Isaiah 45:22-25 Sermon

PAlm Sunday

Shepherd of the Hills Ev. Lutheran Church (WELS)

The Gift-Bearing King Comes

Isaiah 45:22-25

 22 "Turn to me and be saved, all you ends of the earth; 
      

for I am God, and there is no other.

 23 By myself I have sworn, my mouth has uttered in all integrity 
      

a word that will not be revoked: 
      

      Before me every knee will bow; by me every tongue will swear.

 24 They will say of me, 'In the LORD alone 
are righteousness and strength.' " 
      

All who have raged against him will come to him and be put to shame.

 25 But all the descendants of Israel 
will find deliverance in the LORD

and will make their boast in him. (NIV)

Pocket change certainly would have been out of line.  A cheap scented candle from the Dollar Store would have been insulting.  An extra sample of lotion snagged from the last hotel stay would definitely not cut it.  Such “gifts” would likely be perceived as cheap even by one of your own houseguests, to say nothing of being completely unfit for a king.  Gold, frankincense, and myrrh, on the other hand – those were gifts befitting a king, for the king, Jesus.  Those were the types of gifts worthy of royalty.  After all, that’s usually the way it works, right?  Guests or visitors fortunate enough to have an audience with the king himself will not come empty-handed, but bearing gifts.

And that was the case in the early years of Jesus’ life – his visitors from the East brought him gifts, gifts fit for the King.  But that wasn’t the case on the other end of Jesus’ earthly life, not in his last week before dying.  When Jesus entered into Jerusalem amidst the palm branches, the “hosannas,” and the eager-to-receive-him crowds, he didn’t come to receive gifts.  In Bethlehem, he was on the receiving end of some very generous gifts, and rightly so – he deserved them.  But in Jerusalem, he did not come to receive gifts, but to give them.  What gifts did he come to bring?

With the kind of vision and precision that only a prophet of God could have, the prophet Isaiah described how the Lord Jesus would come: “In the LORD alone are righteousness and strength” (45:24).   Isaiah told of these gifts centuries before Jesus would bring them!  And, detailing with what would be an eerie clarity if we didn’t know him to be a spokesperson of the Lord, Zechariah later echoed the news that Isaiah had foretold two hundred years earlier. He proclaimed, “Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9).  Adding to the announcement that Jesus would come, “righteous and having salvation,” Zechariah revealed details surrounding the humble manner by which Jesus would enter Jerusalem: riding on a donkey.  The King would enter into Jerusalem humbly, and bearing the gifts of righteousness, strength, and salvation. 

I don’t know that righteousness is perceived by people today as being a necessary a gift.  This may be due to a misunderstanding of what righteousness is.  If people take it to mean “doing the right thing,” then two issues could arise: 1) since your average person is pretty accepting of the fact that everyone makes mistakes, then righteousness ends up ranking pretty low on the list of priorities (why do we need it if we all mess up anyway?), or 2) “right” is such a relative term that no two people may even agree on what qualifies as being “right.”  Either issue is a problem. The second is especially hard to nail down in our day and age, but I feel fairly confident saying that no matter what one’s standards of “doing right the right thing” are, our standards as a society are a far cry from what they once were, and they don’t appear to be improving.

Yes, “right” is relative.  It qualifies anything and everything as being acceptable, so long as it doesn’t hurt others.  If it’s right for you and no one else is harmed by it, then there’s nothing wrong with it.  For example, if the end justifies the means, then lying may be perfectly acceptable.  Taking advantage of my employer or my company because they’re not smart enough to figure out what I’m getting away with isn’t my fault – it’s theirs for not doing a better job of catching stuff like that. 

It was a humorous example when it first aired, but sadly I don’t think it’s all that far off from reality today.  Even if you were never into the television show Seinfeld, you may have been familiar with how the series ended.  All the main characters were in a small town together as they witnessed a crime being committed across the street.  They watched in amusement, making fun of the man being robbed, but they didn’t do anything to help.  The humor came in that they ended up being arrested because of what was referred to as the “Good Samaritan” law, which required that citizens do something to try to help when a crime is being committed.

