by Jeffrey Spencer | Dec 23, 2024 | Sermons |
Click here for a worship video for December 22
Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent – December 22, 2024
Luke 1:39-45
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
Some of the most cherished and precious memories of my life are from when my wife was carrying our unborn children. I remember the first time our first son kicked in the womb. It was at a Mariners game after Amy had eaten a half-order of garlic fries. He leaped with joy for those garlic fries, and he still likes them! I remember with our second son lying on the couch in the parsonage in Winlock and Amy picking up my hand and resting it on her belly, right on the place where our son was kicking. I remember with our third son going to a performance of the Seattle Symphony with my wife, late in her pregnancy. She was wearing a little black dress, proudly protruding with seven months’ worth of baby underneath. She was gorgeous and radiant. And this wasn’t just me who thought so – she cut through the crowd like a rock star or a queen. People were pointing at her and smiling. Part of the concert was a performance of Bach’s Magnificat, so people were already excited about pregnant ladies, and they were all thrilled to see one in real life! Amy was the star of the intermission. These are some of my most cherished memories and my greatest blessings in life.
What we have in our gospel reading for this morning are some of the most cherished memories of the Christian church. Many of the world’s most respected Biblical scholars believe that Saint Luke, who set about to write an orderly account of the life of Jesus based on eyewitness testimony, wrote the verses we hear today based on conversations he had with Mary herself as she shared her cherished memories with him. And these memories are full of blessings! And these blessings are not only for Mary. These memories are full of blessings for all of us.
After learning that she would bear a child, Mary went to visit her aunt Elizabeth, who was herself six months along with a miraculous pregnancy, having conceived in her old age. When Mary arrived at Elizabeth’s home in the hill country of Judea, the baby Elizabeth was carrying leaped in her womb. We have here, preserved in scripture, the precious memory of a baby kicking. The unborn, grapefruit-sized prophet, John, was already doing his job of pointing to the unborn, pea-sized savior, Jesus. This led Elizabeth to proclaim the first of three blessings: “Blessed are you among women!” she said to Mary.
Now think about this blessing. Mary was not wealthy. She was not powerful. She was a poor girl from a small village. If she had an Instagram account, she wouldn’t have much to post about with the hashtag “blessed!” And yet, Elizabeth said, “Blessed are you among women.”
Mary is unique in the way she is blessed. We’ll hear more about that in a minute. But this memory is a blessing for all of us, because it tells us that God chooses people who are not the most obvious candidates for blessing. God calls those who are not necessarily wealthy or powerful. God notices and loves people who are not the “influencers” of their time. And so, God’s blessing falls upon us as well. Our often-unnoticed lives are not unnoticed or unimportant to God! God blesses us too. God blesses you.
And here is how God blesses you: he has come to you in Mary’s child. For the second blessing proclaimed by Elizabeth to Mary is: “And blessed is the fruit of your womb.”
Elizabeth knew who Mary was carrying. She said so in no uncertain terms. “Why has this happened to me,” she continued, “that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” Mary was carrying the Lord, a term which, for two Jewish women, meant one thing only. It meant Mary was carrying the Lord God himself! That is what this term Elizabeth uses means! And so Mary is uniquely blessed among women in that she is the mother of God.
Here we have what is the heart and the scandal and the wonder of Christianity: That the Lord of all creation, the One who established the entire universe, came into it as a cluster of fetal cells in Mary’s womb. “Blessed is the fruit of your womb,” Elizabeth proclaimed. Blessings, indeed. For by coming into the world in this way, God has become Emmanuel, God with us. In all our humanity, in all our frailty, in all our vulnerability, God has come to be with us.
Elizabeth then said to Mary, “And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”
Martin Luther once preached a sermon where he said there were three miracles in this chapter in Luke’s gospel. The first miracle, he said, is that a virgin would conceive. This wasn’t a huge deal, really. After all, God created the world out of nothing – surely he could have a virgin conceive! The second miracle is that God became a human being. This was a much bigger miracle, no doubt about it. But the third miracle, Luther said, was that Mary believed it – and Luther said that this third miracle was the biggest miracle of all! Mary trusted the word of the Lord! Mary had faith! She trusted the promise! “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”
This third miracle continues to happen today. It is happening right now as God speaks his word to you, stirring you to faith, inviting you to believe, calling you to trust in his promises. What God conceived in Mary’s womb continues to be conceived in your ear and in your heart as God puts his word in there, telling you that he is near to you, nearer than you might think or feel. He has come to you in the Lord Jesus to forgive your sin, to show you his great love for you, and to assure you that you belong to him forever. Blessed are you who believe that there will be a fulfillment of what has been spoken to you by the Lord!
