by Jeffrey Spencer | May 8, 2023 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for May 7
Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter – May 7, 2023
John 14:1-14
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
The disciples’ hearts were troubled. How could they not be? Jesus had just told them that one of them would soon betray him. He told them that he would be leaving them, and he was saying it in a cryptic way that sounded ominous. He told them that Peter would deny even knowing him three times before the cock crowed the next morning. Of course the disciples’ hearts were troubled!
And so Jesus said to them, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.”
Jesus wasn’t merely encouraging them to believe in the existence of God. He was telling them to have confidence in God, and to have confidence in him. He was telling them to have faith in the Father and the Son. He was telling them to trust in them.
Their hearts didn’t need to stay troubled, Jesus continued, because there was a dwelling place beyond the betrayal. There was a place for them beyond the denial – a place for them in the Father’s house. There was a room for them in this house, and Jesus was leaving in order to prepare that room for them, so that where Jesus was, there they would be also.
“You know the way to where I am going,” Jesus said to them. It isn’t hard to imagine the confused looks on their faces. You can imagine them thinking, “Uh, we do?” You can picture them scratching their heads, trying to figure out the way. Thomas alone was brave enough to say what probably all of them were thinking: “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”
Thomas was asking for directions. He was asking for a map. Even just a place name would have helped. Are you talking about the temple, Jesus? Are you going back to Galilee? Somewhere further, like Syria? Rome even? Where are you going, and how can we know the way?
And Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
This is a boldly exclusive claim Jesus is making here, to be sure. He alone is the way to God the Father. But while this is indeed an exclusive claim, it is also a promise. In the context of these disciples and their troubled hearts, it is good news!
The disciples were anxious and confused. Jesus was talking about going to the Father’s house and saying they knew the way, but clearly they didn’t know the way! What were they going to do? How were they going to figure out the way?
What Jesus said in response to their confusion and their anxiety was an assurance. Jesus said to them, “I AM the way!” They knew the way because they knew him! They didn’t need a map. They didn’t need directions. And they didn’t need to worry, either! Jesus IS the way. No one comes to the Father by their own power or cleverness or sense of direction. No one comes to the Father by their own strength or smarts or spirituality. No one comes to the Father except through Jesus. He is the way, and the truth, and the life, and he will get them to where they need to be.
As part of my seminary education I took a study trip to Brevig Mission, Alaska, which is way up on the Seward Peninsula, north of Nome. Brevig Mission is named after a Norwegian Lutheran pastor named Tollef Brevig, who established a mission among the Inupiak people there. Today it is essentially a village of Alaska Natives who are all Lutheran! They are served by a pastor who also serves the community of Teller, which is just across an inlet of the Bering Sea. When it is above freezing and the water is open, you get from Brevig to Teller by boat. In the winter, you cross that frozen inlet by snow machine. I went in January, so on a Sunday morning I got to ride in the supply sleigh behind the snow machine as we went over to Teller for worship services.
On the way back is when things got interesting. As we made our way out onto the ice for the return trip, it started to snow. Hard. Then the wind kicked up, creating total white-out conditions. At one point the pastor driving the snow machine stopped to try to find the tracks we made on the way over. Those tracks were filling in fast.
You could say at this point that my heart was troubled! I’d read enough Jack London stories as a kid that I could vividly imagine how this could end up. I thought for sure that this was how I was going to die, lost out on this frozen finger of the Bering Sea. I came to Brevig to learn about being a pastor, but I would die instead as a popsicle.
I sure as heck didn’t know the way back to Brevig. There was no amount of smarts or strength or spirituality which I possessed that would get me back to the house. All I could do was hold on and trust that this pastor would get me there. And, somehow, he did.
To believe, to have faith, is to hold on and trust in Jesus. To know the way to the Father’s house is not about knowing a route and then following it, it is about knowing and trusting a person. It is about knowing and trusting Jesus to get you where you need to go. As Jesus explained further to Thomas, he and the Father are one.
And so when Jesus says he is the way, the truth, and the life, he is not giving us an orienteering project for us to figure out. He is not giving us a set of directions and telling us to prove ourselves. He is not telling us to make our own way or discover our own truth or to find life in ourselves. Jesus is calling us to simply hold on and trust him. He is the way, and the truth, and the life.
As Jesus’ disciples today, we often find that our hearts are troubled. During our life-long battle with sin, we find that we continue to betray and deny Jesus in ways both big and small, by things we have done and things we have left undone. Our hearts are troubled by the brokenness of the world. Our hearts are troubled by uncertainty and by loss and by fear.
In fact, in our congregation here it seems like we’ve had more than our share of troubled hearts these last few weeks. We have a number of folks who are grieving. We have several folks who are very sick, and folks who love them who are very worried. We have several brothers and sisters in Christ who are in life situations that are complicated and painful, without a clear path forward.
