Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent – December 15, 2024

by Jeffrey Spencer | Dec 16, 2024 | Sermons | 0 comments

CLICK HERE for a worship video for December 15

Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent – December 15, 2024

Luke 3:7-18

Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.

When people come to church, I usually say something like, “Welcome!” or “Good morning!” or “Good to see you!” I am genuinely happy to see people come through the doors for worship, no matter who they are. I’ll bet you’re the same way. In fact, our Stephen Ministers have recently been serving as greeters, and I’ve never seen anything but a smile on their faces and I’ve never heard anything but sincere joy when they see people coming in to worship.

And if somebody shows up at Oak Harbor Lutheran to be baptized? Well, I am thrilled! I am ecstatic. I even get a little giddy.

John the Baptist? Not so much, it seems. As we heard in our gospel reading for today, entire crowds of people came out to be baptized by him. And how did he respond? He said, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”

So maybe we don’t want John the Baptist serving as a greeter here at OHLC. But as blunt and rude as John sounds here, he is really just doing his job. His job was to prepare the way of the Lord. His job was to prepare the way for the coming of the Messiah. And part of his work in preparing the way involved reminding people of why they need this Messiah, why they need to be saved, why they need to be rescued and redeemed.

And so John calls the crowd “a brood of vipers.” He doesn’t single out any one group or behavior – everyone gets tagged with this unsettling name. A brood of vipers is a nest of young snakes. A brood of vipers is a mass of slithering baby serpents. I’m not making this better for John, am I? To be sure, the language is unsettling, even insulting, but – it is theologically accurate! John calls those in the crowd the offspring of the serpent. He is inferring that they are the descendants of those in the Garden of Eden who followed the serpent into sin. We say the same thing in our baptism liturgy, only with more polite language: “We are born children of a fallen humanity.”

The crowds don’t argue with John. They don’t deny that they are in league with the serpent. Instead, they ask what they should do. And John tells them. If you have two coats and you see someone who has zero coats, share one of yours! Do the same with food! Don’t be greedy! If you’re a tax collector, don’t cheat. If you’re a soldier, don’t extort people and don’t be a bully.

This is not advanced ethics. All of this is already laid out in the Law. The Ten Commandments already taught all of this! None of what John teaches here is new information. None of it is complicated or extraordinary or heroic behavior. This is “Being a Decent Human Being 101.” But the fact that they need to be told to do the most basic ethical thing is revealing.

In preschool chapel recently I was teaching a lesson about the Ten Commandments and I introduced the topic by asking the kids what some of the rules are at preschool. And one of the kids said that one of the rules at preschool is “No kicking people in the head.” You would think this would go without saying, but apparently this little guy needed to be told. The rule itself, then, is revealing, isn’t it! Well, what John is saying here is just the grown-up version of that! That the crowd needed to be told the most basic things about how to conduct themselves just further reveals that they are indeed descendants of the fallen, that they are children of the serpent who deceived humanity into sin.

What John might lack in tact, he makes up for with truth. He tells the truth about the crowds, and the truth about us. John is accurate and honest about our condition, our situation. We may not be extorting people or kicking them in the head, but we too are born children of a fallen humanity – and we shouldn’t need to scratch too deeply beneath the surface of our lives to see that this is true.

In this way John is like a doctor who tells you not what you want to hear, but what you need to hear. John may not have the best bedside manner, but as a diagnostician he is accurate and he is honest. He announces a diagnosis. He bluntly points out the venom in our veins, and he prescribes some behavioral changes, some lifestyle changes.

But, like a good doctor does, he also goes a step further. Seeing that our condition will not ultimately be remedied by lifestyle changes – as important as those lifestyle changes are – he refers us out. Knowing that his prescription will only manage our symptoms, at best, he refers us to another. He refers us to a specialist.

As soon as people started wondering whether John himself might be the Messiah, John admitted that he wasn’t. He admitted that they were going to need help from someone else. He told them that someone who was more powerful than him was coming. He would be the expert in curing the snake sickness we have inherited. He would be the specialist in this area. John isn’t worthy even to untie the thong of his sandals. “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire,” John said.

