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This week on HT-Radio, Pastor Borghardt is joined by Sandra Ostapowich and Erica Beyreis to talk about what you can do as laymen in the church and they talk about youth ministry.
If you have questions or topics that you’d like discussed on HT-Radio, email them to radio@higherthings.org or send a text to 936-647-3235.
Deaconess Ellie Corrow
“In the beginning He created them. Male and female He created them.”
Women are fearfully and wonderfully made. As women. Femaleness is not secondary to women’s existence as humans, rather it is written into every cell of their bodies. To be created as a woman isn’t a prison, something to be escaped or endured. A woman’s jailor is not gender, but sin, death, and the devil, from which you’re liberated by Christ in the water and word of Holy Baptism. As baptized daughters of God, you are given occasion to rejoice, and the freedom to serve your neighbors in grace and mercy, in whatever vocations God provides.
Femininity is not an obstacle Christ must overcome as He sanctifies you, it is not a sin to be a woman, and female saints are no less valued by Christ than males. Indeed, even when women are called the “weaker vessel,” this isn’t meant to indicate a deficit, instead the phrase expresses that you are the fine china of creation. It illustrates the care with which you’re to be treated, because you are treasured by our Lord, who counted many women as His friends.
To be a woman is to be more than the sum of your parts; your femininity finds its expression as you use the many talents and abilities God has granted you, in service to your neighbors. A bright mind, a talent for music, or art, or law are not temptations laid out for you by a trickster God, waiting for you to fall for the distractions of the world. No, these are just other avenues, other opportunities, other tools to use in your vocations. As such, you are free in Christ to use them as you see fit-they may make for more fruitful homeschooling, heal the injured patient, teach the struggling student, or find justice for the oppressed.
We do violence to God’s Word when we read it with our eyes trained on the turmoil of this present age, attempting to glean some promised cure-all for society’s ills beyond the forgiveness and mercy of Christ. Instead, we should let Scripture be Scripture, and in doing so we will see there is not a passage anywhere which suggests women have only one way in which they may care for and support their neighbors, only one way in which they may be women. On the contrary, Scripture illustrates a variety of women who utilized the various gifts and resources in service to neighbor and the Church. To recognize this is not to say that men and women are interchangeable, it merely honors the Church’s witness.
When we allow God to define Godly Womanhood, we see something that is far from monolithic; instead we see that it looks like Deborah, Jael, Esther, Phoebe, Anna, Lydia, Mary, and Martha. Godly women do not to look for the holiest vocation in which they may serve, rather they receive the repentance and forgiveness of God, placed on them in baptism, poured into their mouths and ears in the Divine Service, and freely serve those whom God has given them, with the tools He grants out of His divine goodness and mercy.
Dcs Ellie Corrow serves as the Missionary Care Coordinator for the Office of International Mission. She can be reached at Ellie.Corrow@lcms.org.
Timothy Sheridan
Reflecting on Luther’s explanation of the Ten Commandments in the Catechism and being absolved every Sunday gave me perspective that I had never before had on the issue of confession. My personal practice consisted of naming the violations I had committed against God’s Law, but I never used the Law itself to reflect on my sins. My harsh words to a friend meant that I had committed murder in my heart, my lusting entailed that I had committed adultery, so the commandments weren’t completely neglected. But my way of confessing led me to believe that I was only guilty of certain sins and not others. I knew the Epistle of James says that “whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it” (2:10). In my mind, I really only transgressed the Law on a handful of discrete points. The evangelical subculture in which I was raised only stigmatized certain sins and consequently only fetishized certain virtues. I’d been conditioned to know I was accountable for all the Law, but only because I hadn’t kept it perfectly on a couple of points. Some sins didn’t need forgiving because I hadn’t committed them.
