Category: Catechesis

Rev. Eric Brown

Son of man, can these bones live? – Ezekiel 37:3

I know that Easter is supposed to be a time of great and utter joy. And it is. It’s just that when Easter comes, there can sometimes be a…let’s call it a lack of energy in the old Brown household–at least when it comes to me. After Lent and Holy Week, I’m beat. If I had my druthers, we’d name the week after Easter “Couch Week” and expect all pastors to just sit and binge watch Netflix shows or sports.

I’m only partially joking. Easter 2–Quasimodo Genti–the week after Easter is one of the most common weeks for pastors to take off. It’s weak week. It’s the week when I don’t want to do anything. And it’s a great week. In the old 1-year lectionary we get Ezekiel and the Dry Bones from Ezekiel 37:1-14. Ezekiel sees a valley full of skeletons, bleached white by the sun–the remains of a battle fought long ago. And God asks Ezekiel a simple question, “Son of man, can these bones live?”

According to all sense and reason, according to all normal expectations in the world, the answer should be no. This is beyond Bones McCoy on Star Trek saying, “He’s dead, Jim.” They are already just bones. No more skin, no more flesh. Gone. But Ezekiel doesn’t answer according to the normal expectations of the world. “O LORD God, You know.” Well God, I wouldn’t expect them to, but since You’re asking the question, there’s probably something that You know–something You plan that isn’t what the world would expect.

And God tells Ezekiel to prophesy to the bones, to speak the Word of God to them, and to declare to them that they shall live. And it’s a great narrative in Ezekiel 37: There’s zeal, there’s urgency. Go read it, but when you read it, read God’s lines in it with passion, with urgency. God’s doing something exciting here; He’s not bored with it. It’s making His day. Those bones rise.

And God promises resurrection, both now in life and also eternally. God promises to breathe life into people, to restore people, to open our graves and raise us. And the kicker: “I have spoken, and I will do it.”

It doesn’t matter if I’m weak. It doesn’t matter if I’m worn out and drained. It doesn’t even matter if I am not only dead tired but even if I am literally dead. God has spoken, and God will do it. You see, it doesn’t revolve around me and my energy; it doesn’t revolve around what you can bring to the table. God has spoken, and God does it.

The beauty of Easter isn’t just that someday God will do something cool. It isn’t just that someday things will be better. No–God is active, even when (especially when) I am weak and worn and can’t do a thing. He gives life, even when we are at our weakest and lowest and worst. Even the week after Easter. Even the week after the party, after the celebration, even the week when things are at their worst. Christ Jesus the Lord has spoken life to you. In fact, He’s washed you in it in your baptism, and fed you the Resurrection and the Life in His Supper. The world might see a weak, dried up mess; God knows what is up. He lives, and so do you. He has spoken; He will do it.

Rev. Eric Brown is pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in Herscher, Illinois.

Josh Radke

In the Marvel cinematic universe, Thor is a prince granted the unique vocation of “ruler of Asgard.” This authority is established outside of himself by Odin, his father, by way of the enchanted hammer, Mjolnir: “Whoever is worthy to wield the hammer, may rule Asgard.”

When Paul needed to legitimize his authority as an apostle, he did so based solely on an authority outside of himself: that he had seen and heard the resurrected Christ (I Corinthians 9:1). But the resurrection is not just an authoritative fact of history, or a mere doctrine in which we place our hope. Jesus’ bodily resurrection by God in actual history underwrites the whole Christian faith as the one true religion; it is a truth affirmed by tens of thousands of martyrs, both apostolic and laypeople.

When Paul needed to comfort the Corinthians regarding the severe burden of persecution for the sake of the Gospel, he did so by presenting God as their (and our) exclusive provider of true salvation, because He is the LORD of the resurrection: “Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.” (2 Corinthians 1:9) That bears repeating: Braced by the Holy Spirit, we remain steadfast in faith, because we have a God who raises the dead.

