Monday, March 27, 2017

The Wound of Denial (A sermon based on Matthew 26:69-75)

"Who are you?" No one really minds being asked that question by a stranger. But it hurts when it's from someone you know. It especially hurts to hear "Who are you?" from someone you care about who's pretending that he or she doesn't know you. It stung Jesus when Peter denied knowing who he was. It stings Jesus when we do the same. But thankfully, Jesus has never denied knowing us. Instead he was denied justice that he might rescue us from the punishment our denials have earned. Now, in the peace of forgiveness that he won, we find the courage to deny ourselves and live for him. Read or listen to (download) this sermon based on Matthew 26:69-75 and rejoice in your Savior! 

O Sacred Head Now Wounded

The Wound of Denial

A sermon based on Matthew 26:69-75

Sunday, March 26, 2017 – Lent 4

 

Rachel Joy Scott was an outspoken Christian. The 17 year-old girl wanted to change the world by a chain reaction of compassion. She figured that if she could consistently show Jesus' love to others, it would enable her to share her faith. That, it turn, might bring others to faith in Jesus, so they too might show his love to still others and the chain would go on and on.

But not everyone shared Rachel's vision. Two her classmates, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, went into their school one morning heavily armed. And after pointing a gun at Rachel's head and asking if she still believed in God, she replied, "You know I do." And for giving such an answer, Rachel was the first of 12 students and one teacher who were gunned down at Columbine on April 20, 1999. Rachel refused to deny her Savior, even if it meant her death. What courage!

What a contrast to Simon Peter. When he felt his safety might be threatened, he was quick to deny Jesus to avoid any trouble. He swore he didn't know the man to avoid getting hurt! Later, Peter came to his senses. He knew what he had done and how cowardly it was. And he wept over his sin in genuine sorrow and contrition. And thankfully for Peter, Jesus never denied him.

We too have denied that we know Jesus. We've denied him blatantly when we've hidden our faith. We've denied him subtly when we don't live our faith, showing Jesus' love to others. But thank God that he's never denied us.

The account of Peter's denial and subsequent contrition is recorded for us in Matthew 26:69-75…

 

69 Now Peter was sitting out in the courtyard, and a servant girl came to him. "You also were with Jesus of Galilee," she said.

70 But he denied it before them all. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

71 Then he went out to the gateway, where another girl saw him and said to the people there, "This fellow was with Jesus of Nazareth."

72 He denied it again, with an oath: "I don't know the man!"

73 After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, "Surely you are one of them, for your accent gives you away."

74 Then he began to call down curses on himself and he swore to them, "I don't know the man!"

Immediately a rooster crowed. 75 Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: "Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times." And he went outside and wept bitterly.

 

Peter, Peter, Peter! What happened? Where did he go wrong? One minute, swearing that he was ready to die with Jesus, the next, swearing that he didn't know Jesus. What went wrong? Well, a number of factors led to Peter's change of heart: First, there was the obvious, that the soldiers had arrested Jesus and he was in trouble. It looked like those who sided with Jesus would be in trouble too. And Peter may have overheard the plans to kill Jesus. He didn't want that for Jesus to be sure! But he didn't want that for himself either.

Second, Jesus' reaction to his arrest wasn't at all what Peter expected. Jesus didn't fight back. He didn't use their bold move as the catalyst for his move to take over as Peter had hoped. In fact, Peter got scolded when he tried to stop them with his sword. Jesus let himself be arrested and abused. And Peter must have wondered, what would Jesus let them to do to him?

But finally, Peter so quickly pulled this 180-degree turn because he overestimated his own courage and his own strength. And he underestimated his own sinful nature. Peter denied that he knew Jesus in part because he had early denied that he ever could.

Earlier that night Jesus had warned his disciples, "This very night you will all fall away on account of me, for it is written: "'I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.'" (Matthew 26:31) But Peter knew this could never happened to him. "Peter replied, 'Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.'" (v. 32) And when Jesus insisted that he would, pointing to the sign of the rooster, "Peter declared, 'Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.'" And believing that he could never commit such a heinous sin, such a cowardly denial, he let down his guard and satan swooped in, bringing fear, and self-preservation, and Peter's triple denial. 

How about you? Would you ever deny that you know Jesus? Would you hide your faith and pretend he's a stranger like Peter did? What if you were in danger? What if your life was threatened? Would you still stand strong? What if someone held a gun to your head and asked you, "Do you still believe in God?" Then would you answer, "You know I do," and risk taking a bullet? Or would you deny that you knew him?

I honestly don't know what I would do in Rachel Scott's shoes. I like to think that I'd be bold and find the courage to love Jesus more than I love my life that I might hear him say to me moments later, "Whoever loses his life for me will find it," (Matthew 16:25) then, "Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!" (Matthew 25:23)

I like to think that anyway. But who knows how one would really respond to such a threat until you're actually put into that situation. And honestly, I've already denied Jesus and pretended that I didn't know him for so much less. When I have the chance to talk about my Savior, my church, or even my job, but choose not to because I'm not sure how the other person may respond, I deny knowing Jesus just like Peter did. Just because I don't call down curses on myself makes it no less a sin.

Don't make the same mistake as Peter. Don't overestimate your own courage and strength. Don't underestimate your sinful nature. The truth is that every one of us is capable of the most heinous of sins if put in the right circumstances. Don't believe that you're capable of murder? Then talk to me later. I'll bet I could paint a scenario that would get you to admit, "Well, okay, in that situation I would kill." You've just never been in that situation.

And, honestly, I don't even need to do that exercise because all of you, like me, have already denied that you know Jesus. When you've gone along with the crowd, when you've kept quiet, when you've pretended that you didn't know Jesus by your sin, you denied him just like Peter did. Just because you didn't call down curses on yourself makes it no less a sin.

How does it feel to have someone you thought was a friend, pretend they don't know you when they're among other company. What would you think if your spouse said to you, "When we get together with my co-workers tonight, can you pretend you're my assistant? Don't tell them we're married. I'm not sure what they're going to think of you." It would hurt, wouldn't it? To have one you love deny that they know you.

And that's the wound Peter inflicted on Jesus that night. That's the wound I have inflicted on Jesus when I've pretended he was a stranger. That's the wound you have inflicted on Jesus by denying that you know him. None of us deserve to have Jesus say to us, "Well done, good and faithful servant!" but, "If anyone is ashamed of me… the Son of Man will be ashamed of him…" (Mark 8:38) and "Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels." (Matthew 25:41) In fact, every time we deny Jesus, every time we sin, we, like Peter, call down that curse on ourselves.

When Jesus turned and looked at Peter, how that look must have stung. It was then, at Jesus' piercing glance, that Peter remembered what Jesus had told him earlier that night, "Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times." Now there was no proud denial that he could ever do such a thing. Now the pride was replaced with guilt and shame at what he had done. "And he went outside and wept bitterly." And that was a good thing. His guilt produced a godly sorrow over his denial of Jesus. That sorrow led him to weep tears of genuine repentance.

