Sermon for Christ the King Sunday – November 24, 2024

by Jeffrey Spencer | Nov 24, 2024 | Sermons

CLICK HERE for a worship video for November 24

Sermon for Christ the King Sunday – November 24, 2024

Revelation 1:4b-8, John 18:33-37

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

Most kingdoms are defined by turf. King Charles, the best-known monarch in the western world, currently reigns – even if only mostly ceremonially – over specific lands known as the Commonwealth. Whether it is the U.K. or Australia or Canada, that’s his turf, so to speak. These kingdoms can be threatened, as they were by disgruntled farmers with muskets in 1776, or as they have been more recently with referendums in places like Scotland. Kings can lose some or all of their turf to those who challenge their rule.

This is how things worked in the ancient world too, and Pontius Pilate knew it. His interrogation of Jesus thus began as a threat assessment. Is this guy challenging Roman rule? Is he seeking to claim what has been occupied as Roman turf? Is he the leader of a band of rebels threatening to overthrow our king? All of this lies behind Pilate’s question to Jesus: “Are you the King of the Jews?”

And while Jesus’ response implies that he is indeed a king, Jesus was clear that his kingdom is not like any earthly kingdom. “My kingdom is not from this world,” Jesus said. And then a moment later: “My kingdom is not from here.” Jesus had not come to claim turf. Jesus had not come to establish a new government. Jesus had not come to overthrow the current regime or to depose any earthly king. Jesus, you see, was different kind of king. And as a different kind of king, he would have a different kind of kingdom, which would be established in a different way.

“For this I was born,” Jesus said “and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

The kingdom Jesus came to establish is a spiritual kingdom where the truth of God rules. The turf of this kingdom is the human heart. The way in which this kingdom is established is through the speaking of a Word. Why did Jesus himself say he was born? Why did he say he came into the world? To testify to the truth! In other words, he came to speak, to communicate, to announce, to proclaim. And how does one enter into this kingdom? How does one become part of it? How does one come to belong to it? By listening to him! “Everyone who belongs to the truth,” Jesus says, “listens to my voice.”

In the Large Catechism, Martin Luther teaches that Christ’s kingdom comes to us in two ways. “First, it comes here, in time through the Word and faith,” he writes, “and second, in eternity, it comes through the final revelation.” Luther is basing this on what Jesus himself taught when he was constantly comparing the kingdom to a seed being sown. That seed, Jesus said, is the Word of God, sown in the ears that it might take root in the heart. This is what St. Paul teaches when he explains in Romans 10 that the faith by which we enter the kingdom comes through hearing, and hearing through the Word of Christ. All of this is precisely what Jesus says to Pilate about his kingdom. Everyone who belongs to it listens to his voice. The turf he is after is the human heart, which he claims through the speaking of his Word, received in faith.

You see, the human heart is contested territory. There is a turf battle over our hearts going on all the time. This has been happening since the beginning of time. What was it that the serpent said to deceive Adam and Eve? It said, “Did God really say not to eat that fruit?” It essentially said, “Don’t listen to him!” Their hearts were led astray by the lies of the deceiver, by a different voice, and they soon found themselves in a different kingdom – one with thorns and sweat and pain and death. In the same way, we face a constant barrage of voices trying to lay claim to our hearts. We are constantly under spiritual attack by powers and principalities which seek to occupy our hearts with fear and despair and doubt. We are told that truth is something you establish for yourself, quite apart from the Word of God and the testimony of Christ. We are encouraged to “live our truth,” which is just another satanic lie. We are under constant assault by the world, the devil, and our sinful selves, all of whom want to sit on the throne of our hearts.

But our true King is at work building his kingdom by his testimony, by his speaking. He sends his Word to us, and when we listen to it with faith, he reclaims our hearts as his own. They become his turf.

One of the great privileges and wonders of being a pastor is getting a front row seat to how the kingdom claims ground in human hearts through listening to Christ’s voice. I have the pleasure of teaching the Bible to our preschoolers during Wednesday chapel services, and even with all the wiggly chaos of those services, you can see lightbulbs turning on over their heads and smiles come to their faces as they absorb the great truth of God’s love for them in Christ. We see the same thing happening regularly in our adult Bible studies, which has a wiggly chaos of its own. I have the more solemn duty of bringing the Word to people in hospital rooms, where grave illnesses are flexing their power, almost as an occupying force.