When Paul famously preached to the Greeks in Athens, the primary topic was the resurrection of Jesus and all Christians. St. Luke reports at the end of Acts 17, “And when they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked, while others said, ‘We will hear you again on this matter.'” It was the resurrection they wanted to hear more about–not just that of our LORD’s, but of the dead, as we confess in the Apostle’s Creed. St. Luke continues: “So Paul departed from among them. However, some men joined him and believed…” It was the teaching of the resurrection that the Holy Spirit used to convert these men. They heard about the resurrection of the body unto life everlasting and they could not get enough.

Neither should we. And I daresay that if we cannot get enough of this teaching, then there are tens of thousands outside our doors who cannot get enough of it either, and may well not get nearly enough as they should. St. Paul writes to the Romans (8:22-25), “For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. Not only that, but we also who have the first-fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body. For we were saved in this hope, but hope that is seen is not hope; for why does one still hope for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.”

The key to the Gospel preached by the Apostles was the resurrection; immortality, with glorified bodies, made for the new creation with the Triune God, was what kept the early Christians enduring and long-suffering in faith. It was what kept the lamps of their faith burning brightly, doing good works for their neighbors to the glory of our Father in heaven, despite the severe persecution, hard labor, and unjust martyrdom. The words of the Creed that the afflicted and martyred had on their lips–“the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting”–were the last words many of them spoke before being called from this world to their place at the throne of God–words of confident hope to themselves and their brothers and sisters suffering with them. They were also the last words heard by many of those executing or reveling in the injustices cast upon them–words that the Holy Spirit surely used to draw hearts to the Crucified One, according to accounts from that period.

In the Large Catechism, Luther wrote, “For consider, if there were somewhere a physician who understood the art of saving men from dying, or, even though they died, of restoring them speedily to life, so that they would thereafter live forever, how the world would pour in money like snow and rain, so that because of the throng of the rich no one could find access! But here in Baptism there is brought free to every one’s door such a treasure and medicine as utterly destroys death and preserves all men alive. Thus we must regard Baptism and make it profitable to ourselves, that when our sins and conscience oppress us, we strengthen ourselves and take comfort and say: Nevertheless, I am baptized; but if I am baptized, it is promised me that I shall be saved and have eternal life, both in soul and body.” (VI, 43-44)

Consider verses from some of our most beloved hymns:

Soar we now where Christ has led;
Following our exalted Head.
Made like Him, like Him we rise;
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies.
(LSB #469 “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”, v.5)

When from the dust of death I rise
To claim my mansion in the skies,
E’en then, this shall be all my plea:
Jesus hath lived and died for me.
(LSB #563 “Jesus, Thy Blood and Righteousness”, v. 5)

But, lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of Glory passes on His way.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
(LSB #677 “For All the Saints”, v. 7)

And here is one of our oldest–from between the 4th and 7th centuries:

Now no more can death appall,
Now no more the grave enthrall;
You have opened paradise,
And your saints in you shall rise.
Alleluia!
(LSB #633 “At the Lamb’s High Feast We Sing”, v. 6)

The ages of the church bear out: When all things are boiled down to their essence, it is the resurrection of our body, by God–with Christ Jesus as the first-fruits–upon which we place the sure hope of our faith. That is what it means to be ‘an Easter people’. That is the joy we take into our mouths in the Holy Communion of our LORD’s Body and Blood–the joy located and sealed for us in our Holy Baptism, because the resurrection of Jesus means God has accepted the ultimate sacrifice upon the altar of the cross. It means we will be resurrected unto the same eternal life, as was our LORD and divine Brother. Truly, truly, this is our witness; this is our joy.

Josh Radke is deacon at Hope Lutheran Church in Bangor, Maine, and is awaiting acceptance to Concordia Lutheran Theological Seminary–St. Catharine’s Ontario. He is also the author of the historical-fantasy novel, Stitched Crosses: Crusade.