We have a tendency to romanticize our memories. I know I do. As our boys come home for Christmas as young adults and Amy and I reminisce and share memories with them and the special people in their lives, I know we mostly remember the best parts. As magical as Amy’s pregnancies seem to me now, if I think hard enough, I can remember being worried – worried about money, worried about the responsibilities of fatherhood, worried knowing that giving birth is never without risk. It was indeed a wonderful time, but it was an anxious time too.
It is easy to romanticize these memories of the Christian church too, and we shouldn’t. We should remember the terrible danger Mary was in as an unwed mother in that time and place. While part of the motivation for Mary to go to her aunt and uncle’s house in the hill country was to see her pregnant Aunt Elizabeth for herself and probably to help as one of her midwives, it was also true that it was probably a pretty good time for Mary to get out of Nazareth. Once Mary started showing, there would be all kinds of rumors going around. Surely part of Mary’s motivation, then, was to avoid some of that scandal and the very real danger it brought. If she was out of sight and out of mind for a few months, the math surrounding the dates of her wedding and her delivery date would be a little more fuzzy. People would be less likely to figure things out. And so, even amidst the very real blessings, this was no doubt a time of anxiety for her.
There would have been difficulties for Elizabeth too. While she was no doubt thrilled to be expecting a child in her old age, she also probably had to endure the snickers and knowing smiles of people who were surprised to find out that their elderly priest and his wife were still…active in that way. More seriously, having a child now would also have been a sad reminder of all those lost years when she was younger and had more energy to do things with her child, when she might have expected to live long enough to see her child marry, perhaps even to become a grandmother – something that surely wouldn’t happen now. And so it had to have been bittersweet for her. There had to have been some complicated emotions around the edges of her joy, as is often the case for all of us.
But it was right into the anxiety and the danger and the bittersweet, right into the middle of these fraught situations and their complicated emotions that these blessings came: The blessing of God’s favor, the blessing of a Savior, the blessing of faith.
As Christmas comes this week, many feel immense pressure to create memories that are just so. Many people feel a lot of pressure to have things be magical in one way or another. If that’s how it ends up being for you, wonderful. For others who are experiencing grief or estrangement or loneliness, the joy of Christmas can be tainted by lots of complicated emotions. But know that the blessings of God came to Mary and Elizabeth in a complicated set of circumstances, and they can come to you that way too.
No matter what today or the next few days or the new year ahead brings for you, these precious memories of the nascent life Mary and Elizabeth carried are for you to cherish and ponder. They have been handed down to us by Mary and dutifully recorded for us by Saint Luke so that we might delight in them, that we might learn from them, that we might trust in what God is telling us through them. Whether you are young or old, a parent or childless, male or female, they are the memories we hold collectively as the church, and so they are yours.
And they tell us that God comes to and calls and notices and loves people you wouldn’t necessarily expect, people like you and me. They tell us that the Lord himself entered the world through the womb of Mary so that he could come and be with us, so that he could come to save us. They tell us that when we believe this, when we believe the word spoken to us by the Lord, we too are truly blessed.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Dec 16, 2024 | Sermons |
CLICK HERE for a worship video for December 15
Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent – December 15, 2024
Luke 3:7-18
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
When people come to church, I usually say something like, “Welcome!” or “Good morning!” or “Good to see you!” I am genuinely happy to see people come through the doors for worship, no matter who they are. I’ll bet you’re the same way. In fact, our Stephen Ministers have recently been serving as greeters, and I’ve never seen anything but a smile on their faces and I’ve never heard anything but sincere joy when they see people coming in to worship.
And if somebody shows up at Oak Harbor Lutheran to be baptized? Well, I am thrilled! I am ecstatic. I even get a little giddy.
