not big news. Everyone thought he had come to ask for more money to be sent to Rome. Were we wrong.
At first, Dr. Luther’s preaching was not all that different than what we had heard before. But it seemed that the longer he stayed in Wittenburg; and the longer he studied and taught at the university, the more his messages changed. We started hearing more and more about Christ Jesus. For Dr. Luther, everything came right back to Christ. But this was a different Jesus than we were used to—we were used to Jesus the Righteous Judge, Jesus the Perfect Example of what we were to strive to be. The Jesus that Dr. Luther preached was different—he showed us Jesus our Savior; Jesus our loving sacrifice for sins; Jesus our peace. At first this was hard to understand because it was so different than anything we had heard before. But then one day Dr. Luther read to us a passage from Romans that said: “This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” I’ll never forget the way Dr. Luther explained that passage. He said, “If some complaint should be registered against a heart that believes in Christ, and testify against it concerning some evil deed, then the heart turns itself away, and turns to Christ, and says, ‘But he made satisfaction. He is the righteous one, and this is my defense. He died for me, he made his righteousness mine and made my sin his own; and if he made my sin his own, then I do not have it, and I am free.’ ”
This, I had never heard before. It seemed too good to be true. I struggled to grasp what Dr. Luther was saying. I wanted very much for such words to be true for me, but I could not escape feeling not good enough. I felt my sins surely had disqualified me from God’s favor. I approached Dr. Luther one evening about five years after he had come to Wittenburg, and I poured out my heart to him, confessing my guilt, my sinful acts. He looked me right in the eye, with a look of great compassion, and told me, “Hans, learn Christ and him crucified; despairing of yourself, learn to pray to him, saying, “You, Lord Jesus are my righteousness, but I am your sin; you have taken on yourself what you were not and have given me what I was not.” I prayed that prayer for the rest of my life.
When I was 27 years old, Dr. Luther began publicly asking questions about the sale of indulgences. On October 31, 1517, he posted his 95 theses against the sale of indulgences on the door of our church. His life would never be the same. Neither would my life, nor Wittenburg’s, nor, dare I say, would the world ever be the same. Maybe you know the story of how Dr. Luther was declared a heretic, how he went into hiding, how he came back to Wittenburg to preach and teach again. Maybe you know about his writings, such as the Small Catechism; maybe you have sung his hymns, like “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” And perhaps you know about the protection the German princes gave his fellow pastors when they made their statement of faith at Augsburg. You may even know how many millions of people worship in churches that were part of the Reformation that accompanied and followed Dr. Luther’s work. Whether or not you know about those things, here’s what I know.
Dr. Luther was my pastor. If it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve bought indulgences for my loved ones until the day I died, and then hoped that they would buy them for me. If it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve never had a Bible in my own mother tongue—the Scriptures in the German language! And if it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve never known Jesus Christ the way the Bible describes Him—not as a frowning judge but as a loving brother, who went even to the cross to purchase my soul. It was also Dr. Luther who taught me that being a good husband and father and doing my job well honored God as much as a priest or pastor honored God with their duties. Was Dr. Luther a perfect man? He’d be the first to emphatically tell you “No.” But he was my pastor. He showed me who Jesus really was. I am eternally grateful.
That’s my story, part of it, at least. But before I go, I’m fascinated to ask you brothers and sisters who bear the Lutheran name, what is it like? What is it like to live free from the ignorance that held people like me captive? What is it like to have the Bible so easily accessible—right in your own language, available everywhere? What is it like to have Jesus Christ clearly and rightly proclaimed in pulpit and classroom and home? Certainly the good news of Christ crucified and risen is still reforming the Church and the world, isn’t it? Please tell me it is. Please tell me you are running to your world with Jesus’ own words: “If the Son sets you free, you are free indeed.” Please tell me you are letting Jesus’ Words reform you.
Amen.
