by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 23, 2024 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for July 7
Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost – July 7, 2024
Mark 6:1-13
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
Oftentimes homecomings are wonderful occasions. Think of kids coming home from college for the summer. Think of those joyful reunions on the tarmac at NAS Whidbey when a squadron returns and a family is reunited. Think of those times when you’ve been away from home and how good it feels to sleep once again in your own bed.
Oftentimes homecomings are wonderful occasions – but not always.
Jesus returned to Nazareth from a productive road trip where total strangers believed in him. There was the hemorrhaging woman we met last week who said, “If only I touch his clothes, I will be made well.” Now that’s faith in Jesus, and Jesus told her that her faith made her well. There was Jairus, the leader of the synagogue in Capernaum, who sought out Jesus when his daughter was so desperately ill. He trusted that he could help them. That’s faith too! These and many other total strangers believed in Jesus. They had faith in him. They trusted him.
Then Jesus went home to Nazareth, the village where he grew up. Jesus might have looked forward to his mother’s home cooking. He might have lingered in his father’s carpentry shop, smelling the wood, remembering working alongside Joseph, learning his trade. As we heard, in Nazareth Jesus was surrounded by relatives. Perhaps they were literal brothers and sisters, perhaps they were half-brothers and half-sisters from Joseph’s side, perhaps they were what we would call cousins. The nature of these relationships isn’t entirely clear, and the witness of the church varies. But regardless of precisely how they were related to Jesus, this was family. These were the people he grew up with.
Jesus would have known this little village of Nazareth like the back of his hand – every corner, every tree, every person. But they did not know him. Oh, they thought they knew him. When Jesus taught in his hometown synagogue they asked, “Is this not the carpenter? Is this not Mary’s son?” They thought they knew him. But they didn’t know him. Not really. Unlike the total strangers he had met out on the road, Jesus’ hometown crowd did not believe in him. They did not have faith in him. They did not put their trust in him. In fact, they were offended by him. “They took offense at him,” the scriptures tell us.
It is hard to know exactly what the people of Nazareth found so offensive about Jesus. Mark, the gospel writer, doesn’t tell us anything about what Jesus said when he taught in the synagogue that day. But we can make some fairly safe assumptions based on what Jesus had said and done leading up to this homecoming. Jesus had been saying and doing things that only God himself could say and do. Jesus announced the forgiveness of sins. He announced the coming of the kingdom of God. Jesus cast out demons. He healed the sick and raised the dead. He called people to repent and believe the good news, to repent and believe in him. Out on the road, many did. But here in his hometown of Nazareth, they didn’t.
Jesus lamented this disappointing homecoming with a proverb: “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And, as the scriptures poignantly note, Jesus was amazed at their unbelief.
This wasn’t a joyful homecoming, to be sure, but this homecoming is instructive for the church today.
First of all, Jesus’ return to Nazareth reminds us that the gospel is indeed offensive to many people. The forgiveness of sin is only good news to those who first recognize and accept that they are sinners. Forgiveness is only received as good news by those who know they need it. Many people, then and now, want affirmation, not forgiveness. They want their behavior excused rather than forgiven. To announce forgiveness is to presume there is something to be forgiven for, which not everyone accepts, and which many people find very offensive.
To make matters even more challenging, we live in a time where people are easily offended. We live in a culture which seems to actually incentivize being offended. It gets you attention. It makes you seem righteous. It gives you a certain amount of cultural power. Comedians in particular have been noting this recently. Even someone as innocuous and mainstream as Jerry Seinfeld has recently noted that there are very few new sitcoms being made, and he attributes this to networks and advertisers being afraid of a hypersensitive culture. He has said he won’t perform on college campuses for the same reason. So many are just looking for reasons to be offended.
We can’t expect to be immune to this as the church. We will offend people. No matter how winsome and kind and gentle and loving we try to be – and we should try to be all of those things! – there are people who will take offense at us and the gospel we bear. If Jesus himself experienced this, how can we expect anything less? Do we think we can do those things better than him?
