by Jeffrey Spencer | Apr 16, 2025 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for April 13
Sermon for Palm Sunday – April 13, 2025
Luke 23:39-43
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
It was early enough in his crucifixion that he was able to get the words out. He still had enough breath that he could speak. There had been the lightning-sharp pain screaming between his middle and ring fingers as the nails were driven through the median nerves in his wrists, contorting his hands. After his cross had been raised, there was the heavy weight of gravity relentlessly pulling on his body, straining his lungs. His heart pounded with effort, making his head throb. But he still had some breath in him, and he used that breath to address the man being crucified next to him: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
It was a prayer, really. Not that he was a religious man. He had abandoned God’s ways long ago. He knew he stood condemned. He readily admitted it. He knew he was getting what he deserved. He had violated the law – not only Roman law, but God’s law. He had broken God’s commandments. The bad choices he had made flashed before his eyes – the people he had hurt, the disappointment in his father’s eyes, the tears in his mother’s. His life had come to this, being nailed to a Roman cross and put on humiliating display as a deterrent to the public, as an example to others of the consequences of sin.
Somehow he knew that the man next to him was not on the cross because of his own sin. Somehow he knew that Jesus was not similarly guilty. When his partner in crime started taunting Jesus, he rebuked him, saying: “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Maybe he was familiar with Jesus’ ministry in the region. Maybe he heard about him in prison in the hours before being brought out for crucifixion. Maybe he heard the women wailing his name at the foot of his cross. Maybe he heard Jesus forgiving the very men who nailed him to his cross. Whatever it was, he knew that Jesus was innocent. He did not belong on that cross. He was not guilty of anything. He was there for some other reason.
Some had been calling Jesus the King of the Jews. There was even a sign over his head with those very words. It had been put there as a cruel joke, but this criminal somehow came to believe that in some strange way it was actually true. And so, as his lungs bore the crushing weight of sin and death pulling on him, weighing him down, he managed to breathe out these words: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And when he did so, Jesus turned his face to him and said, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
What Jesus was promising this man was more than an umbrella drink under a palm tree, which is how many of us picture paradise. The word “paradise” is the same word used in the Greek translation of the Old Testament to refer to the Garden of Eden. In Greek version of the Old Testament, the world in which Adam and Eve lived before the fall is literally called “the Paradise of Eden.” What Jesus was promising this man was a return to Eden before it had been ruined by sin. He was promising him a return to the paradise of that garden where everything was declared by God to be very good. Jesus was promising him a return to that state of being wherein human beings lived in right relationship with God, and each other, and creation. Jesus was promising him that he would be in that garden where sin does not exist and so mourning and crying and pain would not exist either. Jesus promised that he would be there with him. “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
This brief, two-sentence interaction between this criminal and Jesus shows us what this whole bloody mess of Jesus’ Passion is all about. We have a prayer, and we have a promise, and taken together, they get at the very heart of the gospel.
In the criminal’s prayer we have a repentant sinner turning to Jesus in faith and trust and hope, and his prayer is immediately answered with a promise, the promise of a return to paradise – the paradise of the Garden, the paradise of a life free from the weight of sin and death, the paradise of a life restored to right relationship with God.
In crucifying this criminal, the Romans gave us an example alright – but it was not the example they were expecting. By turning to Jesus with his prayer, this criminal gives us an example of faith. By placing his trust in the man being crucified next to him, this criminal went from being humiliated to being heaven-bound. He went from the consequences of sin to the forgiveness of sin. He went from pain to the promise of paradise. He is remembered two thousand years later not only for his crime, but for his prayer and for the promise he received.
We come to worship week after week bearing crosses of our own. We come with prayers of our own. The gravity of sin and death weigh heavily upon us. The consequences of sin – whether our own or that of others or the fallenness of creation itself – has us all gasping for air at times, trying to catch our breath. There are times when the pain of life in a fallen world seems like too much to bear. With all of the mourning and crying and pain in and around us, we are reminded on a daily basis that we do not live in Eden.