And you know that even though Peter denied knowing Jesus,  Jesus never denied knowing him. In fact, it was for Peter's very denial that Jesus was on trial being denied justice that he might go to the cross to be denied by the Father. There he took Peter's denial on himself and paid the penalty of hell that Peter deserved. And later, after his resurrection, Jesus singled Peter out. The angel at the empty tomb told the women, "Don't be alarmed… You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, 'He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.'" (Mark 16:6-7)

And later still, after the resurrection, Jesus asked Peter three times if he loved him (a reminder of three times that Peter had denied him). When Peter appealed to Jesus' omniscience to see his genuine repentance, "Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you," Jesus forgave him and commissioned him, "Feed my sheep."

Friends, when you see your sin, when Jesus looks at you with his soul-piecing glance, don't deny your sin. Deny the urge to cover it up or pretend it didn't happen. You can't hide it from him anyway. Instead, let the guilt and shame that you feel over what you've done lead you to go outside and week bitterly. Let it lead you to repent as Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 7:10: "Godly sorrow brings repentance…" Let your repentance lead you to confess your sin to Jesus that he might deal with it. Because you know that though you have denied him, he has never—he will never!—deny you!

For it was for your denial that Jesus was denied justice, that he went to the cross, that he was denied by the Father. There he took your denial and your every sin on himself and paid the penalty of hell that you deserved.

Now he promises that "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:9) Then, "Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret…" (1 Corinthians 7:10) Then you can be at peace that you are forgiven.

Later, after Jesus' ascension, Peter found his courage again. On the day of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit filled him with a bravery and a passion to preach Christ crucified to thousands, come what may—even if it meant his death. He refused to stop preaching even after he had been jailed (Acts 4:4), flogged (Acts 5:40), and put on death row (Acts 12:1-4). And, tradition tells us that in the end Peter found the courage to die for Jesus, being tortured to death by crucifixion. Peter found his courage in the forgiveness that Jesus won for him on the cross and in the eternal life guaranteed him by the resurrection.

He knew that after his persecution and death, a perfect paradise of peace with Jesus awaited him in heaven. So in the end he wrote, "Look forward to the day of God and speed its coming… We are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness." (1 Peter 3:12-13)

And friends, that's where we find our courage too: in the forgives of sins won for us by Jesus on the cross, in the eternal life guaranteed by his resurrection, in the perfect paradise of peace with him that awaits us after death. These give us the courage to die for him if we're ever called upon to do so as Peter and Rachel Scott were. And in the meantime, they give us the courage to die to self when called upon to do so and to live for him who died for us. They give us the courage to "deny [ourselves] and take up [our crosses] daily and follow [him]," (Luke 9:23) until we , like Peter and Rachel Scott, go to live with him in glory.

And the forgiveness, new life, and salvation Jesus won for us, give us the courage to share our faith like Peter, like Rachel Scott. They move us to live our faith and show Jesus' love to others. For as we consistently show Jesus' love to others, it will enable us to share our faith. That, it turn, might bring others to faith in Jesus, so they too might show his love to still others and the chain will go on and on until Jesus returns in glory.

So be bold, dear friends! Don't deny your sin, that you've denied Jesus. But trust that he never has and never will deny you. Then trusting in his forgiveness, deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow him. In Jesus' name, dear friends, amen.


In Him,
Pastor Rob Guenther

Grace Evangelical Lutheran Church
47585 Ciechanski Road, Kenai, AK 99611

Listen to sermons online: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Podcast
Watch services online: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Webcast

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Thursday, March 23, 2017

He Had Been Wanting to See Jesus (A sermon based on Luke 23:6-12)

Do you ever wish you could see Jesus? How cool would that be?! Actually, you can see Jesus. In fact, through the Word, you can see Jesus better than Herod, who had Jesus stand before him, ever did! You see Jesus for who he is: Not your entertainment, but your Savior from sin. Read or listen to (download) this sermon based on Luke 23:6-12 and rejoice that you see Jesus clearly! 

Ironies of the Passion

He Had Been Wanting to See Jesus

A sermon based on Luke 23:6-12

Wednesday, March 22, 2017 – Lent 4

 

The movie trailer looked exciting. It had all the elements of a great movie: An engaging story line, excellent special effects, lots of action and explosions, even a classic love story. The trailer made its viewers declare, "I want to see that!"

But when the movie was released, it didn't do so well in the box office. The reviews weren't so good. It turned out to be a box office flop, just barely earning back in the first several weeks what they spent to make the movie.

King Herod didn't have a movie trailer, but he did hear reports. Jesus was doing miracles. He was multiplying bread, turning water into wine, even raising the dead! And this was a show Herod didn't want to miss! "I want to see that!" Herod proclaimed. But Jesus wasn't performing at the theater nearest Herod. So Herod longed to see Jesus, the magician, the wonder maker, the miracle worker!

How ironic, then, that when he did finally get to see Jesus, he was disappointed that Jesus wasn't the entertainment he had hoped to see. Jesus was a box office flop, as far as Herod was concerned. 

What is Jesus to you? What do you look for him for? What do you see in him? Do you too long to see Jesus?

Our text for consideration this evening is found in Luke 23:6-12…

6 On hearing this, Pilate asked if the man was a Galilean. 7 When he learned that Jesus was under Herod's jurisdiction, he sent him to Herod, who was also in Jerusalem at that time. 

8 When Herod saw Jesus, he was greatly pleased, because for a long time he had been wanting to see him. From what he had heard about him, he hoped to see him perform some miracle. 9 He plied him with many questions, but Jesus gave him no answer. 10 The chief priests and the teachers of the law were standing there, vehemently accusing him. 11 Then Herod and his soldiers ridiculed and mocked him. Dressing him in an elegant robe, they sent him back to Pilate. 12 That day Herod and Pilate became friends—before this they had been enemies.  

Herod the Great tried to have Jesus executed when he was still an infant. Now, this man, Herod the Great's son, Herod Antipas, the man who had John the Baptist executed at the request of his wife, had heard about Jesus. This Herod ruled over Galilee where Jesus made his headquarters during his three year ministry. And with Jesus right there in his backyard, he surely heard of the miracles: the water turned to wine, the calming of the storm, the loaves of bread multiplied, the dead brought back to life.

And Herod wanted to see Jesus. He wanted to see some of these miracles, these magic tricks, this Jewish rabbi could perform. Maybe he could make Herod some wine. Maybe he could multiply his bread… or better! His gold! Maybe Jesus would levitate or turn a staff to a snake like Moses and Aaron of old. Whatever miracle he could perform, Herod wanted to see it. He wanted to be entertained!