But then I began to pray the Ten Commandments daily. I saw my tortured way of confession for what it really was: a feeble attempt at self-justification. So I stopped the self-flagellation of carving out the ways I had offended my God and my neighbor. There was no need; all my sins were right there, numbered one to ten, staring up at me from the Catechism, in Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy. Confession and Absolution taught me just what the Law incessantly declares: don’t argue your sinfulness. Confess it. The Decalogue will show you, as it showed me, that sinners break every single commandment God gave to the children of Israel. All the time. There are no exceptions. A person’s pet sins are only those that he or she commits happily and knowingly. Just because you aren’t aware of the times you offend God’s eternal will doesn’t mean you’re thereby acquitted (I Cor. 4:4). When the commandments showed me that I was guilty of breaking every letter of the Law, I began to repent by verbalizing each commandment and praying to the Lord for mercy.
For this reason, I love the Kyrie Eleison. It is the prayer of every sinner, bequeathed to posterity in the Church’s liturgy by the most desperate and deplorable of her ranks. The Canaanite woman whose daughter is possessed by a demon beseeches Jesus, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David” (Matt. 15:22). When Jesus seems to brush off her petition, she simply pleads, “Lord, help me” (v. 25). On another occasion, another parent among the crowd pleads for the Lord to cast out an evil spirit from his son. His petition is also spoken in the spirit of the Kyrie: “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24) Two blind men on Jericho’s outskirts would not be silenced by the masses who think Jesus’ time is better spent on other things, but twice called after Jesus, “Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!” (Matt. 15:31) In Jesus’ own parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, the latter knows that he brings only his sinfulness before God when he prays, downcast and dejected, “God, be merciful to me, the sinner” (Luke 18:13). Predating all of these are the words of the penitent King David, whose groanings, part of which have become the verse the Church sings as she moves from the service of the Word to the service of the Eucharist, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions” (Psalm 51:1).
We know the stories. The sinners receive the Lord’s mercy, just as He promised. Jesus forgives them and heals them of all infirmities, spiritual and physical. Despite His comments to the Canaanite woman or His innocent question of the blind men, “What do you want me to do for you?,” He doesn’t fool us. “Well, of course Jesus forgave them,” we say. It’s as the Scripture promises, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Rom. 10:13). But how do we know that same forgiveness belongs to us?
Did you miss Part One of Confessions about Confession? You can read it here.
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This week on HT-Radio, Pastor Borghardt is joined by HT Media Executive, Rev. Mark Buetow. Pastor Buetow teaches us all about Pentecost, the day the Holy Spirit was poured out.
If you have questions or topics that you’d like discussed on HT-Radio, email them to radio@higherthings.org or send a text to 936-647-3235.
Kaitlin Jandereski
The doctor put his trembling hand on her frail, freckled arm and stammered, “You or the baby will survive. Not both. I’m so sorry.”
The mother, who had put thought into her next few words, knowing that this might’ve been the outcome, met her doctor’s green eyes and sharply replied, “Let my child survive. I’ll die.”
Concerned that his patient was not thinking rationally, the doctor informed her that she was young, that she had the option to live and that she would have the opportunity to conceive another child in her future.
“I know,” the mother replied. “Without my dying, though, this child’s life,” she massaged her stomach, “will have no value.”
When the child was born, he was placed into an adoption center. He grew, but not without problems. He went to second-grade and got picked on for being overweight. He was laughed at in junior high for asking out the Homecoming Queen. He earned Fs in math class. He dropped out of high school by eleventh grade.
Nobody thought much of this boy. And he didn’t think much of himself. He was sure that his mother should be living, that she would have been a better person than him. Some days, most days, all days, the only push to keep him going, though, was knowing that his mother laid down her life for him.
He was given life not because he was supposed to be handsome or smart or well off, but because he was her child. And if nothing else, that gave him worth.
We’re not this boy, but we’re, sort of, in his situation.
Through conception, we are born with a fatal illness that will eventually kill us – sin. Engrossed in a sinful womb, we have no escape. We’re doomed for death.
Except Jesus happens.
He takes us, filthy with our insecurities, with our poor math grades, with our rejections that pile up next to our name and He shoves us down into His cleansing baptismal waters and brings us up again clean with holiness, spotless with beauty, with intelligence, flawless at worst.