When your heart is troubled you can feel a little lost, a little disoriented. You can feel cold and afraid and unsure of the way home, uncertain that you’ll even make it home.
Today Jesus says to all of us, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” He says, “Believe in God, believe also in me.” Jesus isn’t just asking us to give our assent to an idea or a doctrine. He is inviting us to trust in God, and to trust in him. They are one in the same, after all, and they are in cahoots to save us from everything that troubles our hearts. Trust us, Jesus says! Let us take care of things! Don’t worry!
Today Jesus says to all of us, “There is a future beyond your sin, beyond your failures. There is a home beyond your fears. There is a dwelling place beyond death. On the other side of all of that is the Father’s house. You will be safe there. I will be with you there. And I am going to get you there.”
Today Jesus says to all of us, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” This is indeed a boldly exclusive claim. Christ alone is the way to God the Father! No one comes to the Father by their own goodness. No one comes to the Father by their own efforts, or because they have earned entry. No one comes to the Father by their own smarts or strength or spirituality. These are all dead-end roads.
No one finds their own way to the Father’s house. No one discovers the truth by defining it for themselves. No one finds life by looking inward.
But this exclusive claim is also a promise: Christ’s work alone gets us to the Father! We don’t need to go down those dead ends, those spiritual rabbit holes. All there is for us to do is to know and to trust in Jesus. When you know Jesus, you know the way. When you believe in him, you know the truth. When you trust him, you will have life.
When Jesus left the disciples, he was indeed betrayed. He was denied three times by one of his closest followers. Jesus was arrested and beaten and crucified and killed. But then on the third day, he rose again. This was how Jesus prepared the way.
By his death and resurrection, Jesus leads us out of sin and into forgiveness and mercy and righteousness. By his death and resurrection, Jesus leads us out of fear and despair and into peace and hope and even joy. By his death and resurrection, Jesus ultimately will lead us out of death and into eternal life with him, so that where he is, there we will be also.
If your heart is troubled today, hold on and trust in Jesus. Even now he is making a way. Even now he is leading you. Hold on and trust him. He will get you where you need to go. He will get you to the Father’s house. He will get you safely home.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | May 2, 2023 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for April 30
Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter – April 30, 2023
John 10:1-10
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our risen Lord Jesus Christ.
We live in the midst of an increasingly confusing cacophony of voices, all vying for our attention, and it is increasingly difficult to know which of these voices can be trusted.
There are voices on TV news with competing claims to the truth depending on which station you’re watching. While the nation’s news used to come through the trusted voice of a single figure like Walter Cronkite, it now comes through several voices, and they are all saying very different things.
There is a vast array of voices on social media making claims to the truth. Social media companies have struggled to figure out ways to make those online conversations trustworthy by trying to weed out fake accounts and figuring out ways to verify users and by tagging some statements with context or correction.
There are voices on platforms like Tik-Tok, where quick sound-bite video clips with sometimes dangerous or destructive ideas are repeated and multiplied over and over again, warping young minds and spreading social contagions.
There are now more than 150 million podcast episodes floating around the internet, being piped into people’s ears. Talk about a cacophony of voices! And with the increasing sophistication of Chatbots and AI, it is getting more and more difficult to trust that the voices we hear even belong to real people!
Podcaster Joe Rogan recently illustrated this point by having AI generate an entire episode of his show. It perfectly mimicked his voice and the voice of his guest. They engaged in a perfectly natural sounding conversation covering various topics for almost two hours – only none of it was real! It was all AI generated. The voices were completely fake.
For the record, this is not a blanket endorsement of everything Joe Rogan says or does – but this little experiment of his was very telling of what we’re in for as this technology advances. In a world like this, which voices are we to listen to? Which voices can we trust?
There were many voices competing for people’s ears in Jesus’ time too. Even without social media and podcasts and AI, there was a confusing array of voices. There were many religious movements and leaders, all making various claims to the truth. There were different voices saying different things about Jesus, about who he was and whether people should follow him or not.
In the chapter just before our gospel reading for today is the story of a man born blind. He couldn’t see Jesus, but he could hear his voice. He listened to Jesus’ voice and trusted it. By trusting in this voice he not only had his sight restored, he was given an entirely new life as he came to believe in and worship Jesus. In stark contrast to this were the voices of the Pharisees. They didn’t want people to listen to Jesus. They wanted people to listen to them.
It is in this context that Jesus warns people about listening to the wrong voices, and invites them to listen to his voice. And by way of illustration, Jesus points to how sheep listen to the voice of their shepherd. He talks about how shepherds open the gate and call their own sheep by name, and they follow him because they know the sound of his voice.
