Category: Life Issues

Rev. Joel Fritsche

Six months into the foreign mission field in the Dominican Republic, my wife and I just finished our initial phase of intensive Spanish courses. Everything that was so new six months ago has begun to settle into the familiar category. New country. New city. New culture. New language. New way of driving. And as wild as the driving is here, we’re even starting to be at home in the newness of that.

What has put my family and me at home in the newness most of all is the liturgy of the Divine Service. Six months in, language classes complete, four to five hours a day of study, can I speak Spanish with the best of them? Not quite yet, especially with regard to Dominican Spanish. But in many respects, the liturgy has been and continues to be an incredible tutor. While everything around us is new and different, despite even the different language, we are at home in the timeless words we’ve sung, prayed and confessed again and again.

Whether it’s speaking the Confession and Absolution, praying the Creed or the Lord’s Prayer, singing the Kyrie or the Nunc Dimittis, we are at home, resting in the same promise of salvation by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. Even my three sons quickly adjusted from “Lord, have mercy” to “Señor, ten piedad, or “O Christ, Thou Lamb of God, that takest away the sin of the world” to “Cordero de Dios, que quitas del mundo el pecado.” No matter the language spoken or sung, the language of faith is the same; the confession of our Lord Jesus is the same. We can all conclude that our eyes have seen God’s salvation.

The liturgy also speaks for me when I just don’t have the Spanish words on the tip of my tongue. Whether I’m visiting someone in their home, comforting a sick church member, or talking to the homeless guy who comes to our gate each day, the Lord’s words of comfort and hope give me plenty to speak. These words are filled not just with the humility of a sinner confessing, they’re filled with Jesus Himself, the reality of suffering and the cross, the certainty of sin forgiven, the hope of a God who is near in Word and Sacrament. That’s evangelism at its best!

It’s good to be home. The liturgy offers you a home filled with Jesus crucified and risen for you, wherever you are in the world. I have the privilege to share that here in a new country with new Christians. We speak a different language, yet the same language, for we are one body in Christ, confessing Padre, Hijo y Espíritu Santo, un solo Dios por los siglos de los siglos. Amen! Yes indeed, it’s good to be home!

Rev. Joel Fritsche serves as a missionary to the Dominican Republic. He is also Secretary of the Higher Things® Board of Directors. You can find out more about the Fritsches and what they’re doing in the Dominican Republic at http://www.lcms.org/fritsche.

Previous Articles in this series:

• Hurt: Cutting through the Platitudes and the Lies
• Hurt, Part 2: God Speaks Peace to Broken People
• Hurt Part 3: Help Comes From the Outside

Or, God’s Not Stuck in Heaven

Rev. Harrison Goodman

Platitudes don’t help people. We only say them because they’re inoffensive. We don’t think they’ll make things worse. If someone’s already hurting, though, not making things worse doesn’t help. Things are already bad. If someone is on fire, refusing to pour gasoline on them doesn’t actually put out the fire that’s already there. Platitudes never help. Sometimes the church accidentally mutters platitudes, too.

One of the worst of those is “God is in heaven and you’ll see Him there when you die.” In other words, you won’t see Him until you die. The best you can hope for is that He’ll drop down a favor from on high now and then. Maybe answer a prayer. Maybe just send you a fuzzy feeling. Maybe not. Sometimes we get sick and die. Sometimes we’re depressed and hurting and just can’t seem to find anything that makes us feel good anymore.

Teaching that God is in heaven and you’ll only really see Him when you get there means that you’re basically on your own. It means you don’t think Jesus is really here. It means that at best, your church will be about Jesus. That’s not good enough. Telling a starving man about a cheeseburger doesn’t do him any good. It’s just cruel. Telling broken sinners there’s a God who loves them and helps them and heals them…but He’s in heaven right now is a false peace. At best, a church that’s just about Jesus spins it’s wheels and goes nowhere. At best, it’s a group of orphans who sit around and tell each other how great it will be to have a parent someday. There’s help later. Not now. If that’s the case, there’s no help for you here, so the only thing we can hope for is to hurry up and die. That’s a very, very bad thing to tell depressed people.

God is not stuck in heaven. When He saw us hurting, He didn’t stay in heaven and drop down parachutes full of “good news.” He loved us. He took on the same hurt, the same broken human flesh. He became incarnate. God joined His people in their suffering to bear that grief and pain and sin Himself on a cross. God died on a cross for you, for your hurt, your sin. He died your death. When God saw hurt, He dove headfirst into the worst of it to save you from it.