Rev. Eli Davis

I don’t know how many times I’ve heard from people who have had loved ones who just died that they have nothing to be sad about because their loved ones are with Jesus. They claim that dying was really a good thing, because now they’re free from all their pain and suffering and shame. It’s as though the only thing really keeping us from being with Jesus is our physical existence–as though our bodies aren’t really who we are.

It’s an idea that changes the way we look at death. Death is no longer something that divides us from God, but unites us with Him. Death is no longer an enemy, but a friend. Death is no longer evil, but good. It’s an idea that also changes the way we look at our bodies. Our body is no longer all that important. What happens to it is not the same as it happening to me. So now I can either change it any way I want, or do nothing at all with it. It’s all the same in the end. This mindset affects so many in our world. Gender doesn’t matter. Sexuality doesn’t matter. Self-mutilation doesn’t matter. Abortion doesn’t matter. Suicide doesn’t matter. No one can say a thing. Because it’s all within the realm of “my body” which, in the end, doesn’t matter at all.

This idea isn’t new. It’s old. Ancient even. We can call it by its Greek name: gnosticism. The name comes from the Greek word gnosis, which means knowledge. Gnostics believed they had the secret knowledge to the way this world worked. To put it briefly, they believed that all physical matter was the result of a spiritual mistake and that eventually everything in the physical world would be destroyed and only the spiritual would remain. Those who knew that they were spiritual would have their spiritual self live on forever, while those who lived as though their physical body were their real self would be lost forever. Gnostics eventually saw that some parts of Christianity appeared to line up with this view–at least, if you discarded the parts that didn’t. That picking and choosing still goes on today.

However, this idea that the body isn’t really worth anything is the opposite of what God says about it. God created humanity physically and called it very good (Genesis 1:31). God gives us His Law to protect both our bodies and the bodies of our neighbors (Exodus 20:1ff). He thinks enough of our bodies to take on that flesh Himself (John 1:14, Romans 1:3). And our great hope is not that our spirits alone remain with Jesus, for even those who are there groan, “How long, O Lord?” (Revelation 6:10) Our great hope is in the resurrection–the same resurrection we celebrate on Easter; the same resurrection we are baptized into; the same resurrection that comes on the last day. It is then when our bodies and souls are put back together again and where we are made alive again. Your resurrection is what Jesus died for, which means your body matters to Christ.

You matter, both body and soul. Together, these things make you one. And to take them apart is death. You matter, in the flesh. You matter enough that Jesus gave up everything to pull you out of the grave. Your body is you, and it is a gift from God. Therefore, gender matters. Sexuality matters. Self-harm matters. Abortion matters. Suicide matters. Death matters. And these all matter enough for Christ to have done something about them all. By being born in Bethlehem for you. By dying on that cross for you. By rising from that grave on the third day for you–not just spiritually, but physically, in the flesh, all for you.

Jesus Christ cares for you, both body and soul. He cares enough to overcome sin and death, so that you may live and have your body and soul back together again. There’s a prayer we pray at funerals–a prayer no Gnostic would ever pray–but it’s important for us to hear. May God the Father who created your body, may God the Son who by His blood redeemed your body, may God the Holy Spirit, who by holy baptism sanctified your body to be His temple keep you to the day of the resurrection of all flesh. Amen.

Pastor Eli Davis serves at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Grants Pass, Oregon.

J. L. Moseman

At the beginning of J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic fantasy epic The Lord of the Rings we see the Shire in an uproar over the disappearance of Bilbo Baggins. This, of course, is for a good reason. Baggins does do something quite bold: He uses he One Ring to vanish in front of all his guests at his birthday party. This is why the first chapter of the book is called “An Unexpected Party.” It would be quite a feat to see someone do that and I think this is why it there was so much uproar in first century Jerusalem. The body of Jesus had disappeared and people wanted to know why. After all, this was a person who became famous doing miracles and for those paying attention He was also making bold claims. As fantastic as it would be to see someone disappear we can only imagine how much greater it would be to see someone reappear. Imagine the amazement the first witnesses of Jesus’s resurrection: the women at the tomb. As a child I often wondered what my reaction would have been if I had been there. I thought about how incredible it would have been to see the risen Christ on Easter. What I did not know then, was that one day I would. In fact, ever since my first communion twenty years ago I have been coming to the risen Christ and every time it has been on Easter.

