Sermon for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost – July 23, 2023

by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 23, 2023 | Sermons

CLICK HERE for a worship video for July 23

Sermon for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost – July 23, 2023

Romans 8:12-25, Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

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

If you have a garden, or a yard, or lawn, you likely find yourself once again engaged in the perennial summer battle against weeds. I myself have a brick patio in the backyard upon which the battle has been fiercely fought. I don’t like using chemicals, especially in an area we use a lot, so that isn’t an option. Organic solutions haven’t worked very well. Picking the weeds out from between the bricks by hand is time-consuming and leaves my fingers scraped and sore. But this year I found a solution to all of this. For my birthday this year I got a flame thrower. (It’s actually called a weed burner, but flame thrower sounds cooler.) I fire that baby up and in minutes I have those weeds torched into oblivion. I sweep up the ashes, and my patio is clean and weed-free. It is a great feeling. I take great pleasure in it. Nobody likes weeds. Even when the weeding itself isn’t fun, like it is with my flame thrower, it feels good to get rid of them.

Last Sunday we heard Jesus tell a parable about a sower who scattered seed far and wide, and while many of those seeds failed to sprout for various reasons, the seeds which landed on good soil brought forth an abundant yield. This Sunday we return to that yield. Jesus tells another parable, another allegory from agriculture. Those seeds which were scattered last Sunday have become a full-fledged crop of wheat in the parable we hear today. But there’s trouble in the fields. There are weeds growing amongst the wheat.

How did those weeds get there? Did the landowner not plant good seed, some ask? No, that’s not it. The weeds are the result of what we might call an act of ecoterrorism. “An enemy has done this,” Jesus says. “While everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well.”

Those who work this land want to get rid of the weeds. We can understand the impulse, right? I sure can! “Do you want us to go and gather them?” they ask. They’re gearing up to pull them, torch them, clear them out. But the landowner in Jesus’ parable tells them to leave them be. “No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at the harvest time I will tell the reapers, ‘Collect the weeds first and bind them into bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’”

The weed mentioned by Jesus in this parable is a specific kind of weed. In the Greek the word is zinzania, and it is a specific plant commonly known as darnel wheat, or false wheat. This particular weed is especially troublesome to wheat farmers because in its early stages it is virtually indistinguishable from real wheat. And not only is it troublesome because it is hard to distinguish from the real wheat, but beneath the soil its roots tend to intertwine with the roots of the wheat, making it impossible to pull out. If you were to try to weed out this false wheat, you’d pull out the good wheat out with it.

And so the workers are told to just leave them alone. They are to let the weeds and the wheat grow together for now. Those weeds will be gathered and burned, but it isn’t their job to do so. They are instead to wait with patience, trusting the landowner to bring in the harvest.

We don’t have to guess at what this parable is about. We don’t need to speculate about what Jesus is describing here. This is one of very few parables where Jesus tells us exactly what it means! He explains each part of the allegory for us: “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Mon,” that is, it is Jesus himself. “The field is the world,” Jesus says. “The good seed are the children of the kingdom and the weeds are the children of the evil one. The enemy who sowed them is the devil. The harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are his angels.”

This image of a field with both wheat and weeds growing alongside each other is put to us in this parable as an image which describes the world we live in. It describes the age we live in, the age between Christ’s first coming and his final coming. And I think we can all see that this image of a field with both wheat and weeds is a starkly accurate description. On the one hand, the world is a beautiful place, filled with wonder and delight. There is beauty and there is goodness and there is love. On the other hand, the world is full of weeds. There is also much cruelty and corruption and violence.

This field of both wheat and weeds growing together is a good description of the church too, which exists, for now, in this field, this world. Luther liked to say that wherever Christ builds a church, the devil builds a chapel. The same sacred institution which has safeguarded the precious words of the gospel has also at times been the source of intense disappointment and pain for many. At times it is bravely and boldly faithful and at times it is a den of blasphemy and betrayal. At the congregational level, the same community of faith which so often envelopes us in love and care can also be the source of some of our deepest wounds.

And we find that the weeds and the wheat even grow alongside each other in our own hearts. One of the great insights of the Lutheran Reformation is that human beings are simul iustis et peccator, we are simultaneously saint and sinner. The Old Adam or Eve still dwells in us even as we have been declared righteous on account of Christ. Our lives are not without sin. Our hearts have not yet been made fully clean and pure. There are weeds that grow in us even now. Our sanctification is never quite complete in this life, on this side of heaven.

