Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on March 9, 2014
Revamp of a sermon preached at St. John's Davis, WV on March 13, 2011 with additions from a sermon preached there on Feb 10, 2008
Scripture texts: Genesis 3:1-7, Matthew 4:1-11
It’s scary sometimes how well the devil knows us.
Truth is, human beings are not complicated. There are certain basic things that everyone of us wants out of life. It doesn’t matter where you’re from, what language you speak, what religion you follow, what culture you were raised in. These things are universal. Some of these things are good; We want life, food, clean water, a roof over our head, a good family, etc. Some of these things are not so good, things we desire that we keep hidden from others: power, wealth, the accolades of admirers. These things are often more shameful to admit, but if we’re honest, most of us would have to confess they lurk within our hearts.
We all want these things. And it is in those desires where the devil will hit us first and foremost. It is in those desires where we are weakest.
I saw a show on the History Channel a few years ago about the Hartford Circus Fire. In July of 1944, the Ringling Brothers circus was doing a show in Hartford, CN when the circus tent caught fire. Although the circus personnel tried to evacuate the tent in an orderly fashion, a panic ensued. The end result was one of the worst fire disasters in American history, with over 150 people losing their lives in the fire.
The History Channel interviewed a number of survivors of the fire and many of them were very candid about their experiences. One even admitted that when you’re trapped inside a burning tent, everyone around you, regardless of whether they are friend, father, sister, or even child, becomes a mortal enemy. One has to wonder how many of those 168 people who died in that fire did so because they got in the way of someone else, someone they thought they could trust, someone they loved.
A grim question, and perhaps somewhat extreme, but it does highlight how savage we can become when one of those basic desires (in this case, life) is threatened. By the same token, we can perhaps also see how far we might go when one of those basic desires is offered to us. Temptation always comes where we are weakest.
With that in mind, we can now turn to the four examples of temptation that appear in our Scripture lessons today. The first is one of the most famous: the story of the Fall from Genesis. I always find this story to be absolutely brilliant, because it truly shows just how clever the devil really is and how easily Adam and Eve fall prey to his tricks.
The temptation is simple: Eat this and you will be like God. How clever. Probably the most persistent myth of the human condition is that we are in control of all aspects of our lives. We delude ourselves into thinking we rule this world; that even nature itself is at our feet. All it takes usually is a hurricane, earthquake, a hostile wild animal, or even an illness to dispense with that delusion, but so many of us avoid those that we continue in our fantasies of control.
Imagine though if it wasn’t a myth. Imagine if we truly had the power to control everything. We’ve been grasping for that power from the dawn of time. Napoleon, Caligula, Stalin, Hitler, and all the other tyrants of history are all examples of people who tried, to the detriment of so many others. Are we surprised that this is the first sin? We shouldn’t be. It’s our deepest and darkest desire. As the Tears for Fears song says (rightly) “Everybody wants to rule the world.”
Fast forward a bit to the temptation of Jesus. Here, the devil sees himself with the ultimate opportunity. Before this, God was invulnerable. Immune to the devil’s tricks. But now, incarnate as a human being, Jesus is vulnerable. He has all our human weaknesses. Will he fall prey to our human desires also?
The temptation story starts out simple. Jesus has been in the wilderness for many days, without sustenance. The devil’s first offer is again simple: food. Use your power to make food. It’s like the survivor of the Hartford fire. When your life is truly in danger, you’ll do anything to save it. Jesus is starving and he could have food if he gives in. Jesus says no.
Now, for those of you who know your Bibles well, you probably know that the order of the next two temptations switches depending on whether you’re reading Matthew or Luke. So I’m going to do a switcheroo here and use the Lucan order and the reason for that I hope will be clear in a minute.
Which means the next temptation is the mountaintop, third in Matthew, second in Luke. Talk about “everybody wants to rule the world.” That is, of course, what the devil offers here. Alright, Jesus, use your power. Bring these nations to heel. Put them under your feet. You deserve to rule the whole world. Just bow down before me and it’s yours. Of course, the devil knows full well that Jesus doesn’t have to worship him to achieve this. He can do it on his own. He has the power to subjugate the world all by himself. He says no.
And that brings us to the last temptation, the top of the temple. Throw yourself down says the devil and let the angels prevent any harm from coming to you. This is, I’ve long argued, perhaps the most insidious of all these temptations, because it goes to the heart of why Jesus came to earth in the first place.