Every Sunday when we partake in the Body and Blood of Christ we are celebrating Easter. We know this because as Lutherans we believe in the Real Presence. That means we do encounter the risen Jesus. It’s not just that we actually take and eat the risen Jesus. The Lord’s Supper is a celebration of Easter–a feast given to us for the remission of our sins. So in other words, it is a party where all the saints gather and for a brief minute we encounter heaven. We get to be renewed by the Holy Spirit and we get something unexpected and undeserved: We get salvation through Christ. How do we know this? A good answer for this question is found in Luke 22, in the Words of Institution. We also see it in the Gospel of John when Jesus tells us that He is “The Bread of Life”. Yet we all so often forget this or worse we start trying to reason this amazing gift away. The Lord’s Supper is an unexpected party because reason would tell us that a dead man from 2,000 years ago can’t be found in bread and wine. Perhaps this is what G.K. Chesterton meant when he wrote in his book What’s Wrong with the World, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.”

It is indeed difficult to reason such things, but the empty tomb and the risen Christ are more than mere symbol or allegory. The resurrection was a real historical event that impacts us. It is the cornerstone of our faith and it is perhaps a reason to why people struggle with their faith especially in the college years. It is an unexpected climax to an unexpected story. It is though, more than a story–it is the truth. God Incarnate came down and died for our sins. That is something remarkable and unexpected. It is also unexpected that Christ the King would come to serve us rather than being served. This though is all true and while we might struggle in understanding how all the mysteries of God work, that knowledge only comes through the Holy Spirit.

But there are doubters when it comes to the Easter party. The first doubter says that there was no real bodily resurrection. The other doubter says that Easter is really not happening in the Lord’s Supper. On one side we have amazing miracles and events that seem like they might come from a Tolkien book. The secular skeptic says that the resurrection did not occur despite what we know of that event. In some ways this easier to combat. The other side is not as overt and harder to detect; it is often said often by well-intentioned Christians. At times it might seem that we cling to a very controversial doctrine as Lutherans–that Jesus gives Himself to us and we do nothing to receive Him. Some of our Christian brothers and sisters might ask us questions like, “Does Christ really forgive us in the sacraments?” or “Are we really unable to merit life and salvation from God apart from the free gift of grace?” These questions can do as much damage to the faith as those of the secular skeptic. However, it is important that we never fail to uphold both of these doctrines: the resurrection of Christ and His Body and Blood given to us for the forgiveness of sin. Thankfully, along with that unexpected gift of salvation, there is also the gift of faith which we receive in our Easter feast. So take heart my brothers and sisters, especially those of you who are struggling. Christ has risen and He did it for you.

J.L. Moseman lives in Grand Junction, Colorado and is a member of Messiah Lutheran Church and School.

Rev. Eric Brown

On the first day of the week, when we were gathered together to break bread… – Acts 20:7

From the early days of the church we’ve worshiped on Sunday morning. Please note that I’m not saying that you can’t go to a Saturday night service or anything like that – but very early on in church history the standard became to gather together on Sunday morning and celebrate the Lord’s Supper. There’s a very good and simple reason for this.

You see, there’s a new most important event in the history of the world. In the days of the Old Testament, the people of God were called to ponder the Sabbath, the day of rest that God Himself took in creation. That day that even pointed forward to the rest Christ would take in the tomb on Holy Saturday. And that is a mighty, wondrous thing to ponder. That was an important day!

Easter trumps it, though. Seriously…the resurrection tops everything. There is nothing in the world that is bigger or more amazing or astonishing than the reality that Christ Jesus rose from the dead. It stops everything else in its tracks. It is the jaw-dropping moment of the entire history of the world. God became Man, was dead, but then, He rose. And until the Last Day, there’s nothing bigger or more wondrous than that!