That’s our hope. Jesus died and rose for us so we can be saved from death. But ever since He ascended into heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father, we act like He’s stuck up there until the last day. We’re on our own until then. No, God is not stuck in heaven. We don’t have a Jesus who will be present with us someday. We have a Jesus who makes Himself present with us here and now.

Church is not about Jesus. Church is Jesus. We don’t gather every Sunday to talk about a cheeseburger. We gather to eat. We don’t talk about how great it will be to finally be with God. We commune. We kneel before a Jesus who is truly and physically present for us. We don’t just think about Jesus. We eat. This is His Body and Blood, given for you for the forgiveness of your sins. God isn’t stuck in heaven. We eat and drink the very same Body and Blood that died on a cross for you. Jesus is present in church in a meaningful way that helps us when we show up lost and heals us when we show up broken.

When you are hurting, when you feel hemmed in and torn to the ground, when you feel like there isn’t one stone left upon another inside you, please don’t think God is far away from you. He’s not. He is present in His sacrament, and more than that, He is present there for you. We take all of our sin and hurt to the altar and rejoice in a God who makes Himself present at our weakest and lowest moments to bear our pain and grief and sin, and forgive us – every single week.

Pastor Harrison Goodman serves St. Paul Lutheran Church in Winside, Nebraska and St. Paul Lutheran Church in Carroll, Nebraska. He can be reached at hgoodman01@gmail.com.

Claire Houser

The first few weeks of school have come and gone and the pre-semester excitement has gone with it. As I contemplate the papers and readings I’ve already started to dread, I find myself wondering why I was so excited to get back to school. I appreciate the routine schedule and the daily structure. I love to expand my intellect and study subjects I’m passionate. I believe, however, that what every student looks forward to is seeing friends again.

I had been excited to see my roommates, my friends, the professors, and all the familiar faces at my university. There was only one problem. After a summer packed with Lutheran theology, (e.g., touring Fort Wayne Seminary, attending the Concordia Deaconess Conference, being a CCV at Higher Things), I had to go back to a big city school where diversity and progressivism are regularly shoved in my face. Even my closest college friends and my roommates don’t always share my worldview. I am in an environment where I often feel pressured to be politically correct. Going back to school can be a struggle. I sometimes wonder how confessional Lutheran students are to survive in a world that hates Christ.

While our parents and grandparents are typically shamed for their beliefs on abortion and marriage, they are also dismissed as being “old fashioned” or “out of touch.” As teens and young adults, believing that a baby in the womb is a human who has the right to life is offensive and absurd to the world. If you believe that marriage is between a man and a woman, you clearly have been brainwashed by a judgmental religion. We are simply expected to know better.

So, how are we students to survive this ever-changing world that only continues to hate us? The most important thing is to go to church where you can continue to have your faith nurtured. Attend a confessional Lutheran church that preaches the Word of God in its truth and purity, and that rightly administers the Sacraments! Bible study is also a great tool. Be able to defend your faith, backing it up with what the Scripture says. Also, surround yourself with like-minded people, such as the other people your age at church. This can be difficult, but it can be done. Living in a sinful world can be a lot easier when you have a friend to remind you of the life and salvation you have in Christ’s death and resurrection.

And finally, continue to be a good student. That, after all, is a wonderful, God-given vocation. Don’t pick a fight with everyone who disagrees with God’s Word. If someone asks why you believe what you believe, explain everything in the kindest way. Being a student is a difficult job. While we do not know what future God has in store for us, we do know is that we are baptized children of God. He has called us and we know His voice because we are His. By faith we can show Christ’s love when we serve our neighbors, and by God’s grace He will give us the words to proclaim our faith.

Claire Houser is studying Political Science at Concordia University in St. Paul, Minnesota. She serves in the Army National Guard and hopes to begin the Deaconess Program when she graduates.

Previous Articles in this series:

Or, You Are Not Alone

Rev. Harrison Goodman

For some reason we treat sin as if it’s completely different from sickness. I’ve seen cancer destroy lives, but I’ve seen sin crush people, too. Sin breaks stuff.

When we read about Jesus walking up to a blind man and restoring his sight, nobody asks why the blind man didn’t just decide to start seeing without Christ. Nobody wonders if he just didn’t really want to see until Jesus came along and told him it would be a good idea.