When we encounter the weeds of this world, we naturally want to pull them. We want to go after them and get rid of them. And in some ways, we should. Scripture teaches us that God works through earthly authorities to restrain evil, to create a measure of order in this world, to limit the damage the weeds might do. Scripture teaches the church to be on guard against false teachings. Matthew 18 gives us instructions on how to deal with problematic weeds that might crop up among believers. There are some ways in which we sin against each other that can’t just be ignored. Scripture tells us as individuals to strive against sin, to watch our behavior and to be careful about the company we keep. So we are not to be entirely passive in dealing with the weeds.

The problem comes when we want a pure field – whether that is the world, or the church, or us as individuals. The problem comes when we try to pull out every weed ourselves. The problem comes when we start torching everything that looks to us like a weed, and, in our self-righteousness, kind of enjoying it as we do so. That’s a problem because we can’t always tell the difference between weeds and wheat! We don’t have that kind of discernment! Furthermore, the roots of the weeds and the wheat are often entangled just beneath the surface! And so, in our burning desire for purity, some of Christ’s precious wheat ends up getting burned.

We can just think about utopian social movements like communism which have justified bloodshed and killed millions in the pursuit of a perfect society. We can think of how in the church our efforts towards theological purity have sometimes led to inquisitions and people literally being burned at the stake. Even our own personal efforts to weed out our every imperfection can become counterproductive and spiritually harmful as we start to trust in ourselves rather than in Christ.

The enemy continues to plant weeds – in the world, in the church, in our hearts. We shouldn’t become complacent about these weeds, these troubles, but we also shouldn’t think that we are the ones who are going to fix it. In this parable Jesus is describing how things are going to be for us as we live in the age between his first coming and his final coming. He is telling us to be patient. He is telling us to back off on the weed burner.  “There are going to be weeds,” Jesus says. “They have been planted there by the evil one. But you are to leave those weeds to me.”

And so this parable ends as a parable of hope. Any field plagued by darnel wheat would be considered doomed in the ancient world. A farmer wouldn’t know it was there until it was too late, and come harvest time, it would be a total disaster. It would be beyond hope. Sometimes we think of the world in the same way – that it is beyond hope. Sometimes we think the church is filled with too many weeds to continue to bring life. Sometimes we think we ourselves are too weedy to be worthy of God’s love. But the punchline of the parable is that the Son of Man brings in a harvest! Even in a field where there is false wheat all tangled up with the good wheat, there is a harvest! Jesus, the Son of Man, the Messiah, the Savior, sends in his angels to deal with the weeds at last and to gather his precious grain into the barn.

We live in a hard time, an in-between time, where weeds and wheat grow right alongside each other – often indistinguishable from one another, often entangled in a complicated mess. As St. Paul writes in our second reading for today, the creation, in its bondage to decay, it its futility, groans in labor pains, even as we ourselves groan inwardly. But, Paul concludes, “In hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

Jesus’ parable is about patience too – patience with our troubled world, patience with a compromised church, patience with yourself, patience with God, who will redeem it all in the harvest that is yet to come. Jesus gives us a glimpse of this harvest at the end of his parable when he says, “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!” This righteousness is not something you will achieve yourself by your weeding efforts. It is a gift given to you who have been planted in good soil. It is a gift given to you who have been adopted as children of the kingdom through Holy Baptism. It is a gift for you who have been watered by his grace so that you would grow in faith, trusting the promise that one day you will be gathered as good grain into the barn.

In the meantime, we live in hope for what we cannot yet see. We wait with patience, trusting that the harvest is coming.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer

Oak Harbor Lutheran Church

Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost – July 9, 2023

by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 10, 2023 | Sermons

CLICK HERE for a worship video for July 9

Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost – July 9, 2023

Romans 7:15-25a, Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

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

As first John the Baptist and then Jesus went out with the message that the kingdom of God had come near, that the savior, the Messiah, their rescuer and redeemer, had come, some people received this message. Some people received Jesus and followed him. But many did not. Many refused their help. They didn’t think they needed to repent. They didn’t think they needed the mercy of God. They didn’t think they needed forgiveness. They thought they were doing just fine, that they were pulling their own weight under the yoke of God’s law. They didn’t need any help from John or Jesus, thank you very much.

You can hear Jesus’ frustration with this in the first part of our gospel reading for today. John and Jesus were playing a gospel tune, and many refused to dance to it. They criticized John for not eating and drinking, and they criticized Jesus because he did! This is how it often goes. When someone’s heart is set against someone, they will always find something to criticize! When they’ve already decided they don’t like you, you can’t do anything right! Many didn’t like John or Jesus, and they refused to hear God’s voice, whether it came through either of them. They refused to hear their words of judgement and their words of mercy. They ultimately refused the redemption, the salvation, the help, they came to bring.