We not only live in a time of offense, but of unbelief. I have been encouraged recently to see some studies and commentators here and there starting to suggest that the steep decline of Christianity in the United States in recent decades looks like it has leveled off, with Christianity showing more resilience than many expected. But it is still true that a large percentage of our neighbors do not believe in Jesus. They do not have faith in him. They have not placed their trust in him. This is particularly painful for those of us with loved ones who do not believe, especially when they are people close to us who, like the people of Nazareth, have grown up with Jesus their whole life, but no longer seem to know him.
Jesus’ homecoming in Nazareth reminds us that even those who have grown up with Jesus may not always recognize him as their Lord. They may not always believe and trust in him as their savior. They may think of him as that guy they grew up with, but they don’t see how he can be who he says he is. Again, if Jesus himself experienced this, how can we not? It is entirely possible to do everything right in raising your kids with Jesus and still have them not seem to know him when they grow up.
So what does Jesus do in the face of offense and unbelief? Well, he doesn’t give up, that’s for sure! He doesn’t react with anger or despair. He doesn’t call for fire and brimstone to rain down on his hometown. Instead, Jesus went about among the villages teaching. He kept at it. With patience and determination, he continued on with his ministry. He did not give up.
Not only did Jesus not give up, he multiplied his efforts as he sent out the disciples. He sent them out in pairs. He gave them authority over unclean spirits, equipping them with the same authoritative word by which to forgive sins and cast out demons and bring healing and new life. Jesus instructed them to travel light and to trust him. And when they faced rejection, he told them to shake it off and move on.
When Jesus faced offense and unbelief, he did not retreat. Instead, he patiently taught. He also commissioned others to bring his word to people, to patiently and diligently teach and preach and bear witness to the gospel.
As the church today, we have been commissioned into this task. As disciples of Jesus today, this is our calling. This is no time for the church to abandon its mission. Yes, people will be offended. Yes, there will be unbelief. But the world needs Jesus, even if it doesn’t always realize it. The world needs us to bear witness to the gospel, even if people often reject us. People need Christ’s forgiveness, even if they are initially offended by it. People need his healing love, his saving grace. They need the new life he brings. They need his kingdom. We who have received all these blessings of the gospel have also been called to share them with others.
The homecoming at Nazareth was a disappointment for Jesus, to be sure. Jesus was amazed at their unbelief. But this was not the end of the story. Some of those in Nazareth who didn’t believe in Jesus then came to believe in him later. James, for instance, the brother of the Lord mentioned in this reading today, became a believer after the resurrection. He even became an important leader in the church in Jerusalem.
So don’t give up on that stubborn neighbor you’ve been inviting to worship. Don’t give up on those loved ones who do not seem to believe anymore. Jesus isn’t done with them, and you shouldn’t be either.
There is a homecoming our Lord Jesus has in store which will be a much more wonderful occasion than the one in Nazareth was. As important as our calling is to bear witness to the gospel, we entrust this final homecoming to him.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 3, 2024 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for June 30
Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost – June 30, 2024
Mark 5:21-43
The following sermon is delivered in character by two persons portraying Jairus and the woman.
Jairus: My name is Jairus.
Woman: My name is….not mentioned! I’m anonymous, I guess. Call me “Jane Doe.”
Jairus: I’m a leader in the synagogue. I practically live here. If there’s a service or a study going on, nine times out of ten I am here.
Woman: Because of my…condition, I’m considered ritually unclean. I’m banned from worship. I haven’t set foot in a synagogue for twelve years.
Jairus: I am so thankful for my beautiful family, for my wife and kids, for this community of faith. I’m surrounded by people who love and support me.
Woman: Because of my ailment, I am unable to bear children. Good luck trying to find a husband with a condition like mine. I have been made to live apart, in isolation. Sometimes I think the loneliness is more terrible than the bleeding.
Jairus: What? Well, yes. I have a few coins to my name, if you must know.
Woman: Nothing. Nada. Everything I ever had has been spent. Doctors. Consultations. Treatments and tonics. Instead of making me better, it has just made me broke.
