The Law and the Promise

In the Young Adult group that meets on Wednesday evenings, in between silly movies, we’ve been reading Galatians. And to Lutherans in the know Galatians is probably the most Lutheran book of the bible. It is a book about the proper distinction of law and gospel. And distinction is the right word.  They are two separate covenants – Abraham and Moses. But the covenant with Abraham – “he believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness (Genesis 15:6, Galatians 3:6)” – is both prior to that with Moses and more direct. God speaks directly with Abraham.  The covenant of Sinai with Israel is mediated by Moses.  Exodus has Moses going up the mountain and down the mountain and up and down each time relaying parts of a negotiation.  Down, I’ve met the LORD. Up, the people of Israel say you are scary.  Down, tell them they are right and to back away from the mountain. Up, they’ve agreed and backed away. Let me bring down your word. You should go down first.  Down, witnesses the golden calf. Breaks the law. Cleans up Israel.  Up, yes, God, I’m sorry, I dropped the tablets. I’ll make a copy.  Down, here is the law again, will you keep it? Up, they said they’d keep it. Down, we need to assemble the elders for a meal on the mountain. Up, a meal with the Elder and the LORD to celebrate the covenant of Moses.  The covenant with Abraham is the promise – the gospel.  Believe, God will do it, God has done it. The covenant with Moses is the law.

Isaiah 56, our Old Testament lesson for this Sunday, is an interesting mixture of the promise and the law. But I can’t help but hear the gospel predominate. “Thus says the LORD: Keep justice, and do righteousness, for soon my salvation will come, and my righteousness be revealed (Isaiah 56:1).” Paul would say something like the law was given to us as guardian (Galatians 3:24). And there is nothing wrong with the law.  The law is good and wise. It is justice. It is righteousness. It’s problem is that the law cannot make us righteous. It instead exposes that we are far from righteous and injustice is what sow. Often injustice is what we sow exactly when we think we are meeting it out.  And so what we need is the promise.  “My salvation will come, my righteousness be revealed.” God will act.  And in the act of God we shall find our salvation, even victory over our sinful selves.

And this is the superiority of the Gospel – of the direct promise. It is available to all. It is available not to the offsprings of Abraham, the pure physical descent.  It is available through the offspring – Christ (Galatians 3:16).  Isaiah puts this in a different key.  He calls out the foreigner, that is the gentile, and the eunuch, that one literally cut off. Our lesson cuts this line out.  Probably because of squeamishness over eunuch.  “Let not the foreigner who has joined himself to the LORD say ‘The LORD will surely separate me from his people’; and let not the eunuch say ‘behold, I am a dry tree. (Isaiah 56:3)’” Isaiah implores both to “hold fast to my covenant.”

Which covenant?  He mentions the Sabbath and the sacrifices.  The sacrifices are clearly part of the law.  But the Sabbath goes back to the beginning.  On the seventh day, God rested.  The toil of the law – the guardian – is felt.  But he Sabbath rest comes.  And yes, the necessities of the sacrifices of the law once filled the temple.  And Christ cleared it saying “my house shall be a house of prayer for all peoples (Luke 19:46).” For Christ is the salvation of God.  And Christ is the righteousness of God.  It is not that the law is useless or contrary.  It is that the promise is stronger.  The law kills us, but God is the God of life.

And he gathers us all into his house of prayer. He promises the eunuch “I will give you a house within my walls, and a name that shall not be cut off.” He promises the foreigner, “I will gather others to him, besides those already gathered.”  These I will bring to my holy mountain and make them joyful in prayer. Paul would say in Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female. In Christ we are heirs of the promise.  And we have seen his deliverance revealed.

The Wind and the Waves

Biblical Text: Matthew 14:22-33

The episode is Jesus walking on the water. I probably burn too much time reflecting on how this story is told – or not told – across the gospels, but it is interesting how each of the evangelists uses is – or uses its absence – in unique ways. And Matthew’s way focuses on Peter. And by focusing on Peter he is focusing on what type of God we have. Just having a God, at least in the biblical way, means having a God who is sovereign. He can do what he wants. And Jesus walking on water is a miraculous confirmation of that. That somehow this is God in the flesh. God is doing a new thing. And Peter jumping out of the boat and walking is an extension of that. But the real revelation comes when Peter’s gaze leaves his Lord and sees the wind and the waves. When he does this, he starts sinking. And his immediate call is “Lord, save me.” And this is where we learn what type of God we have. The sermon proclaims this nicely.