Monday, October 22, 2007
"Doctrine" Is Not A Dirty Word
What do you do when the emperor, for the fifth time in three decades, sends you into exile, and you’re 70 years old. A normal person would consider his options. Check out retirement villas; cruise the Aegean Sea; book a trip to the Holy Land. With a lifetime of accomplishments, Athanasius deserved better than a one-way ticket to nowhere.
In earlier years, the ‘black dwarf’ (as his enemies called the short man with dark skin) had been elected bishop of Alexandria, he’d written a landmark book about the fact that Jesus was God, and he had played a significant role at the council of Nicea—the first worldwide conference of the church.
He’d fought his whole life for what he thought was decided at Nicea: that Jesus was fully human and fully divine: begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father, by whom all things are made. When the council voted in favor of this creed, which we still speak today as the Nicene Creed, Athanasius thought that the Arian viewpoint (the viewpoint that Jesus was created and therefore not equal with God) would finally be put to rest.
But he was wrong. Arians not only hung around, but managed to gain positions of power. They whispered into the emperor’s ear that Athanasius, who kept publicly insisting that the emperor enforce the Nicene decisions, trafficked in murder, sorcery, and treason.
Emperor Constantine, who craved peace rather than truth, and didn’t have much patience with critics, held a hearing. Condemned on trumped-up charges, Athanasius was send packing to what today we would call Germany. When Constantine died two years later, Athanasius was allowed to return to his post. Two years after that, when Arians gained control of key leadership positions in the church, Athanasius had to flee to Rome for asylum. On and on it went for decades, where Athanasius would repeatedly lose and regain his office. When he was allowed to return to Alexandria at age 68, he no doubt was looking to end his service in peace. Not quite. Within two years, Valens, the western emperor and—you guessed it, an Arian—ordered Athanasius banished again.
To make a long story short, Valens reversed his decree four months later, and Athanasius was allowed to come back, and for seven more years he served in Alexandria until his death in 373 AD. The Arian point of view still held firm sway in the church. It seemed that Athanasius’ bold stand for the truth—and all the heartache it had caused him—had been to no avail.
However, eight years later, when Emperor Theodosius took the throne, Arianism was banned, and the decision of the Council of Nicea was reaffirmed. The church never considered Arianism an option again, and the Nicene Creed is still used as a basic statement of the universal, Biblical, true Christian faith. For this we have—at least in part—the black dwarf Athanasius to thank.
I share his story with you today for a couple of reasons. First of all, if you would take the blue hymnal, Lutheran Worship, and open it up to page 134 in the front—before you get to the hymns—you’ll find a little something called the Athanasian Creed. From time to time this creed is spoken on Trinity Sunday, because it carefully—some might say to the point of exhaustion—says what can be said about our triune God. And as you scan this document, which Athanasius at least had a hand in writing, you can see his concerns rising to the surface, especially page two, the first column, ‘For the right faith is that we believe and confess that our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is God and man; God of the substance of the Father, begotten before the worlds; and man of the substance of his mother, born in the world; Perfect God and perfect man…’ In other words, Jesus is no second class citizen, he wasn’t just a nice guy that God chose, Jesus is God. Period. Whether of not we’re conscious of it, this was a battle the church had to fight. People like Athanasius had to endure all kinds of difficulties just to say that Jesus is true God and true man, and those who say that Jesus is only God or only man have got it wrong.
It’s interesting to note that Trinity Sunday is the only festival or observance in our Church Year that is not based on a historical event, like Pentecost, for example, or Jesus’ birth. Instead it is based on the nature of God himself. Some might therefore say that it is based on a teaching or a doctrine. That seems a little impersonal to me, but whatever you say about Trinity Sunday, the bottom line is this: it is of utmost importance—in fact it is of eternal importance—to know who God is, and the way God has described himself to us is as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
There are an awful lot of people out there who will tell you they believe in God. But what God are they talking about? The grandfatherly god of a child’s drawing? The inventor god who created the world and then stepped back to watch things unfold? The faceless Force that runs through the universe? Or Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—the God of Holy Scripture? Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—who has acted in time and history to produce forgiveness of sins and endless life through the cross and empty tomb of the Son, Jesus Christ? If you want to call this personal knowledge of God “doctrine,” that’s fine. And I hope that you will see, for this very reason, that having the right doctrine really matters. It’s the difference between a God who is watching us from a distance and a God who came down here and got his hands dirty, who got his heart and his body broken just to tell us that he loves us and wants us back. That’s what is at stake when we talk about doctrine. Doctrine is not a dirty word. Doctrine is knowing God the right way—the way he wants to be known. And when you get right down to it—what is more important than that?