When I was in my first congregation in Montana, we were invited out to the home of some sheep ranchers. Our oldest son was just a toddler, and we pushed him in his stroller out to the big enclosure where the sheep were. The sheep were all clustered together on the far side of the sheepfold, so we called out to them, trying to lure them closer so our son could get a better look. Well, they didn’t budge. Then the wife of the sheep rancher called out to them. They still didn’t budge. But when the rancher, the shepherd himself, called out to them, they all came running! They knew his voice. They knew the voice of their shepherd and they followed it. What Jesus was talking about two thousand years ago still happens today!
Jesus points out how sheep don’t follow the voice of strangers, because they do not know the voice of strangers. He also warns that some of those voices are dangerous. They belong to thieves and bandits who come only to steal and kill and destroy.
Jesus is warning us too. Jesus is warning us to be careful about what voices we are listening to. He is warning us against following those voices which only lead us into danger. He is warning us against those voices which only want to steal and kill and destroy. Because we are his sheep, we are to listen to his voice.
Jesus says he uses his voice to call his sheep by name. Jesus knows his sheep intimately! He knows them personally! He cares for each of them individually, calling them to himself.
Jesus says that those who listen to his voice come in and go out and find pasture. That is, they come into the safety of the sheepfold where they are protected, and they go out into the pasture where they are fed. It is a picture of both protection and providence, of being guarded and being nourished.
Best of all, Jesus says that those who listen to his voice will have life, and have it abundantly. He has come to give us life with God, a life with God that begins now and continues forever. How can this kind of life be anything other than abundant, overflowing with God’s goodness and mercy and love?
You have heard this voice. In your baptism this shepherd Jesus has called you by name. He knows you intimately and personally. He knows your individual quirks and failings. He knows your specific sins, and he laid down his life for all of them, taking them upon himself. He also knows your specific gifts, and he raises you to new life in him so that you might share them with the world. He forgives you and loves you and continues to call you by name.
As you follow his voice, he leads you into his sheepfold, where he protects you from all those voices which would steal or kill or destroy. He calls you into the church, into Christian community, where he can ward off those other voices which would lure you away from him. He leads you to good pasture, where he can nourish and strengthen you.
As we listen to his voice, as we trust it, he fills us with life! A truly abundant life can only come from listening to the voice of Jesus Christ. He alone can give us an abundant life full of hope and joy and peace and love. He alone leads us into the abundance of eternal life with God.
Just this last week the Wall Street Journal had an article about a poll they had conducted about happiness. Only 12% of respondents in the poll said they were truly happy, and they followed this up with further investigation to try to find out what these happy people had in common. The biggest commonality among those who said they were truly happy was that they were frequent church-goers. They didn’t just identify as Christian in some vague philosophical way. They didn’t just go to church a couple times a year. They were weekly worshippers.
Now I’m sure this 12% of people who said they were truly happy still had problems. I’m sure they still had difficulties. But even so, they said they were truly happy. (Not to quibble, but perhaps a better word for what they were describing would be joy rather than happiness.)
It isn’t hard to see the connection between their response and their regular attendance in worship. After all, it is in worship that they hear the voice of their shepherd. That’s where they join with the rest of the flock to listen to his voice. It is in worship that his voice rises above all those other voices that only seek to steal and kill and destroy. It is within the sheepfold of the Christian church that we hear the Word of God, and in so doing we hear the deepest and fullest truths about ourselves, about our world, and about God. These truths are life giving!
It is a sad correlation to see that as church attendance has been going down in our country for decades, exacerbated significantly by COVID, people are quantifiably less happy. Diseases of despair are on the rise. Deaths of despair are on the rise to such a degree that the average life span in our country is going down. Those voices that only steal life and kill true joy and destroy hope are being listened to and followed far too often, with tragic results.
Let’s not be simplistic. It isn’t that coming to worship frequently is a magic formula that inoculates us from pain and sorrow and struggle. We all know that isn’t true.
But it is true that as our shepherd calls us into this sheepfold, as we listen to his voice, he continues to call us by name. He continues to lead us to green pastures and still waters, restoring our souls. He continues to comfort us when we are in the darkest valleys. He continues to prepare a table for us in the presence of our enemies. He continues to give us the promise that we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
And so, amidst the cacophony of other voices competing for your attention, continue to listen carefully to the voice of your shepherd. Listen to it and trust it. Listen to it and follow it. For you are one of his beloved sheep, and he has come so that you would have life, and have it abundantly.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Apr 24, 2023 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for April 23
Sermon for the Third Sunday of Easter – April 23, 2023
Luke 24:13-35
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and savior Jesus Christ, who is risen indeed. Alleluia.