Job’s Answer – The Character of God

Note: I’ve been cajoled into including a reading of these Pastor’s Corner articles. I guess I’m going to include it in the podcast feed now.

Our Old Testament Lesson this Sunday (Job 38:4-18) is chosen for one specific line – “Have you entered into the spring of the sea, or walked in the recesses of the deep?” – which lines up with the gospel lesson’s Jesus walking on the water. And the impact of the Old Testament lesson as it is read is exactly what Jesus walking on the water signals, what the disciples intone together at the close, “truly you are the Son of God.” God is always something completely beyond us.  Even while being true man, he remains true God.  And if that doesn’t scare you a little, instill a holy fear, check your heart to be sure you are still living.

But this Job passage in its larger context speaks to a deeper mystery than simply awe.  If there can be such a thing. We roughly know the start of Job.  He is describes as “blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil.” This is better than the OT’s description of Noah who was “blameless in his generation.”  Of course his generation is the one that God chose to wipe out with the flood. Job as described is more like Enoch who “walked with God and God took him (Genesis 5:24).” Enoch being the pre-history version of Moses whom God took and nobody knew where he was and Elijah who was taken up in the fire-y chariot.  And if you are Roman Catholic or open to a bit of Marian devotion, like Mary assumed into heaven. Job both had faith in God Almighty and he walked it. Job was innocent, and yet Satan – the accuser –  decides he wants to sift him.  And God lets Satan do what he wants. Yet Job does not really sin.  His wife comes out at one point and tells him to “curse God and die (Job 2:9).”  To which Job replies, “Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?”” And the narrator tells us “in all this Job did not sin with his lips.” 

Job, lying in a pile of his own pus and blood, has three friends arrive.  And the three friends take turns telling Job in some way he had to have done something to deserve this. They rotate through all the arguments we know that we hope will keep tragedy from our doorstep. That will ensure the innocent receive justice and the guilty are punished correctly. And Job answers them all with three assertions. 1) I am innocent, 2) Yet my redeemer lives, and 3) That redeemer – God – owes me an answer.  And Job has the best of the argument to such an extent that a fourth person shows up.burning with zeal to defend God’s honor. His argument is better than the first three.  He doesn’t deny Job a superficial righteousness but blames Job for his heart “he does not regard any (i.e. you Job) who are wise in their own conceit.” And the conceit is that God owes Job an answer.  God’s sovereignty exempts him from any explanation.

And it is here that God himself show up in the whirlwind. And as you read our lesson it might sound a bit like Job’s last visitor.  God proclaiming his own majesty and glory and sovereignty. “Where you there when I laid the foundations of the earth?”  And some of that is clearly there.  But if all we are doing is pointing out God’s majesty it is a slander against the character of God.  Borrowing a line from the greatest B movie ever – Constantine – “God is a kid with an ant farm.” If all we say about God is that he can shake it whenever he wants to we have “darkened counsel by words without knowledge.” For God goes on to call out all kinds of things, like the apparent idiocy of the ostrich who just leaves her eggs “that the wild beast may trample them.” Or how a variety of animals: goats and donkeys, and oxen and horses and hawks and eagles all seem to have their place.  “Did you give this to them?”  The character of God is not that he is a tyrant doing anything he wants without regard. But that the LORD orders all things mightily.

Job gets an answer of sorts. All these things that we see made by God’s majesty have a way of working, and we know not how. It is above our pay grade. It is beyond our ability. Yet we trust them daily. Should we not also trust that “all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. (Rom. 8:28).” That the God who has revealed himself is the God of steadfast love. And this is what is required.  That we believe in who Christ has revealed the Father to be, not that we know.

Loaves and Fishes

Biblical Text: Matthew 14:13-21

It could be that a death in the parish family gave some depth that isn’t there. The Holy Spirit does show up from time to time and turn absolute dreck into something good. And the word cloud is nothing special – other than that big Jesus on top. And that is ultimately what this proclamation is about – exactly the kind of God we have, the kind seen fully in Jesus. And the feeding of the 5000 is such a revelation of exactly who he is. You have to back up a bit and hear the stuff the lectionary skips. That is in the introduction. But it sets the stage for the revelation that follows. And then understanding the God we have, understanding how he continues to work in exactly the same way among us. This is a good sermon. I don’t say that too often.

