All quiet on the western front. . . not

President Linneman of the Northwest District LCMS, the ecclesiastical supervisor of the individual whose positions caused charges to be filed against him, has issued a letter on the case and its publicity.  You can read it all here.  I do not mean to suggest that Pres. Linneman has anything less than the noblest of motives in writing yet his words will not silence the debate.

The letter references the Facebook and LCMS blog posts of President Harrison lamenting the outcome of the doctrinal supervision and procedures that did not discipline the individual for the teaching and which, in essence, found that the individual's teaching was compliant with the published doctrinal statements and doctrinal confession of the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod.  The letter references the helpful letter of the Council of Presidents indicating that these individuals do take seriously their role as ecclesiastical supervisors and desire to uphold the faithful teaching and confession of the LCMS.  The letter references the many letters and even a District Resolution which have come in response to the case.  Finally, the letter references the need to act charitably and with love in all of this, to adhere to the procedures of Matthew 18, and to be careful about public comments which may be made without knowledge of the facts and without love and charity.

All of this is well, true, and good. The Council of Presidents cautions members of the Synod to exercise care in their evaluation and analysis of matters of ecclesiastical supervision. This is a salutary statement and worthy of some careful thought on the part of those moved to comment -- me included.

But another statement causes me concern. When our Synod was formed, it was founded on the notion that influence would be our commodity rather than authority. While some Christian churches have a hierarchical structure where individual people are given authority, that is not the case in the LCMS. Congregations are the basic unit of authority, and leaders in the church are called upon to stand upon the Word of God and use their voice for influencing one another through conversation and dialogue. This dialogue is healthy for the church and allows each of us to prayerfully consider God’s Word and respond to it faithfully. As we engage in these conversations, careful listening and thoughtful responses are essential for the health of the church and the ministry we share.

Is this true?  Is influence the only thing we have to use to respond to challenges to the faith publicly confessed in the Concordia and reaffirmed in doctrinal resolutions of Synod?  If the statement is true, then what kind of ecclesiastical supervision can take place?  When it comes to clear and public dissension from the clear and public teaching of Synod (not new teaching but the reaffirmation of long held theological statements), is the only thing option open to us conversation and dialogue?  Quite apart from the individual case that has sparked so much discussion, the whole issue of ecclesiastical supervision has been raised and it is clear that many of us are not on the same page.  

Our Synod has in the past acted with authority to challenge dissent to the clear and public confession of our church and even to remove duly elected individuals from office.  Our church has spoken to condemn conflicting positions through convention resolution and the official publications of our Synod.  This was not simply about conversation and dialogue but about the public condemnation of teachings that depart from our Confessions and the public statements of our church body and the rebuke of those who refuse to end their dissent and conform their public teaching and practice to the public teaching and practice of the church they represent. 

I would remind us that it is not merely a matter of a couple of pastors disagreeing -- the disagreements spoken of here are not personal but a provocative and public challenges to the very confessional standard of our Synod and its fuller witness in the life of the church.  Ecclesiastical supervision is not about getting people to play together nicely but about guarding the sacred deposit of doctrine passed down from the apostles.  Yes, we must speak lovingly and without harm but such love does not mitigate the supervision of doctrine and practice among us -- just the opposite -- such doctrinal supervision IS love at work in the best sense of the word.

This does not mean we shouldn’t talk about matters such as this one. It does mean that we should do so charitably and with concern for one another – especially those with whom we disagree. We are called to reflect the love of Jesus to each other and to a world that is in need of His love. We are at our best when we make this the priority. I continue to pray for God’s wisdom and His guidance as we seek to negotiate these stormy water s together. Let it be said of us, “See how they love one another.”

I urge all who care for the LCMS to pray for this issue, to pray for those who dissent from Synod's public confession and teaching, to pray for doctrinal harmony and concordia among us, to pray for those who must discharge the role of ecclesiastical supervisors, and to pray that our church body stands steadfast and speaks the truth in love without fear.  If we do any less, there is no love among us.  When we would choose love for the person over love for the truth faithfully confessed and practiced, we have not chosen love at all.  

No one has to be a member of Synod (congregation or clergy).  It is a choice.  Part of that choice is the willingness to teach and practice in conformity with what our Synod has and still confesses and teaches.  Part of that choice is the willingness to be held accountable to those who supervise our doctrine and practice.  Part of that choice is to end public dissent when the Church has rejected such dissent and to remain in good standing only by faithfully confessing, teaching, preaching, and practicing in conformity with our church's confession and resolutions delineating and applying that confession.  And part of that choice is to be subject to the authority of the Church if and when we refuse the counsel of the church and choose our dissent over our life together under a common confession and as part of a common witness to the truth.