And so, when we pause now from our busy lives (as is good) to hear the Word of God, to receive His Supper, we generally have done it on Sunday morning, mirroring and echoing that great Sunday morning of the first Easter.

And I say first, because in reality, every Sunday (and every Saturday night or Monday night, or Wednesday noon, or whatever time your congregation might hold the Divine Service) is in reality a celebration of Easter. Every time we are gathered to worship, we are gathered to receive the forgiveness that our risen Lord and Savior gives us. It’s never worship without or apart from Easter. We never show up wondering, “Hmmm, I wonder if there will be forgiveness today. What if Jesus lost and Satan won–maybe we’ll hear that today.” By no means! Whenever we are called to gather together in His House, Jesus proclaims the fruits of His death and resurrection for us. Indeed, as often as we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim His death until He comes, until He comes again, because He is risen, lives and reigns to all eternity, and shall come again! Come quickly, Lord Jesus!

Eric Brown serves as pastor at Trinity Lutheran Church, Herscher, Illinois.

Rev. Jacob Ehrhard

He descended into hell. You say it every time you say the Creed. But what do you mean when you say it? Jesus descended into hell. It’s not part of any of the Gospel narratives. Where did it come from? A couple of obscure passages are our only clue. As an aside to his proclamations of Jesus’ ascension in to heaven, St. Paul writes, “In saying, ‘He ascended,’ what does it mean but that he had also descended into the lower regions, the earth? He who descended is the one who also ascended far above all the heavens, that he might fill all things” (Ephesians 4:9-10).

St. Peter also makes an obscure reference in his first epistle: “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh but made alive in the spirit, in which he went and proclaimed to the spirits in prison, because they formerly did not obey, when God’s patience waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was being prepared, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were brought safely through water” (1 Peter 3:18).

Neither of these are particularly helpful; they’re dark, obscure passages. Most of the questions we want to ask about this little sentence, He descended into hell, are simply not answered by the Bible. How did He do it? When did it happen? How could He if His body was in a grave? What happened when He was there? The Scriptures are silent.

This article, like the preceding article, cannot be grasped by the senses or by our reason. It must be grasped through faith alone. Therefore, it is our unanimous opinion that there should be no dispute over it. It should be believed and taught only in the simplest way (Formula of Concord, Epitome, IX.2).

As an example of such simple teaching the authors of the Formula point to Luther’s Easter sermon from 1533, which teaches that Christ’s descent into hell is an article of faith. Reason cannot grasp it. God has only seen fit to reveal that Christ has descended, not for punishment or for additional suffering, but in victory. His descent is the beginning of His exaltation.

And what’s more, God reveals the purpose of His descent: to proclaim. Jesus descends into hell to preach the first Easter sermon. Luther says to believe it like the old pictures portray it: Christ as a mighty conqueror, holding a banner, with death and Satan under His feet (1 Corinthians 15:25-28). By His death, He has destroyed the power of death, and by His resurrection, He has opened for us the way of everlasting life. His descent means our resurrection.

So think on this and say it out loud whenever you say the creed — as if you yourself are beating down Satan under your feet with these words — He descended into hell. Because in Baptism you are joined with Christ’s death and His resurrection and made part of His body, which means that His foot that holds down Satan is also your foot and His victory over death is your victory over death.

Satan, hear this proclamation: I am baptized into Christ!
Drop your ugly accusation, I am not so soon enticed.
Now that to the font I’ve traveled, All your might has come unraveled.
And, against your tyranny, God, my Lord, unites with me!
-Lutheran Service Book 594, stanza 3

Rev. Jacob Ehrhard is pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in New Haven, Missouri. He can be contacted at pastor.ehrhard@gmail.com.