Athanasius felt that knowing God the right way was so important that he was willing to roll with the punches. To him, it wasn’t even a choice. He would not stay silent. How about you? When you know that standing for the truth might hurt someone’s feelings or make somebody mad, what do you do? When I consider that question myself, I know that I must repent before the Lord and seek his forgiveness. There have been plenty of times when I have massaged my response or not answered as fully as I could have, for fear of offending someone—even though I knew that what I wanted to say was God’s truth, drawn right from Scripture. For that I must repent.
If you share this conviction with me—there is hope and good news. The God who explains himself as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit offers full pardon and forgiveness to those who trust in the substitute sacrifice of Jesus, the Son. The Father waits for us and welcomes us with open arms. The Spirit generates faith in our hearts. That same Holy Spirit performs a spiritual makeover on us, changing us into bold and loving Christians, people who will speak the truth in love and who will live that love and whatever happens, happens.
Some folks will get upset at that. They’ll claim that truth is relative—there are no absolutes. Others won’t really care one way or the other. And once in a while you’ll even run into some presumably well-meaning Christians who suggest that love and doctrine don’t go together real well. When that happens, we can take a page from Athanasius and just keep standing in there, holding onto what’s true. Love doesn’t let a child play on a busy street; or stick his hand in boiling water, and it’s love that causes us to share this simple message: There is a right way to know God—a way he wants to be known—and when you know him that way, you have everything.
In earlier years, the ‘black dwarf’ (as his enemies called the short man with dark skin) had been elected bishop of Alexandria, he’d written a landmark book about the fact that Jesus was God, and he had played a significant role at the council of Nicea—the first worldwide conference of the church.
He’d fought his whole life for what he thought was decided at Nicea: that Jesus was fully human and fully divine: begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father, by whom all things are made. When the council voted in favor of this creed, which we still speak today as the Nicene Creed, Athanasius thought that the Arian viewpoint (the viewpoint that Jesus was created and therefore not equal with God) would finally be put to rest.
But he was wrong. Arians not only hung around, but managed to gain positions of power. They whispered into the emperor’s ear that Athanasius, who kept publicly insisting that the emperor enforce the Nicene decisions, trafficked in murder, sorcery, and treason.
Emperor Constantine, who craved peace rather than truth, and didn’t have much patience with critics, held a hearing. Condemned on trumped-up charges, Athanasius was send packing to what today we would call Germany. When Constantine died two years later, Athanasius was allowed to return to his post. Two years after that, when Arians gained control of key leadership positions in the church, Athanasius had to flee to Rome for asylum. On and on it went for decades, where Athanasius would repeatedly lose and regain his office. When he was allowed to return to Alexandria at age 68, he no doubt was looking to end his service in peace. Not quite. Within two years, Valens, the western emperor and—you guessed it, an Arian—ordered Athanasius banished again.
To make a long story short, Valens reversed his decree four months later, and Athanasius was allowed to come back, and for seven more years he served in Alexandria until his death in 373 AD. The Arian point of view still held firm sway in the church. It seemed that Athanasius’ bold stand for the truth—and all the heartache it had caused him—had been to no avail.
However, eight years later, when Emperor Theodosius took the throne, Arianism was banned, and the decision of the Council of Nicea was reaffirmed. The church never considered Arianism an option again, and the Nicene Creed is still used as a basic statement of the universal, Biblical, true Christian faith. For this we have—at least in part—the black dwarf Athanasius to thank.