John the Baptist? Not so much, it seems. As we heard in our gospel reading for today, entire crowds of people came out to be baptized by him. And how did he respond? He said, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”
So maybe we don’t want John the Baptist serving as a greeter here at OHLC. But as blunt and rude as John sounds here, he is really just doing his job. His job was to prepare the way of the Lord. His job was to prepare the way for the coming of the Messiah. And part of his work in preparing the way involved reminding people of why they need this Messiah, why they need to be saved, why they need to be rescued and redeemed.
And so John calls the crowd “a brood of vipers.” He doesn’t single out any one group or behavior – everyone gets tagged with this unsettling name. A brood of vipers is a nest of young snakes. A brood of vipers is a mass of slithering baby serpents. I’m not making this better for John, am I? To be sure, the language is unsettling, even insulting, but – it is theologically accurate! John calls those in the crowd the offspring of the serpent. He is inferring that they are the descendants of those in the Garden of Eden who followed the serpent into sin. We say the same thing in our baptism liturgy, only with more polite language: “We are born children of a fallen humanity.”
The crowds don’t argue with John. They don’t deny that they are in league with the serpent. Instead, they ask what they should do. And John tells them. If you have two coats and you see someone who has zero coats, share one of yours! Do the same with food! Don’t be greedy! If you’re a tax collector, don’t cheat. If you’re a soldier, don’t extort people and don’t be a bully.
This is not advanced ethics. All of this is already laid out in the Law. The Ten Commandments already taught all of this! None of what John teaches here is new information. None of it is complicated or extraordinary or heroic behavior. This is “Being a Decent Human Being 101.” But the fact that they need to be told to do the most basic ethical thing is revealing.
In preschool chapel recently I was teaching a lesson about the Ten Commandments and I introduced the topic by asking the kids what some of the rules are at preschool. And one of the kids said that one of the rules at preschool is “No kicking people in the head.” You would think this would go without saying, but apparently this little guy needed to be told. The rule itself, then, is revealing, isn’t it! Well, what John is saying here is just the grown-up version of that! That the crowd needed to be told the most basic things about how to conduct themselves just further reveals that they are indeed descendants of the fallen, that they are children of the serpent who deceived humanity into sin.
What John might lack in tact, he makes up for with truth. He tells the truth about the crowds, and the truth about us. John is accurate and honest about our condition, our situation. We may not be extorting people or kicking them in the head, but we too are born children of a fallen humanity – and we shouldn’t need to scratch too deeply beneath the surface of our lives to see that this is true.
In this way John is like a doctor who tells you not what you want to hear, but what you need to hear. John may not have the best bedside manner, but as a diagnostician he is accurate and he is honest. He announces a diagnosis. He bluntly points out the venom in our veins, and he prescribes some behavioral changes, some lifestyle changes.
But, like a good doctor does, he also goes a step further. Seeing that our condition will not ultimately be remedied by lifestyle changes – as important as those lifestyle changes are – he refers us out. Knowing that his prescription will only manage our symptoms, at best, he refers us to another. He refers us to a specialist.
As soon as people started wondering whether John himself might be the Messiah, John admitted that he wasn’t. He admitted that they were going to need help from someone else. He told them that someone who was more powerful than him was coming. He would be the expert in curing the snake sickness we have inherited. He would be the specialist in this area. John isn’t worthy even to untie the thong of his sandals. “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire,” John said.
On the surface, this sounds like more of the same from John. On the surface, John’s words about what the Messiah will do continue to sound ominous. Fire is a symbol of judgement. John says the Messiah will come with a winnowing fork in his hand – and whatever that is, it doesn’t sound like something you want to be on the wrong end of. John says that the Messiah will separate the wheat from the chaff, with the chaff being destroyed in an unquenchable fire.
Is this a specialist with whom you want an appointment? On the surface, maybe not. But thankfully, we can interpret this language from the perspective of what the Messiah did when he came. We can interpret this language from the perspective of who the Messiah ended up being. We can interpret it through the lens of Jesus Christ.
When Jesus came, he removed the chaff from people through the fire of his love. He showed mercy towards sinners, announcing that they were forgiven. This removed the chaff, that sheath of sin surrounding and obscuring the valuable wheat within. Jesus gathered in the precious grains of wheat, restoring them to the granary of God by the fire of his grace.