Rev. Eric Brown

“It is finished,” and He bowed His head and gave up His Spirit. — John 19:30

“It is finished.” These are some of the most profound words in the entirety of Scripture. They are also some of the most difficult to believe. They are the words our sinful flesh hates above all others. The cry of the sinful flesh is, “Finished? It’s not finished until I say it is finished!” My grudge against my neighbor: How dare You say it is finished!

My pet sins that I happen to enjoy: How dare You say it is finished!
The disdain I have for “those” people: How dare You say it is finished!
The guilt I that want to cling to: How dare You say it is finished!
My feeling sorry for myself: How dare You say it is finished!
The pride I feel in my “good” works: How dare You say it is finished!
My holier–than–thou attitude: How dare You say it is finished!
My quest to prove how great I am: How dare You say it is finished!

Yes, at the Cross, Jesus said it is finished. Even all of the silly, vain things we cling to as sinners. All our wickedness–whether it’s the blatant evil we do, or the junk we cover up with a veneer of false righteousness — Jesus says that’s all done. Finished. It just died; it died with Me. I took all of that junk up from you and crucified it with Me. It’s not yours anymore–it’s Mine, and I say unto you, it is finished.

Of course, Jesus wasn’t just finishing off sin. Yeah, He took away your sin, even your sins in which you trusted and delighted. But He was also finishing off a lot of other stuff.

Satan and his kingdom: It is finished.
Death and its powers: It is finished.
Your separation from God: It is finished.
Everything required for your salvation: It is finished.
Everything needed for forgiveness: It is finished.
Everything needed for life: It is finished.
Anything that you might have needed to do yourself: It is finished.

All of it. All done, all accomplished by Christ Jesus upon the Cross. And do you know what remains? John, told us part, and he tells us a few verses later: “But one of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water.” When Jesus dies, when He declares, “It is finished” — all that remains is Spirit, blood, and water. The Spirit of Jesus remains, and that Holy Spirit takes the Word and declares to you that Jesus has done it all for you. It is finished for you. The Body and Blood of Jesus are given to you under bread and wine, and all the benefits of that “It is finished” is given to you. And if you should ever doubt or wonder if it actually is finished for you, remember that the water that poured from His side has been poured upon your head in Holy Baptism, and no doubt or fear can change that fact. It is finished for you. Your sins have been washed away by Christ, and all that remains is the love and righteousness and life that He gives to you.

Eric Brown serves as pastor at Trinity Lutheran Church, Herscher, Illinois.

Jonathan Kohlmeier

Maundy Thursday is a very Lutheran day; it’s all about the gifts of Christ given to you through Word and Sacrament. In the Old Testament lesson (Exodus 12), we hear of the Passover of the Israelites in Egypt. “Now the blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you are. And when I see the blood, I will pass over you; and the plague shall not be on you to destroy you when I strike the Land of Egypt” (12:13). In the Epistle (1 Cor. 11), we receive the Words of Institution as delivered by Paul. We get to the “Maundy” (from “mandate,” “command”) of Maundy Thursday in the Gospel lesson (John 13). After Christ washes the disciples’ feet, He gives them the “new command” to love one another.

The blood on the doorposts in Egypt marked the houses that God would spare from the plague. The body and blood of Christ is given and shed for you on the cross that you would be spared from the wrath of God. You are given a different kind of sign. The sign of the holy cross on your forehead and on your heart that marks you as one redeemed by Christ the crucified.

The very body and blood of Christ – given and shed for you on the cross – is delivered to you in the Sacrament of the Altar. The words of Christ show that the body and blood are truly given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins. In Luther’s Small Catechism, “given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins” becomes the refrain of the sixth chief part. These words of Christ mean that there can be no doubt that these gracious gifts of forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation are given to you.

At the Feast of the Passover Jesus washes his disciples’ feet. Peter reacts in a way that many of us also would, by protesting Jesus doing the work of a servant. When Jesus tells him that Peter has no part with Him unless He washes him, Peter’s mood changes quickly and he wants his head and hands washed. Peter had already been washed as you have been washed in Baptism. We are dipped back into that water as we are daily drown in Baptism and as we receive absolution.