You’ve probably seen it happen. The local sports team is way behind. It looks like they are facing a certain defeat. And so some of the disappointed fans pick up their things and head for the doors. They start streaming out of the stadium while the game is still being played, thinking it is already essentially over, that it is beyond hope. Maybe it is a baseball game or a football game or a hockey match. Whatever the sport, you’ve probably seen it happen. Maybe you yourself have left early when it seemed like your team had no hope of victory.
The two disciples we meet in our gospel reading for today had no hope, and so they left Jerusalem. They thought there was nothing left to see there. They thought Jesus has been defeated, and that there was no point in hanging around any longer. They had seen Jesus being handed over and arrested. They saw him being crucified. They saw his dead body being taken down from the cross. They had heard about the empty tomb, but this was not a sign of victory to them. It just meant that the body was now missing, which just added to their sense of defeat.
These two disciples had no hope. They could only see defeat. They thought it was game over for Jesus. Their hearts were slow to believe. And so they left Jerusalem and headed down the road to Emmaus.
And here is one of the remarkable elements of a story that is chock full of them: the risen Jesus went after them! Jesus chased them down on the road to Emmaus! Can you imagine a quarterback or a closing pitcher running out of the stadium, out into the parking lot, calling the discouraged fans to come back in? That’s just what Jesus did! And these two disciples weren’t even among the twelve Jesus had called. These were two from the larger group of disciples who had followed Jesus around, often at a distance. They were not part of that intimate group, and yet on the day of his resurrection, Jesus went chasing after them. He didn’t want them to leave without knowing about his come-from-behind victory. He didn’t want them to remain in unbelief. He didn’t want them to remain without hope.
They didn’t recognize him at first. We don’t know why. I always picture Jesus with one of those silly big nose-and-glasses disguises on, just waiting for the right moment to take it off and surprise them. There’s just so much irony and even humor in this story that I think it fits. Luther’s interpretation is more serious, and probably more accurate. He speculated that they were so overcome by grief and shock that their brains couldn’t process that it was Jesus.
At any rate, Jesus caught up to them on the road to Emmaus, sidled up to them, and casually asked, “What are you guys talking about?” Cleopas replied, “What do you think we’re talking about? Have you been living under a rock for these last few days? Are you the only person who doesn’t know about the things that just happened back in Jerusalem?” “What things?” Jesus coyly replied. Isn’t that funny? The guy to whom all the things happened asked, “What things?” Cleopas gave his recap of all the things, which, from his perspective looked like a complete and utter defeat. “We had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel,” Cleopas said.
Jesus then gently chided these two disciples, saying, “Oh how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all the prophets had declared!” He told them it was necessary that the Messiah should suffer all these things and then enter his glory. Then he led them through the scriptures, pointing them to all the passages about himself. He interpreted the entire Bible through the lens of all the things that had happened in Jerusalem, assuring them that this had been God’s game plan all along.
Can you imagine getting this Bible study from Jesus himself? I took a literature class in college from Carol Doig, the wife of the acclaimed author Ivan Doig. We read one of his books in class and then he came in to talk to us about it. Here was the author himself in front of us! We could ask him anything about the story or the characters or the themes, and he could tell us exactly what he intended. In the same way, these two disciples learned about the Bible from the Author himself. They learned about the Word from the Word made flesh! And he was telling them that the whole book is about him. The whole book is about his death and resurrection for our salvation. The whole thing is about his ultimate victory over sin and death, a victory he shares with us.
When evening came the two disciples asked Jesus to stay with them. They still didn’t recognize him, but it was evening and the day was almost over, and so they urged him strongly to stay. He did, and when he sat at table with them he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. And now at last their eyes were opened. They recognized him.
Jesus then vanished from their sight. He had done what he came to do. He helped them to see him and know that he was indeed risen. He helped them to believe. He restored their hope.
Now these two disciples knew that Jesus had not been defeated after all. They went back to Jerusalem. They celebrated his victory with the eleven disciples. They shared with them how Jesus had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
We know the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus. We know the road that feels like defeat, the road that feels hopeless. We have walked it ourselves. It could be the journey home from a frustrating or disappointing day at work. It could be the walk through a struggling relationship with an uncertain future. It could be a stroll down a lane of memories which bring regret or shame or trauma. It could be a trip home from the doctor’s office after a devastating diagnosis. It could be the lonely and heartbreaking road home from a cemetery. We know this road. We have all walked it. There are defeats which are much more profound than those in any sporting event. There are defeats which leave us struggling to find hope.
But our risen Lord doesn’t let us walk that road alone. He comes to us. He chases us down. He cares about us – even us who are the least among his disciples. He cares about us too much to let us leave without knowing about the great victory he has won for us.