But as we lift our eyes to Jesus on his cross, we find a savior who is still answering the prayers of those who turn to him in repentance and faith. As we turn to our crucified savior in faith and trust, we too receive a promise from him. “Your sins are forgiven,” he says to us. “This is my body, my blood, shed for you,” he tells us. Even now we are with him. Even now we begin to live into the reconciliation he has won for us. Even now he is beside us, speaking his word to us.
“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise,” he says. The promise our Lord Jesus made to the dying criminal is the same promise he made to us in our baptism, when we were marked with his cross and joined to his saving work.
And so today we are no longer under a sentence of condemnation. Instead, we live in the promise of paradise.
Today we can live in hope and in peace, trusting that sin and death will not have the last word over us. Jesus will have the last word, and he promises us that we will be with him, in Eden, forever.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Apr 10, 2025 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for April 3
Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Lent – April 6, 2025
John 12:1-8
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
It has to have been the strangest dinner party ever. First of all, it was being held at the home of a guy who was, just a few days before, very much dead. Lazarus, whom Jesus had called out of the tomb, had now changed out of his grave clothes. All his mummy wrappings had been rolled up and put away, and he was now, along with his sisters Mary and Martha, hosting a dinner party for Jesus and his disciples.
And as if a formerly dead guy hosting a dinner party weren’t strange enough, at some point during the meal, his sister Mary got up and retrieved a very expensive bottle of perfume from her room. This bottle cost her a good 300 denarii, which was a full year’s worth of wages for a common laborer. It was probably the most expensive single item Lazarus, Mary, and Martha owned between the three of them! Martha and Lazarus probably wondered what their sister was up to. But without offering a single word of explanation, Mary took that bottle, knelt down before Jesus, and poured it onto his feet.
But it gets even more strange: Mary then let down her hair. In the ancient world, virtually all women grew their hair long. This long hair was seen as a powerful symbol of a woman’s femininity, and so whenever women were out in public, they kept it pinned up and covered. It is still like this in some cultures of the world today. My sister, who has long hair, recently traveled to the country of Oman for her work. Oman is in the Middle East, just south of Afghanistan and just east of Iran. Though Oman is allied with the West, it has a very traditional culture, and so whenever my sister left her hotel room, she had to wear a head covering. In these traditional cultures, respectable women only let their hair down in the privacy of their bedrooms. Only their husbands are allowed to see their hair tumble down over their shoulders. It is considered a deeply intimate act. And so as Mary let down her hair, you can imagine the disciples shifting nervously in their seats, averting their eyes, forcing themselves to think about baseball.
And just when you think things couldn’t possibly get even more strange, Mary then used her long hair to wipe Jesus’ feet! In the ancient world, washing the sweaty feet of guests who had walked many miles in sandals was the job of the lowest of servants. And here Mary, the host, was doing it herself, in the middle of dinner, with her hair!
Lazarus and Martha, along with Peter, James, and John, Philip, Thomas and Matthew and the rest of the disciples all sat there in stunned silence, until Judas decided it was time for him to weigh in on the situation. “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” Judas objected. You see, Passover was near, and it was customary to make an offering for the poor at Passover.
But that’s not what Judas’ concern really was. Judas was virtue signaling. That’s what we call it today. He was aligning himself with a cause to make himself look good and to make Mary look bad. He was saying what sounded virtuous while doing exactly nothing to actually alleviate the problem he claimed to be so concerned about. His words were a badge he wore to signal his supposed superiority over Mary. But he was in no way superior to her. In fact, St. John first reminds us that Judas would soon betray Jesus, and then mentions that Judas was a thief who liked to dip his fingers into the common purse to skim off a little for himself.
To Judas, what Mary was doing seemed absurd. To be fair, it likely seemed absurd to the rest of the disciples too. It had to have seemed absurd to Martha and Lazarus, who just watched their sister dump out the most expensive thing she owned on Jesus’ feet and then rub it in with her hair.