I share his story with you today for a couple of reasons. First of all, if you would take the blue hymnal, Lutheran Worship, and open it up to page 134 in the front—before you get to the hymns—you’ll find a little something called the Athanasian Creed. From time to time this creed is spoken on Trinity Sunday, because it carefully—some might say to the point of exhaustion—says what can be said about our triune God. And as you scan this document, which Athanasius at least had a hand in writing, you can see his concerns rising to the surface, especially page two, the first column, ‘For the right faith is that we believe and confess that our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is God and man; God of the substance of the Father, begotten before the worlds; and man of the substance of his mother, born in the world; Perfect God and perfect man…’ In other words, Jesus is no second class citizen, he wasn’t just a nice guy that God chose, Jesus is God. Period. Whether of not we’re conscious of it, this was a battle the church had to fight. People like Athanasius had to endure all kinds of difficulties just to say that Jesus is true God and true man, and those who say that Jesus is only God or only man have got it wrong.
It’s interesting to note that Trinity Sunday is the only festival or observance in our Church Year that is not based on a historical event, like Pentecost, for example, or Jesus’ birth. Instead it is based on the nature of God himself. Some might therefore say that it is based on a teaching or a doctrine. That seems a little impersonal to me, but whatever you say about Trinity Sunday, the bottom line is this: it is of utmost importance—in fact it is of eternal importance—to know who God is, and the way God has described himself to us is as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
There are an awful lot of people out there who will tell you they believe in God. But what God are they talking about? The grandfatherly god of a child’s drawing? The inventor god who created the world and then stepped back to watch things unfold? The faceless Force that runs through the universe? Or Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—the God of Holy Scripture? Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—who has acted in time and history to produce forgiveness of sins and endless life through the cross and empty tomb of the Son, Jesus Christ? If you want to call this personal knowledge of God “doctrine,” that’s fine. And I hope that you will see, for this very reason, that having the right doctrine really matters. It’s the difference between a God who is watching us from a distance and a God who came down here and got his hands dirty, who got his heart and his body broken just to tell us that he loves us and wants us back. That’s what is at stake when we talk about doctrine. Doctrine is not a dirty word. Doctrine is knowing God the right way—the way he wants to be known. And when you get right down to it—what is more important than that?
Athanasius felt that knowing God the right way was so important that he was willing to roll with the punches. To him, it wasn’t even a choice. He would not stay silent. How about you? When you know that standing for the truth might hurt someone’s feelings or make somebody mad, what do you do? When I consider that question myself, I know that I must repent before the Lord and seek his forgiveness. There have been plenty of times when I have massaged my response or not answered as fully as I could have, for fear of offending someone—even though I knew that what I wanted to say was God’s truth, drawn right from Scripture. For that I must repent.
If you share this conviction with me—there is hope and good news. The God who explains himself as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit offers full pardon and forgiveness to those who trust in the substitute sacrifice of Jesus, the Son. The Father waits for us and welcomes us with open arms. The Spirit generates faith in our hearts. That same Holy Spirit performs a spiritual makeover on us, changing us into bold and loving Christians, people who will speak the truth in love and who will live that love and whatever happens, happens.
Some folks will get upset at that. They’ll claim that truth is relative—there are no absolutes. Others won’t really care one way or the other. And once in a while you’ll even run into some presumably well-meaning Christians who suggest that love and doctrine don’t go together real well. When that happens, we can take a page from Athanasius and just keep standing in there, holding onto what’s true. Love doesn’t let a child play on a busy street; or stick his hand in boiling water, and it’s love that causes us to share this simple message: There is a right way to know God—a way he wants to be known—and when you know him that way, you have everything.
What about Halloween?
Where do you stand on Halloween “practices?”
Viewpoint #1
It is absolutely evil to do anything that reflects Halloween. It began and remains a pagan holiday. Christians have no business carving a jack-o-lantern or putting up Halloween decorations of any kind.
Viewpoint # 2
Christians are free to do anything they want with respect to Halloween. Satan has no power over us—Jesus broke that power on the cross and at Easter. We can laugh at Satan, and so Halloween is just harmless fun.