[Brief pause…]
Jairus: On that day I had never felt so…
Woman: …desperate. I felt so…
Jairus:…helpless. My little girl, my precious daughter was sick – so sick. Nobody seemed to be able to help her. I had heard about this man, this rabbi. He had just come into town by boat, and there was quite the clamoring when he arrived. His name was…
Woman: …Jesus. I had heard that he had cast out demons, that he had cleansed a leper, that he had…
Jairus: …healed the sick. There were stories about him healing a paralytic, healing a man with a withered hand. My daughter was fading fast. Things weren’t looking good. She was only twelve.
Woman: Twelve years I’ve lived with this condition. Twelve years of non-stop bleeding. Twelve years of chronic weakness. Twelve years of isolation. Then, there was Jesus…
Jairus & Woman together: What little hope I had left, I put in him.
[Brief pause…]
Jairus: When I finally saw him, I kind of…
Woman: lost it.
Jairus: …I fell to my knees and started begging – a big no-no for a respectable leader of the synagogue.
Woman: I recklessly pushed my way through the crowd – a big no-no in my condition. I reached out and touched his garment – another big no-no. But what were they going to do? Banish me? Been there, done that. I somehow believed that simply touching him would be all it took to make me well.
Jairus: We were delayed by some woman who grabbed Jesus’ robe. Some friends met us before we got to the house and told me it was too late. They told me not to bother the teacher any more. They said that she was already…dead. My head started spinning. I felt like I was going to be sick. Jesus said to me, “Do not fear, only believe.” He led the way now. Before long I could hear the wailing coming from my house. When we got there Jesus asked why they were making such a commotion. “She is only sleeping,” he told them. He took my wife and I into our daughter’s room. He took my precious girl by the hand and said “Talitha cum.” “Talitha” is an Aramaic term of endearment! This is what I called her when she was a baby. It means “little lamb.” “Little lamb,” he said to my sweet child, “it is time to get up!”
Woman: Daughter. He called me daughter! He addressed me as a daughter of Israel, a daughter of God. “Daughter,” he said, “Your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
Woman & Jairus together: Such kind words, such tenderness in his voice.
Woman: The bleeding had stopped. At last, I was well again. Jesus not only gave me back my health, he gave me back my life! I could return to my family! I could return to worship at the synagogue! I could be part of the community again! I had fallen at his feet filled with fear and trembling, but as I stood beside him now I was filled with peace as a daughter of God.
Jairus: My daughter was well. My wife and I felt that we’d not only received our daughter back, but our own lives as well. We were restored as a family.
[Brief pause…]
Woman: I didn’t see Jesus again, but I heard what happened to him. I heard that he was crucified. It was startling to hear that this man who had brought healing to so many ended up being broken on a cross.
Jairus: Jesus told us to not say anything about what he had done for our daughter. I guess we didn’t do such a good job at that, seeing as how our story ended up in three different books about Jesus! I didn’t understand at first why we were to keep quiet, but I think I know now. You see, Jesus didn’t heal everyone. There were plenty of people in my own synagogue who were sick and didn’t get better. There were times when throngs of sick people came to Jesus and he slipped away from them to spend time alone in prayer. I think he told us to keep quiet because he didn’t want people to get the wrong idea. He hadn’t come merely to heal the sick. He hadn’t come merely to prolong life for a few people. He had bigger things in mind, a bigger purpose.
Woman: Jesus died on that cross – but some are saying he didn’t stay dead. Some are saying he rose from the dead. His disciples have been saying that they have seen him. They’ve been telling everyone that sin and death have been conquered once and for all. They are saying that all the outcasts, all the unclean, are now sons and daughters of God because of what he has done for the world through his death and resurrection.
Jairus: Through his death and resurrection he has brought a deeper kind of healing and hope to all of humankind. Through his death and resurrection he has cured death itself, giving us all the promise of eternal life.
Woman: [Addressing congregation] What Jesus has done for me, he has done for you too. He makes you whole. He gives you new life. He calls you his daughter, his son.
Jairus: He calls you his little lamb, his precious child.