And so we hear Jesus lamenting this refusal to receive his help: “We played the flute and you did not dance.” In verses 18-24, which are skipped over in our lectionary reading, Jesus laments this and warns about it even more sharply. (I wonder sometimes if some of those lectionary omissions are really about helping focus the text, or if they aren’t an attempt to soften Jesus’ reputation.)

After lamenting the stubbornness of those who don’t think they need his help, Jesus goes on to offer a prayer of gratitude to God the Father for those who do receive him. He notes in his prayer that the gospel was being hidden from those who were supposedly wise and intelligent, but that it was being revealed to infants. That is, it was being revealed to those who knew their need. It was being received by those who knew how dependent they were, how much they needed his help.

And then Jesus’ public prayer turned into a public plea: “Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

This was a plea to stop being so stubborn. It was a plea to stop trying to carry those burdens on your own. It was a plea to receive the help he had come to bring.

This might sound silly, but as I have been pondering this text all week I’ve had a memory from my youth keep popping up in my head over and over again. When I was a teenager my sister and I were enjoying a summer visit with our dad and step-mom and two step-brothers in Spokane. We were loading up my dad’s truck for a day at the lake. We had duffle bags with towels and sunscreen and frisbees. We had bags of groceries and coolers full of drinks. I loaded up as much as I could carry. I had a couple of grocery bags in one hand and a duffle bag slung over one shoulder. Then, with one hand, I lifted the watermelon we were going to take, resting it on my shoulder. My step-mom told me I was trying to carry too much. She told me I was going to drop that watermelon. She told me to have one of my step-brothers help. But I declined. I told her I would be fine. You probably can already guess where this is going. As I walked down the steps of the back door, the weight shifted in the duffle bag I had slung over that one shoulder and I lost my grip on the watermelon. It fell the five feet from my shoulder to the ground and exploded on the concrete of their back porch.

I think the reason this is seared into my memory is the extraordinary grace that followed. Because you see, when my stepmother came out and saw what happened, she didn’t scold me, even though that’s what I deserved. She didn’t even say, “I told you so!” which would have been entirely true. I think I remember her having a knowing smirk on her face, but she didn’t say anything. She just started helping me pick up the pieces.

As a teenager, did I learn from this experience to humble myself? Did it take me down a peg or two? No. But now, as a middle-aged man, have I learned to not try to carry so much on my own? Also, no!

You see, there is a stubbornness in the human heart that makes us believe we can carry it all on our own. There is a hubris in the human heart which makes us think we can pull our own weight. Even God’s people, us who should know better, have this hubris. As St. Paul confesses in our second reading, “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” Even the apostle Paul himself was stuck in this stubbornness! We deceive ourselves into believing we are strong enough and smart enough and good enough, that we don’t need any help. This is bad enough in our everyday lives. It’s bad enough when you’re trying to load the truck up for a day at the lake. But it is even worse when this stubbornness makes it way into our relationship with God.

The world continues to be full of people who refuse the help God has sent. It is full of people who reject John and Jesus and the truth they bear. It is full of people who insist on doing things their own way, by their own power – and the consequences of this are all kinds of destruction and brokenness. The world continues to be full of people who are convinced that they don’t need to repent, that they don’t need God’s mercy, that they don’t need Christ’s forgiveness. It is full of people whose supposed wisdom and intelligence have blinded them to the gospel.

But this isn’t just something that happens out there in the world. This same refusal happens here in our sanctuary too. It happens when we try to carry too much. It happens when we refuse the help God has given us in his Son. It happens when we rely on our own strength and smarts and goodness instead of Christ’s grace and mercy and power.

None of us as Christians want to do this. It isn’t something we consciously choose to do. Instead, this old stubbornness creeps into our lives as we tune out the voice of God and our inner monologue takes over, telling us that we should be able to carry it all, that we don’t need any help.

I mentioned in my newsletter article this month about my pastor’s renewal program that in one of the sessions the presenter said, “You cannot do the work of ministry out of your own strength or smarts or cleverness. Whenever you try you will quickly become discouraged and grumpy and anxious and exhausted.” Those two sentences hit me right between the eyes. It showed me that sometimes I’m still trying to carry that watermelon.