When someone wrestling with depression and hurt, like my friend whom we’ll call Ashley, comes to us for help, we don’t see them like the blind man. When I was 17 and I saw cuts on Ashley, my first instinct was always to tell her something that boiled down to stop being hurt. Fix yourself. Platitudes. When she was still hurting, I wondered if she just didn’t want to feel better. It sounds stupid. It is. When we pretend sin doesn’t break stuff, we always end up imagining the problem can be fixed internally. It can’t.

Ephesians 2:1-5 And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience–among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ- by grace you have been saved

Dead means dead. If we are dead in sin, we can’t just choose to stop being dead. We need to be made alive. The answer isn’t inside of us. God sends help externally. Jesus became man, not inside my heart, but outside of my broken heart in real flesh and blood. Jesus didn’t just tell me “stop being a sinner.” He died on a cross for me. He doesn’t just live in my heart. He really rose from the dead. All of this is external, because telling a blind man to decide to stop being blind won’t work any more than telling a sinner to just decide to stop hurting. Jesus saves us from the outside in.

But we still feel broken. Ashley was still depressed and cutting herself. God’s answer wasn’t just “think really hard about the cross.” The answer isn’t inside of us. God sends help externally. The cross doesn’t exist only in your heart. It’s brought from the outside to your heart, to heal, to help, to save. He makes that cross real and present from the outside in. He gives you communion, the very same blood shed on the cross for you is given for you to drink. His help always comes from outside of us. You don’t need to imagine the cross and make yourself feel better. Jesus sends His Body and Blood across time and space to bring all of the peace of the cross to you for when you can’t just feel better.

God always answers externally. Outside of us. He sent Jesus to die on a cross to forgive your sins. He sends His Sacrament to you to deliver that forgiveness to you. He works through people, too. The answer is always outside of us.

One of those people will be called a pastor. He deals with sin. He was sent with words that aren’t his own. God has sent Him to speak peace to you. We call it absolution. “In the stead and by the command of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” That’s God speaking literal forgiveness through a guy He sent to help you. God doesn’t expect you to think your way to absolution, so He sends someone equipped to help. Your parents might have a tax guy because they can’t figure out how to do their taxes themselves. You have a sin guy, sent by God to deal with your sins, because you were never supposed to be able to handle sin yourself. Use him. It doesn’t matter if your pastor is 25 and knows all your favorite bands or 80 and can’t work the Internet. It doesn’t even matter if he understands your motive, because God can still work through Him. Your pastor was only sent to bring you God’s words, not his own. He has God given words. “In the stead and by the command of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” That really works.

Some of those people God sends will be called doctor. They deal with medicine. God loves your soul, but He loves your body, too. It’s not an either or. It’s both. Don’t think that because you have Jesus you don’t need doctors, or because you have doctors you don’t need Jesus. I wasn’t Ashley’s pastor or her doctor. It wasn’t my job to fix her. It wasn’t my vocation. I cared for her, but just because you really love your grandma with cancer doesn’t mean you should handle her chemo instead of her oncologist. Ashley needed a friend, but she also needed a pastor and a doctor.

God also sends some people called parents. That’s a tough pill to swallow, especially when it looks like they’re the problem. This isn’t a “God doesn’t make mistakes” platitude. Your parents are sinners, too. They might not understand what’s going on, and they might not always handle it the best way, but they are sinners Christ died for, and more than that, they are the forgiven sinners that God gave you. Your parents don’t have to be sinless and perfect for God to work with them. It’s not about the gift. It’s about the giver. God could have given you anyone, but He gave you your folks. That makes them special, because the God we love and trust has promised that He will work through them. Even if they are sinners, they’re God-given sinners. God works with and through sinners. Even when they mess up, His hand will work.

We struggle with looking outside of ourselves when we hurt, especially because the external gifts God gives don’t always look all that impressive. A naked, dead God doesn’t look like He can help, but He can. A chalice of wine seems like an antiquated ritual, but it’s Jesus. An old sinner in a black shirt with a white tab might seem out of touch, but He carries God’s peace to you. Sinful parents might seem like the enemy, but God has promised to work even with sinners.

That’s our only hope. God will work with and for sinners. God can work with broken Ashley and broken you. God has helped and will continue to help. He saves you from the outside in. You are not alone.

Pastor Harrison Goodman serves St. Paul Lutheran Church in Winside, Nebraska and St. Paul Lutheran Church in Carroll, Nebraska. He can be reached at hgoodman01@gmail.com.

Next Article in this series:

Previous Articles in this series:

Or, Forgiveness Is Not About How Sad You Are.