Woman: Whether you’re sick…
Jairus: …or well,
Woman: whether you’re a woman,
Jairus: or a man,
Woman: whether you’re poor,
Jairus: or financially secure,
Woman: whether you’re lonely,
Jairus: or well-connected –
Woman: life has a way of bringing us all to our knees at one time or another. But Jesus brings healing and hope to us all.
[Brief pause…]
Jairus: Do not fear, only believe.
Woman & Jairus together: Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 3, 2024 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for June 23
Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost – June 23, 2024
Mark 4:35-41
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
The disciples had seen lots of bad weather on the Sea of Galilee before. Four of them were fisherman, and so Peter and Andrew, James and John especially would have seen plenty of wind and waves on this body of water. The Sea of Galilee was known for its sudden changes in weather. It could turn threatening at a moment’s notice. They were no strangers to storms.
But this one was different. This one hit them like a bomb cyclone. It hit them suddenly and with great fury. “A great windstorm arose,” St. Mark tells us, “and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.” This wasn’t something they could navigate around. This wasn’t a situation where they could drop anchor and wait it out. They were sinking! They were going down!
You can imagine the terror in the eyes of even the seasoned fisherman as they furiously tried to bail out the water they were taking on, perhaps with buckets, perhaps just with cupped hands. You can imagine the wind screaming in their ears, making it hard to hear each other. You can imagine the chaos, the white-knuckle grip as they heaved up and down with the waves. You can imagine the nausea, the gasping to catch their breath, the existential panic coursing through their veins as they truly believed they were all about to die.
And throughout all of this, Jesus was in the stern, asleep. I think it is funny that St. Mark tells us that he was asleep on a cushion. That little detail provides a sharp contrast between what Jesus is experiencing and what the disciples are going through. The disciples are soaked and terrified and probably puking over the side of the boat, while Jesus is asleep – on a cushion.
The disciples, however, did not think this was funny at all. They finally shook Jesus awake, saying, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” And Jesus, who had managed to sleep through the howling of the wind and the pounding of the rain against the wood of the boat, now woke up. One Bible commentary I read beautifully described this moment by saying: “Jesus is like the mother who sleeps through all kinds of racket, but at the slightest noise from her little baby, she instantly awakes.”
Upon awaking, Jesus’ first words are not to the disciples, but to the sea: “Peace, be still!” Jesus said. Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. Now Jesus could speak to them. Now his word could be heard. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”
These were cutting questions. They pointed to the disciples’ lack of faith in him. You can almost make out a tone of mild disappointment in Jesus’ voice. “Did you really think I don’t care about you? Have you learned nothing about me yet? Do you still not trust me?”
But behind these cutting rhetorical questions was a promise: The disciples didn’t need to be afraid. They simply needed to have faith in him. They simply needed to trust him. They simply needed to trust that Jesus was more powerful than any storm.
And now they were starting to get it. Filled with great awe, they said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”
Our lives are filled with storms like the one the disciples faced. Sometimes these storms are quite literal. This spring has been a bad season for tornadoes in places like Oklahoma and Nebraska and Iowa, where extremely powerful twisters have burst through cities and towns and homes, carving a path of chaos and destruction, leveling barns and buildings, tossing debris in every direction, sending people into shelters in fear for their lives.
Other times these storms are more figurative. They are relational, or medical, or spiritual. These storms might not feature literal wind and waves, but they bring howling noise to our ears, making it hard to hear God’s voice. They bring a nauseating topsy-turvy upending of everything we once thought to be stable. They make us feel like we are sinking. They fill us with terror, with an existential panic.
Recently I had one of my dearest friends share with me that his wife of more than thirty years came to him out of the blue and said, “I’ve accepted a job in another city and am leaving you.” Talk about a bomb cyclone! You can say that these things never happen suddenly, and you’d be right, but it can feel that way in the moment, and that’s how it felt to him. In talking to him over Zoom you could almost see him sinking into his chair. You could sense him trying to keep his head above water, holding on for dear life.
In the past few weeks I’ve had two different mothers sobbing into my chest at the loss of their respective sons. While the underlying causes had been brewing on the horizon for some time in both situations, the loss hit them like a sudden, violent storm, with tears falling like a pounding rain.