What do you think of these two viewpoints? Where do you stand?
Is there room for more than these two opinions regarding Halloween? What might those be?
Look up Deuteronomy 18: 9—13. How might this passage help us when we think about Halloween?
What is God’s attitude towards witches and “fortune tellers”? See Isaiah 8: 19
What is the Devil Always trying to do to the Church? (2 Peter 5: 8—9 and 1 Timothy 4: 1).
Who will win the battle between good and evil? See 1 John 3:8 and Matthew 25: 41.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
A Little Lectionary Lesson
What is a lectionary?
A ‘lectionary’ is a set cycle of readings. In the Church, a lectionary is a series of Bible passages chosen for every Sunday of the Church Year.
Where did the lectionary come from?
In the early Church, the celebration of the great Festival Days of Christmas and Easter developed first. Over time, other days of special observance were gradually added. Eventually, Bible readings that supported the ‘flow’ of the Church Year were identified and used in worship. Originally, this was a one-year cycle, meaning that the same readings were used each year. For example, every year the readings for the First Sunday in Advent would be the same.
Do we still use a one-year lectionary?
From 1570 until 1969, the Roman Catholic Church used a one-year lectionary that seemed set in stone. During those centuries Lutherans honored a version of the same lectionary that stemmed from Reformation times.
In 1969, the Roman Catholic Church published a revised lectionary that took a three-year pattern. Presbyterians and Episcopalians in the United States began using their own versions of it in 1970. It came into use in the Lutheran Church with the publication of the Lutheran Book of Worship (LBW) in 1978, and was picked up with little to no alteration in Lutheran Worship (LW), published in 1982. The readings were carefully selected by the Inter-Lutheran Commission on Worship.
What are the advantages of a three-year lectionary?
· It widens the range and variety of Scripture heard by congregations.
· It promotes historical knowledge of the Bible
· It enriches the church’s preaching.
It must be noted that there are some Lutheran churches that continue to use a one-year lectionary (and are free to do so). A one-year lectionary carries with it ancient precedent, along with the strengths and weaknesses of repetition.
The content of this summary is taken from James L. Brauer’s “The Church Year,” published in Lutheran Worship: History and Practice (CPH, 1993).
A ‘lectionary’ is a set cycle of readings. In the Church, a lectionary is a series of Bible passages chosen for every Sunday of the Church Year.
Where did the lectionary come from?
In the early Church, the celebration of the great Festival Days of Christmas and Easter developed first. Over time, other days of special observance were gradually added. Eventually, Bible readings that supported the ‘flow’ of the Church Year were identified and used in worship. Originally, this was a one-year cycle, meaning that the same readings were used each year. For example, every year the readings for the First Sunday in Advent would be the same.
Do we still use a one-year lectionary?
From 1570 until 1969, the Roman Catholic Church used a one-year lectionary that seemed set in stone. During those centuries Lutherans honored a version of the same lectionary that stemmed from Reformation times.
In 1969, the Roman Catholic Church published a revised lectionary that took a three-year pattern. Presbyterians and Episcopalians in the United States began using their own versions of it in 1970. It came into use in the Lutheran Church with the publication of the Lutheran Book of Worship (LBW) in 1978, and was picked up with little to no alteration in Lutheran Worship (LW), published in 1982. The readings were carefully selected by the Inter-Lutheran Commission on Worship.
What are the advantages of a three-year lectionary?
· It widens the range and variety of Scripture heard by congregations.
· It promotes historical knowledge of the Bible
· It enriches the church’s preaching.
It must be noted that there are some Lutheran churches that continue to use a one-year lectionary (and are free to do so). A one-year lectionary carries with it ancient precedent, along with the strengths and weaknesses of repetition.
The content of this summary is taken from James L. Brauer’s “The Church Year,” published in Lutheran Worship: History and Practice (CPH, 1993).
Thursday, October 11, 2007
If You're Reading This Right Now...