Rev. Harrison Goodman

There was a guy in the bible named Judas. He was introduced as “Judas, who became a traitor.” The bible isn’t really big on cliffhangers. He’s the guy nobody wants to think about when someone’s depressed, because he made such a mess and hurt so bad he hanged himself.

Judas stole. He was the guy in charge of the moneybag. He used to help himself to what was put into it. Scripture never said why. You can put whatever spin you want on it. Maybe Judas was so evil that his mustache curled up, and he stole because he wanted to take money from God. Maybe Judas was just a normal guy who tried to do what he thought was best and made a mess of it. Jesus wasn’t exactly known for being financially responsible. He kept giving away money and allowing expensive perfume to be poured on His feet instead of sold, so maybe Judas just tried to cook the books a little to keep everyone fed. After all, if the whole traveling band keeps going, it helps everyone. But, whatever the motive, Judas stole.

In Jerusalem, Judas was getting closer and closer to being found out. He went to the chief priests and said, “What will you give me if I deliver him over to you?” And they paid him thirty pieces of silver. Again, spin it however you want. Maybe Judas was doubling his money and getting rid of Jesus in one move. Maybe he sat in his evil lair and literally laughed like, “Mwahahahaha!” Or, maybe Judas was just a normal guy who realized he messed up and was trying to fix what he broke the best way he could. Maybe Judas was so convinced that Jesus was innocent that he thought even if Christ was handed over, He would be declared innocent. Then, with 30 pieces of silver making up for what got spent, everyone would ride off into the sunset. But, whatever the motive, Judas betrayed Jesus.

Sin ate at Judas until he found himself at the most awkward meal of his life. His sin cut him off from his friends and from his God. He sat in the upper room during Jesus’ last supper just staring at his plate, wishing it was over. If you’ve ever sat at a family meal furious, ashamed, or guilty, you know how heavy silence can be. You know how loud every clink of silverware is in absence of what should be said at a normal dinner. Finally, Jesus lays it all out on the table. “The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that man if he had not been born.” Judas, who would betray him, answered, “Is it I, Rabbi?” Jesus replied, “You have said so.” Judas probably agreed. It would have been better if he had never been born.

Then came the kiss, the trial, and the cross. Judas saw how much he broke everything, and hated it, so he tried to fix things himself. He confessed his sin and tried to give back the money. Giving back the money didn’t undo the sin, though. Sometimes things break and we can’t fix them. Sin broke Judas. Judas hanged himself.

Peter sinned, too, that night. Really, it was the same sin as Judas, only he didn’t cast aside his Lord once. Peter denied the Lord three times. Judas and Peter committed the same sin. Peter even sinned more, but Peter lived while Judas killed himself. Peter has churches named after him, but Judas is the name we call each other when we backstab our friends.

There’s only one difference between Peter and Judas. It’s called repentance. I think we use the word too narrowly, though. Whenever I hear calls to repent, it only ever seems to focus on making sure someone feels sorry enough, but calling guilty, ashamed broken people to repentance doesn’t mean whipping them with their sin. They’re good at doing that to themselves already. My broken friend, whom we’ll call Ashley, never needed to be told to feel sorry or guilty or ashamed. Judas and Peter both wept in shame. The difference between Judas and Peter was not how sad or sorry they were. Ashley’s problem wasn’t that she couldn’t be sorry enough. Repentance isn’t how sorry you are. Repentance is faith. Repentance is trust–nothing more, nothing less.

Repentance is believing everything God’s word says, both the stuff about you being a sinner, and the stuff about Him being a savior. If repentance is just about being sorry, Judas was plenty repentant. The only difference between Judas and Peter is not that Peter was sorry for betraying Jesus and Judas wasn’t, but that Judas tried to solve his problem himself. Peter found help in the Lord. Both confessed, but Judas thought he had to fix his problem himself. Peter thought Christ would have to fix it for him. Both had the confession part down, but Judas stopped there, while Peter looked for absolution.

God doesn’t want sin to break you. He didn’t want it to break anyone. He wants it to break His own Son. He wants to give you real forgiveness. He doesn’t want it to be far from you. He showed up behind a locked door and spoke peace to Peter. He sends pastors to you to bring that forgiveness right to where you need it. They bring Jesus right to where you need Him. These pastors absolve sins. They say God-given words: “In the stead and by the command of my Lord and savior, Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” These pastors are here because it’s not your job to deal with these sins on your own. Just like your parents might have a tax guy because they can’t handle their taxes, you have a sin guy. You have a pastor. He’s there to forgive you. Don’t carry around guilt and shame on your own. Don’t even wait until Sunday. Call your pastor. He wants nothing more than to drop everything and say those words to you.