Later on in John 13, the Lord gives the New Command to disciples — that they love one another. Love flows from Jesus. It is given to you in Word and Sacrament. You love your neighbor in Baptism. Daily the Old Adam is drowned with all sins and evil desires and a new man arises. A new man that can’t help but love his neighbor. Love extends from Baptism as you absolve your neighbor and forgive him when they sin against you. As we pray multiple times a day in the Lord’s Prayer, “And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” we are reminded that we are constantly in need of forgiveness for our sin. In His mercy, Christ takes the punishment for the sin upon Himself and in His grace grants us forgiveness. We too can then forgive our neighbor and do good to them.

Maundy Thursday is all about the gracious gifts of God given to you in Word and Sacrament. Outside of the word, outside of Baptism and absolution, outside of the Sacrament of the Altar that grace won for you on the cross is never delivered to you. That is where the Lord has promised to be for you. And that’s where you find Him on Maundy Thursday — the same place that He is the rest of the Church year. The gracious gifts of God are delivered to you in the read and proclaimed Word. Forgiveness of sins is found in the water and Word at the font. As the sixth chief part’s refrain says, the body and blood of Christ, under the bread and the wine, is “given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” And where there is forgiveness of sins there also is life and salvation.

Jonathan Kohlmeier is a member at St. Paul’s Lutheran Chapel and University Center in Iowa City, Iowa. He is also Webmaster for Higher Things. You can email him at jonkohlmeier@higherthings.org.

Rev. Eric Brown

[Jesus] is the propitiation for our sins, and not ours only but also for the sins of the whole world – 1 John 2:2

Insofar as we are still sinful human beings living in our flesh, we have a love/hate relationship with sin. On the one hand, we can love the tar out of our own pet sins. On the other, man, we hate it and get indignant when someone sins against us. We will rant and rave, complain, hate, gossip, tear down over the slightest little thing–drama at the drop of a hat as soon as someone displeases us.

And this love/hate relationship we have with sin spills out in a strange way for us as Christians. See, we hear the Good News that Christ Jesus has died for our sins, and then we deal with that. You have all that wonderful Law-Gospel dynamic, where we see that even the sins that we love are bad (and that annoys us), but then there is that even greater good news that we are forgiven by Christ. That lousy love of sin has a much better, bigger love put in its place: Christ’s love.

But here’s the kicker. For us Christians, there can sometimes be a tendency to forget or overlook (or even be downright mad about) the fact that Christ’s love and forgiveness trumps the sins that we hate–the sins that other people do. The sins they do to us. Jesus died for that person who is a jerk to you. Really.

And in the moment, we can get really absolutely indignant. But let’s pause for a second. It’s good that Jesus died for that jerk. You know why? Because often enough, you are someone else’s jerk, and Jesus still died for you.

This is the great thing. Jesus died for all sins. Everyone’s sin. That means all my sin. It means everything that my neighbor has done to me, Jesus has died for, too. And thus I see their sin differently. Yeah, it hurts. So what? Jesus died for it. That person is mean. So what? Jesus died for them.

And seeing that, we get to do something awesome and earth shattering. We proclaim that Jesus died for them, and that they are forgiven. And that is literally earth shattering–Jesus died and there were earthquakes and saints raised from the dead and other wild stuff. Because even as strong as those sins are, even as big of jerk as that person is (or you are sometimes), it can’t stop the bigger and more awesome truth that Christ Jesus, God Almighty Himself, died for the sins of the world.

Don’t let someone’s sin lead you into a giant drama ball. Christ freed you from that. Christ died for you and for them, and so you are free to simply point to Christ, in all times and in all places and for all people. Yes, and that means even for the folks who are almost as big of sinners as you are, because the saying is faithful, Christ died for sinners, of whom I am the chief (1 Timothy 1:15). And if Christ died for me, He certainly died for this fellow who’s been a jerk to me lately, and that is nothing less than awesome.