As Christ’s promises are spoken, you can sense hearts being reclaimed from fear and despair – millimeter by millimeter, inch by inch. These promises are even powerful enough to bring comfort and peace when spoken in the face of death – around a kitchen table planning a funeral or standing over an open grave. We can’t forget the context of our gospel reading for today. Jesus is at the trail which will lead to his crucifixion. He is hours away from experiencing death himself – and in so doing, he ultimately conquered it for us. In his death and resurrection, our King has even claimed the grave as his own turf, that he might lead us into eternal life with him. And so even in the face of death, when we listen to his voice we do not grieve as those who have no hope – for our crucified and risen Lord comes to occupy our hearts with the promise that not even death can separate us from him.

We hear the voice of our King each time we gather for worship. When we listen to the absolution, the announcement of forgiveness, we are assured that our sins are truly forgiven. We are pardoned anew. When we listen to the Word spoken in the scriptures, we are assured that there is an objective truth that we can trust, that we can build our lives on. When we receive our Lord’s body and blood and listen to the words, “for you,” we are assured that Christ is truly present for us, delivering his gift of salvation once again. This is how Christ’s kingdom is built. “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice,” Jesus says.

There is a turf battle being waged over your heart. There are kings who would love to claim that territory as their own by leading you into sin, into fear, into despair, into doubts about who your true king really is. They wage their battle through deceit, by trying to lure you away from the truth. They try to stake a claim when and where you are most vulnerable. Sometimes they try to occupy your heart by tricking you into believing you can be your own king or queen. But do not be led astray. They can only offer you a kingdom with thorns and sweat and pain and death.

Instead, listen to the voice of your true King. Listen to him testify to the truth.

As he says to us today through his Word as recorded in the Revelation to Saint John, this King of ours loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood. He has made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to whom is glory and dominion forever and ever. This King of ours is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty. And so he is the only true King.

His kingdom comes to us now, in part, by Word and faith. As we listen to his voice and trust it, our hearts become his territory, his turf. He claims our hearts as his own, empowering us to live in confidence and hope, in holiness and righteousness, in peace and even in joy, until the final revelation comes, and we at last enter into his kingdom in all its fullness to behold our King in all his glory and to live with him forever.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer

Oak Harbor Lutheran Church

Sermon for the Twenty-Fifth Sunday after Pentecost – November 10, 2024

by Jeffrey Spencer | Nov 12, 2024 | Sermons

CLICK HERE for a worship video for November 10

Sermon for the Twenty-Fifth Sunday after Pentecost – November 10, 2024

Psalm 146, Mark 12:38-44

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

In our psalm today it says, “Do not put your trust in princes.” Kind of a timely bit of scripture after a big election, huh? “Princes” is a poetic way of referring to all governing authorities, and we just elected a bunch of new ones to all kinds of offices, right? I hasten to point out that we follow the lectionary – a schedule of assigned readings for each Sunday in the church year. I didn’t pick it! Our cantor didn’t pick it! It was assigned for this day, and I’m certain that not even the crafters of the lectionary purposefully intended for it to be heard on the first Sunday after a big election. It must be a coincidence then, right? Or maybe, as some have suggested, a “coincidence” is God winking at us.

“Do not put your trust in princes,” God tells us. This does not mean we are to hold our public officials in contempt. It doesn’t mean they are inherently untrustworthy. This verse is not encouraging us all to become cynical or bitter. While we should absolutely hold all our public officials accountable, this verse is about something bigger. It is about where we put our faith. The psalm is set up in such a way that we are taught to not put our trust in governing authorities as the source of our deepest needs and our greatest hopes. We are to place our trust in God. We are taught in this psalm to place our trust in God by way of contrast: “In mortals there is no certainty,” it says. In God there is certainty – so put your trust, put your faith there! Princes are temporary, God is eternal – so put your faith in God! The plans of princes always ultimately perish, while God’s Word endures forever – so put your trust in his Word.

We are in an interesting position here in Washington state after the election in that probably nobody is super thrilled about all the results. No matter which side of the political spectrum you fall on, there is cause for celebration and cause for lament.