Recently I’ve sat with people going through brutal treatments for cancer. I’ve had conversations with spouses who have watched their beloved suffer through these treatments. Sometimes there is a barely restrained frustration that Jesus would let their beloved suffer so much. Sometimes there is a sense that he must be sleeping.
But in each of these spiritual storms I’ve observed in the past several weeks, there has been a moment of calm. In each situation I’ve cited, there has been a moment when the howling wind has ceased and the noise of the storm has stopped screaming in people’s ears long enough to hear Jesus’ voice saying, “Peace.”
I’m not saying that these storms were instantaneously and permanently ended. I’m not naively saying that these people no longer had any lingering storm damage in their lives. But in each case, a moment of calm opened up such that Christ’s peace could be heard and experienced.
When I checked in on my friend a few days later, he had worked at least some things out with his wife, but even more, he had a renewed sense that Christ had a hold of him. Those grieving mothers were able to take a deep breath as they entrusted their sons to Christ’s promise. That frustrated spouse came to see in the faith of his beloved that Jesus was not sleeping after all.
Since going through my own storm of grief a couple years ago now I have been telling people how much the experience felt to me like waves crashing over me. There is the initial crash that leaves you gasping for air, then the water goes out, giving you time to catch your breath before another wave comes in and hits you. While everyone’s experience of grief is different, I’ve had so many people say, “Yes! That’s what it is like!”
Eventually those waves start to lessen. Eventually they mostly subside – although sneaker waves can still pound you from time to time. But even in the worst of the storm there are moments when the waves go out. There are moments when the winds are no longer screaming in your ears and you can hear Jesus speaking into the storm, saying, “Peace, be still.” There are moments when you realize that Jesus is not sleeping, that he has heard your cry, and that he is more powerful than the storm trying to drag you down. Even the wind and sea obey him!
Since the days of the apostles, a ship, or boat, has been a symbol for the church. We even call the place where worshippers gather the “nave,” which comes from the Latin word navis, meaning “ship,” (which is also the root for the word “Navy”).
As Christians we are not promised fair winds and following seas, but Jesus is not asleep in this boat. He hears your cries. He knows your needs. He cares about you. Here in this boat today he silences the wind screaming in our ears so that we might hear his voice, so that we might hear him speak into the storm, saying, “Peace, be still!” Here in this boat today he assures us that we do not need to be afraid, no matter what kind of storms we face in life. Here in this boat he strengthens and renews us in faith by the speaking of his powerful Word.
The Lord Jesus on board. He is with us, and he will get us through every storm.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Jun 18, 2024 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for June 23
Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost – June 16, 2024
Mark 4:26-34
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
There’s a show on Amazon Prime my wife and I have been watching for three seasons now called “Clarkson’s Farm.” We’re not really into reality TV, but I guess this is part of that genre, as it follows the real-life attempts by British media personality Jeremy Clarkson to run a successful farm in the Cotswolds of England. I’m not giving away too many spoilers in saying that he encounters all kinds of challenges. There is bad weather. There are local bureaucrats and stifling regulations. He reckons with disease and death among crops and livestock and in his farm hands. There are the ever-changing prices, which are influenced by world events far beyond his control. Most of all, though, there is his own ignorance. This is what makes the show so compelling and funny. He has come to farming late in life, and mostly he has no idea what he is doing.
(If you’re thinking about checking it out, know that Jeremy Clarkson deals with his frustrations with a very colorful vocabulary, with many words you don’t hear at church. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)
I think the situation Jeremy Clarkson finds himself in as he tries his hand at farming has some striking parallels to the situation we find ourselves in in the church today. We too are trying to grow things. We would like to see Christian faith grow in our hearts. We would like to see Christian faith grow in the lives of our loved ones, particularly our children. We would like to see the Christian church and specifically our own congregation grow in numbers.
But it seems, at times, like nothing is going right for us. The cultural winds are blowing in directions that are not in our favor. There are church bureaucrats who only seem to make things worse. You may remember there was a pandemic which has left a deep mark on the church, perhaps more than any other institution. There are demographic realities mostly beyond our control, such as the breakdown of family life and the steeply falling birth rate, which profoundly impact the life of the church.