I wish I knew to tell Ashley to go see her pastor. I wish I knew to tell her that she didn’t have to walk around feeling broken all day, and she didn’t have to try and fix everything herself. There was a man sent by God Himself to absolve that hurt. If you’re hurting, don’t carry this around yourself. Christ brings real peace to broken sinners in this gift.

Find peace and pardon in a God who bears your sins for you. Find hope in a God who fixes what’s broken. Find life in a God who bore all your sin on the cross, rose from the dead, and then actually showed up for you when you needed Him most. Over and over, He will tell you some of the most important words you’ll ever hear: “In the stead and by the command of my Lord and savior, Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” You are forgiven. Do not be ashamed. Be healed.

Pastor Harrison Goodman serves St. Paul Lutheran Church in Winside, Nebraska and St. Paul Lutheran Church in Carroll, Nebraska. He can be reached at hgoodman01@gmail.com.

Next Articles in the series:

Grace Woelmer

The Book of Psalms was written as a prayer book to God our Father. There are psalms of petitions and lament, psalms of thanksgiving, and psalms of praise and worship. With these psalms we, as God’s children, can pray and talk to Him in any circumstances. Psalm 22 is the famous psalm that starts out with “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus spoke those words from the cross in supplication to his Father in heaven. And likewise, we sinners cry out loud in our depth of sin, pleading to God to answer us.

I attended the Te Deum Higher Things conference this summer at Concordia Nebraska and served as a campus volunteer. One of the breakout sessions I went to was about the Psalms and how we can use them in prayer to our Father. The session I had attended just previously to this one was about defending life and arguing against abortion. So naturally, abortion and the recent release of undercover videos that detail the sordid activities of Planned Parenthood were both on my mind as I entered the classroom and heard the pastor reading Psalm 22 in the breakout.

We have the freedom to talk to our Father in Heaven in prayer and supplication, laying before him all our troubles and needs. But then I got to thinking, what about those who cannot voice their troubles? What about the babies in the womb who cannot yet cry out loud to the Lord and may never get the chance? From that point on as the pastor was reading, I was hearing Psalm 22 as the prayer of an unborn child, particularly as one who is to be aborted.

“On you was I cast from my birth,
and from my mother’s womb you have been my God.
Be not far from me, for trouble is near,
and there is none to help.” v. 10-11

“I am poured out like water,
and all my bones are out of joint;
my heart is like wax;
it is melted within my breast;
my strength is dried up like a potsherd,
and my tongue sticks to my jaws;
you lay me in the dust of death.” v. 14-15

We may feel exactly like this when we are burdened with sin, but physically a baby undergoes these exact descriptions in the cruel torture of the process of abortion. Their bodies become disfigured and their strength and health are stolen from them. Their life was a gift given to them, but it was also something that was so quickly taken away.

“For dogs encompass me;
a company of evildoers encircles me;
they have pierced my hands and feet–
I can count all my bones–
they stare and gloat over me;
they divide my garments among them,
and for my clothing they cast lots.” v. 16-18

All I could think of were the abortion doctors who encircle an aborted baby, dismember and take apart the body, and separate the “useful” body parts. They exclaim, “Another boy!” and they only care about the organs as means of a profit after selling them. I admit that, at this point, I was already shedding tears. Yep, I was the CCV in the back of the room crying, and I could not stop thinking about this psalm and these unborn children. What right do we humans have to decide whether or not a child is wanted or unwanted, useful or not useful, alive or not even a human?

“But you, O Lord, do not be far off!
O you my help, come quickly to my aid!
Deliver my soul from the sword,
my precious life from the power of the dog!
Save me from the mouth of the lion!
You have rescued me from the horns of the wild oxen!” v. 19-21

As sinners, we are helpless and cannot redeem ourselves or purchase our own salvation. Babies are also physically helpless from the time they are conceived until even after they are born. Babies rely so much on their mother and father to care for them and satisfy their every need. A baby’s abilities and reliance on others does NOT determine their worth or value. For instance, I am not a very good artist but my inability to paint a beautiful sunset does not mean I am less human. Just like an unborn baby, an elderly person in the nursing home unable to feed themselves does not make them worth less or make them less human. Just as Christ laid down his life for us helpless sinners, we should reach out to help the helpless unborn so that they may have the chance to be cared for and become a saved child of God.