What was funny then has become reality today.  My wife and I had gone out to see a movie months ago.  After the movie was over, we were in the lobby heading out the front door when suddenly one guy attacked another and started punching him.  At first it didn’t seem real, as if two buddies were perhaps staging something.  But the blood on the face of one of them made it clear the fight was genuine.  After seeing that nothing was being done by any employees or anyone else to break it up, I started walking toward them to try to intervene, at which time others nearer to them finally grabbed a hold of them and worked to pull them apart and calm them down.  When it was under control, I turned back to where my wife had been to see people crowded nearby.  I looked for her outside, and discovered that she had gone out to see if there were any security guards outside at all.  What shocked both of us most about the whole incident was not that two people were fighting, but that so many people standing nearby didn’t feel that the right thing to do was to seek help or try to break it up.  No, apparently the “right” thing to do was whip out your phone and make sure you got as much as possible on video.  So are the mixed up notions of what is “right” in society today.

No, I don’t think the gift of righteousness which Jesus was bringing with him to Jerusalem would be seen as all that valuable if defined simply as “doing the right thing” in a society in which “the right thing” is relative.

But what if righteousness means something other than just doing the right thing?  What if it means being right with God, as in fact it does?  What if entrance into heaven would be impossible without being right with God, as in fact it is?  Then Jesus’ gift of righteousness is quite precious.  Its value increases substantially when I recognize that without a perfect and righteous relationship with God, my eternity will be spent cast off from his presence, confined to the fire of hell and the agony of unrelenting pain.

Yes, righteousness matters.  Isn’t that what God the Father made known at Jesus’ baptism and again at his Transfiguration?  When with his own divine voice he expressed delight with his Son, what was it that pleased the Father?  He was pleased with his Son because Jesus had not missed the mark.  His record of obedience was spotless.  His motives were pure and holy – a perfect reflection of what was in his heart.  The Father was pleased with the Son because in him he truly saw hope for mankind; in him he saw the righteousness that was needed for man to spend eternity with God in heaven.

So as Jesus strode into Jerusalem, he alone could bring the gift of righteousness that we need.  And that gift didn’t come alone, but was accompanied by strength and salvation, as Isaiah pointed out.  For how else can I be strong but in the One who is righteousness for me?  Fortified by his righteousness, I can stand up to Satan and flex my spiritual muscle, for my strength in the face of testing and trial is really none other than Christ’s strength in me.  His righteousness strengthens me.

And it is a strength that also goes hand-in-hand with salvation.  Jesus is our righteousness and strength, to be sure, but he came to Jerusalem to seal the deal, to finish everything and make arrangements to finalize our eternity.  He did that not just by making us right with God, but also by paying the price for when we failed to be right with him on our own.  His reward for gifting us with his righteousness?  He received our sin in return.  And our sin came with consequence: judgment and condemnation.  It came with the full fury of God’s wrath against our damning unrighteousness. 

Yet our King entered into Jerusalem knowing full well that abandonment by the Father was a part of the deal.  It was the cost of the gift he came to give us.  But not just us.  And not just to his chosen people of Jewish heritage; he came to give the gift to all.  It was wrapped up in the invitation God extended to humanity through Isaiah:  "Turn to me and be saved, all you ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is no other” (v.22).  His gift was to reach to the ends of the earth.  His gift has no restrictions.  It cares not of class or color, size or shape, but beckons all to open empty palms and receive his gift freely by faith.

And there is no place for questioning the validity of this invitation to all to receive his gifts of righteousness, strength, and salvation.  His invitation is reliable and trustworthy, for the Lord swore it by the highest power possible; he guaranteed it by his own name.  He said through Isaiah, “By myself I have sworn, my mouth has uttered in all integrity a word that will not be revoked” (v.23).  The LORD God swore by his own name a word that does not go out without effect.  His words don’t return to him empty, and his oath cannot be broken.  It is true – the gifts have been given for all.  Let our eyes of faith be ready once again this Holy Week to review the price Jesus paid to make it so.

There was a well-known author who had been disabled by disease and struggled with a certain amount of depression as a result.  While visiting an art palace in Paris and viewing the beautiful statue Venus de Milo, which famously at some point in history lost both arms, he was overcome with emotion.  He threw himself down at the feet of the work of art, filled with despair, and, as he put it, “There I lay a long time, and wept so passionately that a stone must have had compassion on me. The goddess looked down compassionately upon me, but she was helpless to console me. She looked as if she would say – ‘See you not that I have no arms, and that therefore I can give you no help?’” 