On top of all of this is the pervasive feeling across the church that we have no idea what we’re doing. So many Christians seem to be struggling to grow in their own faith. There is so much concern about how we can grow faith in the lives of our loved ones who seem to be slipping away from the Christian faith, especially the younger generations. It feels to many like we don’t know how to grow anything in the church anymore.
In the past, all of this seemed to come so easily to us. The Christian faith was in the air people breathed. Boats and babies kept the pews full in Lutheran congregations for generations. For decades, the Navy practically dropped off new families to this congregation’s doorstep every few years. But none of this is true anymore. And so there is this sense that we have no idea what we’re doing. It can be discouraging. It can be frustrating. I try really hard to not use some of the words Jeremy Clarkson uses, but there are days when I know exactly how he feels.
The parables in front of us this morning provide some comforting assurances to those of us who long for growth in the Christian church, who long to see faith in Christ grow in ourselves and in our loved ones. These parables of our Lord Jesus are full of promises that can keep our discouragement and frustration in check.
Jesus says the kingdom of God is like someone going out to scatter seeds. After this farmer scatters the seeds, he goes home and goes to bed. He sleeps and rises, night and day. And while he is sleeping, while he is away, without him seeing, the seeds sprout and rise. And then comes the kicker: “He does not know how!”
The farmer in this parable doesn’t know what he’s doing either! Jesus says he does not know how the seeds sprout and grow! He simply scatters the seed and goes to bed! He rests – quite literally – in the promise that they will do what seeds do!
Jesus continues with a second, more elaborate and better-known parable – the parable of the mustard seed. Jesus says that the kingdom of God is like this small, small seed which is put into the ground. There it remains – unseen, hidden – until it eventually grows into a large shrub where many birds come to make their home.
There’s a layer of irony here that is easy for us to miss. As we heard in our first reading, the kingdom of God had often been described as being like the mighty cedars of Lebanon. Jesus uses a decidedly less impressive species of plant to describe this kingdom. It might not look like much. It might not be all that valued by the world. The mustard plant was seen at that time as something of a weed to most people. The Jewish Mishnah, an early form of Bible commentary, even forbade the planting of mustard, describing it as “a useless, annoying weed.”
I think Jesus is cracking a joke here. I think he’s saying that this kingdom may not always look like much. It might be as modest and lowly-seeming as the scotch broom we see along the highway, but it will grow, and it will become a home to many.
Our job in all of this is simply to scatter seed. In a parable just before the ones we hear today Jesus tells the parable of the sower, which he actually explains. There he says that the seed represents the word of God. Our job, then, is to spread God’s word. We may or may not understand how it works in people’s lives. We may or may not see any results, immediately or ever. Just as the farmer sowed the seeds and went to bed, our job is to sow the seeds and relax, trusting the seeds to do their work. We are called to be seed sowers, not bean counters.
We are not totally helpless and ignorant when it comes to how we grow faith. There is much we can learn. There is much we can do. Being in the word ourselves is so important. Being regularly nourished by the Lord’s Supper is so important. Having prayer and faith conversations in the home, especially in homes with children, is essential. So is inviting people to worship with us. But none of this is a magic formula which guarantees immediately recognizable results. None of this is Miracle-Gro. We need patience. We need to sow, and then we need to relax, trusting the seed to do what God has promised it will do.
We were out back at our fire pit here a church a couple of Sundays ago and some of us got to talking about the seedlings which were planted a few years ago to replenish our forest behind the sanctuary windows here. Some of those seedlings seem to have withered, but many have taken root and are slowly growing.
It occurred to me later that it will be years and years before the efforts of those who planted the seedlings – which includes several of you here today – will be evident. Those trees only grow a foot or two a year, at best.
I don’t mean to be morbid, but I can do a little math, and the math suggests that most of those who did the planting will never see what those trees will look like out back when they come into the fullness of their towering glory.
But that isn’t why they planted them. They didn’t plant those seedlings expecting immediate results that they could observe and enjoy. They planted those seedlings trusting that they would grow in their own good time. They planted them trusting that God would tend to them long after they were gone. They planted them for others, trusting that many others would continue to make a home here under their branches.