“For he has not despised or abhorred
the affliction of the afflicted,
and he has not hidden his face from him,
but has heard, when he cried to him.
From you comes my praise in the great congregation;
my vows I will perform before those who fear him.
The afflicted shall eat and be satisfied;
those who seek him shall praise the Lord!
May your hearts lives forever!
All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord,
and all the families of the nations shall worship before you.” v. 24-28

For those children who are aborted never have the chance to sing aloud to the Lord, to worship His name forever. Yet we must have faith that God has not turned His face from the aborted nor has He turned away from the mothers who choose abortion. God’s mercy is never ending, and He forgives all of our repented sins.

“All the prosperous of the earth eat and worship;
before him shall bow all who go down to the dust,
even the one who could not keep himself alive.
Posterity shall serve him;
it shall be told of the Lord to the coming generation;
they shall come and proclaim his righteousness
to a people yet unborn, that he has done it.” v. 29-31

Children are a gift from God.

Let us then fight for the unborn so that we may have another generation who can live in faith towards God and who can proclaim His righteousness to the next generation. Life is beautiful, for all life has been created by God. Let us speak not only for the voiceless ones in the womb, but also for the sorrowful women haunted by the regret of a previous abortion. May God work through us to give His comfort to those who seek His grace and mercy. It shall be proclaimed to all that Christ, by dying on the cross, has conquered sin, death, and the devil to win salvation for us and for all people, of all ages. Christ’s righteousness goes out even to those unborn children. He has not hidden His face from them, but died and rose again for their salvation, and for us all. Christ was born for all and He died for all, that all may be saved and receive eternal life.

Grace Woelmer is a member of Faith Lutheran Church in Plano, Texas and is studying music education at Concordia Nebraska.

Or…What I Wish I Knew to Tell Ashley

Rev. Harrison Goodman

When I was 17 I had a broken friend whom we’ll call Ashley. Ashley tried to cope with being broken by carving into her own flesh with razor blades. She said bleeding was the only way to release all the pain that built up inside of her. She couldn’t stop. She didn’t know what to do. Ashley was not okay.

Ashley came to me and asked for help. She made me promise not to tell anyone. I had no idea what to say, but I felt like I had to say something. I just didn’t want to see my friend hurting. If I’m going to be honest about how ugly I am inside, I didn’t want to feel guilty if something happened to her either.

I tried to help. I said all the wrong things. They felt like safe things to say. They’re called platitudes. Platitudes are those little phrases we tell each other because they sound nice, even though they don’t actually help. My favorite was “It will be okay”. I wasn’t sure it would ever be okay, but I really wanted it to be. Sometimes I told her to focus on the positive. I said, “Smile, and the world smiles with you”. I said “What doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger,” which really just means “man up.”

Platitudes didn’t work. When I told her “It will be okay” she looked right through me and said “Do you really know that? Are you really sure?” I wasn’t. I just wanted her to not be broken. She did, too. Really wanting to be better wasn’t enough.

When I told her “Smile and the world smiles with you” what I really meant was “Have you tried just not being sad?” It was a stupid thing to say. It’s sort of like going to the hospital and asking all the cancer patients “Hey, have you tried just not having cancer? Because that would be great.”

I stopped saying “What doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger” after she tried to kill herself the first time. She couldn’t just man up. She wanted to. It just didn’t work.

Every last platitude I fed to Ashley didn’t work. Each one was a lie. There was never certainty. Change your heart. Convince yourself things will get better. Stop being sad. Man up. Each platitude only ended in an attempt to bury the problem instead of actually facing it. Fake a smile instead of dealing with the truth. The brutal reality was that Ashley really wasn’t okay.

The platitudes made things worse. Before religion could ever come up, all the lies I told Ashley set the stage for something very different. Our religion isn’t “Man up.” Our religion isn’t about fixing yourself. Our religion is Jesus Christ saves sinners by dying on the cross. He’s the way, the truth, and the life. He’s the only thing that saves us, because we can’t save ourselves. But sometimes there’s a disconnect between our religion and real life.

Sometimes we have a habit of dealing with our faith as if it’s really only meant for inside the church. Sinnin’s bad, mmk? Mmk. Jesus saves, mmk? Mmk. Now go out there and deal with real life. We treat this stuff as if Jesus dying on the cross really only cancels out sin-points that only God can see and only God cares about. We treat sin as if it’s not great, but since we know Jesus died, we’re back to square one. This is NOT most certainly true.

Ashley actually understood this. She was aware of something most of us work very hard to unlearn and ignore. Sin breaks stuff-the sins done by you, the sins done to you, all of them really do break stuff. All of them really do have a cost. That cost really is blood. The wages of sin is death.