So it will be with anyone who looks anywhere but to God for rescue and deliverance.  All others are powerless, but the Lord’s arms are strong to save.  Jesus rode into Jerusalem to prove it.  Our Gift-bearing King came, and he brought righteousness, strength, and salvation as his gifts to you.  May we receive his gifts with hearts of faith, and thank him with lives of gratitude. Amen.

“For the freer confidence is from one’s own works, and the more exclusively it is directed toward Christ alone, so much better is the Christian it makes.” (Luther)

Philippians 3:8-14 Sermon

the fifth sunday in lent

Shepherd of the Hills Ev. Lutheran Church (WELS)

Cast Off Your Credentials

Philippians 3:8-14

8 What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ 9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith. 10 I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, 11 and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead. 12 Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. 13 Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, 14 I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (NIV)

Have you ever heard another preacher preach, a friend rant and rave about her pastor, or paged through a great read written by a pastor and found yourself wondering, “What if we had a pastor like so-and so?”  According to certain standards, I will acknowledge that my track record isn’t really anything to get terribly excited about.  I am not a published author with scores of titles that are consistently best sellers – for that matter, I don’t even need a hand to count the number of books I’ve published.  I am not a keynote speaker who draws hundreds or thousands to ministry conferences on growing your church or changing the world.  I don’t have a thriving radio ministry or internet presence or thousands of followers on Twitter or anywhere else that would grant me celebrity-like status in the church world.  And, I’m absolutely positive that my name was not even considered during this week’s election of the next pope.  Face it, there just isn’t much in my track record about which to “ooohhh” and “aaahhh.”

But the same could not have been said for the apostle Paul.  Listen to what he said about himself in the verses immediately preceding the ones we heard in our Second Lesson this morning. “If anyone thinks he has reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic righteousness, faultless” (3:4b-6).  Now as far as religious leaders of the day went, Paul was someone to get excited about.  Paul’s pedigree was outstanding.  He was born into the right family.  He had done the right things.  In fact, so well-known and established was Paul that the mention of his name struck terror into the lives of Christians early on because of his relentless religious drive to persecute the Christian faith.  His religious reputation was beyond commendable by the standards of the religious leaders of his day.

And that makes what he wrote next stand out all the more.  As much as Paul had the reputation, as much as the credentials were there, what was his view of them after coming to faith in Jesus Christ?  “What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage” (v.8).  What formerly he had prized, presently he despised.  Paul had poured a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into acquiring all of his religious merit badges.  He took his religion about as seriously as anyone could.  But now everything that he considered valuable in that department he was ready to take to the spiritual dumpster.  All of it was nothing but trash.

So what brought about the drastic change in Paul’s life?  How does one’s view of what is valuable change so drastically in so short a time?  What would cause a painter who had spent years honing his skills to just up and decide never to pick up a brush again, and on top of it, to trash all of his past paintings?  Why would a grammy-winning, concert sell-out, top-selling-album singer decide never to sing another note professionally, and quit selling every single song she’s ever sung?  What would it take for a championship-winning professional athlete who has spent his life practicing, weight training, and eating right in order to fine-tune his game to suddenly walk away from the sport completely?  That was essentially what Paul was doing by walking away from everything that mattered most to him in his life.  Why?

He already revealed the answer, didn’t he?  It was wrapped up in his renunciation of his own righteousness: “What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage” (v.8).  Paul was ready to give up his pristine past because he had a much better offer in Christ.  His law-based life of the past had zero value compared to forgiveness-full future in Christ.  For Paul, it wasn’t about what he was giving up, but about what he was gaining.

What a needed reminder for us!  Doesn’t that sum up so well our lives in Christ Jesus?  It’s not about what we’re giving up, but about what we’re gaining.  How much easier would life be if we approached everything from that perspective?  How richly blessed would we be if we truly understood that life in Jesus is not about what we’re giving up, but about what we’re gaining?

Aren’t we much more accustomed to approaching our relationship with Jesus from the other angle?  Isn’t our default mode to first ask what we have to give up before we are committed?  “Alright, so I have to give up a few Sundays once in a while, write out a check here and there, sign up for this or that on occasion, and that should cover it, right?”  The problem is, if my entire relationship with Jesus is based on what I’m giving up for him, then how can I ever grow in my relationship with him?  Inevitably, when hardship and toil and struggle and more sacrifice come up because of my faith, I will always view my relationship with Jesus as a strain on all other aspects of life.  I will always perceive things to be unbalance – that I am giving up way more than I should have to in this relationship.  A misguided focus on what I have to give up will always lead to a view that sees Jesus as cramping my style and encroaching on my life, finally leading us to resent him.    