You really want to be human, Jesus? Let’s see how far you go with it. The devil, of course, knows why it is important for Jesus to be human. He knows that there cannot be an Easter, without Good Friday, cannot be an empty tomb without a cross, and there cannot be a cross if God remains invulnerable, untouchable. Jesus’ humanity is the key to the whole plan and if he denies it here, it’s over.
So Jesus says no. It will not be this way. Jesus will not avoid death; he will die on a cross. He will die as a human being, so that we and all of humanity may live.
Note the similarities between the temptation of the garden and the three Jesus is offered in the wilderness. The desires, those human desires, are the same. Power, survival, ambition. These are things we all want, even if we’re at times ashamed to admit it. But there is a key difference. We ordinary humans are powerless, thus when the devil tempts us, he offers us the power to gain what we want. Eat the apple. Be like God and take what you desire. But Jesus has power. He is the son of God, fully divine and fully human at the same time. So the temptation changes. Now it is to use that power in contradiction to God’s plan. Eat your fill, be invulnerable, be invincible.
The devil always hits us where we are weakest. For us, it is our powerlessness, our inability so often to gain what we want most. For Jesus, it is in his power, to use it wrongly, to abandon that which makes him human and vulnerable, because what he came to do requires that he be human and vulnerable.
If he rules the world, no one can arrest him. If he cannot he hurt, the nails cannot pierce his wrists. If he wills himself not to starve, then he can will himself not to die. But if he doesn’t die on that cross, then all the world will come to ruin. If he doesn’t die, we will.
So Jesus says no to the devil and he says yes to the cross. And because he says yes to the cross, he says yes to the empty tomb. Not just for himself, but for all of us. He defies the devil for our sake. He allows himself to be human, to follow the plan God set out for him. He allows himself to be killed, so that we might have life. He says no to the power, no to those deepest desires in his human heart, and yes to life for all of us. Amen.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Sermon for Ash Wednesday
Preached at Water's Edge United Methodist Church on Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Scripture text: Revelation 2:1-7
Mainline denominations like ours (whether we be Lutheran, Methodist, or UCC) often approach the book of Revelation and its companions in Biblical apocalypse with much fear and trembling. We spend so little time on that which our more Evangelical brothers and sisters may perhaps spend too much. So when we approach a text like the second chapter of Revelation we may feel ill-equipped to address what it says.
But this is still Scripture even to us and in diving into God’s word there is nothing to fear.
On that note, it may prove helpful for us to acknowledge a couple of truths that are often neglected. The first is to say that there is not one single understanding of what the Bible says about the end times. We ELCA Lutherans, for instance, are amillennialists in our understanding, which is to say that we, at least according to our official teachings, believe that the rapture-tribulation stuff that is peddled by some churches is NOT how it will happen. We disagree with those churches that do and that’s okay.
The second truth is somewhat related to that. Different churches, different denominations, and even different Christians may look at the same passage of Scripture and come up with different meanings. It all depends on the revelation the Spirit chooses to grant for that person or persons. But we have a tendency to think of this as a modern thing, something that has come about recently and that the early church was much more unified.
It was not. The text assigned for tonight is John of Patmos’ letter to the church of Ephesus. That church, we know from Scripture, is one of Paul’s congregations and yet it is the apostle John (according to tradition) who now writes to them. One doesn’t have to do much study of Scripture to recognize that, while there is some overlap in their writings, the works of Paul and the works of John are not always in agreement with one another. Tonight’s passage is a bit like the Methodist bishop writing a UCC congregation to tell them how to do their business.
The irony of that has not escaped me as I stand here, a Lutheran pastor preaching from a Methodist pulpit...Well, at least I’m in good company.
But what does John have to say to Paul’s church and (by extension) to us? And what does it all have to do with the reason we gather tonight, the Church’s solemn day of Ash Wednesday?
Ash Wednesday is, of course, the first day of the season of Lent, a time in the church year when we dedicate ourselves to remembrance and repentance. It is a time of self-reflection and in that, I think we find our common-thread between all these different pieces. For what does Jesus (through John) counsel the church of Ephesus but to reflect on what they are doing and to remember what they should be doing. I can’t imagine a more fitting Lenten idea than that.