But none of it was absurd to Jesus. Jesus told Judas to back off. He told him to leave her alone. Jesus understood that Mary was expressing her love for her him. Jesus explained that she was preparing him for his burial, which was now only days away. “You always have the poor with you,” Jesus said, “but you do not always have me.” Jesus received this extravagant display of love with joy.
As strange as it is, Mary’s behavior has a lot to teach us. In contrast to Judas’ false piety, Mary shows us what a life of true faith looks like – and it is something that always looks a little absurd from the outside.
Mary took what was most valuable to her and gave it to Jesus. She poured out her greatest treasure at his feet. We too are called to use all that we have been given, all that we treasure, all that is valuable to us, in ways that honor our Lord. This includes our giving to the church, which often seems like a huge waste to people outside of it. There have been times when our congregation has been blessed to have received large financial gifts from people who included Oak Harbor Lutheran Church in their wills, and you should hear the howls of their non-Christian relatives when they get wind of it. To them, it is absurd. It is a waste.
But it isn’t just our financial gifts. All that we have is to be used in ways that honor and glorify Christ. This seems absurd to those who only see their resources as a way to pleasure or glorify themselves, but this is what flows out of a heart of faith. Mary could be so generous with her treasures because she had come to treasure her Lord Jesus above everything else.
Mary was worshipping Jesus, kneeling at his feet in adoration and praise. We too are called to worship him as our Lord, as we are doing here today. This, too, is something that many people find absurd. Singing songs to Jesus on a weekend morning when you could be sleeping in? Are you crazy? Theologian Marva Dawn wrote a wonderful book about worship called “A Royal Waste of Time.” It was a tongue-in-cheek title, pointing to how worship is perceived by many people. It, too, seems like a waste.
Mary let down her hair in front of Jesus. While the suggestive nature of this gesture is hard to overlook, it does not symbolize romantic involvement. Jesus would not have seen her in that way. But it does symbolize something pretty close to that. It does symbolize intimacy. It does symbolize vulnerability. It does symbolize Mary letting Jesus see her as very few others in her life ever would. Mary could do this, she could let down her hair before Jesus, only because she felt utterly safe with him. This is faith! This is trust!
We too, male or female, are, spiritually speaking, able to let our hair down before Jesus. We too enjoy this close, intimate relationship with him where we don’t need to hide or cover up anything about ourselves. He already knows anyway! We can be our true, vulnerable selves with him. Even the most intimate parts of our lives, the parts we cover up from most other people, are safe with him. This seems absurd. We often believe we need to put our best, most respectable foot forward – especially before God! But to have faith in Christ is to lay our entire lives at his feet, trusting in his mercy, trusting in his great love for us.
Mary stooped down to serve Jesus, washing his feet with her hair. Jesus would do something very similar for his disciples just a few days later. After he was done washing their feet, he told them that if they wanted to be his disciples, that’s how they should love each other – by taking the form of servants, by living in humble service to one another. Mary powerfully foreshadowed Jesus call to humble service.
We too are called to lives of humble service. As Jesus’ disciples today, we are called to wash his feet by serving one another in humility and love. This is carried out in our vocations, our callings in life – in our families, in the church, in our work, in our community. This seems absurd in a world where everyone is looking out for number one, but as Christians our calling is to be looking out for one another.
As strange as her behavior is, Mary of Bethany teaches us some important things about discipleship. While Judas was crowing with false piety, Mary was modeling true faith as she poured herself out before Jesus in love.
The morning after that strange dinner party with Mary and Martha and Lazarus, Jesus went to Jerusalem. He could probably still smell the perfume on his feet as he made the last leg of his journey. There he was greeted with palm branches and people shouting “Hosanna!” There Jesus showed his love for each of us as he gave himself up for us on the cross. We’ll pick up this part of the story next Sunday as we begin Holy Week.
But we remember even now that on the cross, Jesus poured out more than perfume. He poured out his blood for us. He poured out his life for us. It was a shocking display of love that seemed strange to many. It still seems absurd to a lot of people.
But in his great love for us, Jesus poured himself out for the sake of what he treasures most. He poured himself out for you.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