Some are happy about the governor-elect here in Washington state and lamenting the president-elect headed for Washington DC, while others are happy about the president-elect and lamenting the governor-elect.

I don’t want to sound like I’m shaming anyone for being happy about one set of results or the other. That’s your prerogative and I have no problem with it either way. I also don’t want to sound like I’m scolding anyone for being upset about one set of results or the other. That too is your prerogative.

But what I do want to say to everyone this morning is that these public servants, whether it is the governor-elect or the president-elect, are neither the Great Satan you fear, nor are they the savior you long for. They may do things you like or don’t like. They may govern well or poorly. Their work is important and consequential and as citizens you should be involved in the issues in accordance with your Word-informed and Spirit-guided conscience.

But God’s Word, given through the psalmist, is clear: “Do not put your trust in princes.” That is to say, do not put your faith in them. They are neither your greatest enemy nor your greatest hope. As St. Paul reminds us in Ephesians, our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers, against forces of cosmic darkness, against spiritual forces of evil – so put your faith in God alone. Entrust your life to God alone.

We have a beautiful example of completely entrusting one’s life to God in our gospel reading for today, and like the psalm it comes by way of contrast.

On the one hand you have the scribes. Jesus warned the people about the scribes. The scribes had a technical skill that few others had. They could read and write. This is why they are called scribes – they dealt with words. Reading and writing was a special technical skill at this time, not unlike writing code for computer programs today. The scribes were masters of the written word, which was an emerging skill at that time, one that was handsomely rewarded.

The scribes often dealt with scripture, and so they were what we might refer to as bible scholars, but because of this highly technical skill they also dealt with all kinds of other documents, such as estates and wills and contracts. And so the scribes were part bible scholar, part lawyer, part government official. This made many of them quite wealthy – sometimes through legitimate work, but often by taking advantage of widows who couldn’t read what they were signing.

The scribes liked to walk around in the long dress robes that identified them as part of the elites. They loved to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces as part of the upper class. They loved having the best seats in the synagogue and places of honor at banquets. They made a big show of their supposed religiosity by saying long prayers, turning prayer into the ultimate virtue-signal.

The scribes were among the rich people Jesus observed putting large sums into the temple treasury. But Jesus wasn’t impressed with their large sums. He wasn’t impressed with the amount. They were giving out of their abundance, Jesus said.

Proportionally, it was chump change to them. Despite the large sums and the displays of religiosity, the scribes and their rich friends had placed their faith in something other than God. They were placing it in their status, in their cultural power, in their popularity, in their bank accounts. They did place large sums into the treasury, but it meant little.

On the other hand, we have a poor widow. She had two small copper coins, barely worth a penny. This was all she had, all she had to live on. The fact that she had two coins is relevant here, because it tells us she had the opportunity to keep something back for herself. She could potentially have only given half of what she had. But she gave both coins. She gave everything she had.

This poor woman is often held up as an example of stewardship. She is often trotted out during stewardship campaigns as some kind of mascot for sacrificial giving. I really question this, because it can sometimes sound like we expect people to sign over every last penny to the church like she did – and we don’t! There was a whole monastic tradition in medieval Christianity with literal vows of poverty which the Lutheran reformers ultimately rejected. We are to be disciplined and sacrificial and proportional and generous in our giving to the church, to be sure, but as Luther teaches in the catechism, God gives us resources to support our lives in this world. God knows we need to use much of the resources entrusted to us to live on, to support ourselves and our families.

This dear widow deserves better than to be treated as a mascot for stewardship campaigns. She means more than this. She is not just an example of stewardship; she is an example of faith! She isn’t just praised for the amount she has given; she is praised by Jesus for what it represents. It represents her complete and utter trust in God. She has not placed her trust in herself, or her status, or her wealth. She has not placed her trust in princes. She has placed her trust in God. She has placed her life entirely in God’s hands.

I spent the very, very early hours of Election Day in the home of some of our members. As many of you know by now, our brother in Christ and OHLC’s official BBQ pitmaster Roger died. I got the call at about 1:30am on Election Day and went to be with the family. The sheriff’s chaplain was there for a while too and while we were making small talk, he mentioned that law enforcement and the funeral home had been involved earlier that night with the procession for the remains of Lieutentant Serena Wileman, who died when her plane crashed near Mount Rainier in a training accident. When I drove home in the wee small hours of Election Day, who would win what office later that day was the furthest thing from my mind.