There’s also a dangerous extreme on the other end of the spectrum of basing our relationship with Jesus on what we’re giving up.  The other extreme is the open door which beckons us to base our confidence before God on how much we’re giving up.  Then, we inadvertently become what Paul once was, a Pharisee.  If it’s about what I’m giving up, then I resort again to self-righteousness.  I may do the right things, but for the wrong reason.  I go to church every Sunday and then some.  I don’t just read a few verses or chapters in the Bible daily – I read whole books at a time.  Everyone else talks about giving 10% – I give 20%.  I don’t just sign up to clean, but I do refreshments, flowers, and greet as well, looking for just a few more ways to volunteer so that I can complete my decathlon of self-righteousness. 

But here’s the thing: if we are unable to change the paradigm that determines our connection with Christ, that is, if we can’t start looking at it the other way around – what we’re gaining instead of what we’re giving up, then we set ourselves up for despair.  How?  Because there’s always something more that can be given up, isn’t there, and if there’s always something more, then at what point can I ever be sure I’ve given up enough?  There is no such point!  And until we realize that, we’ll try harder and harder, giving up more and more in different and more creative ways, but our conscience will never rest, always convincing us that we must give up just a little more.

How different it is when our attention is focused on what we’re gaining instead of what we’re giving up!  Then the question isn’t “what do I have to give up, but what did Christ give up so that I could gain?”  Paul knew he was getting in Christ what he could never gain in his old way of life: “not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith” (v.9).  The reason he counted his past way of life as rubbish was because the Holy Spirit opened his eyes to see it for what it was – worthless!  The only righteousness that counts is that which comes through Jesus Christ, because it’s the only genuine righteousness that exists.  Any other righteousness that is worked out on our own is incomplete, but Christ’s righteousness is perfect in every way.  His perfect obedience meant that every “I” was dotted and every “T was crossed.  And just as it was for Abraham and every believer since, that righteousness is received only by faith, not by our own merits.

Once you truly realize that it’s not about what you’re being asked to give up, but about what you gain in Christ, then something completely unexpected happens: you start to value things differently.  The things you thought were important in life are, well, not very important.  The things that you formerly figured were “must-haves” become “I-can-live-withouts.”  And it’s not just money or materialism we’re talking about – not just “stuff.”  Recognition doesn’t matter.  Worldly success seems trivial.  I become less of a miser with my time.  In short, everything changes when we realize it isn’t about what we’re giving up, but about what we’ve gained.

That Paul understands that truth is so clear from the final verses of our lesson.  It’s why he encouraged the Philippians to “press on” instead of “look back.”  It’s not about looking backward, but looking forward.  Paul hadn’t reached perfection, as some of his enemies in Philippi may have been falsely teaching he claimed to do, but he knew that what lie ahead was easily worth staying the course.  “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (v.13b,14). 

Paul knew what a little old lady knew and expressed when she asked to be buried with her fork.  When the minister had heard her request, he thought it a bit odd, initially.  Then she explained to him that she always remembered as a little girl that when the ladies at church would come by to clear the plates from the tables after a potluck, they’d remind everyone, “Keep your fork.”  Why?  Because when the main meal was finished and the plates were cleared, that meant it was time for dessert.  “Keep your fork” meant that the best was yet to come.

We know it, too.  The best is yet to come.  Let this world have all that we’ve been asked to give up, including our own supposed self-righteousness.  Cast off your credentials, or as one Christian once put it, “Leave your resume behind,” because the world to come is only ours through the righteousness of Christ.  And that world – our home in heaven – is where we stand to gain the most.  Press on.  Keep your fork.  The best is yet to come.  Amen.

“For the freer confidence is from one’s own works, and the more exclusively it is directed toward Christ alone, so much better is the Christian it makes.” (Luther)

Isaiah 12:1-6 Sermon

the fourth sunday in lent

Shepherd of the Hills Ev. Lutheran Church (WELS)

The Anger Is Over

Isaiah 12:1-6

In that day you will say:

“I will praise you, Lord. Although you were angry with me,
 your anger has turned away and you have comforted me.
  ² Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid.
   The Lord, the Lord himself, is my strength and my defense;
 he has become my salvation.”
  ³ With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.