“I know that you cannot tolerate evildoers” Jesus says to the church. “I also know that you are enduring patiently and bearing up for the sake of my name.” All well and good so far. The church has been proficient in flushing out heresy and has endured trial and tribulation from without (or perhaps from within, a common consequence of telling the truth to people who don’t want to hear it.)
It is probably not coincidental that Paul’s own letter to this church has a series of commendations to right and proper behavior, almost two full chapters of it. It would seem from what we now hear in Revelation that they have taken his advice to heart. However, there is a flipside to this emphasis on purity and righteousness.
“But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first.” Jesus tells them. Uh oh. Not all that surprising. Zeal has its dangers, and the biggest of them is when we become more interested in being right than in being loving.
“Yet this is to your credit: you hate the works of the Nicolaitans.” Jesus then says. Well, I get the sense there’s a bit of sarcasm here in Jesus’ words. Why? Well, who are the Nicolaitans? “People of victory” is how that word translates from Greek into English. The ones who win (presumably at all cost). The ones who have to be right all the time. In a very real sense, I think Jesus is saying to the church “if you hate these people, why do you act like them?”
The church in Ephesus has become more concerned with being right than being loving. They’ve lost their way. Now, I wonder, is that a lesson for us here and now?
Of course it is. How many disputes rage across the church between this group and that group, each one convinced in their own minds of the rightness of their cause? “They’re not real Christians. They don’t believe the Bible.” No, they just don’t believe it in the same way you do. Not that it matters to those in the throes of those sorts of arguments. Their zeal for rightness has driven love from them and they divide themselves over and against their own brothers and sisters in Christ.
One of my seminary professors had a saying. “We are saved by grace alone, not by ‘right answer’ alone.” In our zeal, we can blind ourselves to Christ, forgetting that he is the one who brings about our salvation through his life, death, and resurrection. That shouldn’t surprise anyone when we cut ourselves off from one another, for where do we see Jesus most keenly but within our brothers and sisters?
Of course, that’s the other way this malignant zeal can manifest. Not merely in a theological debate, but in how we respond to those around us in our communities. How many times has the church turned its back on someone in need because they didn’t “deserve” our aid? Because they were sinners? Because they didn’t meet our ideal of proper behavior and decency? How often have we slammed the door in Jesus’ face?
And that is the great danger of all this. Cutting ourselves off. Blinding ourselves. Being most concerned with our own rightness and correctness, instead of keeping our eyes and our hearts open to see Christ within each other and in those around us.
Jesus tells us in Matthew that we find him in the “least of these,” often those least able to meet our exacting standards of piety and propriety. The poor, the abused, the alien, the stranger, those who different in terms of race, age, gender, language, or sexual identity, and perhaps most difficult of all, those who disagree with us. Are we more concerned with sitting on a high horse of self-righteousness or are we willing to get into the muck of life with them? Because that’s where Jesus is.
Ephesus forgot that and Jesus called them out for it. Are we to be guilty of the same? On this Ash Wednesday, as we come forward in repentance, seeking God’s mercy, I pray the answer will be no. Amen.
Scripture text: Revelation 2:1-7
Mainline denominations like ours (whether we be Lutheran, Methodist, or UCC) often approach the book of Revelation and its companions in Biblical apocalypse with much fear and trembling. We spend so little time on that which our more Evangelical brothers and sisters may perhaps spend too much. So when we approach a text like the second chapter of Revelation we may feel ill-equipped to address what it says.
But this is still Scripture even to us and in diving into God’s word there is nothing to fear.
On that note, it may prove helpful for us to acknowledge a couple of truths that are often neglected. The first is to say that there is not one single understanding of what the Bible says about the end times. We ELCA Lutherans, for instance, are amillennialists in our understanding, which is to say that we, at least according to our official teachings, believe that the rapture-tribulation stuff that is peddled by some churches is NOT how it will happen. We disagree with those churches that do and that’s okay.
The second truth is somewhat related to that. Different churches, different denominations, and even different Christians may look at the same passage of Scripture and come up with different meanings. It all depends on the revelation the Spirit chooses to grant for that person or persons. But we have a tendency to think of this as a modern thing, something that has come about recently and that the early church was much more unified.
It was not. The text assigned for tonight is John of Patmos’ letter to the church of Ephesus. That church, we know from Scripture, is one of Paul’s congregations and yet it is the apostle John (according to tradition) who now writes to them. One doesn’t have to do much study of Scripture to recognize that, while there is some overlap in their writings, the works of Paul and the works of John are not always in agreement with one another. Tonight’s passage is a bit like the Methodist bishop writing a UCC congregation to tell them how to do their business.