I don’t mean to suggest that I am somehow above caring about the election, about politics, about state-wide and national issues. I do, and by the end of the day I was watching returns like everyone else. But starting Election Day the way I did certainly gave some perspective about it all: Life is so fragile, so fleeting. All of this is so temporary. There are so many things that are completely out of our hands, out of our control. What happens in either Washington state or Washington DC is important, but it seems so small from the perspective of eternity, from the perspective of God’s providence and promises.

God’s Word gives all of us some perspective today. “Do not put your trust in princes,” God tells us through the psalmist. “In mortals there is no certainty.  When their breath leaves their body they return to dust, and all of their plans perish with them.” This isn’t cynicism or bitterness. It certainly isn’t resignation or despair. Instead, it is steering our trust to where it belongs. It is pushing us to place our trust where it is supposed to be. And trust, well-placed, leads to praise! As the psalm continues: “Praise the Lord, O my soul! I will praise the Lord as long as I live! Praise the Lord, O my soul! All my life I’ll sing praises to God! Happy are the ones who trust Him, the architect of heaven and earth.”

God doesn’t just want your coins. He wants your whole life. He wants you to entrust your whole life to him. The poor widow is more than an example for us to follow. She is a reflection of Christ himself, who gave everything he had, including his life, so that you could live with God forever. He alone is the savior you long for. He alone is the savior you need. Put your trust in him.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer

Oak Harbor Lutheran Church

Sermon for All Saints Sunday – November 3, 2024

by Jeffrey Spencer | Nov 5, 2024 | Sermons

CLICK HERE for a worship video for November 3

Sermon for All Saints Sunday – November 3, 2024

Isaiah 25:6-9, Revelation 21:1-6a, John 11:32-44

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

Death stinks.

In our modern world it is blessedly rare that this is a literal experience, but no matter how hygienic we might be and no matter how quickly bodies are whisked away, death still stinks. Grief tends to hang in the air for a long time afterwards. There is an unpleasant heaviness which clings to people. The overwhelming emotions floating around can be so overpowering that people can hardly see straight.

There may well be moments of peace when death draws near. There are sometimes beautiful goodbyes and deeply touching expressions of faith and hope and love and care in a person’s final moments. But even under the best of circumstances, death stinks. It stinks because it robs us of the people we love. It stinks because it leaves an aching absence in our lives that lingers and lingers and lingers.

Even Jesus thought that death stinks. When he saw his dear friend Mary weeping after her brother died, Jesus was “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” Jesus began to weep too. When he came to the tomb that Lazarus had been laid in, he was again greatly disturbed. While John’s gospel usually presents us with a more stoic Jesus, even with John’s high Christology, his emphasis on Jesus’ divinity, he doesn’t hesitate to show us the raw human emotions Jesus experienced at the death of his friend. Tears flowed. He felt this terrible loss in his gut. He was racked with grief, with sorrow, with anger even. Jesus would completely agree – death stinks.

In the case of Lazarus, the stench was quite literal, of course. When Jesus went to his tomb and demanded that the stone be rolled away, the ever-practical Martha objected because of the odor which was sure to burn their nostrils if they were to crack that seal. But Jesus said to Martha, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” In other words: “Trust me, Martha.” “Trust me,” Jesus said.

So they took away the stone. And once the tomb was opened, after offering a prayer up to the Father, Jesus cried out with a loud voice. He shouted into the tomb: “Lazarus, come out!” And Lazarus came out.

The takeaway? Death stinks, but it doesn’t deter Jesus. Jesus enters the stink with a word that is more powerful than death. Christ comes to the tomb with a voice that has the power to raise people up. When your name is on Jesus’ lips it means there is life beyond death, it means the grave cannot hold you, it means death does not have the last word. Death stinks, but when we put our trust in Christ and his word, we can be sure that we will see the glory of God.