On the surface, this sounds like more of the same from John. On the surface, John’s words about what the Messiah will do continue to sound ominous. Fire is a symbol of judgement. John says the Messiah will come with a winnowing fork in his hand – and whatever that is, it doesn’t sound like something you want to be on the wrong end of. John says that the Messiah will separate the wheat from the chaff, with the chaff being destroyed in an unquenchable fire.

Is this a specialist with whom you want an appointment? On the surface, maybe not. But thankfully, we can interpret this language from the perspective of what the Messiah did when he came. We can interpret this language from the perspective of who the Messiah ended up being. We can interpret it through the lens of Jesus Christ.

When Jesus came, he removed the chaff from people through the fire of his love. He showed mercy towards sinners, announcing that they were forgiven. This removed the chaff, that sheath of sin surrounding and obscuring the valuable wheat within. Jesus gathered in the precious grains of wheat, restoring them to the granary of God by the fire of his grace.

When Jesus came, he took the fire of judgement upon himself on the cross. He endured the winnowing fork with his own body, taking our sin upon himself so that we would be free.

When Jesus came, he not only died for our sin, he rose again – breaking the curse of the serpent, conquering sin and death forever, raising us to new life with him.

When Jesus came, he brought with him a new baptism, just as John said. Jesus told his disciples to go to all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. St. Paul teaches us that this baptism joins us to Jesus’ death and resurrection, for it takes the salvation he won for us on the cross and gives it to us personally. St. Peter teaches us that this baptism “now saves you.”

This is indeed a baptism of the Holy Spirit and fire.

It is a baptism of the Holy Spirit because God comes to us in it. God is present and at work in it. Through it, God gives us his Spirit, that he might continue to guide us and teach us and repent us and renew us and comfort us throughout our lives. And by the power of this Spirit, truly good works begin to come out of us.

It is a baptism of fire because through it, God gives us his name – just as he did for Moses through the burning bush. It is a baptism of fire because through it, God leads us out of bondage – just as God led Israel by the pillar of fire. It is a baptism of fire because it puts good news in our hearts and on our lips, just as it did as tongues of fire fell upon the disciples. It is a baptism of fire because through it, God destroys everything that separates us from him.

John the Baptist is a good diagnostician. Jesus calls him the greatest of all the prophets. But John’s most important job is to refer us to the specialist, our Lord Jesus Christ.

Once the specialist goes to work on you, things are different. As the one who is more powerful than John, Jesus doesn’t just diagnose, he cures. His message isn’t just, “Do better!” It is “Your sins are forgiven.”

With the baptism he brings, we are no longer a brood of vipers. We are no longer children of the serpent. With the baptism he brings, we have been reborn as children of God and warmly welcomed into life with him, today and forever.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer

Oak Harbor Lutheran Church

Sermon for the Second Sunday of Advent – December 8, 2024

by Jeffrey Spencer | Dec 9, 2024 | Sermons

Sermon for the Second Sunday of Advent – December 8, 2024

Luke 3:1-6

Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.

The roughest road I’ve ever been on (that wasn’t a forest service road) was Cleveland Avenue in Saint Paul, Minnesota. While I was in seminary there I worked part-time at a bookstore, and I took the bus to work. There are a lot of bad roads in Minnesota due to the frost heaves that buckle the roads every year, but Cleveland Avene was the worst. This road didn’t have potholes, it had craters! I could always tell when we hit Cleveland Avenue because the bus would start to shudder. That was your signal to hold on for dear life, because next came the bone-jarring bouncing up and down. That bus bounced so hard I thought for sure the drive shaft was going to snap! I thought the windows would shatter! I thought the wheels on the bus would go flying off, flying off, flying off. It was terrible.

But then a voice would come over the intercom. The voice was shaky, vibrating, and tremulous because of the violent shaking of the bus, but the message was firm and clear: “Next stop, Como Avenue.” When I heard that voice, I knew that the rocky ride was almost over. When I heard that voice, I knew that I was almost home.

