Author: Higher Things

Timothy Sheridan

We Christians are well-meaning people, at least some of the time. Perhaps you’ve been in the situation in which your non-Christian neighbor (family member, friend, or coworker) asks you the question, “Why are you a Christian?” This is the moment that the Apostle Peter wrote about in his First Epistle: “In your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks for a reason for the hope that is in you” (3:15)! You’ve been through confirmation, and have diligently attended retreats, worship, and Sunday School. It’s as if you’ve been preparing for just these sort of interchanges for years now.

And you do your best, you really do. You wrack your brains to remember all those potentially hostile historical witnesses contemporary with Jesus who attest that He really did live in first century Judea, that He was crucified under Pontius Pilate, and that His disciples proclaimed that they saw Him alive again after His resurrection. You explain that the early Christians would not have faced martyrdom if Christ had not really been raised from the dead.

You said all the right things, you think. But then your non-Christian friend says, “Yeah, but I just don’t agree with what the Church thinks about [in-vogue social issue],” or they parrot the popular caricature of postmodern sentiment which says that what’s true for you isn’t necessarily true for them.

Don’t be too hard on yourself. Apologetics is a useful tool which can help remove excuses for unbelief. But the answer to the question, “Why are you a Christian?” isn’t because the historical facts are on the side of Christianity, even though that’s true.

Christians are made, not through intellectual argumentation, but through death and resurrection. Luther famously wrote in his explanation to the third article of the Apostles’ Creed that “I believe I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith.” All who are dead in sin do not have the mind, will, or ability to choose the Savior whose Spirit kills the old sinful Adam in them by washing them in the saving tide of Jesus’ blood and Holy Baptism. No one can be reasoned out of their nature or talked into trusting that the Creator behind the carnage and chaos that by all appearances is the only order in this world is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

We shouldn’t be afraid to give a Christian answer to a question about our Christianity. Besides, the logic of faith will never be impressive to a world for which Christ crucified is foolishness and the things of the Spirit of God are folly (I Cor. 1:25, 2:14).

So, why am I a Christian? Sure, it’s true that our Scriptures are inspired and Christ truly rose from the dead. But who would ever choose to believe that? I’m a Christian because the Holy Spirit gave me the gift of faith through His gifts of the Gospel. I’m a Christian because I was baptized into the death of Jesus Christ and was raised to walk in newness of life, and because God nourishes my weak faith with the true body and blood of His Son. I’m a Christian because Jesus of Nazareth is the only one who has ever done anything to save humanity. I’m a Christian out of desperation. I’m a Christian because Jesus says so.

And if Jesus can still make Christians by the simple proclamation of His redemption and by attaching His promises to water, bread, and wine, you can trust that His tried and true means will also work on those who don’t yet confess Him. If He can redeem you, your neighbor won’t be a problem for Him.

Timothy Sheridan is a member of Our Savior Lutheran in Raleigh, NC

Josh Radke

The importance of Pentecost is demonstrated profoundly in the original medieval tales of King Arthur: For on the Feast of Pentecost, the Round Table was begun. Also on this Feast, the Knights would tell stories to the court of their adventures and service, in the name of Christ, in order to edify and inspire. To be made a Knight was a sober duty, full of danger against great evils in service to their neighbors; this vocation required humility, vigilance, wisdom, regular attendance of the Divine Service, and penitent faith. Through Jesus, you have been elected before the creation of the world and given the quest of the cross: the Christian faith. At your Baptism, you received, by the Holy Spirit in the Word, the Name of the Triune God upon you, justification by faith, forgiveness of your sins, and the ability to discern Scripture and rely upon it alone: these are your holy Armor and Shield and blessed Sword for the perilous adventure to the Celestial City.

In St. Luke’s Gospel account, Jesus says to strive to enter by the narrow gate, which is Himself. St. Paul is clear that none can do this because we are by nature blind, enemies of God and children of wrath, dead in our sins. Only by the Holy Spirit, through the hearing of the Gospel, are we given knowledge of our sins, brought to trust in Christ for mercy, made alive as new creations, and able to confess, “Jesus is LORD.” The Greek word used for ‘strive’ is agonizomai. Notice the word “agonize”? The Christian faith is one of contention and struggling-with the devil, with our sin-corrupted flesh, with the world. Our endurance, by faith, against these enemies to serve our neighbor and finish the quest, is from the Holy Spirit too through His work of sanctification.