...please post a comment and let me know that you've visited. To do so, just click on "0 comments" and follow the instructions. If you post anonymously, that's fine, but I'd like to know who is reading "The Lake County Lutheran." I guess I'd like to be assured that I'm not posting these writings for my own amusement.
That's all. Thanks!
That's all. Thanks!
Jesus Comes To Us In Worship! Really!
“The Lamb who was killed is worthy to receive power, wealth, wisdom, and strength, honor and glory and praise!” Revelation 5: 12
I’ve got a couple of true or false questions for you. Just answer them according to what you really think. Your answers will be known only to you. Here they are:
True or false: Worship is the most important thing the church does. True or false?
Number two: True or false: Worship is the most important thing you and I will do this week. True or false?
They way you answered those questions depends on your understanding of what worship is. What is worship? To echo a question I asked on Easter: what brings you to worship? If you had to describe a worship service to a non-Christian friend, what would you say?
It may come as no surprise to you that I am of the opinion that worship is the most important thing the church does and it is the most important thing you and I will do this week. I believe that with all my heart. Why do I believe that? Well, simply put, worship is a unique and specific way that Jesus Christ himself comes into our lives. We hear his words; he gives his own body and blood in His Holy Supper; He adopts new family members at the baptismal font; and we respond to our living Lord and Savior. The focus of our worship; the center of our worship; the object of our worship is Jesus—the Lamb of God—as the songs of Revelation teach so clearly. In short, Jesus gives himself to us in worship and we react. With that understanding, those true or false questions are pretty easy to answer.
However, it’s no secret that there are many obstacles that get in the way of this simple understanding. If worship is the most important thing we can do, then of course the devil is going to try to distract us or mess up our expectations of worship, or, best of all, prevent us from even making it to worship! Let’s take a moment to identify those obstacles that can rob us of a closer experience of Jesus Christ.
One obstacle—and it is huge—is the fact that you and I live in an entertainment culture. Everywhere we go today, we expect to be entertained. We even have TV shows and entire networks devoted to being entertained. We want to continually be on the edge of our seats. We want to be made to laugh. We want our emotions to be skillfully manipulated; scare us! Make us cry! Inspire us! Make us feel like winners! So we fiddle with the remote until we feel a part of what is happening. We want entertainment. Not only do we want it, we have come to expect it, and if we are not careful, even committed Christians can bring that quest for entertainment into the pew. Because of the culture we live in, we need the reminder that worship is not meant to entertain. Worship is after bigger, better, and deeper goals.
We also find ourselves living in a highly politicized culture. Now hear me right. Holy Scripture can and does speak to every issue of human existence. Our faith ought to be the primary thing that shapes our politics. But if and when political ideology takes the place of God’s Word in the congregation; then you might have a political pep rally, but you are not at worship.
All of this comes together in the fact that our entertainment-centered, highly politicized culture is also consumer-driven, where everything is about me and the bottom line. Worship is really about me, right? Fix me. Entertain me. Make me feel good. Pump me up. Recharge me. Make me feel better. And if you don’t, I’ll go down the street to a church that does. Or I’ll find another god that will revolve around me. This begs the question, “When me-centeredness drives worship choices, who is the one really being worshipped?”
As you can see, we are up against it when it comes to authentic, God pleasing worship. But when we turn to Holy Scripture it becomes all so clear. If you are going to take cues from anyone on how to “do worship,” wouldn’t you take those cues from the Bible—and from heaven itself? So, according to Revelation 5, what is heaven’s worship service like? Let’s take a look!
You have the passage in your bulletin as the Epistle Lesson. The picture is painted in simple strokes. The Lamb, that is, Jesus, is on the throne of God. Angels and faithful people have made a circle around the throne—their worship is literally Christ—centered—and they sing. And as you look at that passage, take note of who the song is directed to. Who and what is this song about? It’s all about what Jesus has done; what Jesus is doing; what Jesus is worthy to do. The focus, the center, the object of worship is Jesus, whose blood purchased people for God from every language and nation.