How ironic! Herod had an audience with Jesus—with God himself. And though Jesus had come to win forgiveness of every sin on the cross, Herod didn't want that. He didn't want forgiveness for sleeping with his niece… who was already married… to his younger brother! (Talk about soap opera drama!) He didn't want forgiveness for orchestrating his brother's downfall so Rome would replace him with Pontius Pilate. He didn't want forgiveness for murdering John the Baptist when John pointed out how wrong this all was. He didn't want forgiveness at all. He just wanted to be entertained.

How ironic that his Savior from all that sin stood right there before him, but Herod was not impressed, but rather disappointed, because he didn't get the show he wanted. And so he ignored the forgiveness he needed. And he sent Jesus back to Pilate without ever understanding who really stood before him.

 

How about you? Do you want to see Jesus? Of course you do, right? After all, that's why you're here at church tonight, isn't it? It's not just for the delicious bacon-themed potluck, but to hear the account of our Savior's Passion so that we, in our own way, might see Jesus.

Or is that why you came tonight? Maybe you really did come for the bacon. Or you came to see your friends. Or you came just out of habit, because that's what we do on Wednesdays in Lent. It beats sitting at home watching TV.

And do you ever go home disappointed, not just because the sermon was boring or didn't engage you (and that can happen), but because Jesus wasn't the Jesus you'd hoped for? Because he didn't offer you the entertainment you sought?

Though the stories of Jesus are certainly exciting, Jesus is not an entertainer. Though he can do miracles, he is not a magician. Though he can heal, he is not a doctor. And though he owns all things in the universe, he is not your vending machine.

And when we look to Jesus to make us healthier, to give us a better family life, to help us get debt free, or to generally make our life happier here on earth, we miss the point.

How ironic if we came here where our Savior from all our sin is before us, and then went home unimpressed and disappointed, because Jesus wasn't the Savior we wanted and we missed out on the forgiveness so needed. How Herod-like we can so often be!

 

Nevertheless, though Herod wanted to see a magic show, Jesus wouldn't give it to him. And how ironic that if Jesus had performed a miracle to appease Herod, Herod would have likely tried to save Jesus' life so he could see more miracles from the great magician in the future. But because Jesus refused to perform like a trained monkey, because Jesus refused to answer Herod's questions and remained silent, he would be condemned to death.

But that was the point. That was why Jesus had come: to die; to be ridiculed and mocked, to be sent back to Pilate to be condemned, to be tortured and crucified, to take Herod's sin and Pilate's sin and your sin, and my sin—our misplaced priorities of loving entertainment more than our Savior, of looking to Jesus to make this life better instead of for forgiveness, for looking to him for the wrong things… and to take our sin on himself, that he might take our sin away.

Herod thought he had power over Jesus, but Jesus let this all happen so that he could carry our sin to the cross. And so, the God who made the universe by the power of his word and with a word could have leveled Herod and his soldiers and the chief priests and the teachers of the law, knocking them all flat to the ground… This omnipotent God allowed himself to be dressed in a purple robe, mocked as a false king, and sent back to Pilate to be sent to the cross.

Out of love for Herod and Pilate and you and me, Jesus chose the cross. And because he was mocked by Herod and his soldiers, you and I won't be mocked by the devil in hell. Because Jesus submitted to the chains, you and I are set free. Because Jesus willingly went to his death, you and I will live forever with him in heaven.

That's the kind of Savior Jesus is: He didn't come to entertain you, but to save you. He didn't come to make this life better, but to give you eternal life way better than anything you can imagine here. He didn't come to make you happy, but to make you joyful—even in the face of persecution and misery and pain—because you know your sins are forgiven and you will be with him in heaven one day.

How ironic! Herod wanted to see Jesus and though Jesus stood physically before him, he never saw the Savior that he was. And how ironic that you and I who, being removed by 2,000 years, cannot see Jesus physically, but see him more clearly than Herod ever did!

Out of love for Herod and Pilate and you and me, Jesus chose the cross. Now, I implore you: choose Jesus over entertainment. No, it's not wrong to watch TV or a movie from time to time, but not at the expense of time in the Word. Come to church more often. Stay for Bible Class. Go home and read the Word there. Read a devotion book. And as you go to the Word, there you will see Jesus—your Savior from sin.

As you leave here tonight, rejoice, not just that you had a delicious bacon-themed dinner, not just that you got to see your friends again, but that you got to see Jesus, your Savior from every sin. And renew your commitment to see him for who he is again and again. Just like Herod, we too want to see Jesus. Unlike Herod, we see him for who he is: our Savior—not from boredom, not from sickness, not from suffering—but from sin, from death, and from hell. Yes, rejoice, dear friends, that we do see Jesus! In his name and by his work, amen. 


In Him,
Pastor Rob Guenther

Grace Evangelical Lutheran Church
47585 Ciechanski Road, Kenai, AK 99611

Listen to sermons online: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Podcast
Watch services online: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Webcast

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Tuesday, March 21, 2017

​The Wound of Apathy (A sermon based on Matthew 26:36-46)

​"I don't care." That's an okay answer when you ask someone where they want to eat out or what movie they want to see, but it's not so nice to hear when you share a problem with someone or ask for their help. Apathy hurts because it says, "I don't really care about you." Jesus was wounded by the apathy of his disciples (in Gethsemane and by us today). But he willingly endured that wound of apathy to rescue us from our sins of apathy and from every sin. Read or listen to (download) this sermon based on Matthew 26:36-46 and rejoice in the forgiveness Jesus won for us... 

O Sacred Head, Now Wounded

The Wound of Apathy

A sermon based on Matthew 26:36-46

Sunday, March 19, 2017 – Lent 3

 

Which is worse: Ignorance? Or apathy? I don't know. And, honestly, I don't care. (See what I did there? Ignorance; "I don't know." Apathy; "I don't care.") J

Actually, the case could be made that apathy is worse than ignorance. Jesus once scolded the people of the cities in Galilee who saw his miracles. He told them, "Woe to you, Korazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! If the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. But I tell you, it will be more bearable for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you. And you, Capernaum, will you be lifted up to the skies? No, you will go down to the depths. If the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Sodom, it would have remained to this day. But I tell you that it will be more bearable for Sodom on the day of judgment than for you." (Matthew 11:21-24)

They could no longer claim ignorance as an excuse for their unbelief. They knew better. They weren't ignorant, just apathetic toward Jesus and his claims. And so, they, who should have known better, would suffer a harsher punishment.

Well, if anyone should have known better about who Jesus was and what he had come to do, it was the disciples. Even after Jesus repeatedly told his disciples that he would be betrayed, arrested, and killed… Even after Jesus told them when this would all happen—during the Feast of the Passover… Even after Jesus told them to keep watch for a few hours, indicating the events would be set in motion that very night… Nevertheless, the disciples, who should have known better, were apathetic to our Savior's plight. And instead of keeping watch, they fell asleep.