The irony of that has not escaped me as I stand here, a Lutheran pastor preaching from a Methodist pulpit...Well, at least I’m in good company.
But what does John have to say to Paul’s church and (by extension) to us? And what does it all have to do with the reason we gather tonight, the Church’s solemn day of Ash Wednesday?
Ash Wednesday is, of course, the first day of the season of Lent, a time in the church year when we dedicate ourselves to remembrance and repentance. It is a time of self-reflection and in that, I think we find our common-thread between all these different pieces. For what does Jesus (through John) counsel the church of Ephesus but to reflect on what they are doing and to remember what they should be doing. I can’t imagine a more fitting Lenten idea than that.
“I know that you cannot tolerate evildoers” Jesus says to the church. “I also know that you are enduring patiently and bearing up for the sake of my name.” All well and good so far. The church has been proficient in flushing out heresy and has endured trial and tribulation from without (or perhaps from within, a common consequence of telling the truth to people who don’t want to hear it.)
It is probably not coincidental that Paul’s own letter to this church has a series of commendations to right and proper behavior, almost two full chapters of it. It would seem from what we now hear in Revelation that they have taken his advice to heart. However, there is a flipside to this emphasis on purity and righteousness.
“But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first.” Jesus tells them. Uh oh. Not all that surprising. Zeal has its dangers, and the biggest of them is when we become more interested in being right than in being loving.
“Yet this is to your credit: you hate the works of the Nicolaitans.” Jesus then says. Well, I get the sense there’s a bit of sarcasm here in Jesus’ words. Why? Well, who are the Nicolaitans? “People of victory” is how that word translates from Greek into English. The ones who win (presumably at all cost). The ones who have to be right all the time. In a very real sense, I think Jesus is saying to the church “if you hate these people, why do you act like them?”
The church in Ephesus has become more concerned with being right than being loving. They’ve lost their way. Now, I wonder, is that a lesson for us here and now?
Of course it is. How many disputes rage across the church between this group and that group, each one convinced in their own minds of the rightness of their cause? “They’re not real Christians. They don’t believe the Bible.” No, they just don’t believe it in the same way you do. Not that it matters to those in the throes of those sorts of arguments. Their zeal for rightness has driven love from them and they divide themselves over and against their own brothers and sisters in Christ.
One of my seminary professors had a saying. “We are saved by grace alone, not by ‘right answer’ alone.” In our zeal, we can blind ourselves to Christ, forgetting that he is the one who brings about our salvation through his life, death, and resurrection. That shouldn’t surprise anyone when we cut ourselves off from one another, for where do we see Jesus most keenly but within our brothers and sisters?
Of course, that’s the other way this malignant zeal can manifest. Not merely in a theological debate, but in how we respond to those around us in our communities. How many times has the church turned its back on someone in need because they didn’t “deserve” our aid? Because they were sinners? Because they didn’t meet our ideal of proper behavior and decency? How often have we slammed the door in Jesus’ face?
And that is the great danger of all this. Cutting ourselves off. Blinding ourselves. Being most concerned with our own rightness and correctness, instead of keeping our eyes and our hearts open to see Christ within each other and in those around us.
Jesus tells us in Matthew that we find him in the “least of these,” often those least able to meet our exacting standards of piety and propriety. The poor, the abused, the alien, the stranger, those who different in terms of race, age, gender, language, or sexual identity, and perhaps most difficult of all, those who disagree with us. Are we more concerned with sitting on a high horse of self-righteousness or are we willing to get into the muck of life with them? Because that’s where Jesus is.
Ephesus forgot that and Jesus called them out for it. Are we to be guilty of the same? On this Ash Wednesday, as we come forward in repentance, seeking God’s mercy, I pray the answer will be no. Amen.
Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday
Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on March 2, 2014
Scripture text: Psalm 2
When I was writing my sermon on Friday morning, news reports were coming in that Russian forces had occupied several key airports in Ukraine. Or maybe they’re not Russian, just pro-Russian Ukrainians. It’s not clear. Either way, we are seeing the emergence of the next major international crisis. It’s been a little too quiet since Syria (or was it Egypt last time?) and I guess we’re due.