When Jesus came, he took the fire of judgement upon himself on the cross. He endured the winnowing fork with his own body, taking our sin upon himself so that we would be free.
When Jesus came, he not only died for our sin, he rose again – breaking the curse of the serpent, conquering sin and death forever, raising us to new life with him.
When Jesus came, he brought with him a new baptism, just as John said. Jesus told his disciples to go to all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. St. Paul teaches us that this baptism joins us to Jesus’ death and resurrection, for it takes the salvation he won for us on the cross and gives it to us personally. St. Peter teaches us that this baptism “now saves you.”
This is indeed a baptism of the Holy Spirit and fire.
It is a baptism of the Holy Spirit because God comes to us in it. God is present and at work in it. Through it, God gives us his Spirit, that he might continue to guide us and teach us and repent us and renew us and comfort us throughout our lives. And by the power of this Spirit, truly good works begin to come out of us.
It is a baptism of fire because through it, God gives us his name – just as he did for Moses through the burning bush. It is a baptism of fire because through it, God leads us out of bondage – just as God led Israel by the pillar of fire. It is a baptism of fire because it puts good news in our hearts and on our lips, just as it did as tongues of fire fell upon the disciples. It is a baptism of fire because through it, God destroys everything that separates us from him.
John the Baptist is a good diagnostician. Jesus calls him the greatest of all the prophets. But John’s most important job is to refer us to the specialist, our Lord Jesus Christ.
Once the specialist goes to work on you, things are different. As the one who is more powerful than John, Jesus doesn’t just diagnose, he cures. His message isn’t just, “Do better!” It is “Your sins are forgiven.”
With the baptism he brings, we are no longer a brood of vipers. We are no longer children of the serpent. With the baptism he brings, we have been reborn as children of God and warmly welcomed into life with him, today and forever.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Dec 9, 2024 | Sermons
Sermon for the Second Sunday of Advent – December 8, 2024
Luke 3:1-6
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
The roughest road I’ve ever been on (that wasn’t a forest service road) was Cleveland Avenue in Saint Paul, Minnesota. While I was in seminary there I worked part-time at a bookstore, and I took the bus to work. There are a lot of bad roads in Minnesota due to the frost heaves that buckle the roads every year, but Cleveland Avene was the worst. This road didn’t have potholes, it had craters! I could always tell when we hit Cleveland Avenue because the bus would start to shudder. That was your signal to hold on for dear life, because next came the bone-jarring bouncing up and down. That bus bounced so hard I thought for sure the drive shaft was going to snap! I thought the windows would shatter! I thought the wheels on the bus would go flying off, flying off, flying off. It was terrible.
But then a voice would come over the intercom. The voice was shaky, vibrating, and tremulous because of the violent shaking of the bus, but the message was firm and clear: “Next stop, Como Avenue.” When I heard that voice, I knew that the rocky ride was almost over. When I heard that voice, I knew that I was almost home.
The people of Israel traveled a rocky road. They had been overrun by the Babylonians, their cities and towns decimated. They had been marched off into exile, held in captivity in Babylon. They were far from home, and longed to return. They were surrounded by foreign gods and were tempted to forsake the one true God and start worshipping these idols. It was a temptation that was too much for some. Many gave in. The people of Israel were far from home, and they were far from God. It was a rough road. It was a bone-jarring experience. They were holding on for dear life.
But then came a voice crying out in the wilderness. The prophet Isaiah came with words of demand and promise: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
Isaiah called the people to get ready. He called them to prepare themselves. He told them that God was going to act. God was going to straighten out the crooked path they were on. God was going to smooth out the rough ways. God was going to make a road home.
Fast forward several hundred years. The people of Israel were home, but now they were being oppressively ruled by Romans instead of Babylonians. In our gospel reading for today St. Luke reminds his readers of what the political situation in Israel was like. He tells us the brutal Roman leader Pontius Pilate was serving as governor of Judea. He tells us the conniving, murderous Herod was ruler over Galilee. He tells us the self-serving Annas and Caiaphas were serving as the high priests. This roots the story in real history. This is not a pretend, “once upon a time” story, but something that really happened.