⁴ In that day you will say:

“Give praise to the Lord, proclaim his name; make known among the nations what he has done, and proclaim that his name is exalted. ⁵ Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things; let this be known to all the world.
 ⁶ Shout aloud and sing for joy, people of Zion, for great is the Holy One of Israel among you.” (NIV)

It was a huge piece of Redwing pottery, larger than a five-gallon bucket.  We stored a couple of logs of firewood and kindling in it by the fireplace.  I was told to get some more wood to replace what was burning in the fireplace.  I don’t remember if it was pure carelessness on my part or a genuine accident, but when I dropped a log in the huge pot and it cracked the bottom, I do remember this: my mother was furious.  She was visibly and vocally livid, and I was on the receiving end of her anger.  However, it didn’t take long for my dad to come in and try to calm her down, explain that she was over-reacting, and basically save my life.  Whatever he did or said, it was enough to cause my mom’s anger to subside.

So which parent is God more like?  Is he the angry one who won’t hesitate to jump down our throats with each transgression, or is he the one who appears to be more understanding, recognizing that sin happens, and it isn’t really anything to get all worked up about? 

Perhaps you’ve heard an expression that tries to answer which type God is: “God loves the sinner, but hates the sin.”  Maybe you’ve even used the expression yourself.  Now, putting the best construction on the statement, it can possibly be understood as a well-intentioned attempt to stress the point that God does not despise one type of sin more than others, or that certain sins are less offensive to him than others.  For example, the statement might be made to point out that God doesn’t hate a homosexual for his sin any more than he does a liar for his.  We can at least appreciate the point the statement is being used to try and make.

However, well-intentioned as it might be, the statement as it stands alone is flat-out false.  It confuses law and gospel.  If God only hates the sin, then what do I have to fear?  He has no issue with me, just with what I’ve done.  His bone to pick is with the wake of disaster sin has left in my life and in the life of others, but he’s not going to hold it against me, because I’m just a sinner and that’s what I do.  I’m like the little toddler who just made a huge mess of things, but daddy understands, because “he didn’t know better.  He’s a toddler, and toddlers do these sorts of things.”

But is that really how God feels?  God doesn’t seem to be that loving toward the wicked throughout the Psalms.  He held accountable with their lives those who rebelled against Moses during the Exodus.  He didn’t hesitate to strike down Ananias and Sapphira when they openly lied to him.  No, let the law do its work.  Let it be clear: God hates sinners because of their sin.

Notice that Isaiah didn’t write, “Although you were angry with my sin,” but rather, “Although you were angry with me.”  Sin is not this separate thing that is independent of us.  Rather, it reveals the true colors of our hearts by nature.  It reveals that we are inherently hostile toward God and that we are his bitter enemies.  Yes, God is angry with you and with me, the crown of his creation, because ever since the Fall just after the Creation, man has habitually harbored hate in his heart toward God.

Do you struggle to see how God could hate sinners because of their sin?  Then point your eyes to the cross.  Have you seen nothing this Lent?  Have you not seen the battered Jesus suspended in agony?  Do not turn away; fix your eyes on the God-man as he hangs there for your sins and my sins, and try to convince yourself that it is merely our sins that God is unhappy with, and that he doesn’t really take issue with the guilty party who committed the sin.  If God really had no problem with man, but only with his sin, then why was it necessary that someone die in man’s place, as his substitute?  Could God not have surmised some alternate plan that wouldn’t see his wrath taken out on an individual, but which would have somehow reflected merely his disappointment at sin?

And then stop to think: if that is how God had to treat his only Son because of sin that was not even his own, how must he really feel toward those responsible for putting his Son there in the first place?  How must he really feel toward you and me?  Can we possibly imagine the thought running through God’s mind, “it should have been them instead of my only Son.  Those despicable sinners deserved it; my Son did not.”   Let it be clear: God hates sinners because of their sin.  Or, to put it as bluntly as it could possibly be put, God hates you and me because of our sin.

That is the stark reality of Isaiah’s words, “Although you were angry with me…” (v.1).  Correction: that would have been the stark reality of Isaiah’s words, if history had not been indelibly impacted by Good Friday.  For on that one day in the history of the world, we have the single greatest paradox the world would ever experience: at Calvary, God’s hatred of sinners because of their sin met head-on with God’s love of sinners because of Christ.  Christ’s crucifixion is the display of God’s divine justice playing out to the fullest, as his wrath toward sinners is cruelly satisfied, yet Christ’s crucifixion is at the very same time the display of God’s divine love for sinners, as that wrath was endured by his own Son in place of you and me.  The cross is a crystal clear preaching of the law, in that it shows the consequence of our sin clearly for us to see.  The cross is also a crystal clear preaching of the gospel, in that it shows how deeply God loves us by turning his wrath away from us on to his own Son.