Robert Barnes and English Lutheranism

July 30th on Church calendar is a remembrance of Robert Barnes, Confessor and Martyr.  Now I know that most of us don’t pay any attention to the church calendar beyond Christmas, Easter and maybe a nip of green beer on St. Patrick’s Day. But Robert Barnes got me thinking about one of history’s great “what-ifs” and the history of Lutheranism in the English language.  In the US it is always interesting looking at common languages at the turn of the 19th and 20th century.  The US was much closer to a Canadian two-language reality – with the two being German and English – than any of us can imagine.  The turn of the century naturalization laws and then two wars against Germany eradicated that fact.  The LCMS had been so German right until the 20th century that it kept The English Synod – which eventually became our English District – as a separate entity. The first English hymnal was by that English Synod in 1912.  Which largely became the 1941 The Lutheran Hymnal (TLH) that I imagine many readers might still call “The Hymnal.”

And it is that which gets us on our way back to Robert Barnes.  In translating the common service and all the prayers of the day and everything else that is part of liturgical worship the English Synod did what anyone not concerned about copyright would do.  They stole Archbishop Thomas Cranmer’s English. Which isn’t as big a stretch as you might imagine. Compared to today’s variance of service even within a body like the LCMS, most of the magisterial protestant churches had kept a liturgy that resembled the Common Service. The service in the Book of Common Prayer is quite close. Cranmer in his first edition of the BCP took from Luther’s reworking of the Mass (in our hymnal as the stub DS5).  And so even today, many of the prayers and wording in our services bare a striking resemblance to that Anglican BCP.

And that leads to the great “what if?” In 1525 Robert Barnes brought the reformation formally to England. Cambridge educated and brother of the same Augustinian friars as Luther, he was a doctor of theology and prior of the Cambridge convent. And he preached the first public proclamation of the Reformation gospel from his pulpit in that year.  He was arrested leaving the pulpit and charged with heresy. Somehow he escaped and made his way to Wittenberg and was a personal acquaintance with Luther. He returned to England in 1531 with the mission of converting Henry VIII.  He rose in office and stature rather swiftly, until as with a lot of Henry’s advisors, he was tasked with getting someone to agree to Henry’s first divorce. Barnes was sent back to Germany to secure Luther and Lutheran theologians’ approval for the king’s divorce and remarriage.  They would not agree.  (Which is ironic compared to the response later given to Philip of Hesse over bigamy.) Barnes returned without what was desired and Henry soured on Lutheranism. The thought of a Lutheran England, which was quite possible, remains the what-if.  What if the Virginia aristocrats (Washington, Jefferson, Madison) had been Lutheran-Anglicans? What would European history have looked like if England and the Northern Continent shared a church?

As it was, Robert Barnes would not recant his Lutheran confession and was burned at the stake for it, July 30th, 1540. His final words were a prayer, ‘Lord, open the King of England’s eyes.” Luther wrote upon hearing that news something that probably sounds strange.  “It is a particular joy for me to hear that our good and pious guest has been so graciously called by God to pour out his blood and to become a holy martyr…Hope betrayed him. For he always hoped his king would be good in the end.”  As the apostle Peter says, “Rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. (1 Pet. 4:13 ESV).”  Hope in earthly kings and their glory is bound to fail, but we have a more sure and certain Hope in the resurrection of Christ the King.

Buried Treasure

Biblical Text: Matthew 13:44-52

The text is the completion of Jesus’ Parable Sermon. It is a string of three parables that are from appearances so easy. They aren’t detailed stories. None of them have multiple parts really. But I’m convinced most of the time I hear these preached or explained it misses the gold. Not that the standard interpretation is exactly wrong, but it depends upon so much that is left unsaid. It depends upon an unspoken gospel. This sermon attempts to preach the gospel that we might hear the parable again. It attempts to bring out of the storehouse things old and new.