Brothers and sisters, I know this is a concerning time to be the church. I know it can be discouraging and frustrating at times. I feel it too. Sometimes it seems like the challenges we are up against are too great. Sometimes it feels like we have no idea what we’re doing, like we don’t know how to grow anything anymore.
But it isn’t our job to know how the growth will come. It is our job to scatter seed. It is our job to let the word be planted first in our own hearts, and then to share that word with those around us, in our homes, in our neighborhoods, in our circles of influence. It is our job to scatter seed and then to be patient – patient with ourselves, patient with our children and other loved ones, patient with the church, patient with this stubborn world of ours.
Our job is not to know how things grow. It is not to plant with the expectation of immediately visible results. Our job is to scatter, and then to trust. It is to trust that a harvest will come. It is to trust that the smallest seed will become a mighty shrub. It is to trust that God’s Word will not return to him empty. It is our job to trust that the God who began a good work in us will bring it to completion on the day of Jesus Christ. It is our job to sow the seeds and then to relax – trusting God bring the growth in his time.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Jun 10, 2024 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for June 9
Sermon for the Third Sunday after Pentecost – June 9, 2024
Mark 3:20-35
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
I would like you to imagine that you have been taken, captured by hostile forces. I would like you to imagine that you are being held against your will by someone or something more powerful than you. It isn’t a pleasant thing to imagine, I know, but now imagine that a rescuer has come. Imagine that your captors, strong though they may be, have been overpowered by someone even stronger, who now has them bound up. Maybe you want to imagine them in handcuffs. Maybe you want to imagine them duct-taped to a chair, or hog-tied with plastic zip ties. The point is, they cannot hold you anymore. They are bound and you are free.
I’ve just described to you in, in broad strokes, the basic plot of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of movies. I’ve just described to you the basic plot of thousands, perhaps millions, of TV show episodes. I’ve just described to you countless actual news stories involving police rescuing people from the hands of criminals, or border patrol agents rescuing people from human trafficking operations.
I’ve also described to you a short, but very powerful parable of our Lord Jesus Christ. I’ve described to you the plot of a parable in which we are invited to find ourselves. It is a parable which describes the situation we ourselves are in.
Jesus had been casting out demons. He had also been saying things like, “I am the Lord of the sabbath,” as we heard last Sunday. He had been asserting his authority as the Son of God. As we hear today, he had also been attracting quite a crowd.
But not everyone was impressed. At this point his own family thought he was out of his mind. Even worse, the scribes accused him of being in league with the devil. “He has Beelzebul,” they said, “and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.” Beelzebul is the name that was given to the prince of demons. It is loosely related to the pagan god Baal, and can be literally translated as “the lord of the flies.” It is used in the New Testament as another name for Satan. This is who the scribes thought Jesus was working for.
Jesus first responds to this accusation by pointing out the glaring flaw in their logic. Why would someone who was working for demons cast out demons? Wouldn’t someone working for Beelzebul want to help the demons in wreaking havoc? Such a divided house would surely fall, Jesus points out, and the devil is smarter than that. Satan hasn’t turned against himself, Jesus explains. You’ve got it all wrong.
And then Jesus goes on to tell them what is really happening. Jesus tells this short but powerful parable: “No one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.”
There it is. There’s the plot of Jesus’ mission and ministry. There’s what is arguably the plot of the whole Bible, which is about how God has come into the world to rescue what is his own. This is what Jesus is really up to. Jesus isn’t working for Beelzebul. Jesus has come to tie him up! Satan is the strong man who has been holding people captive, and Jesus is the stronger man who has come to plunder his house. Jesus has come to recover all that stolen property, returning it to God, the rightful owner. Jesus has come to cast out demons, tie up the strong man, and set the hostages free.