Our Lord Jesus comes to us through his Word. While he isn’t here in person to lead us in Bible study, he has given us the interpretive key to unlocking all of scripture. It is all about him! Every story whispers his name! He is the seed in Genesis which would crush the head of the serpent, saving us from sin. He is the Lamb of God in Exodus who delivers us from death. He is the suffering servant in Isaiah by whose wounds we are healed. We know the meaning of scripture because it has been disclosed to us by the Author himself. We know the Word because it has been interpreted to us by the Word made flesh. And in our hearing of this Word, our hearts begin to burn within us. Faith is kindled. Hope is lit in us.
Our Lord Jesus also reveals himself to us in the breaking of the bread. He shows himself to us in bread and wine, his body and blood. He opens our eyes to his presence among us, literally feeding our faith. And once our eyes are opened to his presence among us in his Holy Supper, we can look back on the road we’ve been walking and begin to see that he was with us all along, even when we didn’t recognize him.
At some point in our lives we all walk the road to Emmaus. We walk with the assumption that defeat is inevitable. We walk believing that there is no hope, that sin and death have already won – in our world, and in our lives. Maybe you’re walking that road today.
But our risen Lord Jesus does not let us walk that road alone. He chases us down. He comes after us. We might not see him. We might doubt he is there. Our hearts are sometimes foolish and slow to believe too!
But our risen Lord patiently walks with us every step of the way. He points us to his Word, so that we would understand God’s game plan. He reveals himself to us in the breaking of the bread so that we would trust that he is risen indeed.
He turns us around on that road, turning us from unbelief to faith, from sadness to joy, from dejection to hearts burning within us, from despair to hope.
He turns us from the assumption of defeat to the assurance of his victory over sin and death.
So lift up your heads, friends. Team sin and death have taken an L. Our opponent, sin, has been defeated. You are forgiven. Our opponent, death, has been defeated. You have nothing to be afraid of anymore.
So walk in peace. Walk in hope. Walk in joy. Walk in newness of life.
Christ has won, and he promises to share his victory with us.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Apr 2, 2023 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for April 2
Sermon for Palm Sunday/the Sunday of the Passion – April 2, 2023
Matthew 27:11-54
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
The centurion had seen many crucifixions before. It was a common Roman practice, so he had probably witnessed hundreds of them before this one. His Grandpa may have told him stories of the slave revolt a generation before that led to 6,000 men being crucified along the Appian Way. It was part of Roman lore.
Crucifixions weren’t at all uncommon among the Romans. As a centurion he’d seen plenty of them.
But this one was different. It was different from the very beginning.
Usually when someone is charged with a capital offence, they have a lot to say in their own defense. They will say anything to beat the charges, and if that doesn’t get them anywhere, they will plead for their lives.
But this Jesus remained silent before his accusers.
Usually when someone is mocked and spit upon and beaten, they react in one way or another. They might return the insults. They might try to fight back. They might squirm and try to escape. No matter how hopeless the situation might be, it’s just human nature. That fight or flight reaction is so strong. If nothing else, they will plead for mercy.
But this Jesus bore it all without any hint of protest. He almost seemed to be doing it all willingly.
Yes, this one was different from the very beginning.
And then, as this Jesus was dying, weird things started happening – calamities that were cosmic in scale.
The sky grew dark. It started at Noon, and by the time it was 3 o’clock it was as dark as night. That’s when he cried out with a loud voice. That’s when he breathed his last. That’s when he died. It was as though the sky itself was grieving what was happening. It felt that ominous. It was like the sun was setting on an entire era of human history. It felt that significant.
Then there was an earthquake! You take it for granted that the ground is reliably stable, and so it is terrifying to feel it shaking beneath your feet, rolling and heaving, throwing you off balance. The earthquake was strong enough that enormous rocks were split, cracked open like eggs when they’re dropped on the floor. It was as though the very foundations of existence were being shaken.
This was no ordinary crucifixion. This one was different, thought the centurion. And as he stood there keeping watch, terrified by what he was witnessing, with a trembling voice he looked at Jesus on the cross and said, “Truly this man was God’s Son.”
Of course, this was no ordinary crucifixion. Of course, this was God’s Son.
Jesus took his sentence without argument – “like a sheep who before his shearers is silent,” as Isaiah had prophesied.
Jesus took all that abuse without protest – the insults, the spit, the fists pounding his face and the scourges striping his back. All of this, along with the crown of thorns pressed painfully into his forehead and the nails driven through his hands and feet, were taken willingly.
As Saint Paul says in our epistle reading, Jesus, although he was God, emptied himself. He submitted himself to death, even death on a cross. He emptied himself on purpose, with intentionality, willingly taking our sin upon himself.