“Why do the nations conspire, and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord.” so says our Psalm this morning. “Why do the nations rage?” The psalms ask elsewhere. Good questions. It seems they do a lot of raging. Wars and rumors of war, conflict, insurrection. We may be in one of the most peaceful times in history, but that obviously does not mean that human conflict and warfare has been eradicated entirely. This disease remains.
We know why. The Scriptures tell us that answer to these questions. The answer is because their time is short. A new world is coming.
Transfiguration Sunday is all about that new world. The disciples on the mountaintop are given a glimpse of it in Jesus himself, transfigured and transformed into glory before them, linked to the past in Moses and to the future in Elijah (whose return in Jewish belief is tied to the end of all things.) Peter and the others see in that mountaintop experience the new world that is coming; a world where everything has become new. Everything has changed.
Scripture text: Psalm 2
When I was writing my sermon on Friday morning, news reports were coming in that Russian forces had occupied several key airports in Ukraine. Or maybe they’re not Russian, just pro-Russian Ukrainians. It’s not clear. Either way, we are seeing the emergence of the next major international crisis. It’s been a little too quiet since Syria (or was it Egypt last time?) and I guess we’re due.
“Why do the nations conspire, and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord.” so says our Psalm this morning. “Why do the nations rage?” The psalms ask elsewhere. Good questions. It seems they do a lot of raging. Wars and rumors of war, conflict, insurrection. We may be in one of the most peaceful times in history, but that obviously does not mean that human conflict and warfare has been eradicated entirely. This disease remains.
We know why. The Scriptures tell us that answer to these questions. The answer is because their time is short. A new world is coming.
Transfiguration Sunday is all about that new world. The disciples on the mountaintop are given a glimpse of it in Jesus himself, transfigured and transformed into glory before them, linked to the past in Moses and to the future in Elijah (whose return in Jewish belief is tied to the end of all things.) Peter and the others see in that mountaintop experience the new world that is coming; a world where everything has become new. Everything has changed.
And to those who benefit from the world being the way it is now, there is nothing more terrifying.
It is said that Satan rages all the more fiercely because he knows he is already beaten. You could probably say the same for the kings of the earth, or whatever title their modern equivalents choose to take for themselves: Premier, Prime Minister, President, etc. The leaders of nations grasping at the resource most desired at their particular moment: land, oil, people, gold, water, whatever.
They are not alone, these power-brokers. They are joined by the wealthiest, those who have enough money to buy everything and then some. I saw an interesting picture on the web the other day. The wealthiest 20 people in the world have more money in their possession than over 190 nations, including countries we don’t think of as poor like Norway, Saudi Arabia, Israel, Ireland, and Italy. “Hi, my name is ______________ and I have more money than the whole nation of Sweden.” Talk about “he who dies with the most toys wins.”
But that’s not how it is. As I often joke, “he who dies with the most toys is still dead.” And that’s what they fear. Their time is short, so they have to grab all they can of this world before their time runs out.
A new world is coming and it scares the daylights out of the powers-that-be.
But not just them. It’s us too. We can laugh at those who cling and grasp at power and wealth with manic and often destructive desperation, but we’re no different really. We have our things that we cling to as well. And many of them will have no place in a transfigured world.
We proudly wave our flags and speak highly of our home here in America. But there will be no America in a transfigured world, no nations at all. No tribes, no dividing lines between us and others. Are we ready for that? Are we open to that?
What will family mean when we are truly brothers and sisters with all humanity? No distinction of blood or breeding will remain. Are we ready for that?
It is said that Satan rages all the more fiercely because he knows he is already beaten. You could probably say the same for the kings of the earth, or whatever title their modern equivalents choose to take for themselves: Premier, Prime Minister, President, etc. The leaders of nations grasping at the resource most desired at their particular moment: land, oil, people, gold, water, whatever.
They are not alone, these power-brokers. They are joined by the wealthiest, those who have enough money to buy everything and then some. I saw an interesting picture on the web the other day. The wealthiest 20 people in the world have more money in their possession than over 190 nations, including countries we don’t think of as poor like Norway, Saudi Arabia, Israel, Ireland, and Italy. “Hi, my name is ______________ and I have more money than the whole nation of Sweden.” Talk about “he who dies with the most toys wins.”
But that’s not how it is. As I often joke, “he who dies with the most toys is still dead.” And that’s what they fear. Their time is short, so they have to grab all they can of this world before their time runs out.