Convention Reflections

The every three years LCMS National Convention finished up its business this week.  There really isn’t that much to report.  It went as scripted. This is what I mean by that.  In the run-up to a convention individual members (pastors and congregations), voting circuits (groups of congregations that elect the representatives to the convention) and even entire districts in their conventions can send memorials to the national convention.  And they Do! Hundreds of them.  Those memorials are grouped and divided by something called floor committees.  A floor committee is a working group of members of the Synod that receive memorials and reconcile them together into floor motions.  Hundreds of memorials, many of them duplicative, are reduced to a number of motions that the floor committees deem important enough for the time of the roughly 1000 representatives gathered. This is important because it only meets every three years and the cost is thousands of dollars per minute.  Not including the vacation time the delegates themselves use. The floor committees also tend to create a couple of Omnibus motions.  Omnibus motions are like the Island of Misfit toys.  There is something off about them.  Some of them are just “not the current thing.” Others are perfectly fine but don’t have “the rizz.” There is usually an omnibus of motherhood and apple pie motions that nobody could be against.  There is another one of this is so embarrassing we are going to table it and forget it exists. And there is usually one of things that all good people agree should be rejected and it is important to say so. When I say the convention went as scripted I mean nobody extracted anything from an omnibus onto the floor.  Nobody extracted an original motion to replace the floor committee work.  No offered amendments from the floor to a floor committee draft were accepted. The vast majority of the elected positions went to people on “the United List” which is a list of people who wink and nod have the Synod President’s endorsement. And most of these votes ended at about 60%-40% if not 90%-10%.  For what was an interesting election for the Synodical President decided by 4 votes, the convention turned into a deep ratification of the president’s desires.  Even if most of the votes that were taken tended to do things like “instruct a joint seminary panel to study and report in three years.” It was the rare motion that put money or teeth into something.

There are positives out of that. You could read this a broad agreement across the church on important things.  You can read it as good alignment between the elected officials of the body and the body itself.  At the very least you can read it as everyone knowing the pulse of those who care the most about the Synod, those who care enough to put the time into getting elected and spending a week away from home in downtown Phoenix in July.  You can also read this as excellent leadership.  Both at an election organization level, but more importantly at the handling of issues between conventions.  You don’t really want to send coinflip issues to the full powered legislative and deliberative body of the church.  You want leadership that has studied and experimented.  Because if that body decides something 50.1%-49.9% we all know it really isn’t over. And you have made the 49.9% into scofflaws until they get another crack at it.  When the vote is 65%-35%, the 35% tend to get into line, or at least not parade their non-compliance.

There are also some negatives. There is a simmering split between younger representatives and the larger body, and probably not in the way you might think. It was the 70+ retired majority on the floor that was content to place most things in the “study” bucket.  Those who were younger – and this might be relative as 50 is young at these things – it was the younger delegates that would have put more money and teeth into certain motions.  It is the younger delegates who would have liked to direct the officers of the synod to act with more haste and determination. To make some deeper changes. That simmering split goes back underground, or I should probably say online, for another three years. Maybe three more years will temper that desire for change.  Or maybe three more years will give time for the various burrs under saddles to find resolutions. Or in three years it might be interesting times.

Looking at how the sausage is made church-politically is never encouraging. We are human and being human we are sinners. And being sinners requires ways to mediate disagreements.  We call that politics.  Unless you want to turn toward war – politics by other means. But in line with the Theology of the Cross, God is present, even most present in this world, in the rough places. “We know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).” Even church-politics and Synodical Conventions are working together for good.  And nothing in how the sausage is made separates us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:39). Even if the least it might due is whet our appetite for the Return of the King.

Glory Stories

Biblical Text: Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 (Matthew 35)

The parable of the wheat and the weeds on its surface is an answer to the problem of evil. I just don’t think we push it far enough. We settle for a type of glory story. It is not that the glory isn’t true. There will be a day when the straight line power is used. When the angels are sent out for the reaping. When the judgement comes. But it is a glory story to focus exclusively on that. If God could use that right-handed power the problem of evil would stand. Why doesn’t he do so? Now?

The parable gives a surface answer, but I believe it also encourages the deep one, the theology of the cross. The Christian doesn’t get to look past the cross. If God stayed locked up on his heaven, there is no hope for any of us. And the honest pagan might right. The strong do what they will and the weak suffer what they must, and this is just. It is just the way of the world. God is only in the strong. But God did not stay locked in his heaven. He descended – even to sheol – that he might get you (Psalm 139:8). The cross is the power of God that all might believe and be saved. And it is the only way for us weak sinners.