Not good advice. . .

In the same effort to clean off the top of my desk that produced another odd piece from The Lutheran, I encountered this advice from a January 2010 advice column featured therein.  The question was a familiar one.  My family hasn't been to church in many years, but we are starting to come back. During worship, my two teenagers take communion.  They've been baptized but never had an official first communion class.  Are they breaking the rules?

The Lutheran Mom who advises began by welcoming them back.  Nice touch.  But things went down hill from there.  There is no better way to celebrating your family's return to church than by sharing the bread and wine of communion within a community of faith.  Oops.  In other words, sure, y'all come.  Its all good.  It don't matter.  No big deal.  But it is.

Apparently the teens had not been instructed in any way -- not a first communion class nor catechism.  So did they had a clue what they were taking?  The liturgy informs but were these teens coming as believers desiring the gifts of God or were they following everyone else getting up and heading to the altar?  Wouldn't it be better to advise the parent to talk to them first (before communing at all) about what the Sacrament is (got a catechism anybody), what the teens understood on their own, and where they might connect back into the larger issue of catechesis (either youth catechism class or new member class)? 

The answer talked about no blanket rule about how old or how educated the communicant must be to receive the Sacrament in the ELCA.  That is accurate.  There are infants being communed regularly in the ELCA and there are parishes in which confirmation is the expected precursor to admittance to the Table of the Lord.  There is the suggestion about talking to the pastor about it.  This is all well and good but it all sits within a context that suggests no big deal about communion.  I especially noted that they were welcomed back by sharing the bread and wine and not once in the answer was there a reference to the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus in, with, and under that bread and cup.

Again, the issue here is what this official journal is teaching both about what is happening in ELCA congregations and what should be happening.  It is wonderful that a lapsed family is back but no one is taking this serious enough to suggest that the two teens are in fact unchurched.  If we love them enough to welcome them back, can't we love them enough to talk about receiving the Body and Blood of Christ with faith so that they benefit from this Holy Communion as God intended and Scripture expects?  The advice given was not bad but it was wholly inadequate.  Worse, it shrugged off this important issue as if it were merely a matter of a few words from mom or dad or the pastor.  Lutherans confess that to receive the Sacrament for your benefit requires faith and specifically faith in the words "given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins."  Our confessions insist that worthy communicants are those who have been examined and absolved.  We do these teens a disservice by failing to honor them with the full measure both of what is given by God and what receives His gifts.

It is sort of like telling the sexually active teen that it is time to talk about the birds and the bees.  Too little, too late.  Yes, have the conversation and better late than never but the conversation should have been had a long time before.  Parents who will be admitting their children to the Sacrament (as the advice column suggests) need to be equipped with the tools to prepare those children or else the whole thing becomes somewhat trivial and meaningless. 

Banilla. . .

When our kids were small, their favorite ice cream was "banilla."  They had not acquired a sophisticated palate.  Although it could have been almost any flavor of the sweet and cold concoction, "banilla" was basic, good, and left few surprises.  They all have other favorites now -- still an affection for vanilla but it hardly ever is without toppings, especially chocolate -- to add to the familiar, if somewhat bland, old reliable. I am sure that what I wrote is not much different than what you found as a child or as a parent with small children.  We all have our "favorite flavors." 

It should come as no surprise to you that the same analogy has been used with worship.  If your congregation's worship was an ice cream flavor, what would it?  If you could design your favorite flavor of ice cream, what would it be?  If you have multiple services, what distinct flavors do you offer at each worship opportunity?  What toppings do you add to jazz up the same old "banilla" of the liturgy off the page?  What special things do you add for the special occasions of Christmas, Easter, etc?  Could it be that your problem as a parish is that you are a rocky road next to a vanilla community (or the other way around)?

You get the drift.  The fallacy in all of this is not that we don't have favorite flavors of the liturgy (growing up my old standby is page 15 TLH) but that this is somehow important.  Flavors and tastes and personal preferences are the rage in nearly everything we buy or do in this world but when it comes to worship, it is not all that important.  When I asked one of my kinds what kind of ice cream was the favorite, the child responded that it is less important than we have ice cream.  Maybe that is where we ought to begin.

I have eaten frozen yogurt and it is nice enough but it is not ice cream.  I have eaten gelato and it is good but

it is not ice cream.  I have eaten smoothies and they are fine but that it is not ice cream.  Worship has become a confusing array of choices and the problem is that it is not all equal.  God does not command that worship be fun or entertaining or inspirational or even instructional.  What He commands is that the Gospel be proclaimed in all its truth and purity (that means at bare minimum distinguishing the Gospel from the Law) and that the sacraments be administered as Christ instituted them.  Apart from the Word of the Lord read and preached and the sacraments of water and bread and wine, there is no worship.  It does not matter if we like it or enjoy it or are moved by it -- God has pledged Himself to the means of grace.  They not only have to be there but front and center, source and summit.