If anyone should know better about who Jesus is and what he came to do, it should be us, who have the New Testament and, with it, 20/20 hindsight vision, who have heard and read and studies these accounts countless times! Nevertheless, aren't we too all too often apathetic to our Savior, choosing to ignore what he says that we might be more comfortable? And so it ought to be more bearable for Tyre, Sidon, and Sodom on the day of Judgment than it is for us.

Thank God, then, that Jesus endured the wound of apathy to pay for our sins of apathy, so we won't go down to the depths, but will be lifted up to the skies by his grace.

Our text for this morning is found in Matthew 26:36-46…

 

36 Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." 37 He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. 38 Then he said to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me."

39 Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will."

40 Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. "Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?" he asked Peter. 41 "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak."

42 He went away a second time and prayed, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done."

43 When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. 44 So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.

45 Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. 46 Rise, let us go! Here comes my betrayer!"

 

Apathy is defined as a "lack of feeling or emotion," or a "lack of interest or concern." And that's exactly what Jesus' disciples showed him on Maundy Thursday. Though Jesus was distraught, "sorrowful and troubled" at the thought of what was about to happen to him, his disciples didn't seem to care. Though Jesus told them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death," they showed little concern for him. Though Jesus asked them to, "Stay here and keep watch with me," so he could focus on his prayers without having to look over his shoulder for the soldiers who would arrest and abuse him, his disciples showed little interest. They were too tired.

Having just enjoyed the Passover dinner and a few cups of wine, their bellies were full and they grew drowsy. And while Jesus wrestled with his fears and his prayers, they were sound asleep.  The same three who were excited to see Jesus in his glory on the Mount of Transfiguration, were now apathetic to see Jesus in his suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane.

How does that feel—to be the object of apathy among those you love? Has it happened to you? You're eager to share some exciting news with a friend or a parent or a spouse. You rush through the door and blurt out the news that brings you such joy—the promotion, the aced exam, the good news you just heard from the doctor—and the other person doesn't even look up from the paper or magazine or TV. The one who you care about and want to share in your excitement just says in a monotone voice that makes it clear that he or she could care less, "Uh-huh. That's nice."

How does it feel when you're desperate for help and come to someone you care about seeking their assistance and they say, "I don't really care. That's your problem."? It hurts, doesn't it? It hurts because they aren't just saying that they don't care about your news or your problem. They're saying that they don't care about you. You don't mean that much to them.

Jesus was hurt by this apathy his disciples—his three closest friends!—displayed in the garden that night. Can't you hear that hurt in his voice? "Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?" "Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us go! Here comes my betrayer!"

And Jesus is hurt by the apathy we show him. And you can't argue that we don't. We show apathy toward his Word when we don't read it and study it and learn it. We show apathy toward his church when we don't come to worship or come to serve. We show apathy toward his people when we show little concern or interest in a brother or sister in the faith who's been absent from worship, who's hurting or suffering, who's lonely and longing for a visit or a call. And what we really say to Jesus by such apathies is, "Jesus, I don't really care about you. You don't mean that much to me."

So when we cry to him for help, "Jesus, I can never save myself! Without you, I am surely bound for hell forever!" we ought to hear Jesus reply with apathy to our plight, "That's nice. I don't really care. That's your problem." We deserve to hear him say to us on Judgment Day, "I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me." (Matthew 25:45) And we deserve to go away to eternal punishment for the apathy we so often show to Jesus.

 

That's what we deserve. But that's not what we get because Jesus was anything but apathetic toward us. He showed the greatest feeling and emotion, interest and concern for you and me. And we see that clearly in the garden that night as he was about to go off to the cross alone, while others were apathetic to his fate.

As Jesus was in the garden all alone, abandoned by his friends in their apathetic slumber, he knew things were about to get waaaay worse. He would soon be abandoned by God the Father on the cross—the very next day. And he prayed to the Father in earnest.

"My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me…"

"Abba, please! I don't want to do this! You can do anything! Please, take this cup away! Hell is in that cup! Death and damnation are in that cup! My Father, it will tear me away from you if I drink that cup! I don't want to do this! Sin is in that cup! And if I drink it you won't look at me. You will loathe me. I will hate myself. I don't want to drink it. Abba, Abba, please… take the cup away!"

And yet, the Father wouldn't take it away and Jesus would drink it, because so great is their love, their emotions, their feelings, their interest, their concern… for you, for me, who are so often apathetic toward them.

So Jesus prayed, "Yet not as I will, but as you will…. My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done." And he went "into the hands of sinners," to be abused by them, to be mocked and beaten by them, to be scourged and bled by them, to be tortured and crucified by them. He went to drink the cup and to be abandoned by the Father who seemed so apathetic to the Son's cries of agony, to endure the hell of separation from his love, to rescue you and me from our sins of apathy and from every sin!  Yes, he was anything but apathetic to our plight.

And we can no longer be apathetic toward him who loved us so much! No! Now, "We love because he first loved us." (1 John 4:19) We love him with an undying love. We love his Word—his love letter to us! We love his church where we hear his Word and especially that Word of his forgiving love! We love his church where we receive the tangible expression of his love as he give his very body and his blood. We love his people because we love him. And we long to show our love, as we put it into action, as we serve Jesus and serve others.

Don't be apathetic to God's great love for you. But stay awake! Keep watch! "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into… [apathy.]" You know what Jesus has done for you. And I know that you do care. So, ignorance or apathy? Let's have neither one! But let's continue to learn more about our Savior and his great love for us as we daily dig into his Word! Let's continue to care about what he did for us and love him for it and show our unending thanks in all that we say and do. In the name of Jesus, who drank that cup for us, dear friends, amen.


In Him,
Pastor Rob Guenther

Grace Evangelical Lutheran Church
47585 Ciechanski Road, Kenai, AK 99611

Listen to sermons online: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Podcast
Watch services online: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Webcast

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Thursday, March 16, 2017

Not During the Feast (A sermon based on Matthew 26:1-5)

Timing is everything. That's certainly what the chief priests and elders of Israel thought. They wanted to arrest Jesus at just the right time to keep their sin a secret. Of course, we try to do the same: keep our sins secret by timing when they take place. But we can't keep anything hidden from God. And his timing is always best and he's always in control. Read or listen to (download) this sermon based on Matthew 26:1-5 and thank God, that in just the right time, he sent Jesus to become the Passover Lamb who takes away our sin! 