What is true for me is, I’m sure, true for you too. What is true for pastors doing the work of ministry is true for all Christians as you carry out your callings in life. It is certainly true when it comes to the work of salvation itself. We cannot do it on our own. We cannot do it by our own strength or smarts. We cannot get there by our own power. When we try it just leads to anxiety and exhaustion. Ultimately, it can lead us into outright despair.

“Wretched man that I am!” St. Paul continued. “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

God has sent someone to rescue us from this despair. God has sent someone to rescue us from our anxiety and exhaustion. God has sent a rescuer to save us from ourselves, to give us mercy and forgiveness and hope and peace.

The voice of this rescuer enters into our ears this morning, disrupting the lies of our inner monologue. “Come to me,” Jesus says, “all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

If you insist on relying on your own wisdom and intelligence, you won’t be able to receive this rescue. If you insist on relying on your own strength or smarts, you will never dance to the tune of the gospel. If you insist on carrying everything yourself, you will never know the relief and the rest that comes when you let Christ Jesus bear your yoke.

In our stubbornness we will likely continue to try to carry it all ourselves from time to time. Sometimes it isn’t until things come crashing down that we realize how foolish we have been.

But when that happens, our Lord Jesus comes to us once again with his mercy. He comes to us in the midst of the mess we have made – not to say, “I told ya!” but to help us pick up the pieces, to carry our burdens, to lighten our load.

Come to him, all you who are weary and heavy burdened – for he has come to you! Whatever sins or struggles or sorrows or stress you’re carrying today, give it all to him. Let him take that yoke, that weight, off of your shoulders. In him you will find rest for your souls.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer

Oak Harbor Lutheran Church

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost – July 2, 2023

by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 6, 2023 | Sermons

CLICK HERE for a worship video for July 2

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost – July 2, 2023

Matthew 10:40-42

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

Rejection. Disappointment. Attack. Spiritual warfare. Persecution. Betrayal, even by members of own’s own family. Not peace, but a sword. In some cases, death.

These are all the things Jesus tells his disciples they can expect as they go out into the world to announce that, in him, the kingdom of heaven has come near. Over the past few Sundays we’ve heard Jesus’ long speech preparing his disciples for all that was to come as they were sent out to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, and now today we hear the conclusion of that speech. Jesus ends with a promise: There will be many trials, many troubles, to be sure, but they will not be left alone. They will not do this by themselves. They will not be on their own. Although they will face much resistance and hostility and rejection, some will welcome them! Jesus promises there will be some who will be there to provide encouragement and support along the way. They will be received by some with hospitality – and when they are, the rewards will be great for everyone involved.

Jesus promises that whoever welcomes them welcomes him. The disciples are his representatives, after all! They have been sent to bring his word, to speak on Christ’s behalf. And so, as they are received, Jesus himself is being received. This will be rewarded! “Whoever welcomes a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward,” Jesus says. Those who receive these apostles as a prophet with a word from God, those who support them in their work, will be receive the same reward as the disciples themselves. “Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple,” Jesus says, “truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” “Little ones” in this context is a term of endearment Jesus uses for his disciples. These disciples are little in the eyes of the world, they are vulnerable and dependent. But they will be cared for. Even the smallest gesture – a cup of cold water – will help carry them along and will be noticed by God.

Whenever I hear this verse I can’t help but think back to my pastoral internship in rural North Dakota. I was so worried about how I would be received. I was coming from the west coast.  I was young. I was green. I had given about two sermons in my life at that point. I just didn’t know what people would think about me, how they would receive me.

I spent the first couple of weeks following my supervisor around, getting to know the parish a bit. One of the men I met was a retired farmer named Mayo Swenson. Mr. Swenson didn’t say much. He was one of those quiet Swedes who responded to questions by grunting with a Swedish accent. He had this rough demeanor which scared me to death. I was sure he hated me.

On the first Sunday I was to preach I was pretty anxious. I was greeting people in the narthex that morning when, in my peripheral vision, I saw Mr. Swenson going up into the chancel. He leaned over by the chair behind the pulpit. Then I realized what he was doing. He was placing a glass of water on the armrest of the chair. For me.

It was just a glass of water, but it meant the world to me. This simple act was the bit of encouragement and support I needed. After worship I thanked him for his thoughtful gesture. To which he replied with his thick Scandinavian vowels, “Thank you for speaking God’s Word to us.”

I’ve received similar gestures from many of you – whether a literal glass of water or a card or a thoughtful email. I can’t tell you how much these small acts mean to me. They’re small, but they’re huge.