And so Isaiah’s thought was incomplete.  More needed to be written to bring his statement to a resolution.  “Although you were angry with me, your anger has turned away” (v.1).  God’s people in Isaiah’s day knew from history what it meant for God’s anger to be turned away.  God’s anger showed itself in slavery in Egypt, but that hot anger cooled down in deliverance, when God flexed his almighty muscle and brought his chosen people to the land set apart from them.  God’s people in Isaiah’s day would know not just from history, but also from experience how God’s anger could be turned away.  God’s anger would show itself through captivity and exile, but Isaiah was promising that such anger would turn away as God would restore a remnant of his people and allow them to return back to their homes in Jerusalem.

God had established the pattern throughout history so that man could fully count on him to keep his promise when it mattered most – at Calvary.  Calvary is where God turned his anger away from us.  It is where God shifted his attention from sinners to his Son. 

Now in our dealings with one another we are relieved simply when someone’s anger against us subsides.  In anger – justified or not – someone lays into us, filling our ears with a raging rant or flurry of frustration over something we’ve done.  They yell and scream.  We cringe.  We brace ourselves and hope to ride it out just long enough until the anger passes.  Then when it finally does we breathe a sigh of relief.  Their anger has turned away and we can move on. 

But God did more than just turn his anger away from us at Calvary; through Calvary he comforts us.  Isaiah’s statement was still incomplete.  He concluded it with the thought, “and you have comforted me” (v.1).  Yes, God’s anger turned away, but then God turned back at us again – this time not in anger, but in compassion.  Not to condemn, but to comfort. 

Isn’t that precisely what the cross does?  Crosses adorn the walls of our homes, they hang around our necks, they’re stuck on our bumpers, and they enjoy prominence in our sanctuaries.  And why?  Not because God is still angry with us, but because he is not!  What a powerful statement of love, of mercy, and of grace the cross makes!  It is God’s visual aid to us which says more than a thousand words of the depth of his unconditional love toward us.  At the cross a symbol of rebellion has become a symbol of righteousness!  A symbol of punishment has become a symbol of peace!  A symbol of death has become a symbol of life!  It is an image that can be counted on more than my own emotions, for even when my own feelings betray and disown me, leading me to call into question if my forgiveness is real, the cross cries out with the deafening declaration, “Forgiven!”  Through the cross I am comforted with the absolute assurance, “Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid.  The Lord, the Lord himself, is my strength and my defense; he has become my salvation”
(v.2).  The devil will assail me.  The world will deceive me.  But the cross will always comfort me, for through it God has revealed that he is the source of my strength and my salvation.

When we have that comfort, that peace of mind that in Christ Jesus we are safe and secure, objects of God’s forgiveness instead of his fury, then, as Isaiah pointed out, there is a faith-filled response.  “Give praise to the Lord, proclaim his name; make known among the nations what he has done, and proclaim that his name is exalted.  Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things; let this be known to all the world.
 ⁶ Shout aloud and sing for joy, people of Zion, for great is the Holy One of Israel among you” (v. 4-6).

The anger is over, dear friends.  God left it at the cross.  Let’s live like that profoundly life-changing news is the actual reality in our lives.  Thank the Lord as you praise him in Word and worship.  Proclaim his completed work of salvation and the marvels of eternal life in Jesus Christ to one another, but make it known also “among the nations” and “to all the world.”  Look forward with renewed excitement to the joy of Easter that will soon be upon us and consider one person – just one – to whom you can proclaim the peace provided by the Resurrection.  Don’t hesitate.  Don’t wait.  Don’t avoid.  Tell him/her what you are so privileged to know: the anger is over.  God loves sinners because of Christ. Amen.

“For the freer confidence is from one’s own works, and the more exclusively it is directed toward Christ alone, so much better is the Christian it makes.” (Luther)

Exodus 3:1-8b,10-15 Sermon

the third sunday in lent

Shepherd of the Hills Ev. Lutheran Church (WELS)

Replacing Excuses with Repentance

Exodus 3:1-8b,10-15

¹ Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. ² There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. ³ So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.” ⁴ When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!” And Moses said, “Here I am.” ⁵ “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” ⁶ Then he said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.” At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.