The devil has become an almost cartoonish, mythological figure in our post-enlightenment minds, about as real as dragons or unicorns. But the Biblical understanding of Satan, or the devil, or Beelzebul, is that it is a spiritual force at work in our lives to deceive us, to accuse us, to tempt us, to lure us away from God. As we heard in our first reading for today from Genesis, the devil is that slinky serpent who slithers into our hearts and minds saying, “Did God really say that? Surely he didn’t mean it. Don’t you think you know better? Go on, take a bite.” Satan is that force in our lives which plants seeds of doubt in us, saying, “If you really are a child of God, why do you suffer? Why is life so hard for you? Where’s the evidence of this loving God of yours? Where’s the proof?” Satan is a deceiver. He is a thief who is always trying to steal our faith, our hope, our joy – and yes, he is indeed strong.
You can see this strong man at work in both the subtle struggles and the profound sorrows of daily life. You can see him at work in self-centered behaviors and attitudes. You can see him at work when people turn to various false gods for comfort and end up being devoured by those false gods. We hear all the time about people wrestling with demons of depression or addiction. We usually think we’re talking euphemistically, but are we really? It is this strong man’s handiwork when human relationships turn sour and bitter and angry. His fingerprints are found whenever lives are shaped by the lies of the evil one instead of by God’s Word and God’s will. This strong man is a hustler who lures people into despair and holds them hostage to their sin.
The devil is strong indeed. We see how he is holding the world hostage. The evidence is all around us. We can see how much he has stolen from us, how much he has stolen from God. We live in this parable. We confess our place in this parable every Sunday when we confess that we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves.
The devil is strong indeed, but, thanks be to God, our Lord Jesus is stronger. And it is his God-given mission and purpose to come and tie up the strong man so that he can plunder his house. Jesus has come to reclaim stolen souls and return them to God. He has come to rescue us. He has come to bind up those demonic forces holding us captive and set us free. As Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter.” This is how he sets us free, by forgiving our sin. This is how he restores us to God, by bringing us forgiveness and new life.
Jesus continues by saying, “but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin.” This verse causes a lot of spiritual heartburn for people. Many have been terrified by it, worrying that they may have committed this eternal sin that cannot be forgiven.
Let me address this just briefly by saying what this verse is NOT about. It is not about having questions about God. Nicodemus had questions, and he was welcomed by Jesus. This is not about having doubts about God from time to time. Thomas had doubts, and Jesus came to him in love and mercy. This isn’t even about denying Christ in a moment of weakness, which Peter did three times, and yet was restored through the forgiveness of the risen Jesus.
To blaspheme against the Holy Spirit is to so harden your heart against Christ’s work that you consider it demonic. If you consider grace and mercy and forgiveness and salvation as coming from the devil, then you can’t receive it – and God doesn’t have anything else to give you! If someone insists on holding to the idea that Jesus is evil and they want nothing to do with his kingdom, God will honor that. In other words, this is a hard sin to commit. You need to be really determined to commit it. If you’re worried that you have committed it, then it is a sure sign that you most certainly haven’t.
It would be just like the devil to use this verse to distract you from the beautiful promise Jesus begins with, where he announces that the Holy Spirit will bring forgiveness for sins and for whatever blasphemies people utter. It would be just like the deceiver to use this verse to distract you from the good news of this parable, which is that Jesus has come to rescue and redeem us from sin. He has come to set us free from our bondage and bring us home to God. And so we don’t need to live in fear anymore.
As Martin Luther once wrote in a sermon on this parable:
Why should you fear? Why should you be afraid? Do you not know that the prince of this world has been judged? He is no lord, no prince anymore. You have a different, a stronger Lord, Christ, who has overcome and bound him.
Therefore let the prince and god of this world look sour, bare his teeth, make a great noise, threaten, and act in an unmannerly way; he can do no more than a bad dog on a chain, which may bark, run here and there, and tear at the chain. But because it is tied and you avoid it, it cannot bite you.
The plot of this parable is the plot of our lives. Even now through his Word Christ breaks into our lives to tie up the strong man so that we can be free to live a new and renewed life with God. Even now Christ kicks in the door to get to us – to get to you! – his beloved. As he comes to us in Word and Sacrament, we are being redeemed, reclaimed, returned to our rightful owner. Even now our rescuer comes to us, so that our demons would be bound, and we would be free.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