As you carry out your callings in life, your vocations, whether specifically in church-related ministry or other areas of your life, you are going to be battered by rejection and disappointment. You are going to face attack and spiritual warfare. You are going to face hostility and broken relationships. There will be times when you are overwhelmed and anxious and vulnerable and afraid. You have already faced many of these things, no doubt. You may well be facing many of them today.

But God does not leave us to endure these things on our own. God does not leave us to get through it all by ourselves. God does not leave us alone. There are those along the way who provide us with welcome and support and encouragement. There are those whose small acts of hospitality carry us through. We are not expected to be Lone Ranger Christians. In fact, even the Lone Ranger wasn’t the Lone Ranger. He had Tonto! He had a friend who walked with him through all his challenges.

This is why Christian community is so important. We bear Christ to each other. The Office of the Holy Ministry is established by God so that there will be pastors who bear Christ’s Word to the congregation, speaking on Christ’s behalf under vows of scriptural fidelity. That is true and that is important, but it is also true that ALL Christians bear Christ to the world and to each other. In the Smalcald Articles, one of our Lutheran confessional documents, Martin Luther went so far as to say that the mutual conversation and consolation of brothers and sisters in Christ is a form of the gospel alongside preaching and Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. It is that significant! Even the smallest gestures of welcome and care you show to each other are sacramental.

We commissioned three new Stephen Ministers last Sunday. As they were up here for the commissioning we had a slide on the screen with the Stephen Ministry logo and the words: “Christ caring for people through people.” This is such a wonderful, concise way of describing not only what Stephen Ministers do – care for people – but also who is behind it all. Christ is caring for people through people! As Jesus says in our gospel for today: “Whoever welcomes you, welcomes me.”

This is especially needed when we’re hurting, when we’re vulnerable. Stephen Ministers have been called “the After People.” As someone has beautifully written: “They are there after the phone call you hoped you’d never get, after the divorce papers are served and the bottom falls out of your life, after the funeral, when everyone has left and the emotions you’ve held at bay come crashing in on you. They are there after the doctor says, “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more we can do,” after the nursing home director shakes your hand and says, “Welcome to your new home, after the last child honks the horn, waves goodbye, and drives away – and the house seems suddenly empty. They are there after the gavel goes down, the handcuffs go on, and your loved one is led away, after the baby arrives, demanding more of you than you ever thought possible, after you find a pink slip with your final paycheck, after your family and friends have heard your story one too many times, but you still need to talk it out.”

What do Stephen Ministers do? They are there. It is as simple as that. They are there to provide mutual conversation and consolation. They are there to provide confidentiality and compassion. They are Christ caring for people through people.

This is a specialized ministry with a lot of important training involved, and I hope you will make use of this ministry in those “after” seasons of your life. But I don’t mention it to try to slip a commercial for it into the sermon. I mention it because what Stephen Ministers do is both a beautiful example of what Jesus is talking about in our gospel reading, and it is just a more formalized and structured version of what we are ALL called to be and do as part of the Christian community. As brothers and sisters in Christ, we bear Jesus to each other. We are Christ caring for people through people, often in ways that are small, but huge.

Sometimes it means simply being there. When my oldest son was a senior in high school his girlfriend’s mother died very suddenly. He wanted so badly to be helpful to this young woman and her family. “What do I do, dad? What do I do?” he asked. And I told him to just be there. Just sit with her. Just listen. Don’t try to fix anything. Don’t try to explain anything. Just be there. It took a lot of bravery to walk into a house filled with that much grief, but he did. And weeks later I heard from the girlfriend’s father how much it meant to all of them. Just being there. Christ caring for people through people.

What we have in our gospel reading for today is both a calling and a promise.

The calling is to be there for each other. It is to welcome one another and provide simple acts of hospitality and care for one another, especially in our “after” moments. The church is so much more than downloadable content to consume. We are a community which practices mutual conversation and consolation. This is nothing less than a form of the gospel itself. It is nothing less than sacramental. Don’t lose sight of this calling.

The promise is that in your “after” moments, you will not be left by yourself. When you face rejection or disappointment, attack or spiritual warfare, hostility or broken relationships, when you are overwhelmed or anxious or vulnerable or grieving, Christ Jesus will come to you.

Jesus comes to us through his Word. He comes to us through his Supper. He also comes to us through other people. He comes to us through the sacrament of Christian care. He comes to us through a welcoming friend, a listening ear, even a cup of cold water.

These things seem little, but they are actually huge.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer

Oak Harbor Lutheran Church