Like the boy in the story, our life gets hard and we forget how much we are loved. We know we were loved to the point of death, even death on the cross, but we still feel hated, rejected and hurt by this world.
So, Jesus happens again.
He picks us up and carries us to His table of food and drink. Weak and weary is our souls, so He lifts the bread to our lips and informs us, “This is My body, given for you.” Unworthy were we in sin, but Jesus reminds us, “This is My blood, given for you” and the chalice is poured.
As if that’s not enough, our own Savior speaks to us through His Word, “I am the way, and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me (John 14:6).” No one comes to the Father except through Me. Like the boy and his mother, not our intelligence, not our beauty, not our amount of friends can give us life, but we were merely given life through somebody else. We didn’t earn our way to heaven. We were simply given heaven through Christ.
We’re not this boy, but we’re, sort of, in his situation. We were given life by grace alone.
The key to accepting eternal life is receiving it through faith alone. It’s receiving a Savior who ardently hunted for us, even to the point of His own crucifixion, that He might claim us as His brothers and sisters. He indeed has that divine love, that saving eagerness to have us wholly as His own. And so He does. We do not ask. We just receive Christ. Through love. It is a love that is more satisfying that the story of the mother lying down her life for her son because it is a love that not only gives us life here on earth, but also life in paradise with Christ. Christ’s life saves us from ourselves, saves us from every hurt and saves us for a life in which Christ lives through us, delivering us up out of the likes of this world to an eternal paradise to be with the Savior of the whole universe.
Kaitlin Jandereski is a student at Central Michigan University. She currently lives in a small town called Bad Axe, Michigan and can be reached at jande1kb@cmich.edu.
Timothy Sheridan
I’ve always had a problem with confession. Night after night, staring up at the dark ceiling from my bed, I took upon myself the exhausting work of trying to enumerate the sins I had committed over the past day and then attempted to conjure up sufficient sorrow for what I had done. Assuming that I reached the point at which I had recalled as many wrongdoings from the past twelve, thirteen, or fourteen hours, I would then try to feel the forgiveness that supposedly belonged to me. But the ceiling always stared back at me, indifferent. Was this torturous exercise-an effort most often not even Herculean, but half-hearted on my part-really what it meant to find rest in Jesus? I coveted physical and spiritual rest, but the yoke felt anything but easy and light. Many nights, I would forego at least some of this agony by falling asleep mid-prayer, giving me one more misstep to confess the following morning or night. As I lingered on the edge of sleep, there lingered with me the old twinge of guilt (more acute some times than at others), because I knew my nocturnal liturgy was really me hedging my bets. This was not what it meant to receive God’s free gift of forgiveness.
When I became a Lutheran, it was hard to resist the temptation to crack an eyelid when my Pastor spoke the words of Absolution. It was a marvelous: objective, full, and free forgiveness of all my sins, accomplished by Christ and applied to me by His own Word. I half-expected to see some ray of glory emanating from the Pastor’s hand as he traced the sign of my forgiveness in the air before him and us. I knew all the proof texts given in the Small Catechism concerning Confession and the Office of the Keys, but the horribly familiar gnawing was never far from me, even as I knelt in my respective pew.
Even though I would sometimes feel as though Confession and Absolution was just as transactional as my desperate nighttime prayers, I was struck by the marked differences between how the liturgy taught me how to confess my sins and how I had always confessed in private. First, it isn’t really just my confession. The Divine Service doesn’t allow for anything like an altar call during which members of the congregation would “do business with God,” confessing the particular sins that ensnared them. Instead, everyone speaks the same words of confession without giving pause to verbalize the specifics. A general form of confession without any sweat, tears, or brooding introspection? At first, this practice seemed rote, insincere, effortless. But the effortless nature of Confession and Absolution is exactly the point. For us, our salvation is just that: we exert no effort, we do not climb the ladder of piety to gain the approval of God. Kneeling there every Sunday, hearing that I was forgiven simply because Christ, through His called and ordained servant, said so, was the beginning of my consolation.