⁷ The Lord said, “I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. ⁸ So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey. ¹⁰ So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.”  ¹¹ But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” ¹² And God said, “I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.”

¹³ Moses said to God, “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?” ¹⁴ God said to Moses, “I am who I am. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I am has sent me to you.’” ¹⁵ God also said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of your fathers—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob—has sent me to you.’ “This is my name forever,
 the name you shall call me
 from generation to generation. (NIV)

Can this be the same individual?  Did we really already meet this meek shepherd who now appears before the Lord God full of fear and awe?  Do we know this timid tender of sheep who cowers while covering his face to avoid looking at God?

Yes, we have met him before, but we may not recognize him as he stands before the burning bush.  No, when we met him previously he was a cold-blooded killer.  Unable to control his zeal for his fellow Hebrews, in a fit of rage he stepped in and murdered an Egyptian whom he witnessed beating down a fellow Hebrew.  Thinking he had gotten away with it, he hid the body in the sand so that no one would uncover his crime.  But his plan began to unravel the very next day when he discovered that someone had witnessed his act of murder.  Word had gotten out, and after it did, Pharaoh wanted Moses’ head.  So he fled to Midian.

That is where he was when the Lord came to him and called him into service.  And make no mistake, it was the LORD God himself in Moses’ presence when he was called.  It was God’s own voice that called to him, “Moses! Moses!” (v.4).  Only God’s involvement could explain the phenomenon of a burning bush that failed to burn up.  The flames were there, but there were no ashes from burned leaves or branches.  The flames were clearly there, but the bush was not being consumed by them.  It was unmistakably God revealing himself to Moses.  The demand that Moses slip off his sandals in God’s presence was another reminder that being before God was to be in the presence of holiness.  Moses knew it full well, as he hid his face “because he was afraid to look at God” (v.6).  There was no question – it was the Almighty God of his ancestors who stood there calling to Moses.

Then God revealed the purpose of his visit. “The Lord said, “I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering.  So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey.  So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt” (v.7-8a,10).

Ah, now if we have in mind the over zealous killer he was when first met Moses, we should think he would be more than thrilled to be called on to lead the rebellion, to throw off the Egyptian shackles of slavery and lead his people to freedom.  His action then seemed to beg and scream for such an opportunity, to be at the front of the fray and put an end to the savage abuse and mistreatment of his fellow man.  But perhaps the forty years (cf. Acts 7) that had passed had changed him, because where we might expect his eager and willing spirit to respond with a “Yes sir, at your service,” instead we hear from the eighty year-old Moses, “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” (v.11).

Gone was the fiery zeal of his youth.  It had been replaced with a spirit of humility, which time tends to do to a man over the years.  Moses didn’t see himself being the caliber of individual that the Lord needed to confront Pharaoh himself.  He didn’t feel he had the charisma or the charm or the personality that people would want to get behind and follow.  He must have thought to himself, “Who in his right mind would get behind a simple shepherd, eighty years-old, no less, and why on earth would Pharaoh listen to anything I’ve got to say?”  At that point Moses’ reaction to God’s call stemmed from feelings of humility and inadequacy.

But the longer the discussion between the LORD God and Moses went on, Moses continued to rebut God’s responses with what he most certainly felt were legitimate reasons for excusing himself from the task at hand.  “Who should I say sent me?”  “What if they don’t believe me?”  “I’ve not been known to have a way with words – what about my poor speech?”  Finally, Moses revealed his true colors when he begged, “O Lord, please send someone else to do it” (4:13).  At first Moses’ reluctance appeared to be based in humility, feeling that he just wasn’t cut out for it.  But the longer he questioned, his humility seemed to dissolve into doubt, as if to imply that he didn’t feel that God really knew what he was doing in calling him to lead his people out of Egypt.

So which was it, humility or doubt?  Does it really matter?  Even humility at its core can represent a lack of trust, can’t it?  Openly doubting is one thing, as it’s pretty easy to connect doubt with a lack of trust in God, but humility is a little more subtle.  In lacking confidence in himself, wasn’t Moses also lacking confidence – or not trusting – God’s choice? It is a subtle dig at God, who obviously called Moses to lead his people out of Egypt because he could do it.  So for Moses to presume – even with a humble heart – that he wasn’t the man for the job was tantamount to telling God that he made the wrong choice and that he didn’t trust it. 