The people of Israel traveled a rocky road. They had been overrun by the Babylonians, their cities and towns decimated. They had been marched off into exile, held in captivity in Babylon. They were far from home, and longed to return. They were surrounded by foreign gods and were tempted to forsake the one true God and start worshipping these idols. It was a temptation that was too much for some. Many gave in. The people of Israel were far from home, and they were far from God. It was a rough road. It was a bone-jarring experience. They were holding on for dear life.

But then came a voice crying out in the wilderness. The prophet Isaiah came with words of demand and promise: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

Isaiah called the people to get ready. He called them to prepare themselves. He told them that God was going to act. God was going to straighten out the crooked path they were on. God was going to smooth out the rough ways. God was going to make a road home.

Fast forward several hundred years. The people of Israel were home, but now they were being oppressively ruled by Romans instead of Babylonians. In our gospel reading for today St. Luke reminds his readers of what the political situation in Israel was like. He tells us the brutal Roman leader Pontius Pilate was serving as governor of Judea. He tells us the conniving, murderous Herod was ruler over Galilee. He tells us the self-serving Annas and Caiaphas were serving as the high priests. This roots the story in real history. This is not a pretend, “once upon a time” story, but something that really happened.

But the naming of all these figures from real history also serves to remind everyone what a difficult time this was for the people of God. Just as had happened in Babylon, they were under the thumb of their enemies. Just as happened in Babylon, many had turned away from the one true God and were increasingly comfortable with the pagan gods whose statues were popping up all over Israel. Just as happened in Babylon, many were compromising their faith in order to make a buck, in order to ingratiate themselves with their oppressors. Those who remained faithful faced a particularly rough road. It was a bone-jarringly difficult time. God’s people were holding on for dear life.

But then came a voice. Then came a new prophet. Then came John the Baptizer. St. Luke describes him as a new Isaiah. John came preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin. He called the people to turn away from those other gods. He called them to turn towards the one true God, the God who loved them, the God who had rescued their ancestors, the God who was coming to save them. “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

As God’s people today, we often travel a rough road. Our lives often look like a crooked path, zigging this way and zagging that way. Oftentimes it feels all uphill. Sometimes life is a bone-jarring experience. Sometimes we feel like we’re holding on for dear life.

But today we hear a voice. Today through the living Word of God, we hear the voice of one crying out in the wilderness. God speaks to us today through the prophet John, via the writings of St. Luke.

Today we are called to repentance. To repent means to turn. It means turning away from sin. It means turning away from all the false gods we find ourselves serving. We may not be praying to a statue of a Roman deity, but we might well be putting our trust in things that are not God. Maybe we’re serving the god of politics, making it the be-all and end-all of our lives. Maybe we’re serving the god of home entertainment. Maybe we’re serving the god of Jack Daniels or the god of money. The most common false god of all is the god of the self, thinking we are the center of the universe, the independent arbiter of right and wrong, and the definer of our own realities. To repent is to turn away from all of this. It is to turn away from the chronic idolatry that plagues our lives. It is to turn away from sin.

To repent is also to turn towards. It is to turn towards the one true God. It is to turn towards the God who loves us and forgives us, the God who rescues and saves us, the God who joyfully receives us through his grace and welcomes us home to him.

To repent is not merely an exercise of the will. It is much deeper than that. Repentance is what happens when God’s Word comes to us and shakes us up. It is what happens when God gets our attention, when God “repents us” away from our sin and towards himself. This is what God is doing for us today as he has called and gathered us by the Holy Spirit to come and hear his voice.

This voice also calls us to prepare. “Prepare the way of the Lord,” the prophet says. As Christmas approaches, many of us are preparing our homes for the holidays. We decorate. We spruce things up. We do a little extra cleaning so things look nice for our guests. Similarly, we sometimes think the preparation we’re called to here involves sprucing ourselves up, cleaning up our bad habits, decorating our lives with a few good deeds here and there. This isn’t wrong, exactly. Perhaps that’s exactly what the Holy Spirit is prompting in you as you are “repented.”