But I still wanted to know how to better confess my sins daily, outside Divine Service. Article XI of the Augsburg Confession gave a great deal of peace of mind: “[I]n confession it is not necessary to enumerate all trespasses and sins, for this is impossible. Ps. 19:12, ‘Who can discern his errors?'” (AC XI 2, Tappert p. 34). Trying to discern my errors was a huge part of my problem. Those nights when the ceiling would begin to swim with oncoming sleep, I would hurriedly pray something like, “Forgive me all my sins. Amen.” It’s not the same principle as corporate Confession. That mumbled prayer was just me covering my bases in a different way, but I wasn’t sure how just yet.
Chris V.
“This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory. And his disciples believed in him.” (John 2:11 ESV)
In the name + of Jesus. Amen. You won’t find the words of institution in John’s Gospel. You won’t read Jesus say, “take and eat,” and “take and drink,” which seems strange for a gospel that starts with the words, “In the beginning was the Word.” Why does John leave out these important words of the Word made flesh? Is it an accident? No. In fact, from beginning to end, the Gospel of John is all about the Lamb of God giving his flesh and blood for you to eat and drink for the forgiveness of your sins. John is a “take and eat” and “take and drink” gospel.
One of the first things John tells us, after Jesus calls his first disciples, is that Jesus went to a wedding. The wedding feast runs out of wine, which doesn’t look good for the person who is hosting the party. You might be embarrassed if you couldn’t offer all of your friends a drink when they come over to your house. Your friends probably wouldn’t think much of it, but for the master of the wedding it doesn’t go as well. He looks unprepared, careless, poor, and weak. He has let his friends down. He disappointed his family, and to top it off, everyone can see his failure.
Realizing this, you can almost hear Mary’s voice empathetically soften, nervously increase in pitch, and crack a little bit. “They have no wine,” she says to Jesus. To which he responds, “Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” Nonetheless, Jesus tells the servants to fill some jars with water and take it to the master of the feast. It becomes good wine, and the master is shocked that the best wine was saved for the end. Jesus gives good gifts… in ritual purification jars none the less.
God’s glory has always been revealed to people in concrete places. In the Old Testament, the glory of God dwelled in the temple, and, ultimately, it would be revealed in Jesus hanging on the cross. In John’s gospel, God’s glory was first made manifest at a wedding feast, and he doesn’t reveal it in the way you may expect. He doesn’t come to the wedding showcasing his power, authority, and influence. Instead, it goes unnoticed by most of the guests. The true Bridegroom reveals his glory in the midst of a social disaster by giving the guests wine to drink. God reveals himself in concrete places to real sinners. All along the way, God reveals himself as Jesus going to the cross to give his body and to shed his blood. So even though you won’t read the words of institution in John’s Gospel, the book is dripping with the blood of Jesus given for you.
In many ways, we can sympathize with the master when the wedding runs out of wine. Our minds are filled with worries and cares. What do my friends really think about me? Am I going to get into the “good” college or get the “good” job? Am I going to disappoint my parents? These thoughts invade our heads like black sheep jumping through our brain as we try to fall asleep, or maybe like a wedding feast gone wrong. How do I know that Jesus’ death on the cross is for me? How do I know Jesus gives me his gifts? How do I know he reveals his glory to me? I don’t deserve his gifts, not after what I’ve done and not after what’s been done to me. I’ve tried to accept God’s gifts, but they don’t seem to change anything. I don’t feel like Jesus loves me. I don’t want Jesus to love me. These are real questions. Real struggles. Real things that faith fights against. You want to see a difference in your heart and in the things you do, but looking in those places will never satisfy your doubts. They aren’t the source of your new life and forgiveness.