Ironies of the Passion

Not During the Feast

A sermon based on Matthew 26:1-5

Wednesday, March 15, 2017 – Midweek Lent 2

 

Timing is everything. Timing is important in comedy. The difference between a good joke and a late comeback is all in the timing. Timing is essential when dealing with other people. You don't ask for a raise when business is not going well and you don't ask for a favor when someone is angry. Timing is critical in cooking. The juicy burger on the grill is a lump of raw meat if under-cooked and a clump of charcoal if overcooked. Timing is important in hunting. Shoot too soon and you miss a better shot. Wait too long and your game might be spooked without you getting a shot at all. Timing makes all the difference in finance. When you buy and when you sell makes the difference between whether you make money or lose it. Yes, timing is everything.

That's how the chief priests and elders of Israel felt. They wanted Jesus dead. And they had plans to make it happen. But they needed to time it just right. They wanted Jesus arrested and killed, but in secret. They didn't want to get caught. They didn't want a riot to break out. So they plotted and planned to make the timing just right.

But, ironically, in spite of their best efforts and their timing, Jesus did things his own way. And his timing to be arrested and killed perfectly coincided with the only time they didn't want him arrested or killed. They said, "Not during the feast." But God's timing was perfect. Our text for consideration this evening is found in Matthew 26:1-5…

 

When Jesus had finished saying all these things, he said to his disciples, 2 "As you know, the Passover is two days away—and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified."

3 Then the chief priests and the elders of the people assembled in the palace of the high priest, whose name was Caiaphas, 4 and they plotted to arrest Jesus in some sly way and kill him. 5 "But not during the Feast," they said, "or there may be a riot among the people."

 

The chief priests and elders wanted to time Jesus' arrest and death to take place away from the crowds and away from watchful eyes. They wanted to keep their treacherous sin secret. And to do that, they wanted to avoid any public trials, they wanted to avoid the pilgrims that were in town for the feast—that is, the Passover celebration. One estimate said that Jerusalem swelled from 50,000 residents during most of the year to five times that at 250,000 residents during the Festival of the Passover. That's like the entire population of the Peninsula jumping to half the population of Anchorage (or sort of like what we see every year during the fishing season).

So if they wanted to keep their murder quiet, they certainly didn't need extra witnesses around. And they didn't want huge crowds of people—many of whom loved Jesus and believed him to be a miracle worker even if not the Messiah—ready to riot should they find out what the priests and elders intended to do with Jesus.

"They plotted to arrest Jesus in some sly way and kill him. 'But not during the Feast,' they said, 'or there may be a riot among the people.'"

Well, we get it don't we? We understand what the priests and elders were up to, because we've done it ourselves. Okay, so maybe we haven't plotted a secret murder. (I don't know. If you have, you've at least kept it secret from me.) But we have plotted our own sins in their various forms. We get impatient waiting for God's promised blessings. Heaven seems so far away. And we want immediate gratification right now, not delayed gratification for someday some number of decades from now! So when God's timing conflicts with ours, we do what we can to get what we want.

And like those priests and elders, we, of course, want to keep our sin a secret. So we plan to carry it out in some sly way… When no one else is at home, when we think no one else is watching, when it's late and night and everyone else is asleep, that's when we pull our pet sins, and take them out of the cage to run around a bit. That's when we do the things we'd never dream of doing if we knew others were watching. That's when we sin "in some sly way… or there may be a riot…" among my family, among my friends, among those I respect and care about.

And in a sense, that's when we too kill Jesus. After all, it was for our sins—the one's we slip into and the ones we love to pull out in secret—that Jesus had to die.

And, of course, you know that we can't keep any secrets from God. When we think no one else is at home, that no one else is watching, you know who's really looking right over your shoulder, who's watching as you again shatter his commandments, whose heart is breaking at your rebellion. You know that God sees it all.

And you know that in spite of your timing, in time you will regret your sin… always! You will either regret it in genuine contrition and repentance, or you will regret it eternally in suffering and torment. As one author once put it: We all face the choice between two pains: (And we must choose one!) The pain of self-denial or the pain of regret.

Since, in our impatience with God, we've often chosen self-indulgence over self-denial, then please, choose the pain of regret now in sincere repentance, rather than the pain of eternal regret. And when we do, we find the wonderful comfort that God has removed our sin in his good time…

Our timing is so often faulty. That's why the jokes fail and we rub others the wrong way. That's why we sometimes burn dinner and miss the shot. That's why we lose money in the market. And that's why we sin against God. If timing is everything, ours is so often waaaay off.

But God's timing… his is always spot on. God's timing is perfect. There's an old German proverb that says, "Der Mensch denkt, Gott lenkt." Translated literally, it's "Man thinks, God controls." You might say, "Man proposes, God disposes." It's a pithy way of paraphrasing Proverbs 19:21: "Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails." Sinful man plans for things to go one way, but our plans fail. God plans things another way, and his plans always work out.

It should be no surprise to you that it's always been this way; that God is in control of events and their timing. Galatians 4:4 says, "But when the time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under law…" God timed the events of Jesus' birth when things were just right according to his plan. When Mary told Jesus to deal with the lack of wine at a friend's wedding, Jesus replied (in John 2:4), "Dear woman, why do you involve me? … My time has not yet come." When his brothers told him, "Now is the time to capitalize on your celebrity," he told them (in John 7:6,8), "The right time for me has not yet come; for you any time is right… You go to the Feast. I am not yet going up to this Feast, because for me the right time has not yet come."

John 7:30 says, "They tried to seize [Jesus], but no one laid a hand on him, because his time had not yet come." And John 8:20 repeats it: "He spoke… in the temple area… Yet no one seized him, because his time had not yet come." Time and again, people made their plans for Jesus. But Jesus was in control of the events and of their timing.

And it was certainly the case with the timing of Jesus' arrest and death, that God, not the priests and elders, was in control. The priests and elders wanted to time their murder of Jesus in a way that would keep it secret. But God wanted to make it public. He timed it just right to have a large audience in Jerusalem (maybe 250,000 people!) gathered there for the Passover celebration. They wanted it any time except during the festival. But God wanted it during the festival. So Jesus told his disciples, "As you know, the Passover is two days away—and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified." That's when it would happen, when God was good and ready—not a moment before, nor a spit second after—no matter what the priests and elders tried to do.

And with Judas' betrayal, the hand of the priests and elders was forced to act right then! This was the opportunity they were waiting for. And, so, ironically, because they acted when they did, Jesus' arrest took place at the very time they had hoped to avoid—right during the Feast.

And God timed it just right, not only so there would be a large crowd from all over the Roman empire to witness or hear of Jesus' death,  but it was timed perfectly to coincide with the Feast to highlight Jesus' death as the fulfillment of the Passover picture.