Sin is not just a theological concept. It rips apart God’s creation. Pick any commandment. Things go worse when God’s law is broken. The world where nobody steals and kills is better than the one where everyone kills and steals. When we sin, and when we’re sinned against, it really breaks things. Platitudes don’t work because they assume we aren’t sinners.

The truth is, sin can’t be pushed aside by a smile and positive thinking. Sin is brokenness and hurt. The wages of sin is death. We can’t smile ourselves from death to life, but we don’t have to. “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 6.23).

This gift of God is for broken people. Jesus said “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners. (Mark 2.17). Sinners don’t have to save themselves. Jesus saves sinners. Jesus came to save Ashley.

What I wish I had known to tell Ashley is “You’re right. You’re not okay. Only blood can cover that much pain. But it doesn’t have to be yours. It was Christ’s. He bled for you. He paid for your sin. It is finished.” Every single sin that Ashley thought she had to take a razor to her arms and legs and stomach over was already bled for by Christ. Sin is real, but so is Jesus. Sin breaks stuff. Jesus heals. Every single pain that Ashley tried to bear on her own was already borne for her. And Jesus bore every nail, every cut, every sin FOR YOU, too. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed (Isaiah 53:4-5). It was His flesh that was wounded, but by His stripes, we are healed. That’s real. That’s yours.

Forgiveness isn’t just a theological concept. It’s not a hidden feeling that you just have to discover to stop being sad. Forgiveness is the blood Jesus shed for you. Forgiveness is delivered in stuff that you can touch and taste and hang onto. That forgiveness isn’t just for you to think about when you’re at your lowest. You don’t have to turn your heart from hurt and broken to happy and whole. It’s delivered right to you. The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ (1 Corinthians 10:13)? You drink the very thing that saves you.

Over and over, God makes the things we hope in external, outside of ourselves, because He knows the inside can’t fix itself. You don’t have to make yourself okay. He applies healing from outside of you. He sent His Son to die on a cross. He gives you communion, the blood shed so you don’t have to bleed.

When I was 17 I had a broken friend who we’ll call Ashley. Ashley cut herself. I wish I had known to tell her that Jesus already bled for her. He forgives and saves. That’s the peace that doesn’t only exist when you’re happy. It’s the peace that’s given for when you’re hurt. God bears your pain for you and He is with you.

Pastor Harrison Goodman serves St. Paul Lutheran Church in Winside, Nebraska and St. Paul Lutheran Church in Carroll, Nebraska. He can be reached at hgoodman01@gmail.com.

Next Articles in this series:

Monica Berndt

“Built on the Rock, the Church shall stand even when steeples are falling. Crumbled have spires in every land, bells sill are chiming and calling–calling the young and old to rest, but above all the souls distressed, longing for peace and for pardon” (Built on the Rock, LSB 645:1).

This is one of my favorite hymns because it speaks to the unity of the Church and the wonderful assurance of the Sacraments which bind us all together in Christ. However, for the longest time, I didn’t really think that there were any Lutherans in the world who actually cared about the things mentioned in that hymn. My experience had been quite small, and rather lonely. I wrote a reflection on the Las Vegas Higher Things Conference last month, and posted it in the hopes that just maybe it would reach a couple of people. Yet by the time I woke up, it had become part of something bigger than I could have imagined. How? My mind still spins looking at all the views to the page, as if I cannot believe that so many people would be interested in reading something related to the Lutheran faith.

There’s a short explanation to this: There are hundreds of faithful Lutherans living all over the world who share the same confession, the same communion, and who all understand the importance of passing the faith along to their children and grandchildren. However, until I attended this conference, I couldn’t see them; I couldn’t grasp just how many there are. I must have known that I belonged to a denomination that was bigger than the 20 or so Lutherans that attend my home church, but out in the middle of nowhere, we are quite alone. None of the other churches in my town, besides the Roman Catholic church, seemed to care about the liturgy, and I went around and around with a Baptist friend of mine on whether or not baptism saves us and came out more confused about my own beliefs than when I went into that discussion. I wasn’t entirely sure what I believed or why it was even that important. After all, they were still Christians, right?

When I began to attend college, I was fortunate enough to be only 15 minutes away from a good, confessional Lutheran church whose service, to my surprise, looked exactly like the ones I attended at home. I was so terrified that all I would be able to find would be non-liturgical, non-sacramental, praise band orientated services, that when I found confessional Lutherans, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I had forgotten that there were other people who confessed the exact same things that I and my family did. I realized, then, that there are people all over who believe the saving Gospel of Jesus Christ is important, are willing to look different from all the other churches, and stand firm in the faith.