But the naming of all these figures from real history also serves to remind everyone what a difficult time this was for the people of God. Just as had happened in Babylon, they were under the thumb of their enemies. Just as happened in Babylon, many had turned away from the one true God and were increasingly comfortable with the pagan gods whose statues were popping up all over Israel. Just as happened in Babylon, many were compromising their faith in order to make a buck, in order to ingratiate themselves with their oppressors. Those who remained faithful faced a particularly rough road. It was a bone-jarringly difficult time. God’s people were holding on for dear life.
But then came a voice. Then came a new prophet. Then came John the Baptizer. St. Luke describes him as a new Isaiah. John came preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin. He called the people to turn away from those other gods. He called them to turn towards the one true God, the God who loved them, the God who had rescued their ancestors, the God who was coming to save them. “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
As God’s people today, we often travel a rough road. Our lives often look like a crooked path, zigging this way and zagging that way. Oftentimes it feels all uphill. Sometimes life is a bone-jarring experience. Sometimes we feel like we’re holding on for dear life.
But today we hear a voice. Today through the living Word of God, we hear the voice of one crying out in the wilderness. God speaks to us today through the prophet John, via the writings of St. Luke.
Today we are called to repentance. To repent means to turn. It means turning away from sin. It means turning away from all the false gods we find ourselves serving. We may not be praying to a statue of a Roman deity, but we might well be putting our trust in things that are not God. Maybe we’re serving the god of politics, making it the be-all and end-all of our lives. Maybe we’re serving the god of home entertainment. Maybe we’re serving the god of Jack Daniels or the god of money. The most common false god of all is the god of the self, thinking we are the center of the universe, the independent arbiter of right and wrong, and the definer of our own realities. To repent is to turn away from all of this. It is to turn away from the chronic idolatry that plagues our lives. It is to turn away from sin.
To repent is also to turn towards. It is to turn towards the one true God. It is to turn towards the God who loves us and forgives us, the God who rescues and saves us, the God who joyfully receives us through his grace and welcomes us home to him.
To repent is not merely an exercise of the will. It is much deeper than that. Repentance is what happens when God’s Word comes to us and shakes us up. It is what happens when God gets our attention, when God “repents us” away from our sin and towards himself. This is what God is doing for us today as he has called and gathered us by the Holy Spirit to come and hear his voice.
This voice also calls us to prepare. “Prepare the way of the Lord,” the prophet says. As Christmas approaches, many of us are preparing our homes for the holidays. We decorate. We spruce things up. We do a little extra cleaning so things look nice for our guests. Similarly, we sometimes think the preparation we’re called to here involves sprucing ourselves up, cleaning up our bad habits, decorating our lives with a few good deeds here and there. This isn’t wrong, exactly. Perhaps that’s exactly what the Holy Spirit is prompting in you as you are “repented.”
But to prepare the way of the Lord is not just about cleaning up your life. It is about handing your whole life over to God – even the messy parts, especially the messy parts! It isn’t just about cleaning your room, it is about making room. It is about making room for him in our lives. It is about making room for him in our lives by setting aside time to be in his Word, time to be in prayer. We prepare the way of the Lord by making room in our lives for worship. We add extra worship services on Wednesdays during Advent for just that purpose. We are preparing not only our homes, but our hearts. We are preparing not only for Christmas, but for Christ.
For many people, life in general, and perhaps the holiday season in particular, feels like a ride down Cleveland Avenue. It is filled with a lot of bone-jarringly difficult moments. It feels like things are about to snap, about to shatter, about to break. Sometimes we feel like we’re holding on for dear life. Sometimes it feels like the wheels are about to fly off.
But then comes a voice.
The prophet John doesn’t just call us to repent. He doesn’t just call us to prepare. He also gives us a promise from God. He promises us that all the rough ways will be made smooth. He promises us that home is just around the corner. He assures us that the day is upon us when all flesh shall see the salvation of God.
With these words, John is pointing us to the coming savior. He is pointing us to Jesus, who is the way, the truth, and the life. He is pointing to Jesus, who comes to us with forgiveness, life, and salvation. With the coming of Jesus, we have a smooth and straight path home to God, where we find true hope, true joy, and true peace, today and forever.
Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
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
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