Remember what the Passover was all about? They were to take a lamb (one without any blemishes or defects) and keep it in their home for several days to grow attached to the cute, cuddly thing. Then on the day of the Feast, they were to slaughter it, drain its blood into a bowl, and paint it on the door frame of their house. They were to roast it whole (without breaking any bones) and eat it with their family all as a reenactment of that first Passover—the last of the 10 Plagues—that took place in Egypt right before God's people were freed from slavery and promised a new home, a Promised Land. And while God warned that the firstborn male of every home would be executed by his angel of death, he also promised that for those who painted the blood of the lamb on the door frames of their homes, the angel of death would pass over and they would be free. Thus the name, "Passover."

And of course, you see the clear picture of Jesus: a man without any blemishes or defects, morally perfect and pure, sinless in every way. And though he was very dear to the father, he was slaughtered for sinful mankind—and that without breaking a single bone! And for those who trust God's promise—that by his blood shed for us our sins are removed (even our "secret" sins that no one knows but us and God) and we too become perfect and pure, sinless just as he is—God's wrath will pass over us on the day of his judgment. And we have been set free from slavery to sin and promised a new home, a "Promised Land," not in the Middle East, but in heaven.

How fitting that Jesus' arrest and death took place during the Feast of Passover! Just as the lamb was slaughtered, so too Jesus became "the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!" (John 1:29) And we too reenact the Passover, eating and drinking, not lamb and wine, but Jesus' very body and blood given and shed for us to take away our sin and give us the forgiveness he won in his death. Thank God for his perfect timing!

And now, this peace we have with God, with our every sin—public or secret—forgiven, erased, gone! …we find a peace and contentment that gives us patience while we wait for God's timing in our lives, even as we wait for the heaven he's promised each of us.

Woody Allen once said, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." That was his way of saying, "Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails." (Proverbs 19:21) Don't let that stop you from planning ahead, but do know that God is ultimately in control. And that's definitely how you want it to be because God's plans mean your eternal salvation. Then, seeing how he timed it all perfectly for Jesus to pay for your sins and give you peace with him, don't plan to sin anymore. And when you do sin by mistake, don't plan to hide it and cover it up, but confess it. Plan to come hear those comforting words again, that in Jesus you are forgiven: "God, our heavenly Father, has forgiven all your sins. By the perfect life and innocent death of our Lord Jesus Christ, he has removed your guilt forever. You are his own dear child. May God give you strength to live according to his will." In the name of Jesus, the Lamb of God who took away the sin of the world, dear friends, amen.


In Him,
Pastor Rob Guenther

Grace Evangelical Lutheran Church
47585 Ciechanski Road, Kenai, AK 99611

Listen to sermons online: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Podcast
Watch services online: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Webcast

Have you been blessed by our ministry at Grace? Consider supporting us with your generous gifts. Give securely online with a check or credit or debit card here: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Give

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The Wound of Betrayal (A sermon based on Matthew 26:20-25)

Have you ever been betrayed? Betrayal hurts doesn't it? It hurts precisely because it was a friend -- someone you thought you could trust -- who betrayed you. As you read or listen to (download) this sermon based on Matthew 26:20-25 and hear of Judas' betrayal of Jesus, remember how you too have betrayed Jesus in your sin. But also rejoice that by his betrayal, Jesus won forgiveness for you of your betrayal and of every sin. 

The Wound of Betrayal

A sermon based on Matthew 26:20-25

Sunday, March 12, 2017 – Lent 2

 

"Et tu?" You don't have to be a Latin scholar to know what that short, two-word phrase means, or how it entered common usage. This Wednesday is March 15th—the "Ides of March." That's the day when the Roman senate, fearing that Julius Caesar was growing far too powerful than one man should ever become, betrayed and murdered him at the theater. And as he was being stabbed to death (some 23 times!), Julius recognized his close friend, Marcus Brutus, as one of the 60 conspirators attacking him. Brutus had been a confidant, a supporter, even a counselor of Julius Caesar. So you can imagine the shock of betrayal by such a close friend that led him to cry out as his last words, "Et tu, Brute?" "You too, Brutus?"

Throughout the Sundays of Lent this year we're going to examine the many wounds our Savior suffered in his Passion, his trip to the cross. But we'll look, not at the physical wounds in his back, his head, his hands, his feet, and his side, but the emotional blows the suffered, which were just as bad, if not worse than, the physical abuse he endured.

And today, we begin with that wound of betrayal. Of course, you know the story of Judas' betrayal of Jesus, handing him over to his death for 30 pieces of silver. But as we look at this account this morning, Jesus doesn't want us to focus on how evil and cowardly Judas was. Instead he wants to ask each of us, "Et tu, Christian?" Do you too betray me?

And he wants to ask that soul-piercing question not just to wound us, but so that he might heal our wounded souls by the wounds he endured in our place. Our text for this morning is found in Matthew 26:20-25…

 

20 When evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table with the Twelve. 21 And while they were eating, he said, "I tell you the truth, one of you will betray me."

22 They were very sad and began to say to him one after the other, "Surely not I, Lord?"


23 Jesus replied, "The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. 24 The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born."

25 Then Judas, the one who would betray him, said, "Surely not I, Rabbi?"

Jesus answered, "Yes, it is you."

 

Have you ever been betrayed? Maybe you told a friend how much you liked someone, only to hear that they asked that special person out the very next day. Or maybe you shared a secret with a someone, "I've never told this to anyone before…" And then, everyone knew your private business within hours. Or maybe you had a joint venture planned and your would-be partner pulled out last minute costing you a small fortune. Or maybe someone promised you that they'd be faithful till death do you part, and it turned out, they didn't mean it.

If you've been betrayed before, and I'm guessing everyone here has been betrayed to some degree or another, I'd be willing to bet that the common denominator in everyone's betrayal, is that it was done by a friend, by someone you thought you could trust. In fact, that's what makes it betrayal, isn't it, instead of just hostility from an open enemy. And that's what made it hurt.

That's what hurt Jesus that night. He was being betrayed by a close friend—by "one who [had] dipped his hand into the bowl" with him. In our culture, you might say someone close enough that you wouldn't mind if they double-dipped—you know, they took a bite, then put that same piece of food that touched their lips back in the bowl of dip that you both share. You only do that with someone you're pretty close to.

And as much as we like to villainize Judas (and rightly so—he did sell out the Son of God for a few thousand dollars in today's terms), yet, all of the disciples betrayed him that night didn't they? They recognized that each of them were capable of such cowardly betrayal already at the meal. "They were very sad and began to say to him one after the other, 'Surely not I, Lord?'" They knew the potential of their sinful natures and asked, "Et me, Jesus?" "Is it me?"

And of course, you know what happened later that night. After they swore they would never disown him, they fell asleep when asked to keep watch. They ran and hid when Jesus needed them the most. They swore that they never knew the man who had done nothing but love them. What cowardice! What betrayal!