All Saints Sunday is a somber day. It is a widespread tradition in the Christian church for congregations to remember their members who have died in the past year. We’re doing this today, of course, as we remember Hal, David, Walt, Karola, and Kyle, with special prayers this morning. There will also be a time of silence during those prayers when we can remember and give thanks for the many other saints in our lives, whether they’ve been gone for two years or twenty. And so it is a time of somber reflection. It is a time when that ache of absence can begin to throb with renewed intensity. It is a time when we confront the reality of death. It can be a Sunday on which we are painfully reminded of how much it stinks.

But just as our Lord Jesus spoke into the stench of Lazarus’ tomb, so too does he speak to us. Today God gives us a word that cuts through the heaviness hanging in the air and brings life.

Sometimes it is hard to hear this word when grief is especially raw. I remember visiting a gentleman a few weeks after his wife had died, and towards the end of our visit he asked me for a copy of the sermon I delivered at her funeral. While he had no reason to feel guilty about this, he sheepishly admitted that he didn’t remember a single word I said at the service. At the time he was too numb to hear it. He was still in shock. His grief was too overwhelming. This is a very common experience, and so All Saints Sunday gives us an opportunity to listen to Christ’s life-giving word at a time when we are perhaps more likely to actually hear it. While there is plenty of grief in this sanctuary today, perhaps this Sunday provides an opening for God’s promises to break through in a way they haven’t before.

First, in our reading from Isaiah God promises a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines. While God’s people are feasting on these rich foods, the Lord himself is dining on something different. The Lord, Isaiah says, will swallow up death forever! What we have here is a glimpse of the great exchange that Christ has brought about in his own death and resurrection. By experiencing death himself, Jesus has swallowed it up. He has defeated it. What we get is the feast! What we get is life! The Lord’s Supper is an embodiment of this feast. Jesus gives us his body and blood, and we get forgiveness, life, and salvation. Jesus swallows death and we swallow life! It is through this feast, Isaiah tells us, that God begins to wipe away the tears from all faces.

Over the last several days I’ve served the Lord’s Supper in the kitchens and living rooms of people who are fighting for their lives, people whose grip on life is starting to slip, or is at least seriously threatened. Even through the furrowed brows and teary eyes of the gravely ill and their loved ones, there is a peace that is found in sharing in this feast of rich food. Christ’s broken body and shed blood provide an assurance that no matter how near death may be, Jesus already swallowed it, and as we swallow him, we are promised life with him. And so, while tears are never bad or wrong, God begins to wipe them away with this comforting promise.

As we share the Lord’s Supper here in the sanctuary, this feast of rich food becomes the place where the veil between heaven and earth is particularly thin. As we say in the communion liturgy, “with the church on earth and the hosts of heaven.” As our voices join the heavenly chorus in singing, “Holy, Holy, Holy,” death is not quite as deep a chasm as we share in communion with all the saints through Christ. Many people go to the graves of their loved ones to feel close to them after they’re gone. That’s fine, but it is here at this table that you are particularly close to them.

And then there is our reading from Revelation. Here we are given a glimpse of the coming kingdom, the new Jerusalem, where death will be no more. Just as there was a loud voice at Lazarus’ tomb, there is another one here! From the throne, the Lord Jesus uses a loud voice to say, “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will be with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more. Mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”

Here we are promised that God dwells with mortals – that is to say, with people who die! Here we are promised a future where every tear will be wiped away at last, a future where death will be no more. We are promised a new Jerusalem where grief and sorrow are gone forever and we will bask in the presence of Christ and all whom he has called to himself.

“See, I am making all things new,” Jesus says. Also, he says: “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.” Remember how he told Martha to trust him? Now he is saying the same thing to you. “Trust me!” he says. “Trust these words, for they are trustworthy and true!” “Trust me, and you will see the glory of God!”

Death stinks, but it isn’t quite as pungent when we hear and trust in these words, these promises.

Death stinks, but there is a savior who is not repelled by it, a savior who enters into it with a word that has the power to call us into life with him. He comes with a voice that cuts through the heaviness. He comes to call us by name. Your name has already been on his lips when he claimed you as his own in Holy Baptism. Your name will be on his lips again when you hear his voice calling you out of death and into the new Jerusalem.

In the meantime, he speaks to you now to begin to wipe those tears away, bringing you healing, hope, and peace. He comes to you now to fill those aching absences with his loving presence. He gives you his word today so that you would believe, and in believing, you would see the glory of God.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer

Oak Harbor Lutheran Church