So how did God finally get Moses off his duff and on his way?  Well, if you skip toward the end of their discussion, he made it clear to Moses that Moses was pushing it.  “Then the LORD’s anger burned against Moses…” (4:14).  But even before that, God resorted to a simple, yet effective method that he has used throughout history: he reminded man who he was.  When asked who he should say sent him, “God said to Moses, ‘I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’’  God also said to Moses, ‘Say to the Israelites, ‘The LORD, the God of your fathers – the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob – has sent me to you.’  This is my name forever, the name by which I am to be remembered from generation to generation’” (v.14-15).

“I AM.”  Such a description can only apply to the One who was, who is, and who always will be.  I AM needs no introduction.  I AM needs no referrals or recommendations from men to establish his credibility or reputation, for I AM was in existence before man was even around.  I AM is synonymous with grace, mercy, and compassion, and through Moses, I AM intended to showcase that mercy by bringing deliverance to his enslaved sons and daughters of Israel.  Through that deliverance I AM would also provide a picture of the deliverance that would come through I AM in the flesh – the Savior, Jesus Christ.  And the I AM who would come in the flesh is the very same I AM who had previously made himself known to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  The very same I AM who had given and applied his promises to their ancestors was now making a promise to Israel, and just as he had with their ancestors, so would he keep his promise to this generation as well. 

We need to be reminded of who the LORD God is as well, because just like Moses, we need a bit of an attitude adjustment periodically.  While God hasn’t called us to the task to which he called Moses, he has called us, nonetheless.  He has called us to grow in his grace (2 Pe. 3:18).  He has called us to serve one another in love (Gal. 5:13).  He has called us to take of his body and blood frequently (1 Cor. 11).  He has called us to spread the good news of Jesus to the ends of the earth (Mt. 28:19).  He has called us to do and to be so much for his kingdom.

And we’ve taken a page right out of Moses’ book and come up with every excuse under the sun not to.  Do I need to list them all?  No, just look into your heart and you will see all the excuses right there.  You’ve heard them all and you’ve used a lot of them; I’ve heard them all, and I’ve used a lot of them.  We might even try to call them “reasons,” but God can see in our hearts that often times those are  nothing but dressed up excuses.  See, our sinful nature is so adept that it can pass off an excuse and make it appear as a legitimate reason for avoiding something that God has called us to.  What’s funny – no, what’s sad – is that we think we’re actually fooling God.  Oh, we might be fooling others around us, but we can’t hide what’s really in our hearts from God.  He knows an excuse when he sees one, even if we think we’ve successfully disguised it as a legitimate reason for neglecting our calling as children of God.

So what is the answer?  What is always the answer when it comes to soul-torching sin?  Repentance.  We quit with the rebellious excuses and replace them with repentance.  We confess that like Moses, we don’t fully trust God’s choice in appointing us to live out the calling attached to our Christian faith.  We admit that we’re frequently guilty of spending as much time trying to wiggle our way out of our calling as we are of faithfully carrying it out.

And through that process of repentance, painful as it is, God quite literally changes our hearts.  He transforms us.  He adjusts our attitudes.  When we’re open enough to admit our shameful excuses to him, he is gracious enough over and over and over to quickly point our eyes in the direction of Calvary and remind us who he is.  Just as quickly as we expose our sin before him, he is right there to dispose of it, assuring us that the bitter suffering of Lent took place to forgive our excuses and pay them off with the precious blood of Christ.  That is the beauty of being called by God into the Christian faith: we are not called first and foremost to do, do, do; rather, we are called to be, be, be – be forgiven in Christ Jesus.  And the greater awareness we have of that reality, that in Christ Jesus and by his grace alone we are forgiven and purified, holy and righteous, perfect and at peace, the more natural it is for us to cling to our calling and faithfully carry it out.  When we recognize that we’ve been reconciled in Christ, the excuses have a tendency to disappear and the new life in Christ inside each one of us delights to live out Christ’s claim on our lives.  Lord, help us to replace the excuses with repentance, that in your forgiveness we might live joyfully and freely to carry out our calling.  Amen.

“For the freer confidence is from one’s own works, and the more exclusively it is directed toward Christ alone, so much better is the Christian it makes.” (Luther)