At the funeral of Louis XIV, perhaps France’s greatest king, the cathedral was packed with mourners. The funeral was held at night, and the only light in that vast sanctuary was one lone candle right by the king’s casket. At the appointed time, the court preacher got up to address the assembly, and he began by snuffing out the candle that had symbolized the greatness of the king. Then, in total darkness he spoke four words: “Only God is great.”
Only God is great. Worthy is the Lamb. The words of our hymns and our liturgy are about what Jesus has done and what He is still doing. Our hymns and services put God’s own Words into our mouths, so that we recount and repeat what God has done for us in Jesus Christ.
That brings up another important idea. The Christian faith is a singing faith. Music can express things that words alone cannot. Music can support and enhance our understanding of God’s saving Word. Here in Revelation 5, the heavenly chorus bursts into joyful song. Therefore the church throughout the ages has used music as a vehicle to transport the good news of Jesus. Now having said that, music alone does not save us. That is the work of the Lamb who was slain and lives again. His Word and Sacraments are the pipelines through which his forgiveness and new life flows. The music that has the privilege of carrying this good news serves the message, and as a carrier of the Word it has great power; it conveys a wide range of emotion; and above all it is directed at Jesus; crucified and risen. In the church, we enjoy a vast tradition of faithful song—in today’s service alone, we’re using church music from the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries. One of the hymns we sang today says it best: “Through the Church the song goes on.” The Song of the Lamb goes on and on…we who make up the Church on earth continue to practice for heaven by encircling the throne of the Lamb and directing our song about him to him. Our slain and living Lamb feeds us and comforts us. Worship that has Jesus at its center really is a slice of heaven on earth.
And boy, how we need to be plugged into that. In a world of car bombs and burnt bodies, how we need Jesus to give us himself and to have the chance to react to him. In a world of false friendships and broken promises, we need to have a place that is ruled by truth and faithfulness. In a world of school shootings and sex offenders, we need to know that in the end, evil does not win. In fact, the kingdom of Jesus Christ has already broken into this world, and it’s found wherever people gather to receive his gifts and to give thanks. How we need heaven to touch down on earth. The secret that is right under our noses is that it does, week after week. The Lamb of God comes to you in Word and Sacrament; and your song blends with heaven’s song.
Maybe the better question to ask about worship is: How can you live without it? Amen.
I’ve got a couple of true or false questions for you. Just answer them according to what you really think. Your answers will be known only to you. Here they are:
True or false: Worship is the most important thing the church does. True or false?
Number two: True or false: Worship is the most important thing you and I will do this week. True or false?
They way you answered those questions depends on your understanding of what worship is. What is worship? To echo a question I asked on Easter: what brings you to worship? If you had to describe a worship service to a non-Christian friend, what would you say?
It may come as no surprise to you that I am of the opinion that worship is the most important thing the church does and it is the most important thing you and I will do this week. I believe that with all my heart. Why do I believe that? Well, simply put, worship is a unique and specific way that Jesus Christ himself comes into our lives. We hear his words; he gives his own body and blood in His Holy Supper; He adopts new family members at the baptismal font; and we respond to our living Lord and Savior. The focus of our worship; the center of our worship; the object of our worship is Jesus—the Lamb of God—as the songs of Revelation teach so clearly. In short, Jesus gives himself to us in worship and we react. With that understanding, those true or false questions are pretty easy to answer.
However, it’s no secret that there are many obstacles that get in the way of this simple understanding. If worship is the most important thing we can do, then of course the devil is going to try to distract us or mess up our expectations of worship, or, best of all, prevent us from even making it to worship! Let’s take a moment to identify those obstacles that can rob us of a closer experience of Jesus Christ.
One obstacle—and it is huge—is the fact that you and I live in an entertainment culture. Everywhere we go today, we expect to be entertained. We even have TV shows and entire networks devoted to being entertained. We want to continually be on the edge of our seats. We want to be made to laugh. We want our emotions to be skillfully manipulated; scare us! Make us cry! Inspire us! Make us feel like winners! So we fiddle with the remote until we feel a part of what is happening. We want entertainment. Not only do we want it, we have come to expect it, and if we are not careful, even committed Christians can bring that quest for entertainment into the pew. Because of the culture we live in, we need the reminder that worship is not meant to entertain. Worship is after bigger, better, and deeper goals.