The devil desires to take Christ from us every day, to devour us like a terrible beast – and not just you but also your family and friends and neighbors. Thus we are drawn by the Holy Spirit to be trained in the Word and the catechism by our pastor and parents; we are filled with the Holy Spirit in order to build up believers and non-believers in our lives with prayers and hymns and works of faith that benefit them.

In the face of suffering, we do not often feel brave. But the Holy Spirit gives us the strength to endure all things, even persecution and death, rather than fall away from the Word, or our Confessions of the Word. Moreover, God gives us that sacred Provision – the Lord’s Supper in the Divine Service – by which He sustains us in His love and mercy as we travel the difficult, narrow road of our faith. While we remain in this world, we hold dear the Holy Spirit by whom we are brought to Christ, and thus able to approach the Father with our prayers. The Holy Spirit intercedes for us also in this, bringing our deepest longings and petitions for which we cannot find the words to the throne of God (Rom. 8:26-27).

During this season of the Church after Pentecost, which reflects on the work of the Trinity as you walk through the valley of the shadow of death in the light of the Word, take comfort: by the grace of God, He who began a good work in you at the Baptismal waters of your salvation, and daily contends for your soul, shall bring His work to completion on the Day of our LORD (Php. 1:6). On that Day, assured by the resurrection and ascension of Jesus, you shall be given all the treasures of the heavenly kingdom upon which we are heirs right now through faith (John 6:47, Rom. 8:12-25): the crown of eternal life (Rev. 2:10-11), glorified bodies like Christ’s (Rom. 6:5), and the inheritance that remains undefiled that shall be revealed with the new creation (I Ptr. 1:3-5). Upon that eternal Day, you and all the saints shall dwell in perfect fellowship, righteousness, and blessedness, with the Triune God in His glory forever (II Ptr. 3:12, Rev. 21).

Josh Radke is deacon at Hope Lutheran Church in Bangor ME. He can be reached at jradke@hopebangor.org.

Timothy Sheridan

If you’ve grown up in church, you probably know that it’s hard to be surprised by the story of Jesus’ life and ministry. We have 2,000 years’ worth of teaching and reflection on the Gospel in addition to our own personal familiarity with it. But here’s what never fails to surprise me: after Jesus ascends into heaven to sit at God’s right hand, His disciples are…happy? St. Luke writes, “And they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple blessing God” (24:52-53).

Many times we’re surprised that our Lord’s Ascension should elicit such joy, either in us or in the Apostles. Most likely our puzzlement stems from the popular picture of what Jesus is doing now that He has been hidden from our sight. Scripture tells us that “Now…we have…a high priest, one who is seated at the right hand of the throne of Majesty in heaven, a minister in the holy places, in the true tent that the Lord set up, not man” (Heb. 8:1-2). St. Paul says, “Christ Jesus is the one who died-more than that, who was raised-who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us” (Rom. 8:34).

When we confess that Jesus is making intercession for us, we often envision Him muttering at the arm of a golden throne in unapproachable ethereal light, very far away from us. The Church needs the prayers of our High Priest and Advocate and we rejoice in the gift of the Holy Spirit, given on Pentecost, but wouldn’t things be better if Jesus were still visibly with us? Picturing our Savior as far above and beyond the rest of us seems to say that Jesus can’t be bothered to be with us always, as He promised (Matt. 28:20).

But the problem is really with how we misunderstand Jesus’ intercession. Jesus acts as our Mediator only because He was-and is-among us. In the days of His earthly ministry, He “offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence” (Heb. 5:7). From His birth and circumcision to His agony in Gethsemane and His excruciating death on Golgotha, Jesus’ life was one blood-drenched, God-pleasing prayer.

The blood of Jesus speaks a better word than the blood of righteous Abel, whose sacrifice offered in faith to God was pleasing, but in no way as pleasing as the once and for all sacrifice made by our High Priest on a hill outside Jerusalem (Heb. 11:4). Jesus’ blood speaks the word, “It is finished” to us sinners who at present can only see our Advocate with the eyes of faith. Jesus is still with us, interceding with His own blood. He makes good His word by giving it to us to drink on bended knee around the altar. That blood, shed by the One who is both Victim and Priest, still speaks: “Given and shed for you, for the forgiveness of all your sins.”

Timothy Sheridan is a member of Our Savior Lutheran in Raleigh, NC.

Bethany Woelmer

Technology in its very nature is restless. It consists of many techniques, methods, and developments. Its services are always running and running, traveling from machine to the next in an array of impulses that never seem to end. All we have to do is flip a switch, push a button, or pull the handle down, and — BAM — technology reveals to us its splendor of incessant power and glory.