And as much as we like to villainize Judas (and the rest of the disciples), we have to admit we too are capable of betrayal. In fact, I'm sure that we've all been on the giving end of betrayal just as we've been on the receiving end. Have you ever talked about someone behind their back? You've betrayed their trust. Have you promised something to a friend that you failed to deliver on? You betrayed that friend. If you've ever lied to your parents, you betrayed them by your dishonesty. And if you've ever had a fleeting thought about being intimate with anyone other than you're spouse, you've betrayed your promise to be faithful.

And in all of this, you've betrayed God too. You see it's not those sinners out there who betray Jesus. No. It's expected that unbelievers and atheists, religious liberals, and those practicing an openly sinful lifestyle would all rebel against Jesus. But it's his friends—you and me, who call ourselves Christians, little Christs, who have sworn to him our undying allegiance—who betray him. We betray him when we pretend like we don't know him, when we act like we don't know him, when we show him that we think we're more important than he is.

And we not only break Jesus' heart, but we incur God's wrath. Jesus said in Luke 9:26, "If anyone is ashamed of me and my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his glory and in the glory of the Father and of the holy angels." 

Can you hear the sorrow in Jesus' voice as he looks at you and asks you, "Et tu, Christian?" "You too would betray me?" And we have to confess, "Me tu, Jesus. Me too. I too have betrayed you. And I'm ashamed my betrayal… I know that I deserve hell for it. And I'm sorry… so sorry for what I've done."

 

But don't just hear the disappointment in Jesus' voice as he tells his disciples, "I tell you the truth, one of you will betray me." Also hear the sorrow of what Jesus said about the sad, final fate of Judas: "Woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born." I think Jesus probably said this with a tear rolling down his cheek.

In his omniscience, he saw what would become of Judas. He knew that Judas would despair, and, believing that God's mercy could never be for him—for such a traitor—, that his sin was far too great for God's grace, would miss out on the forgiveness that Christ would win for him. And that reality must have broken Jesus' heart far more than the betrayal. You see, even for Judas' betrayal, Jesus never stopped loving him. 

And Jesus never stops loving you, no matter how many times you've betrayed him. And he loved you and every traitor, every Judas, so much that he willingly chose the cross and let soldiers stretch out his hands and pound in the nails. It was for the sins of every Judas, for you and me, that our Brother pleaded, "Father, forgive them!" It was for the betrayal of every Judas, for yours and mine, that our Savior endured the worst betrayal—as God the Father turned his back on the sinless Son of God, who took our sin and hell's punishment on himself. "Et tu, Pater?" "You too, Father?" Jesus could have cried from the cross as he died for us.

And by his perfect sacrifice, he won forgiveness of every sin, of every betrayal ever committed! Don't believe the lie that Judas did—that your sin is too big for God's mercy. You are forgiven, no matter how great your betrayal! His forgiveness is for "et tu," for "you too!" So great is the love of Jesus for you that it overcomes your betrayal and your every sin. And Jesus will never betray you or ever stop loving you.

And so, as hard as it might be, in Jesus who forgives us in spite of our betrayal, we find the strength to forgive those who have betrayed us. Though it will mean torture and death for the sinful nature to do it, in Jesus who loves us in spite of our betrayal, we find the strength to love even those who have hurt us so badly. Even though it will be a cross to carry, in thanks to Jesus who served us by carrying a literal cross to hell on Mount Calvary, we find the strength to serve even those who have let us down time and time again. We do it all not because it's fun, but to show our thanks to Jesus for all he's done for us.

"Et tu?" Yes, we too have betrayed our Savior just like Judas did. But today we celebrate his love that is far greater than all of our betrayals! "Et tu?" Yes, we too can endure the pain of being betrayed with forgiveness and love and grace, being recipients of the same from God. "Et tu?" We too will serve our Savior and others in thanksgiving with no more betrayals until he returns or calls us home. And on that day we will be so glad we were born when he says to us, "Come, enjoy the kingdom prepared for you." (cf. Matthw 25:34) "Et tu?" Yes, for you too! In Jesus' name, dear friends, amen.


In Him,
Pastor Rob Guenther

Grace Evangelical Lutheran Church
47585 Ciechanski Road, Kenai, AK 99611

Listen to sermons online: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Podcast
Watch services online: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Webcast

Have you been blessed by our ministry at Grace? Consider supporting us with your generous gifts. Give securely online with a check or credit or debit card here: www.GraceLutheranKenai.com/Give

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It’s Better That One Man Die (A sermon based on John 11:45-53)

How ironic! The leader meant one thing, but what he said actually meant the very opposite. Caiaphas knew it was better that one man, Jesus, die, than that the whole nation should perish. But he was really worried that he might lose his position of power. God meant something different. He didn't want people lost forever to hell. He agreed that it was better that one man -- the God man -- should die than that the whole nation should perish. Read or listen to (download) this sermon based on John 11:45-53 and see how God ironically rescued us...

It's Better That One Man Die

A sermon based on John 11:45-53

Wednesday, March 8, 2017 – Midweek Lent 2

 

How ironic!

In 2012 Rabbi Jonathan Cahn wrote a book called The Harbinger. In it, he described how several national leaders, including the President of the United States, President Barack Obama, repeatedly quoted Isaiah 9:10 as the memorial to the World Trade Centers was completed.

They said, "The bricks have fallen down, but we will rebuild with dressed stone; the fig trees have been felled, but we will replace them with cedars."

And they meant it as a message of national pride and determination not to let our enemies ever get the best of us. Whatever they destroy, we will rebuild stronger and better and more resilient.

But ironically, it would seem that they never checked the context of Isaiah 9:10. Apparently some speech writer just searched for Bible passages with "bricks" and "fallen," because Isaiah 9:10 wasn't really a great verse to quote.

Here it is in its context… (Isaiah 9:9-19)

The Lord has sent a message against Jacob; it will fall on Israel. All the people will know it… who say with pride and arrogance of heart, "The bricks have fallen down, but we will rebuild with dressed stone; the fig trees have been felled, but we will replace them with cedars."

But the Lord has strengthened…  foes against them and has spurred their enemies on…. [They] have devoured Israel with open mouth. Yet for all this, his anger is not turned away, his hand is still upraised. But the people have not returned to him who struck them, nor have they sought the Lord Almighty. So the Lord will cut off from Israel both… the elders and… the prophets who teach lies… By the wrath of the Lord Almighty the land will be scorched and the people will be fuel for the fire…"

You get the point? God was saying, "I sent enemies to attack you and knock down your walls, to discipline you and call you back to me. Yet in your arrogance you still refuse to repent of your sin and admit that you need me. You just cry, 'No big deal! We can rebuild!' Therefore, God will punish you even more."

What our leaders meant as a rally cry to rise up and rebuild what our enemies have destroyed, was really, in its context a defiant rebellion against God, shaking the fist, not at one's enemies, but at him.