And when the sky drew dark, the sun was indeed setting on an entire era in human history. Sin was being defeated, conquered, destroyed, atoned for. It would no longer separate a fallen humanity from a holy God. Through this crucified Messiah, humanity was being redeemed. And now, all those who place their trust in him have forgiveness, life, and salvation.
When the earth heaved and rolled, the foundations of our existence were indeed being shaken. Through this crucified Messiah, death itself was dying. And now, all those who believe in him, even though they die, will live.
This was no ordinary crucifixion. Jesus did it for you. He suffered for you. He died for you.
He did it to save you. He did it to redeem you. He did it in order to defeat sin, death, and the devil. He did is so that there would be nothing left that could possibly separate you from God.
This was no ordinary crucifixion. Truly this man was God’s Son.
And as we will learn next Sunday, he still is.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Mar 29, 2023 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for March 26
Sermon for the Fifth Sunday in Lent – March 26, 2023
John 11:1-45
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
Death stinks. It literally stinks, of course, but it stinks in every other way as well.
It stinks because it brings confusion and pain. It stinks because it brings grief, which can be overwhelming, even debilitating, at times. It stinks because it means loss. Death brings an aching absence in your life that used to be filled by the person who died. If it was someone especially close to you, this absence can be as profound as losing a limb. Yes, death stinks in more ways than one.
Death stinks because it can also make us confused about what God is up to in our lives. It can make us wonder whether God hears our prayers, whether God cares about us.
You can almost picture Martha and Mary giving Jesus the stink eye when he showed up a day late and a dollar short after their beloved brother died. “If you had been here, Lord, our brother would not have died,” they each said to him. When these sisters sent word to Jesus that their brother Lazarus was gravely ill, Jesus didn’t rush to their side. He didn’t immediately respond to their request. John tells us, “Though Jesus loved Martha and Mary and Lazarus, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.” It is almost as though John feels a need to reassure us that Jesus loved them, because his dallying, his delayed response, sure didn’t look like love. By the time Jesus headed out to Bethany, Lazarus was already dead. And so came the stink eye directed towards him from Martha and Mary. Then came the thinly veiled disappointment in him as they said, “Lord, if you had been here, our brother would not have died.”
I sometimes hear echoes of Mary and Martha’s words in the grief and the disappointment and the confusion and the anger of those who have lost loved ones, those whose prayers seem to have gone unanswered. We pray fervently for God to intervene when we are sick or when someone we love is sick. We pray fervently that God would come and help. We pray fervently for healing, for the surgery to be successful, for the tumor to be benign, for the chemo to work. By all means we should pray for these things, and when our requests are met, we should give thanks.
When they aren’t, however, that’s when the stink eye often shows up. That’s when the disappointment can set in. That’s when one’s relationship with God sometimes becomes strained.
When Jesus was confronted by these two grieving sisters, he didn’t give them an excuse for why he didn’t respond right away, in the way they would have liked. Instead, he gave them a promise. “I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus said. “Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”
Jesus didn’t give these two disappointed sisters an explanation for why he allowed things to unfold as they did. Instead, he wept with them. Even though he knew what would ultimately happen, Jesus had empathy for them. He understood what death did to people. He was moved by their grief and shared in it. His emotions flowed so freely that some in the crowd noticed it, saying, “See how he loved him!”
Others were cynical about it, saying, “If he loved him, why didn’t he come a little earlier and save him?” But Jesus did love Lazarus. He loved Lazarus so much that he asked to be taken to the tomb. They brought him to the tomb, which was a cave with a stone lying against it to seal it tight. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” But Martha said no. She said no because death literally stinks. “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Tombs weren’t something you just opened up again. They were filthy places. They made you unclean, both physically and, in Jewish tradition, spiritually as well. But Jesus loved Lazarus enough to get dirty.
I once knew a man whose wife died. He had adored this woman. He was the kind of husband who doted on his wife, holding her hand whenever he could with a big smile on his face. He just lit up whenever she was around. He cared for her so lovingly in her final days. Then he found himself standing at her graveside in his best suit. He insisted on staying until she had been lowered into the ground. People milled around for a while, but he lingered, and lingered, and lingered. He just didn’t want to leave her. Eventually it was just me and him and the funeral director left there when he got down on the ground next to her grave. He got down on his belly and reached his arms down to his wife, calling out her name. It didn’t matter to him that he was getting mud all over his nice suit. He loved her and he didn’t want to let her go. It was gut-wrenching and beautiful at the same time.
Jesus loved Lazarus enough to get dirty too.
“Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” Jesus said. So they opened up the tomb. Jesus came right up next to it. Jesus spoke into that dark cave as the stench wafted out. Jesus called out his name: “Lazarus, come out!”