But to prepare the way of the Lord is not just about cleaning up your life. It is about handing your whole life over to God – even the messy parts, especially the messy parts! It isn’t just about cleaning your room, it is about making room. It is about making room for him in our lives. It is about making room for him in our lives by setting aside time to be in his Word, time to be in prayer. We prepare the way of the Lord by making room in our lives for worship. We add extra worship services on Wednesdays during Advent for just that purpose. We are preparing not only our homes, but our hearts. We are preparing not only for Christmas, but for Christ.

For many people, life in general, and perhaps the holiday season in particular, feels like a ride down Cleveland Avenue. It is filled with a lot of bone-jarringly difficult moments. It feels like things are about to snap, about to shatter, about to break. Sometimes we feel like we’re holding on for dear life. Sometimes it feels like the wheels are about to fly off.

But then comes a voice.

The prophet John doesn’t just call us to repent. He doesn’t just call us to prepare. He also gives us a promise from God. He promises us that all the rough ways will be made smooth. He promises us that home is just around the corner. He assures us that the day is upon us when all flesh shall see the salvation of God.

With these words, John is pointing us to the coming savior. He is pointing us to Jesus, who is the way, the truth, and the life. He is pointing to Jesus, who comes to us with forgiveness, life, and salvation. With the coming of Jesus, we have a smooth and straight path home to God, where we find true hope, true joy, and true peace, today and forever.

Amen.

Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer

Oak Harbor Lutheran Church

Sermon for the First Sunday of Advent – December 1, 2024

by Jeffrey Spencer | Dec 5, 2024 | Sermons

CLICK HERE for a worship video for December 1

Sermon for the First Sunday of Advent – December 1, 2024

Luke 21:25-36

Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.

If you’re not expecting an eclipse, or if you don’t understand what an eclipse is, I can imagine that it would be terrifying. You’re going about your day, the sun is shining and the birds are singing, and then, out of nowhere, the sky begins to darken. But it isn’t just a cloud blocking the sun – something more is going on. This darkness falls fast. This darkness is deep. The air quickly turns cold. The birds stop singing. Within a few moments, right there in the middle of the day, it is pitch black. If you aren’t expecting it, or if you don’t understand what an eclipse is, it might well seem like something terrible is happening. It might well seem like the end of the world.

On April 8 of this year there was a solar eclipse which was visible in 12 U.S. states, including Texas. My oldest son is a student at Texas A&M University, and he and a few of his buddies skipped classes to go watch it. They drove a couple hours out of town to be in the path of totality. They pulled over beside a field, along with hundreds of other people who were doing the same thing. They watched as right there in the middle of the day the sky grew completely dark. The air turned cold. The birds stopped singing. They lifted up their heads and, through their eclipse glasses, observed the sun being blocked out by the moon, with only the corona visible as a fiery ring, which, interestingly, is called a halo.

My son was telling my wife and I about all this and he said that he was surprised to find that as he watched the eclipse, he got emotional. He struggled to explain why. The best he could convey was that he felt an overwhelming sense of awe. And he wasn’t the only one. It was a common reaction. Many others felt the same way, including the young men he was with.

So here were these tough young guys in cowboy hats, mostly members of A&M’s Corps of Cadets, wiping away tears while watching the eclipse. Instead of being afraid, they were in awe. They were overwhelmed with a joyful awe to be seeing what they were seeing. My son is an engineering major, and he choked back tears as he observed the orderly magnificence of the capital “E” Engineer of all creation.

My son and his Corps buddies lifted up their heads to greet this phenomenon because they knew what to expect. Even though it was an eerie darkness that fell across the land, they were overwhelmed with this joyful awe because they knew what was happening.

In our gospel reading for today Jesus says there will be signs in the sun, moon, and stars. He says many people will be terrified by these signs. There will be confusion and distress among the nations, Jesus says. There will be fear and foreboding. Jesus isn’t talking about an eclipse, specifically. He is talking about his coming again. He says that “this generation” will not pass away before these things take place.