Sower and Soils Redux

I have three purposes behind this “corner.” A) To offer a meaningful engagement with the Word of God for those who might not make Sunday service or one of the Bible Studies.  B) To occasionally challenge or simply announce some activity or need of congregational life. C) To provide an example of Christian meditation.  The word is a lamp to our feet and a guide to our path.  What that means is that hopefully we are walking somewhere purposefully and not just aimlessly stumbling

The parable of the Sower and the Soils was the gospel reading last week.  And I know in my sermon delivered that I encouraged more meditation in the Sower and less on the soils.  More recognition that the Sower’s supply is inexhaustible, that He doesn’t care about the current soil status, and that sowing is not a once and done thing but moves in seasons. I think these are all the gospel elements  Less concentration on discerning the soil, unless that discernment was turned toward the status of one’s own heart.  Where have I been rocky soil, hard packed, shallow?  What weeding or cultivation of my own heart might I do?

I usually do not have trouble leaving the prior lessons behind.  Every Sunday before leaving the building I read the lessons for next Sunday.  They can sit in my head and gut on my day off out of the office. Maybe they have germinated by the time I get back.  But this week I could not shake the image of the soils. Many if not most of us give little thought to institutions.  It is popular to be cynical about them.  And many deserve it.  Or if we are not cynical, we assume that they will be around forever even without our help.  The seed sown is the Word of God.  But the Word of God turns into a plant that is supposed to be fruitful.  Maybe stretching the parable beyond what it is meant to take, but plants are planted somewhere.  We are planted somewhere.  We grow somewhere. And that somewhere is often various institutions.

At the most basic level we are all planted in specific families.  We are citizens of specific nations.  We are members of a specific church.  And within those three estates – or broad institutions – we often have roles to play in other groups.  And those groups are both shaped by us, but more often form us.  I’ve been reading Vice President Vance’s recent memoir of his return to faith.  My interest is professional.  What type of faith did he have?  What type of faith has he returned to?  What spurred it?  Who or what helped or hindered along the way?  And his story is largely one of formation by various institutions. His family gave him a faith, but honestly not one set on a very secure foundation.  He watched more televangelists with his memaw than Sundays he was in a church.  He had developed something of a relationship with one pastor in one of the phases where his Dad was active in his life, but it could not have been that great, because when he tried to contact that pastor he was surprised the man had taken a call elsewhere. “I had no pastor that I could turn to…and I was too far away to stay in close touch. (p49).” Life in the Marines and especially in Iraq had given him both the best witnesses and a perfect storm of cynicism as waiting for his discharge he got sucked into an attempt to end a Sarge’s career.

In his story it isn’t the institutions of Ohio State and Yale Law that destroy his early ungrounded faith.  That work had already largely been done.  But the soil of those institutions grew something different. Ohio State drilled in the idea that “I deserved everything that came to me…any sense of community attachment – that we owe something to the people from whom we come – gave way (p67).” Yale put that on steroids and added pure status.  “I wanted to go to a good law school because that is what other’s wanted (p72)…the belief system of places like Yale had a way of turning real vice into perceived virtue (p79).”

Vance’s loss of faith is a story of non-participation and weak institutions. His loss of faith is a story of his family absenting themselves from the institutions of that faith, and then stronger institutions stepping in to provide different ways for the plant to grow.  Within his story I think is something for us in general.  If you want good soil that produces 30, 60 even 100 fold, you’ve got to maintain it.  It is those institutions that are often the soil.  And we have not done the work to maintain them.

Why Does It Feel So Hard at Times?

Biblical Text: Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23 (Isaiah 55:10-13)

The core text is the Parable of the Sower and the Soils, one of about two or three Biblical stories that I think are still general knowledge even today. Although honestly this sermon doesn’t treat them as that. It has a good section talking about basic textual meaning. A smart preacher once said, “assume they know nothing.” Now the best thing about this text happens to be how great a service you can construct with the hymns. Including ending with LSB 923 Almighty Father, Bless the Word which ends on the actual Doxology. You don’t get better.

But turning back to the sermon, the text at a very basic level is one of the few answers to a why question. It’s a common and natural why question, why if God gets his way and he wants people to believe are there so many that do not? The parable of he Sower and Soils explains that. The gospel comes a certain way – by proclamation, by the Word. And it has enemies. The sermon matches these up with three types of soils. In this sense the parable is legalistic in that it describes the basic functioning of the world. But I do think there are ways it proclaims the gospel. And those come not by focusing on the soils, but by focusing on the sower. And then with the picture of the sower pondering the nature farming. How it is a seasonal game. In that sense I don’t think you are meant to take the soils are unchangeable eschatological statements. They are more encouragements to examine ourselves. What type of soil has our heart been?

Anyway, maybe it is getting older. Or maybe my personal standards are slipping. But I like this sermon.