At the same time, I hung with a Christian group on campus and joined their discussions for a while, but I realized that despite the Christian title, we shared no common doctrine, no common faith. Talking to them was difficult and frustrating because even though we all said we believed in what the Bible taught, we did not all come to the same agreement on many key issues.

That was the great blessing of Higher Things! Almost every single person I met shared my faith, my worldview and believed it was important to have this common Lutheran faith. I made friends easily because there was so much shared ground and so many things I didn’t even need to go over because we all believed the same thing. For once, I could talk to people my own age about theology and living in the grace of God and they actually agreed with me and shared similar experiences. It was so wonderful to hear everyone confess the ancient creeds, sing the theologically sound hymns, and believe the sacraments are actually saving and forgiving. Together we share in the faith and wisdom passed down since the first century.

There is a huge push in our culture to celebrate diversity, and there is nothing wrong with getting to know someone whose views and beliefs are different from your own. However, there is also something really wonderful about meeting people whose beliefs and worldview are nearly identical to your own. There is so much encouragement to be gained from talking to these people and so much wisdom that can be shared. Within the Lutheran denomination, there are so many pastors who can share their knowledge, so many adults who can share their life wisdom, and so many young people who cherish and cling to the saving faith of the Gospel.

This is the miracle: that we all put aside whatever other differences we may have and boldly confess our common Lutheran faith to each other and to those around us through our words and deeds. We are not alone, no matter where we are; we are built on the Rock that will never break and knit together as the Church as we confess one common faith.

Monica Berndt is a member of Christ the Savior in George, Washington and studies music at the University of Washington.

Rev. Michael L. Keith

Funerals are not fun. No, I am not here to put the “fun” back in funerals. That is a really bad idea, actually. Instead, let’s talk about why we have funerals.

We have funerals for two reasons, really.

One is to recognize that death sucks. A lot. Losing a loved one is one of the most difficult things anyone can go through. It rips a hole in you and it crushes your heart. When you lose a loved one it can seem like you have lost everything. It can make you very angry. Angry at yourself. Angry at the people around you. Angry at the doctors. Angry at the person who died. Angry at God.

So we bring all that hurt and pain and sorrow and sadness and anger and rage and doubt and fear and despair and anxiety to God and lay it at His feet. We don’t ignore that we feel this way. This is real. This stinks. It is too heavy for us to carry. We come to God for strength. We gather our loved ones and friends around us so that we can lean on them. We don’t try to do this alone. We lean on the community of which God has made us a part through Holy Baptism-and above all we look to God for help. “I look to the hills, from where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1).

We are tempted to deny those feelings. Christians shouldn’t feel bad when a loved one dies, right? We should be happy! Our loved one is with Jesus! Why aren’t you happy? Don’t you have faith? Those are VERY unhelpful things to say to someone who has lost a loved one. You see, the trouble is that a loved one is dead. The trouble is that her loved one is not here with her and it hurts. A lot. Yes, she may be able to find some comfort in knowing that her loved one is resting with Jesus-but right now it hurts.

There is a terrible movement in churches to move away from facing those emotions and to ignore them instead-to have a “celebration of life” and to only focus on the good feelings. To pretend that everything is “okay.” To be “nice.” This is really bad. It is not real. The Church is real. Death is real. It isn’t nice and it brings up feelings that are not “nice.” We don’t need to be afraid of our real feelings and emotions when a loved one dies. We need to be honest and bring it all to God. A funeral is often one of the first steps in doing that.

Funerals are for real. They are for real people who have died. They are for real people who hurt and have been broken by the death of a loved one. They are for real emotions and feelings. We don’t have funerals when everything is “okay.” We are broken and beaten and battered and need help!

Funerals are for real. They are for those who need to hear the real Good News that Jesus has destroyed death and conquered the grave. Funerals are so people can hear about the real forgiveness of sins. Funerals remind us to give thanks for the hope of the resurrection of the body-that because Jesus lives, so do we. Funerals are so we can receive real comfort from the Word of God in the middle of one of the worst times in our lives. We have funerals so Jesus can bring His peace and hope and comfort to people who need to hear it. For real.

Rev. Michael L. Keith is Associate Pastor at St. Matthew Lutheran Church and SML Christian Academy in Stony Plain, Alberta, Canada.