A new world is coming and it scares the daylights out of the powers-that-be.
But not just them. It’s us too. We can laugh at those who cling and grasp at power and wealth with manic and often destructive desperation, but we’re no different really. We have our things that we cling to as well. And many of them will have no place in a transfigured world.
We proudly wave our flags and speak highly of our home here in America. But there will be no America in a transfigured world, no nations at all. No tribes, no dividing lines between us and others. Are we ready for that? Are we open to that?
What will family mean when we are truly brothers and sisters with all humanity? No distinction of blood or breeding will remain. Are we ready for that?
I used to tell friends of the more evangelical stripe when they were going on about the end-of-the-world about how I really hoped it would NOT happen in my lifetime. When they asked why I was not very eager to see Jesus return soon, I answered honestly. This world, this life, is full of wonders and I’d like to experience a few of them before it’s taken away from me. I still feel that way. Am I ready for a transfigured world? I don’t think so.
None of us are.
We talk in church about sin as rebellion and here is perhaps where we see that most clearly. These kings, the psalmist speaks of, are far from alone in their rejection of God’s desires. We join them in that, every day, every time we place our ambition, our wealth, our desires, our patriotism, our familial bonds, and all our other idols before God and his plan for our salvation.
Peter was terrified upon the mountain when he saw that new world. He should be. Change is hard.
But the transfigured world Jesus inaugurates truly is a better one. It’s a world of life, not death. Think about what our fears have wrought upon this earth. The people of Ukraine likely face a bloody civil war over the ambition of petty tyrants, the latest in a long line of such conflicts. And those wealthiest of the wealthy who hoard the GNP of nations in their bank accounts. How many starve worldwide because they refuse to share? Patriotism is a wonderful thing until we make of it an excuse for bigotry and hate, an error we and those of other nations have made far too often. Our desperate sinful rebellion has done nothing but destroy and divide.
God would have it a different way. A world where wars would cease, where there would be no lack, where we would recognize each other by bonds of fellowship and friendship instead of by race, creed, and birthplace. But this world will not come about by our doing. We can strive for it, maybe even get a little closer to it when we let our better natures rule us, but we can never achieve it fully. We’ve seen that.
So God must act and he has acted. He has sent his son to bring his kingdom into our world. But it comes not with conquest, but with love and sacrifice, through death and resurrection. You see, we wrecked this world through fear, fear that our time is short. Jesus rises again from the tomb to declare that “No, it isn’t.” Our time is eternal and there is nothing to fear, not even death. He has transformed the world. From death to life.
Why do the nations rage? Why do we fear? There is reason no longer thanks to the cross and empty tomb of Jesus Christ. Amen.
None of us are.
We talk in church about sin as rebellion and here is perhaps where we see that most clearly. These kings, the psalmist speaks of, are far from alone in their rejection of God’s desires. We join them in that, every day, every time we place our ambition, our wealth, our desires, our patriotism, our familial bonds, and all our other idols before God and his plan for our salvation.
Peter was terrified upon the mountain when he saw that new world. He should be. Change is hard.
But the transfigured world Jesus inaugurates truly is a better one. It’s a world of life, not death. Think about what our fears have wrought upon this earth. The people of Ukraine likely face a bloody civil war over the ambition of petty tyrants, the latest in a long line of such conflicts. And those wealthiest of the wealthy who hoard the GNP of nations in their bank accounts. How many starve worldwide because they refuse to share? Patriotism is a wonderful thing until we make of it an excuse for bigotry and hate, an error we and those of other nations have made far too often. Our desperate sinful rebellion has done nothing but destroy and divide.
God would have it a different way. A world where wars would cease, where there would be no lack, where we would recognize each other by bonds of fellowship and friendship instead of by race, creed, and birthplace. But this world will not come about by our doing. We can strive for it, maybe even get a little closer to it when we let our better natures rule us, but we can never achieve it fully. We’ve seen that.
So God must act and he has acted. He has sent his son to bring his kingdom into our world. But it comes not with conquest, but with love and sacrifice, through death and resurrection. You see, we wrecked this world through fear, fear that our time is short. Jesus rises again from the tomb to declare that “No, it isn’t.” Our time is eternal and there is nothing to fear, not even death. He has transformed the world. From death to life.
Why do the nations rage? Why do we fear? There is reason no longer thanks to the cross and empty tomb of Jesus Christ. Amen.
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