And Lazarus came out.
If there was any question about whether Jesus loved him before, there wasn’t now. If there was confusion about what Jesus was up to, it had now given way to the joy and wonder of Jesus’ power over death. If there were any doubts about Jesus before, they now gave way to faith in him. As John tells us, “Many of the Jews, therefore, who had come with Mary and seen what Jesus did, believed in him.”
While Jesus didn’t respond to the sisters in the way they wanted him to, while he didn’t grant their request and come quickly to heal Lazarus, Jesus did do what gave God glory. He said no in order to say yes to something better. He let Lazarus die so that he could show his power over death. And many came to believe in him as a result.
The Christian church has always seen human life as precious, from womb to tomb. The Christian church has always sought to preserve human life. Christians literally invented the hospital so that sick people would be nursed back to health and diseases might be treated and people could go on living as long as possible. We can and should pray fervently for anyone who is ill, asking God to intervene and heal them.
But no matter how much we pray, and no matter how wonderfully advanced medical technology gets, death will come. It will come for the people we love. It will come for each of us.
That stinks, but Christ Jesus does not leave us alone when death comes. Though we might wonder where he is, though we might be disappointed that our prayers aren’t answered in the way we would like, Jesus does come to us. He comes to us in the same way he came to Mary and Martha.
Jesus comes to us with a promise. He says, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” Jesus acknowledges the reality of death, saying, “even though they die,” but he promises that death will not hold us. It will not have the last word for us who trust in him.
As we encounter death, Jesus has compassion for us. He has empathy for us. He weeps with us. He knows the toll death takes on our hearts and our lives. He knows the aching absence. He loves us so much that he weeps for us and with us. And so we are never alone in our grief. Even when it feels like it, even when our heads are swimming with a swirl of intense emotions and we can’t make sense of anything, Christ Jesus is right there beside us, accompanying us in our grief, walking through it with us. We grieve, but, as St. Paul says, “we do not grieve as those who have no hope.” We have a promise from our Lord that gives us hope in the face of death.
When we are one day lowered into our grave, or scattered, or interred, Jesus will do what gives God the greatest glory. He will come to our tomb. He will open it up. He will get down into the dirt and stink of it all to be close to us, refusing to let us go. In his great love for us he will reach his arms down into our graves and call out our names.
And his voice has a power that ours do not. His word is more powerful than death.
And so when we die, the first thing we will hear is the voice of our Lord Jesus calling our name, calling us to come out.
It is then that we will be unbound from death. It is then that we will be truly healed. It is then that we will bask in the fullness of the glory of God. It is then that we will rise up to live with Jesus and all the saints forever.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Mar 22, 2023 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for March 19
Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent – March 19, 2023
John 9:1-41
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
When I was serving in my first call at American Lutheran Church in Chinook, Montana, I had a member there named Terry. Terry was blind. He had been blind his whole life. Terry gets around just fine though, thank you very much. He leads a full, busy life. He is an active member of the congregation. He is a person of deep faith in Jesus. Out in the narthex of the church there is a Braille version of the Lord’s Prayer Terry had done.
I would often see Terry around town with his walking stick, tap-tap-tapping along the curb. He’d joke with people that he kept trying to get his driver’s license, but that, for some reason, they just wouldn’t give it to him, so he had to walk everywhere. I was always amazed at Terry’s sense of humor. I was also amazed by this ability to find his way to the store or the post office or the church without being able to see, just by tap-tap-tapping his cane.
But there was another amazing thing about Terry. Terry could recognize people. Even without sight, he could recognize people simply by hearing their voices. I remember running in to him at the grocery store just a few days after arriving in Montana. He obviously couldn’t see me, but he said, “Hi Pastor!” I hesitated to say it, but I was so shocked I just had to ask: “Terry, how did you know it was me?” “Oh, I recognized your voice,” he said. Terry had met me exactly once before, at a meet and greet during the call process, but he knew who I was. Just by hearing my voice, he recognized me.
Even more remarkable, things often got busy and chaotic and noisy down in our church basement, but Terry always knew who was there. He could pick out the voices in the crowd, even on the other side of the room. He recognized people better than some people with perfect eyesight! He would hear their voices, even just a snippet in the midst of all the hub-bub, and he knew who they were.
In our gospel reading for today we meet a man who, like Terry, was born blind. Jesus and his disciples encountered this blind man, which led to some interesting conversation among them. The disciples assumed that either the man or his parents had done something wrong, and that was why he was blind. This was a common enough belief at the time. You even come across it sometimes today.
But Jesus dismissed the idea altogether. Instead, Jesus focused on what God could do with this unfortunate situation. Then Jesus spat on the ground and made a little salve of mud. He put the mud on the blind man’s eyes and told him: “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam.”