We also find ourselves living in a highly politicized culture. Now hear me right. Holy Scripture can and does speak to every issue of human existence. Our faith ought to be the primary thing that shapes our politics. But if and when political ideology takes the place of God’s Word in the congregation; then you might have a political pep rally, but you are not at worship.
All of this comes together in the fact that our entertainment-centered, highly politicized culture is also consumer-driven, where everything is about me and the bottom line. Worship is really about me, right? Fix me. Entertain me. Make me feel good. Pump me up. Recharge me. Make me feel better. And if you don’t, I’ll go down the street to a church that does. Or I’ll find another god that will revolve around me. This begs the question, “When me-centeredness drives worship choices, who is the one really being worshipped?”
As you can see, we are up against it when it comes to authentic, God pleasing worship. But when we turn to Holy Scripture it becomes all so clear. If you are going to take cues from anyone on how to “do worship,” wouldn’t you take those cues from the Bible—and from heaven itself? So, according to Revelation 5, what is heaven’s worship service like? Let’s take a look!
You have the passage in your bulletin as the Epistle Lesson. The picture is painted in simple strokes. The Lamb, that is, Jesus, is on the throne of God. Angels and faithful people have made a circle around the throne—their worship is literally Christ—centered—and they sing. And as you look at that passage, take note of who the song is directed to. Who and what is this song about? It’s all about what Jesus has done; what Jesus is doing; what Jesus is worthy to do. The focus, the center, the object of worship is Jesus, whose blood purchased people for God from every language and nation.
At the funeral of Louis XIV, perhaps France’s greatest king, the cathedral was packed with mourners. The funeral was held at night, and the only light in that vast sanctuary was one lone candle right by the king’s casket. At the appointed time, the court preacher got up to address the assembly, and he began by snuffing out the candle that had symbolized the greatness of the king. Then, in total darkness he spoke four words: “Only God is great.”
Only God is great. Worthy is the Lamb. The words of our hymns and our liturgy are about what Jesus has done and what He is still doing. Our hymns and services put God’s own Words into our mouths, so that we recount and repeat what God has done for us in Jesus Christ.
That brings up another important idea. The Christian faith is a singing faith. Music can express things that words alone cannot. Music can support and enhance our understanding of God’s saving Word. Here in Revelation 5, the heavenly chorus bursts into joyful song. Therefore the church throughout the ages has used music as a vehicle to transport the good news of Jesus. Now having said that, music alone does not save us. That is the work of the Lamb who was slain and lives again. His Word and Sacraments are the pipelines through which his forgiveness and new life flows. The music that has the privilege of carrying this good news serves the message, and as a carrier of the Word it has great power; it conveys a wide range of emotion; and above all it is directed at Jesus; crucified and risen. In the church, we enjoy a vast tradition of faithful song—in today’s service alone, we’re using church music from the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries. One of the hymns we sang today says it best: “Through the Church the song goes on.” The Song of the Lamb goes on and on…we who make up the Church on earth continue to practice for heaven by encircling the throne of the Lamb and directing our song about him to him. Our slain and living Lamb feeds us and comforts us. Worship that has Jesus at its center really is a slice of heaven on earth.
And boy, how we need to be plugged into that. In a world of car bombs and burnt bodies, how we need Jesus to give us himself and to have the chance to react to him. In a world of false friendships and broken promises, we need to have a place that is ruled by truth and faithfulness. In a world of school shootings and sex offenders, we need to know that in the end, evil does not win. In fact, the kingdom of Jesus Christ has already broken into this world, and it’s found wherever people gather to receive his gifts and to give thanks. How we need heaven to touch down on earth. The secret that is right under our noses is that it does, week after week. The Lamb of God comes to you in Word and Sacrament; and your song blends with heaven’s song.
Maybe the better question to ask about worship is: How can you live without it? Amen.
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