How ironic! Though Isaiah 9, and President Obama's bold assertion that Isaiah 9:10 applies to us, may be prophetic for our nation, as Rabbi Jonathan Cahn suggests it is, I don't think our leaders understood what they were saying at all.

In a similar way, the leader of the nation of Israel, the high priest to whom all Israelites looked for direction and instruction, made a bold assertion that he didn't really understand. He meant one thing by it, but God, speaking through him, meant something completely different. And how ironic it was.

Our text for consideration this evening is found in John 11:45-53…

 

45 Therefore many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary, and had seen what Jesus did [in raising Lazarus from the dead], put their faith in him. 46 But some of them went to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done. 47 Then the chief priests and the Pharisees called a meeting of the Sanhedrin.

"What are we accomplishing?" they asked. "Here is this man performing many miraculous signs. 48 If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation."

49 Then one of them, named Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, spoke up, "You know nothing at all! 50 You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish."

51 He did not say this on his own, but as high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus would die for the Jewish nation, 52 and not only for that nation but also for the scattered children of God, to bring them together and make them one. 53 So from that day on they plotted to take his life.

 

How ironic! The miracles that Jesus did should have proved to everyone who he really was: The very Son of God with power over sickness and disease and even over death itself! And while many believed, it was only many, not everyone!

How ironic! The chief priests and Pharisees readily admitted, "Here is this man performing many miraculous signs." They didn't deny that Lazarus had been dead, but now was alive! Yet, they refused to follow those clear and obvious signs to their logical conclusion! It was like someone visiting a city they've never been to before and then refusing to listen to the GPS or even look at a map when they get there.

These leaders—who should have been on the lookout for the coming Messiah and ready to point the people to the one who had finally come to fulfill the prophecies of their sacred writings and rescue his people from their sin—these were so concerned that they might lose their positions, their authority, their power and prestige, that they were willing to plot murder just to keep their cushy jobs.

And they were willing to justify framing and executing an innocent man in their own minds because of what was at stake. With a Machiavellian attitude that believed the ends justified the means, their spokesman, Caiaphas declared, "It is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish." And, "from that day on they plotted to take his life."

 

So what does any of this have to do with us? Well, if we're honest, we have to admit that we are just like Caiaphas in this account.

"Wait… what?! 'Like Caiaphas' did you just say?! Not me! I've never plotted an assassination to keep my position. I'd never dream of having someone whacked just to keep my job!"

Okay, granted, you may not have plotted murder. But you surely have committed other sins—sins which you planned ahead of time, sins which you plotted. You too have had the same pride in your heart that has rejected God's plan for your life and as has taken on your own.

And while your sin may not have cost another person their life, you know that your sin has certainly hurt other people—whether physically or emotionally. (And you know that the scars last longer with that latter kind of hurt.) It may not have been so blatant as our national leaders quoting Isaiah 9:10 or Caiaphas declaring that Jesus had to die, but you too have stood defiantly shaking your fist at God.

And you too have tried to justify your sin. "If I don't follow the crowd in their sin, I'll lose my friends. Then how can I be a witness to them?" "If I don't cheat a little at work—and that's just the way everyone operates, the boss expects it—then I could get fired. And if that happens, I'd have nothing to put in the offering plate." "If I don't sit around lazily, I'd wear myself out. Then I'd have no energy to serve Jesus." "Don't you know that's it better for me to sin just this once than that the whole church should perish?" It's sad, isn't it?

And you know what you deserve for it all. To quote Isaiah, "By the wrath of the Lord Almighty the land will be scorched and the people will be fuel for the fire…" (Isaiah 9:19) Just like Caiaphas and those Israelite leaders did, just like all who defy God in their arrogance do, you and I deserve hell for our sin against God.

 

But… Thank God that we don't get what we deserve because what Caiaphas declared was all a part of his plan.

Caiaphas… spoke up, "You know nothing at all! You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish."

51 He did not say this on his own, but as high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus would die for the Jewish nation, 52 and not only for that nation but also for the scattered children of God, to bring them together and make them one.

 

How ironic! Caiaphas told the Sanhedrin that they knew nothing at all. But as he spoke, he knew nothing at all about what he was saying. He meant they had to put a hit out on Jesus to maintain their positions and their authority. But God meant something completely different.

How ironic! That the man who's job description was to point people to Jesus—and that's what the Jewish priests were supposed to do: by the daily sacrifices and regular rituals, point the people to the coming Messiah who would take away their sins—was ready to kill the Messiah. How ironic! That the man who wanted to kill Jesus actually preached the Gospel message of what Jesus had come to do!

"It is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish." And, "As high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus would die for the Jewish nation…"

How ironic! That using Caiaphas and his pride and his paranoia at losing his job, God set in motion the events that would lead to Jesus' death—the very death the daily sacrifices at the temple made by every priest pointed to. He would become the Lamb of sacrifice, the substitute that the Scapegoat and the sacrificial goat were every year on the Day of Atonement—the same that Caiaphas would kill year after year sprinkling its blood in the Most Holy Place.

Sadly, though Caiaphas saw all of those signs—at least in the Word, if not in the rituals—nevertheless, he refused to follow those clear and obvious signs to their logical conclusion; that Jesus was the Messiah, the anointed one who came to save his people from their sins—and not only them, but all people.

 

What Caiaphas said wasn't just better for the Sanhedrin. "It is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish."

You deserve hell. You deserve to be "fuel for the fire," for your stubborn rebellion against God. But you don't get what you deserve because one man—the God-man—died for the people, for all people, "not only for that nation but also for the scattered children of God…" that is, for all people everywhere.

Jesus lived a perfect life in your place, always submitting to God's will and God's law, never raising his fist at the Father, never questioning his ways or disobeying in any way. And he gave you his perfection.

Then Jesus died an innocent death as a result of what Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin insisted Pilate do to him. And on that cross he was not only tortured and killed in a horrific way, but he also endured the punishment for every sin that you and I deserve. He endured the hell of the Father's wrath. By the wrath of the Lord Almighty Jesus was scorched. He became fuel for the fire so you and I don't have to.

Now, through faith in him, you are forgiven of every sin you've ever committed, of every time you've raised the fist to God, or arrogantly defied him by breaking one of his commands. Through faith in him you have become "children of God…"—dearly loved sons and daughters of God the Father, whom he loves dearly and longs to have join him in heaven. How wonderfully ironic!

So rejoice, dear friends, in this forgiveness that is yours because one man died for the people. And go and prophecy as Caiaphas did. Let others know the ironic message of that high priest: that he died for them too "for the scattered children of God, to bring them together and make them one." In Jesus' name, dear friends, amen.


In Him,
Pastor Rob Guenther

Grace Evangelical Lutheran Church
47585 Ciechanski Road, Kenai, AK 99611

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