Rev. Eric Brown is pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in Herscher, Illinois.

Paul Norris

Even though the Lent season is well upon us, we may mark it in several ways. Some of us may have marked the start of Lent with Ash Wednesday and the imposition of ashes on our foreheads. Some might have “given up” something for lent, or some might have decided to more earnestly devote themselves to reading of the scriptures. I, for one, have never been too good at either of those things. One year I tried to give up favorite indulgence: Golden Oreo Double stuff cookies. I was mostly successful, but several weeks into Lent, I slipped up. I unconsciously grabbed some cookies and started to eat one. I realized what I had done about one chew into the first cookie. I put the rest back into the package and spit out the one in my mouth into the trash.

I felt terrible for the rest of the day that I had not been able to keep my promise to God and go without a cookie. Sure I could try to blame it on my wife for buying the cookies and leaving them out, or some other rationalization. But that is not really being honest. The fact is, I stink at keeping my promises to God. I was so disturbed by my inability to keep this one thing–not eating Oreos during Lent–that I spoke to my pastor about it. My gracious pastor was quick to point out that despite our shortcomings and inabilities to keep promises, God never breaks His promise to us. It may seem weird to be disturbed by eating an Oreo, but thank God my pastor was there to comfort me with the Gospel. I may be off the mark a little but this is what I have learned about my life because of Lent; I cannot keep my promises to God, but He always keeps His promise to me by sending His Son, Jesus, to die on the cross for us! Dr. Luther once said, “The Law is for the proud and the Gospel for the brokenhearted.” I was brokenhearted because of my failure, but the Gospel gave me such comfort.

For me, and maybe for you, Lent is a church season which I honestly don’t like that much. Your church may start with Ash Wednesday. For all intents and purposes, it is like any other Divine Service that includes confession and absolution, chanting the Psalms. But then the Alleluias are missing. As the weeks of Lent go on more and more stuff goes missing from the services. The chanting stops and the words are only spoken. Finally, on Good Friday during the Tenebrae service, it is about all I can take. There are no paraments at all in the sanctuary or on the altar, the crucifix is covered up, no chanting, no closing hymn, not even a soft organ postlude to lead us out. I don’t know about you but I hate that everything I love about the Divine Service is gone. It nearly leaves me in tears. I feel very distant from God and Christ on Good Friday. I long for Christ to be back. According to my pastor this is exactly what it is supposed to make me feel like. My mind goes to the suffering that Christ endured for us in His death on the cross. I feel ashamed that I have caused my Savior this pain and anguish. “Only three days and then Easter,” I tell myself. “There is hope; Easter is coming…”

It is a long three days, three days that I think and meditate on the suffering of our Savior. When Easter morning does arrive, the Divine Service is everything I need to lift me out of the Lenten funk. We chant the Psalms, we sing “This is the Feast”, and during the Sanctus the organist even rings the zimbelstern which I haven’t heard in weeks! Christ is risen! He is alive! My heart is filled with thanksgiving to God for sending His Son Jesus for us. I don’t deserve it and I have not kept any promises to God, but He still kept His, and sent His Son to earth for us. What amazing love the Our Father in heaven has for us wrenched, sinful, deceitful, despicable people. Despite all our sins and doubt God kept His Lenten promise!

And that, to me, is the purpose of this Lenten season: to demonstrate to us that even though we might try to be holy or sanctified, we cannot be holy or sanctified without Christ. It is Christ alone who paid the debt for our sin on the cross, and it is Christ alone who triumphed over death on Easter morning. In Genesis 3:15 God made a promise to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden that He would send a savior to crush the serpent’s head. “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.”

God has kept His promise and sent us Jesus, and He has paid the debt of our sin on the cross and triumphed over sin, death and the devil forever. Thanks be to God for Jesus!

Paul Norris worked for 10 years as a police officer in the Dallas/Ft. Worth metroplex. He now works as the administrative assistant at Faith Lutheran Church in Plano, Texas.