We live in a technological society filled with restlessness. This technological mindset governs our life at times in many ways, whether we realize it or not. We spend too much time fixing things to satisfy us in our accomplishments and to secure a sense of pride in ourselves for having gained another skill. We are geared toward monetary gain, personal success, and popularity. We look toward the world to define us based on the presentation of our own achievements. We try to make a name for ourselves, an identity given only by the standards that the world presents to us as satisfactory. We flee from our real name, “sinner,” only in an attempt to “fix sin” by ourselves while covering it up with distractions and other realms of pride.

We are restless, yet we also find rest in the many gratifications that this world offers. We find rest in the many pleasures of this life that draw us away from the truth and present an array of happiness that only lasts for a short amount of time.

Jesus once said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” If we dig deeper into the core of our human nature, we find a heart blackened with sin and weary from its terrible effects. If we stop for a moment from the restless running of our life we look behind us to find trails of sin that are etched forever in our history. When we finally rest, we face the Law, which is why we always try to keep on running, yet when we rest we have a wonderful opportunity to taste the sweetness of the Gospel for us, our eternal rest that is found only in Christ.

In this technological mindset of fixing things, we battle against the many forces that lure us into thinking that we can find rest on our own and create our own identity from the world. Christ comes to us instead, giving us the name of Himself in our Baptism and creating faith in us by which we can look to God for rest from sin and suffering. In this world we will have many trials and sorrows, but Jesus calls to us, “Take heart! I have overcome the world.” He accomplished this rest for us on the cross, when He took upon our sin and died the death that we deserve. The resurrection teaches us that in Christ we are immortal beings, created by God and redeemed by Him in the work of His Son who took upon our human flesh. There is no need to “fix” our sinful nature by ourselves, because Christ has already accomplished it. Rather we must learn everyday about what it means to be a Christian, condemned by the Law, yet, at the same time, finding rest in the Gospel by which we are saved.

Before the Cross of Comfort
By Bethany Woelmer

Before the cross of comfort I find rest,
This peace to still my fears with each embrace
Of love divine sent to my weary soul,
Restored by life eternal by God’s grace.

The shame that drags me further to my grave
And teaches me to run and flee from God
Is weariness too burdensome to save
By my own might or by a sinner’s blood.

Christ calls to us, “Come unto Me and rest.
Your cross of suff’ring I for you will take.
Your burdens I will bear and so resist
The devil’s tempting pow’r for your own sake.”

Before the cross of Jesus I find joy
Of vict’ry over weakness, sin, and strife.
Love came to earth, this love that does employ
The means of grace to give us mortals life.

Bethany Woelmer is a member at Faith Lutheran Church in Plano, TX.

Timothy Sheridan

Since Adam passed off the blame to Eve for eating the forbidden fruit in the Garden, self-justification has thoroughly infected us. It rears its head in every aspect of our lives, especially when it comes to accomplishing that which Jesus taught us to do when we pray, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

You can eventually squeeze an apology out of most people. But notice how often what seems to be a humble petition for forgiveness is qualified with something like, “I’m sorry, but…” It’s just as likely that when you’re supposedly the one doing the forgiving, you’ll manage to slip in a remark like, “I would never do what you just did to me.” In no time at all, you, the initially wronged, will commit a sin of your own, which you justify with something like, “I just call ’em like I see ’em,” as if the scathing remark you just delivered-rather than forgiveness- is the real solution to the problem.

We can’t escape self-justification. It’s embedded itself not only in our choice of words in our daily bickering, but also in the thoughts behind them, which we usually fool ourselves into masking with seemingly respectable intentions. When you ask somebody else’s forgiveness, the reason you qualify your apology with “but the reason I said/did that was because I feel strongly about…” or “I did that because I’m having a bad day…” you want the other person to know that you’re no monster. Your sin is not really as bad as they’re making it out to be. To be honest, they’re not completely innocent themselves, in this or in any of the other thousand situations that have played out like this before. You want to patch things up, but not before the other person comes to appreciate the fact that you haven’t struck out as magnificently as they’re letting on. Actually, they’re blowing things out of proportion. Ultimately, the fault is really theirs.

So goes our day-to-day thinking. That’s why withholding forgiveness is so pernicious. Our Lord warns, “If you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matt. 6:15). At first, this saying sends up a red flag for us Lutherans. I thought the forgiveness of our sins was unconditional? If we have to forgive others in order to be forgiven, then doesn’t that mean there are strings attached to this whole salvation thing? So much for faith alone!

