Rev. Brandt Hoffman
While walking home one day, a man witnessed a terrible car crash. Without thought, he dialed 911 and ran to the wreckage. There were injured persons in both vehicles. Amidst smoke, glass, and twisted metal, he managed to free the drivers and pull them to safety before one of the cars caught fire. It was a horrible sight to see. A burning wreckage and a trail of blood that stopped at two bodies. Two people lying unconscious on the side of the road.
When the paramedics arrived they took one look at the scene and said to the man, “We need to take care of this guy first!” The man, taken aback, said “Don’t worry about me, take care of those two. I think one or both of them is bleeding.” The paramedic said, “Sir, you need to sit down so we can take care of your injury.”
He looked down then and noticed that the trail of blood wasn’t from the accident victims. It was his own blood. While he rescued the people from the wreckage, he’d drug his arm across a jagged piece of metal. It had drawn a six-inch gash along his forearm, ending at his wrist. The injury, even he could see, could end his life. The paramedic didn’t talk anymore. He treated him. He saved the man’s life.
But what does this story have to do with anything of import for you, the reader? Well, as we are now in the season Lent–a season of repentance, of turning away from chasing that which is not God, to God–there are a couple of points in this story that may serve as a helpful example for you. As your pastor preaches, God will undoubtedly give him His Word of Law to preach to you. It is this Word of Law that says: “That blood there on the ground isn’t someone else’s. It’s your blood. Death is sniffing round for you. It’s got your scent. It’s on your trail.” Then God will give your pastor another Word. Like the paramedic, your pastor will no longer point out the nearness of death. Instead, God will give him the promise, the good news that heals your sin-riddled body–the sweet, wonderful, life-saving Word of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Speaking God’s wonderful Word of Gospel has always been the primary mission of Higher Things, too. It is founded on the life-saving good news of Jesus Christ. For all those souls who have learned of the mortal wound of deathly sin, Higher Things is here to be a salve: preachers who point us all to the hope we have received in Jesus Christ because we are all in desperate need of His life-saving grace. To this end, everyone is invited to take advantage of the many Higher Things® resources, to help you better understand this important Church season.
We pray that this Season of Lent is one that not only alerts you to the deathly reality of sin, but ultimately to the good news of Jesus Christ for you, which God gives to you as free gift in His Word and Sacraments.
Rev. Brandt Hoffman is the Pastor and principal at Christ Lutheran Church and School in Coos Bay, Oregon.
When I first joined the Lutheran Church, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the Church calendar and all of its holy days and seasons. As with most evangelicals, I was accustomed to an abridged calendar where Christmas and Easter were celebrated and that’s about it. What was particularly perplexing to me was the season we now enter: Lent, a period of penitential reflection. Those words would bring me back to my evangelical days where the entire focus of the Christian life was on reflection and doing. Church teaching was geared towards making me read more of God’s Word, meditate more, pray more, be more mission minded, join the worship band, get involved in small groups, serve more, fast more…
“Ughhhhh…more church?” I recall the exact moment those whining words left my mouth one Ash Wednesday afternoon in high school. My parents had just told me that we were going to worship that night. I was a bit selfish in those days (now, I just hide it better) and in my mind I lamented over a list of things that, to me, were more important. “I’m so busy with basketball, I have to get ready for track season, homework is piling up, and I just want to get outside and hang out with friends! Now you want me to take an hour of my precious time and go to church?”
The church year has cycled through once more, and the season of Lent–a season of repentance–is here again. But what does that even mean? Well, it can mean that we say to ourselves, “I need to give something up–something BIG. I’ll remind people of what I’m giving up, because it’s a big deal and I’m doing such a good job. I’m being so faithful and strong! I’ll compare myself to people who don’t make as big of a sacrifice as I do, or to those who don’t even make a sacrifice at all. They’re so sinful! But I’m not. I’m doing it right; they’re doing it wrong. They sure aren’t as good at Lent as I am.”
I love food. A lot. I love trying different kinds of food. I like trying foods that I have never had before. I love going back and eating the old tried and true favorites. Food is a big part of my life. In fact, the grade eight kids that I teach a class in Christian Studies to each morning at our school have said that I talk about food a lot in class. Apparently many of my illustrations end up talking about food. I wasn’t aware that I do that, but they have noticed a pattern. I guess it is subconscious! I like food.
“Things happen for a reason.” Such ambiguity never actually offers comfort to a person. What this well-meaning platitude does end up doing is cause the hearer to interject their own reason as to why this thing happened to him. It is a horrible form of self-medication. And the worse the situation, the less meaningful this phrase actually is, and the more insulting it truly is. But, we can’t just stand there in the midst of tragedy and say nothing. We want to fix what is broken. But sometimes it’s not possible. You can’t fix a crack in the heart with a hammer.
Those images are still etched in my head-the picture of Christ, His eyes sunken with the weight of what is yet to come, His head pierced with thorns encircling his brow, and His own bride behind Him. Her arms are crossed and her head is down. She is clothed in a white garment that covers her and makes her beautiful-the kind of beauty that is not found within this world and the kind of beauty that is holy and pure because of Christ. And there’s another picture: the bride, with her arms still crossed and her eyes gazing at her Husband, slain and wounded on the cross, His body hanging in suspension and coming down to meet her, looking at her with eyes filled with love and mercy.
“You are the same species as God.” That’s what a visiting presenter said about a month ago at Immanuel Lutheran Church of Pensacola, Florida. As I sat there, I’d like to say that you could hear a pin drop, but that wasn’t the case. What I saw instead were people who had their systems shocked. They weren’t angry or appalled. The audience didn’t disagree. It was just that the gears got jolted. We all paused. We all pondered. We all thought, “Yep. Can’t argue with that.” Of course, context is everything.
I love Alvin and the Chipmunks as much as the next guy. But hearing “Christmas time is near” makes me think of the endless to-do lists and stress that often mark this season. Real Christmas music doesn’t direct us to holiday-themed, liturgically colored overfunctioning. It replaces “Do this!” with “It is finished!” Take a quick journey down a road of comfort and joy…
“Are we wearing angel costumes tonight, Miss Bethany?” asked one of my Sunday School choir students right before the Christmas program. As much as my heart sank to tell her, “No, will not have costumes to wear,” I continued to beam with joy in the anticipation of the children’s voices during the Christmas program that afternoon. All around me the “Shepherds’ Christmas stage” was set. Parents, grandparents, friends, and neighbors flocked in like shepherds, familiar with the toils and struggles of this life. As good parents, of course, they wanted to hear their children. But as sinners, they were ready to hear the Gospel, which was proclaimed on this night from the “mouths of children…a stronghold against [God’s] enemies,” the true good news of salvation through Jesus Christ. These “shepherds” sat in the pews with nothing but empty hands, ready to hear, ready to receive.