The man heard Jesus’ voice and recognized it as a voice he could trust. He trusted him enough to do what he said. He went to the pool of Siloam, washed, and his sight was restored. He could see again!
But this was only the beginning. As wonderful as the miraculous healing of this man’s eyes surely was for him, the real wonder of the story comes at the end of the reading.
After he was healed, an almost humorous chain of events unfolded. The Pharisees started an investigation which had them running around like the Keystone Cops. They were upset that Jesus did his healing on the Sabbath. There were rules about practicing the healing arts on the day of rest. There were even rules about kneading things together, which Jesus did to make the mud. So, they launched an investigation looking for something, anything, that could trap or discredit Jesus. They questioned the man. They questioned his parents: “Is this your son, who you say was born blind?” They questioned the man again, who said, “Look, all I know is I was blind, and now I see!”
When the Pharisees kept pestering him, he dropped a sick burn on them, saying, “Why are you so interested? Do you also want to become his disciples?” When the Pharisees suggested that Jesus was not from God, that he was a sinner, the man argued back that he had to be from God. “Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”
This man showed that he recognized, at least to some degree, who Jesus really is. The Pharisees, in spite of all they have seen and heard, clearly did not. They saw, but they didn’t recognize.
Jesus heard that the now formerly blind man had been driven out (this probably means he was kicked out of the synagogue) so he came back to pay him a visit. Like a doctor following up on a procedure, Jesus came back to check on him. “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” Jesus asked him. In other words, “Do you believe in the one promised by God? Do you believe in the Savior God promised to rescue his people and restore all things?” “Who is he, sir?” the man responded eagerly. “Tell me, so that I may believe in him!” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking to you is he.” And the man replied, “Lord, I believe.” This formerly blind man now recognized Jesus not only as coming from God, but as the promised Savior. He recognized him as his Lord, and he worshipped him.
The healing of this man’s eyes was a wonderful thing, but it was a sign that pointed to something even better. The restoration of this man’s eyesight was a true miracle, but it was a miracle that pointed to something even more significant. This man didn’t just see, he recognized. He recognized who Jesus is.
The Pharisees bumbled around on a wild goose chase, unable to recognize who Jesus was. They stumbled around in the dark, the blind leading the blind. Their spiritual blindness prevented them from recognizing Jesus as the Son of Man, the promised Messiah, the Savior from God.
The real miracle in this story is the miracle of faith. The real miracle is the miracle of seeing Jesus and recognizing him as Lord and Savior.
So, how’s your spiritual eyesight these days?
Like the Pharisees, we can have perfectly good vision, physically speaking, but, like them, we all have our spiritual blind spots. Our stubborn, self-righteous, know-it-all attitude is probably the biggest blind spot we have, as it was for the Pharisees. This is also the most dangerous, as it keeps us from seeing our need for Jesus, as it did for them.
There are also shadows and valleys we walk through that make Jesus hard to recognize. It is easy to lose sight of Christ’s presence among us as we experience difficulty or struggle. It is even easier to lose sight of him when things are going well, when our lives are full of all kinds of pleasant distractions.
We can be blind to Christ’s presence with us. We can be blind to his claim on our entire lives, not just the parts we want to give him. We can be blind to his call to follow him and serve him and obey him. We can even become blind to the salvation and new life he gives to us as a free gift of grace.
We all have our spiritual blind spots, to be sure. And those who are blind in this way, Jesus says, are stuck in their sin.
But Jesus doesn’t leave us in this blindness. He doesn’t leave us in the dark. He has come to open our eyes too. He comes to show us that he is the light of the world.
Today Jesus calls us back to the font of our baptism, our own pool of Siloam, so that our eyes might be opened once again. Jesus comes to us today through his Living Word so that we might hear his voice. He comes to us in his Holy Supper so that we might see and taste and touch his grace. The sign Jesus did in restoring this man’s eyesight points to the bigger miracle he continues to do today, which is to open our eyes in faith, in order to let his light in.
Note that the man didn’t fully recognize Jesus until he spoke to him, saying “the one speaking to you is him.” He didn’t fully recognize Jesus until Jesus spoke the word which revealed himself as the Son of Man, the promised Messiah, the Savior from God. It was then that he called Jesus his Lord and worshipped him.
Some among us struggle with their physical eyesight. All of us have spiritual blind spots. But today all of us can hear and recognize Jesus by his voice. Today Jesus speaks a word to us that reveals himself to us as our savior. He says, “Your sins are forgiven.” He says, “This is my body, my blood, given for you.” He says, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”
We can recognize him by his voice. And in so doing, the eyes of faith are opened. We recognize that he is here with us. We recognize him as our Lord, and we worship him.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