Well, consider what we’re saying when we refuse to forgive others. When you refuse to forgive someone who’s wronged you, you have set yourself up as lord over your offender. In your mind, you have the right to withhold forgiveness, as if that person will go unforgiven without your gracious pardon. But the reality is that “in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them” (II Cor. 5:19). Essentially, you’re appointing yourself the judge who distributes grace as though it belongs to you by right. When you hold court in this way, you-rather than God-are the justifier of the ungodly. This is nothing more than self-justification. At the heart of self-justification is unbelief, the original sin, our mortal affliction, the breaking of every commandment.

Which brings us to what Jesus really cares about when it comes to forgiving others. In one sense, He doesn’t really care about other people’s sins. You don’t have to confess other people’s sins for them. No scapegoats need apply when Christ is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. He knows the truth about your sins; He knows your thoughts and motives-the inner workings of your deceitful heart-better than you yourself, despite your outward protestations of innocence. Jesus doesn’t care about the sins of others. He cares about yours.

If you can’t find it in yourself to forgive others, don’t be surprised. In those instances, Luther says to pray for the grace to forgive. That grace, incarnate in the Lamb of God, given and shed for the forgiveness of all your sins, is God’s gracious gift to and for you. That grace is for those who debtors Jesus refers to in the Lord’s Prayer. We’re all debtors, so indebted to the God and His creatures we have violated that we are really worse than debtors-we’re beggars. The most desperate beggar isn’t the one who’s wronged you-it’s just you. But in Christ, God in His grace has paid all our debts. His grace is for beggars like you, and it will never fail.

Timothy Sheridan is a member of Our Savior Lutheran in Raleigh, NC.

Rev. Michael Keith

The Church uses weird words.

The first time I heard someone say the word narthex I had no idea what they were talking about. “Please sign the guest register in the narthex” I was told. I stared dazed and confused at the person making the announcement after Service. What’s a narthex? It sounds scary. Why would I want to go there? The Church uses weird words. However, they remain simply weird words if we don’t seek to understand what they mean. Once we understand what they mean, they’re awesome. I am going to use the word narthex a lot in this short article because it’s awesome.

Sure, we could just call it a vestibule or a foyer or a lobby but that’s lame. It’s a narthex. It is a narthex because it is there to do narthex-y kind of things to you.

What are these narthex-y kind of things a narthex does? What is the function of the narthex in a church building? It is the transition place from profane space to sacred space. It is the transition from the common to the holy. The sanctuary of a church has been set apart for God’s use. It has been set apart so that God can go about giving out His gifts to His people through Word and Sacrament. It is a holy place, a place set apart for use by God. It is the place where Jesus washes you in Holy Baptism, it is the place where Jesus absolves you of your sin, it is the place where Jesus speaks in His holy Word read and preached, it is the place where Jesus feeds you His Body and Blood. It is the place where Jesus is with His gifts of forgiveness and life for you.

The narthex provides a place of transition for you as you enter the church building. You are leaving the common, you are leaving the day to day everyday, and are entering into a unique place that has been set apart. It is holy because it is the place where God is present in His Word and Sacraments. Yes, God is present everywhere but He is not present everywhere with His gifts. Wherever God’s people gather together to receive His gifts is a holy place, a place set apart for God’s use.

The narthex gives you a chance to recognize this transition. The narthex is neither common nor holy; it is in between. Think about how you might act in the parking lot of the church. You might shout across the parking lot to greet a friend. There is nothing wrong with that in the parking lot. Shout away. Then, as you enter into the church building you might act a little differently. As you stand in the narthex you may find yourself having casual conversations with the people around you but you won’t likely shout at the top of your lungs at someone across the room. Then you move into the pew. You are in the sanctuary now (technically the nave but that is another weird word that we should talk about another time), you are in the holy place. Your behavior will reflect this. You will act differently in the pew than you will in the narthex because you recognize you have come into a special place. Then you come forward to the altar to receive the Body and Blood of Jesus. Your behavior before the altar will even be different than it is in the pew because you recognize the holy: the presence of Jesus and His gifts in that place. You may reverence the altar, kneel, bow your head, etc.

The narthex narthexes you by making you aware of this transition from the common to the holy. A foyer or lobby is just a place for sitting a waiting. Lame. A narthex is a place that makes you aware of what you are doing and why you are doing it. You are entering the holy. You are going to be in the presence of Jesus and to receive His gifts.