Don’t be afraid; it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Little flock, when it comes to comfort, look no further than the words of the Lamb of God, “So Jesus said to them, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day’ (John 6:53-54). In Holy Communion, the foretaste of the wedding feast to come, the wine Jesus gives you to drink is his own very blood, given and shed for you for the forgiveness of your sins. Come to the Lord’s Table. Be forgiven in Jesus’ name. He has prepared this table for you. At this table, his blood will never run out for you. He will never stop giving it for you to drink. His blood covers you. His blood forgives you, strengthens you, and gives you hope. Taste and see that the Lord is good (Psalm 34:8). See the glory of Jesus revealed in his body and blood given for you to eat and drink. In the name + of Jesus. Amen.
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This week on HT-Radio, Pastor Borghardt and Sandra Ostapowich talk about Our Lord’s Ascension. He is at the right hand of God for us. In the Second half they talk Mother’s Day.
If you have questions or topics that you’d like discussed on HT-Radio, email them to radio@higherthings.org or send a text to 936-647-3235.
Rev. Michael Keith
“You don’t have to go to church to be a Christian.” I’ve heard a lot of people tell me this before. I’ve stopped arguing with them about it because I have realized it really comes down to another issue.
It depends on what you mean by going to church.
If by going to church you mean that you go there solely for you to give your praise and worship to God and tell Him how awesome He is (think of Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life – Oh, God you are so very big! We’re all very impressed down here!) – you’re probably right.
If by going to church you mean that you go there to learn some information about God or to get some advice and tips on how to live – you’re probably right.
You can do those sorts of things in other places and in other ways. You can tell God how awesome He is when you’re riding your bike or swinging a golf club or sitting on a beach. You can get all kinds of information about God and the bible from the TV, radio, and internet. You don’t need to go to church for that.
But that is not what going to church is about at all. It is not about you doing anything. It’s not just about downloading information into your brain or receiving tips and tricks on how to live your life. It is about Jesus doing something for you. It is about an actual encounter with Jesus – not just information about Jesus. It is about receiving the gifts Jesus has to give. When I learned that it turned everything that I thought I knew upside down. At the same time it made everything make sense.
Jesus said “I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” Jesus instituted His Church so that we might abide in Him and He in us. He does this through His Word and Sacraments. Your pastor is the delivery man. So you go to church not to do something for God or even to learn some data or facts – you go to church to be with Jesus and to receive His gifts. Your pastor delivers to you the gifts of Jesus through preaching, absolving, baptizing, and feeding you Holy Communion.
“Yeah – but isn’t Jesus everywhere? Can’t I be with Jesus wherever I am?” No, not really. Jesus has not promised to be everywhere with His gifts of forgiveness, life, and salvation. He has only promised to be present with His gifts in His holy Word, holy Baptism, holy Absolution, and holy Communion – and these are found only within His Church. People will at times object and say “That is putting God in a box!” Well, thankfully God has boxed Himself in a very specific place so I know where to find Him! Otherwise I wouldn’t know where to look and I wouldn’t know if I had ever found Him. Instead, He makes clear promises – you will find me in my Word and Sacraments in my Church.
So when people say “I can worship God on the golf course” that may be true – but Jesus is not on the golf course with His gifts. When people say “I can read the Bible and
You remain connected to Jesus, you abide in Jesus, when you receive His gifts that He gives through His Church. If you do not remain connected to Jesus you run the very real risk of becoming like a tree branch that gets cut off from a tree. It lays on the ground not receiving any nutrients from the trunk of the tree and eventually it starves to death. You stay connected to Jesus, He abides in you, when you continue to receive His gifts that He gives in Divine Service.
Going to church is about being cared for and loved by Jesus. It is about being forgiven by Jesus. It is about being strengthened in your faith by Jesus. It is about being put to death and being raised to new life by Jesus.
Going to church is nothing less than abiding in Jesus. So, let’s phrase the original question a little differently: “You don’t have to abide in Jesus to be a Christian.”
Agree or disagree?
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.
Higher Things® announces the Daily Reflections for Pentecost and the beginning of the Trinity Season (May 24th through July 4, 2015). You can download the Reflections as a printable booklet or in a variety of other formats here.
In Christ,
Rev. Mark Buetow
reflections@higherthings.org
Media Executive
Higher Things, Inc.