The generation Jesus is speaking of here is not a time-specific generation, like we might refer to the Baby Boomers or Generation X or the Millennials. Every other time Jesus uses this word in the gospels he’s referring to those who do not believe in him, those who have rejected him. This generation, this group, will be around until his return. And they will respond to these signs with confusion and distress because they will not be expecting them. They will react with fear and foreboding because they will not understand what is happening.

“But that won’t be you!” Jesus says. “When you see these things taking place,” Jesus says, “stand up and raise your heads, for your redemption is drawing near.” Jesus has promised that these signs will point us to something which will fill us with joyful awe, and so our body language is that of anticipation and wonder. Jesus has promised that these signs will point us to his coming again, to our redemption drawing near, and so we assume the posture of hope.

Jesus goes on to give an additional promise, and a warning. He promises that heaven and earth will pass away, but his words will never pass away. And so in the midst of confusion and distress we have something to hold onto that will never change, never fail, never pass away. In the midst of fear and foreboding we have words promising us that our redemption is drawing near. We have eternal words promising us that forgiveness and life and salvation are ours forever no matter how dark it gets.

Jesus also warns us to be on guard. He warns us to not be weighed down with dissipation – which means overindulging in sensual pleasures. Jesus warns us against drunkenness – using alcohol or other substances to numb yourself or to take the edge off or using it as a counterfeit source of joy. Jesus warns us against being distracted by the worries of this life, being so caught up in our day-to-day needs that we fail to focus on him. I can’t think of a better set of warnings as we enter the holiday season, can you? Jesus warns us against all those things which can dull our senses to his presence. He exhorts us to keep alert. He encourages us to find our comfort and joy in his Word, in his promises.

Darkness creeps into our world, and into our lives, in many different ways. The signs Jesus describes can indeed be cosmic in scope, but they can also be deeply personal. They can come storming in as natural disasters like hurricanes, with the roaring of sea and waves, and they can come storming in at the tiniest cellular level, such as when you hear the doctor say the word “cancer.” They can come as distress among nations as they rattle their ICBMs at each other, and they can come through broken relationships that blow up families. They can come through literal earthquakes, and they can come through health catastrophes or the loss of a loved one or other deeply personal life crises when everything that seemed firm and solid and reliable has been deeply, painfully shaken and cracked.

Jesus isn’t telling us to just grin and bear it when these things happen. He isn’t saying, “Just put on a happy face.” Lament can be an appropriate response. Our Bible is filled with prayers of lament. Jesus himself lamented. Grief is natural and normal and necessary.

But at the same time, Jesus has told us what to expect. He has told us what is going to happen, in our world and in our lives. Darkness will creep in at times. There will be signs of his coming that will leave many in utter confusion and distress, in unrelenting fear and foreboding.

But not you. For you have heard Jesus’ words. You have heard words that will never pass away. You have heard Jesus’ promise that when these things happen, your redemption is drawing near. And so you can stand up. You can raise your heads. You can assume the posture of hope.

In just the last few months I’ve talked to a couple of people with life-threatening illnesses. And even though they are in the valley of the shadow, even though that darkness is creeping in, they have assumed this posture of hope. They’ve each said things like, “I’m in no rush to leave my loved ones, but I know where I’m going.” They’ve said things like, “I know I’ll be with Jesus soon, so it’s okay.”

This is what it means to stand up and raise your head. When we trust in Jesus’ promise to us, we can live our whole lives in this posture of hope. We can live our whole lives in this joyful awe. When the darkness creeps in, we can bask in the magnificence of his power and glory shining through the darkness, bringing happy tears to our eyes. We can cling to his precious words, which will never pass away even when everything else does.

Just a couple of chapters after Jesus spoke the words we hear today, Jesus was crucified. As he hung on the cross, darkness fell across the land. The air grew cold. The birds stopped singing. For three hours in the middle of the day it was pitch black. There was confusion and distress. But even in the darkness, the redemption of the world was drawing near.

When darkness falls over your life, do not be afraid. Stand up. Raise your head. Jesus has told you what to expect, that that makes all the difference.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer

Oak Harbor Lutheran Church