Next time you go to church let the narthex narthex you. Be thoughtful and aware of what you are doing. You are leaving the common and entering the holy. You are going to receive the gifts of Jesus. And, in a short time, you will leave the holy place and you will walk into the narthex after having been gifted by Jesus through His Word and Sacraments. You leave a beloved, baptized, forgiven, child of God for the sake of Jesus. You then transition again and enter into the world forgiven and strengthened by Jesus to go to your God given vocations. The narthex narthexes you in this as well.

And if you see someone walking around your church building dazed and confused looking to sign a guest book – show them where the narthex is.

Rev. Michael Keith serves as pastor at St. Matthew Lutheran Church and SML Christian Academy in Stony Plain, AB Canada. He can be reached at keith@st-matthew.com.

Timothy Sheridan

The real trick with confession is believing that Jesus gives the same forgiveness to us here and now as He gave to those now justly famous confessing sinners found in the pages of Scripture mentioned before. We are forgiven and made whole because the Kyrie first and foremost Jesus’ own petition for us to His Father, when as He hung, mutilated and disgraced upon the cross, He prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). Do we dare to think that God does not hear the prayer of His own Son, or that same prayer when we pray in His name, the name He put on us in Baptism?

We know how those previously mentioned pericopes turn out. We know that Jesus doesn’t withhold forgiveness from those sinners. Our forgiveness is the same. We know that at the end of those stories, the demons flee, vision is restored, and the chains of sin are broken. We’re in good company then when He extends the same promise to us. Our forgiveness is just as much a done deal as the ones in the passages we read in personal devotion and hear read in worship year after year, as done and finished as the agony and victory of Calvary (John 19:30) and just as final as His resurrection from the dead on Easter morning. We’ve been crucified and drowned with the One whose greatest delight is to be merciful to us who are just as desperate, depraved, and doubting as the sinners of old. We’re fed by with the very Body and Blood by the very hands that touched sinners and were stretched out on the beam of the cross.

The story of our salvation is just as certain as those other stories because it’s all Christ’s story. God’s love for us in Christ Jesus is just as certain and unshakable as it for David, the publican, Bartimaeus, and all the other legions of sinner-saints who have gone before us. Jesus answers our doubt-ridden petitions with mercy, not as if He were some tyrant who demands to see us grovel, but as One radiant and joyful, living in the power of His resurrection, who laughs, “But of course I forgive you! That’s what I promised, didn’t I?” If Jesus has taken care of their sin and accepts their confession by His pure grace, then He won’t have any qualms with yours. Or mine.

Timothy Sheridan is a member of Our Savior Lutheran in Raleigh, NC.

Did you miss Part One of Confessions about Confession? You can read it here.

Read Part Two here.

Chris Vecera

For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. – Colossians 3:3)

We ignore all kinds of things. Depression. Pornography. Alcoholism. Divorce. Abortion. Put them in the corner, and pretend they don’t exist. Maybe more than any of these, we avoid thinking about death. No one deals with it well. It makes us angry. It makes us worry. It has a way of making us feel alone. We’ll throw around the sarcastic lingo, “I would rather die… than give a speech… than be nice to my family… than give up my pride…” but whether we admit it or not, we wouldn’t. We appear calm and collected, but we keep a secret. We’re afraid of death. “I shouldn’t be afraid. I’m a Christian,” we tell ourselves, “Why am I scared of dying? It seems like everyone else has their fear under control. I believe. I trust God, but the fear always comes back.”

Death plays us all for weak, lonely, and foolish people, headed for a host of stomach problems, heart disease, and high blood pressure. No matter how hard we look, no medication, diet, workout routine, or stress free living will prevent the inevitable. You know what, let’s just not talk about it… We’ve got to check how many likes are on our posts… A cigarette would be nice. A couple beers will calm the nerves, maybe a few hours of video games, or an afternoon of shopping for new clothes. Don’t tell us that we’re going to die. Despite our masks of hopefulness and contentment, we can’t handle that.

We’ve got Christianity wrong, probably because it’s not what we were told. It’s not about knowing God exists, and that he probably loves you. It’s not about believing and doing your best to be like Jesus. It’s not about getting your life together, submitting to God’s will, and getting a gold star. It’s not about eating healthy, staying fit, and having a positive “spiritual” outlook on life. This is self-centered, self-powered, and conditional spirituality: if you do this, then you will get that. If you don’t do that, then you won’t get this. The lie tells you: you can do it. What you do defines you. You can do it… except when you can’t. That’s the scheme.

