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
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