Actually, we like it this way. Even though we are set up for failure, it feels safe. Our success is measurable, usually by the amount of things on our schedule. We know what to expect, and so we believe it… Until the cancer diagnosis. God, I was taking care of my body. Until the relapse. God, I had six months. Until the next fight. God, we were finally talking to each other again. Until the foreplay and fooling around go too far. God, we were trying to wait. In that moment, when you’re sitting in the doctor’s office, pounding your fists against the steering wheel, or crying in your room, the lie has devoured you. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve tried to do. You want to be strong, but you can’t seem to get a grip.

“…You can do it,” the lie tells you. It has many different voices, but it always attacks the same thing: God’s word of promise. So the whispers come at you… You’re a disappointment to everyone. You’re irresponsibly unhealthy. You’re a sex addict. You’re guilty. You’ve got no self control. You’re a cheat. You’re an alcoholic. You’re alone. You’re unloveable. You can’t stop yourself from dying, and eventually you’ll get what you deserve.

You aren’t afraid anymore. It might be from the world fighting against you or the standard of perfection that you can’t get out of your head, something is different now. With all the strength you can muster, you breathe in defeat, “I just want to make this all go away, but I can’t. I have nothing left.” You actually hope for death. It’s not “I would rather die,” anymore. Now you can only think, “I wish I was dead.”

Christians will offer some well meaning and sweet smelling advice, “God has a plan. Trust in God. Do you believe? Have you confessed? You need to get some help…” Not to mention the voices of the world, “Where is your God now? You have some God…” To you, the smell of those words make you nauseous because… putting perfume on death doesn’t do anything. You need something else.

None of this is Christian spirituality. Dear Christian, you have already died because Jesus has bled and died for you, and you share in his death. It’s not a death that you need to search for in the depths of your heart. It’s not a death that you need to rationalize with your conditional scheming mind. It’s not a death that you muster up the strength to accept. This death happened outside of you. That’s the way God works. He gives gifts through real concrete things, and he gives them to you.

In your Baptism, you died, and God made a promise to you, “Already you are clean because of the word I have spoken to you” (John 15:3). You are washed, cleansed, and forgiven because you have been buried with Christ in the water and the word, “We were therefore buried with him by baptism into death…” (Romans 6:4).

No spirituality in the world can rescue you, but the promise of God stands firm. You are already clean. You are baptized. You are united with Jesus in his death. Everything has been buried. Your sin. Your pain. Your regret. Your guilt. All of it. Jesus has taken it from you. He put it on himself, and he has given you everything that is his. His righteousness. His purity. His holiness. His peace. You are clean, and you are new, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17). You are not what has already been buried. You are raised with Christ and united with him in a resurrection like his. That’s what is promised to you in your Baptism.

I know it doesn’t feel this way. Unfortunately, new creation isn’t what the Sunday school books told us. For many churches, new creation is just code for self-made and self-powered spirituality, “… Now, you can do it.”

The life of a Christian is not moral improvement and virtuous living. It’s actually the end these things. New creation is the promise, “I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5), and it has been given to you. New creation is forgiveness. Christian life is Baptism. New creation is Baptism. This means that when you are sitting in church, the flesh and blood of the home wrecker, the addict, the broken, and the terminal that you see aren’t the Sunday school new creations. They’re the dead ones, the bodies of death (Romans 7:24). Each day, they cling to God’s Baptismal promise: because of the death of Jesus, the sin they can’t forget has been buried, and He can’t remember it. On the outside it doesn’t look like it, but their sin has been separated from them. Just. Like. You. That’s new creation.

Christianity is not a conditional spirituality. It’s 100% receptive. You receive every blessing as a gift from God. In the body of Christ, you are the walking dead carrying the promise of forgiveness and life – a promise delivered and sealed in the waters of Baptism. Your life is hidden in these waters and words. It’s hidden from the world, a world that usually thinks you want to force Christian morality on everyone. It’s even hidden from yourself, you who fight to believe that the benefits of the cross are for you.

Jesus is coming again. You may fall asleep first, but you will not die. “For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory” (Colossians 3:3-4). You will appear with him and everything that is already yours won’t be hidden from your eyes any more. Everything that has been buried won’t trouble you anymore. Until then, the blood of Jesus covers you. Dear Christian, don’t despair. None of Satan’s lies will defeat you. You are baptized into Christ.



Chris Vecera is the Director of Youth Ministry at Lutheran Church of the Cross in Aliso Viejo CA. He can be reached at promissio5611@gmail.com.