Second, whether the liturgy is simple or elaborate is not the domain of taste or preference but of resources.  When there are no instruments to support congregational song, there may be less singing or chanting in the Divine Service.  Where there is no choir, the liturgical leadership of a choir (especially for Introit, Psalm, Gradual, Offertory, etc...) may be replaced with the spoken voice and some parts even omitted.  Where there are no people to assist in the liturgy, acolytes, assisting ministers, lectors, communion assistants, etc... may be absent and the pastor do it all.  Where there is no silver chalice, a glass one may do.  Where there is no building, permanent altar, pulpit, font, etc..., then the church may make do with what is there (think the chaplain on the battlefield).  These are not choices or preferences or even matters of taste but of availability.  Where these are available, one will expect to find them.  This is not because of choice, preference, or taste but because we do not withhold what is available simply because we may not fully appreciate them.

Our best for His glory.  That is the principle of Sunday morning.  We Lutherans have no minimalist theology nor do we content ourselves with bare essentials.  Read through the commands of the Lord in Leviticus or look at the plans God required of the Temple that would be constructed in His name.  Do you find there a God of minimalism?  Does this schizophrenic God now defer to your personal taste to say whatever floats YOUR boat on Sunday morning is good to go with Him?  Does Christ deserve less than the mystery of the hidden altar where the blood of the sacrifice was once offered before it was once for all offered on Calvary?  When did David's spontaneous dance before the Lord become normative for Christian worship and the carefully laid pattern of temple, priest, and sacrament become optional?:

There may be differences between cathedral and country parish but these are due not to preference but to access.  Both places and both parishes offer God nothing less than their best for His glory -- in response to His best offered to us in Christ, once on Calvary and the fruits of Calvary offered regularly in the Word and at the Table of the Lord.  There is something terribly wrong when we come to Church on Sunday morning and ask for the flavor that appeals to us but care little of what is faithful to God's design and faithfully delivers His promises and faithfully responds with our best for His glory. 

One final rant, reverence is an essential ingredient to all ice cream worship.  Reverence is not wooden and stiff formality but external respect that flows from internal faith.  Last I checked there were no casual Sundays in Scripture in which we came when we felt like it, wore what felt comfortable, did what we wanted, and went home when we got tired or bored with it all.  If I am wrong, show me. 

None of the pagans ever accused the early Christians of being casual about their God or their faith or their worship.  In fact, the early Christians closed the doors and did not allow those outside the household of faith for the most intimate expression of God's communion with us -- the Sacramental Meal.  Now we have so abused this great mystery of God's presence and gracious gift that we routinely tell everyone to come no matter what they believe or who they are or even if they have not been baptized.

Sure, you love "banilla" and good for you.  Sure, you love page 15 TLH (or 158 LSB), and good for you.  Sure, you love jeans and that faded old Budweiser tee shirt and good for you.  Sure, you love country music or soft rock and good for you.  None of this has anything to do with what should happen on Sunday morning.  There what matters is what God has given, where God has promised to be, and all our best for His glory in response.  Far from resenting it when it seems worship is too fancy, we ought to be offended when it appears we are doing anything less that our best in response to His best for us.  But that would be the real surprise...

If on Sunday morning Lutheran people came to church and asked where is the choir?  where is the organ?  where is the chanting?  where are the acolytes?  where are the vestments and paraments?  where is the crucifix, altar, and pulpit?  where is the incense?  The real shocker would be if they insisted not only on these and more -- not because they liked it all or because they gave it in memory of Grandma Hoopindinger but because they were humbled by God's offering of His best and were shamed that we did received His best in Christ did so little in response.  Now that would be the day when Lutheran people said we should do more!!

Applesauce communion. . .

The February 2012 The Lutheran, publication of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, included a strange piece by Janelle Hooper.  She is identified as the pastor of St. Martin Lutheran Church in Sugarland, Texas.  It is a story of a visit to a parishioner's ailing mom in a nursing home.  She was warned by the daughter that the mom was "ornery" and might refuse the visit.  She thought it would not be the first time she brought the body and blood of Jesus to share with someone who did not want it.

She was also warned that the woman had difficulty swallowing and would she crush up the host into applesauce to make it easier for the woman to swallow.  In a strange paragraph that began with Luther's instruction on our inability to understand how Christ becomes present in the bread and wine, she moved on to Lutheran communion instruction and ended it all with "And if called upon to do so, we add a little applesauce to the bread."  It made it sound as if this was Luther's advice and regular Lutheran practice.

When the woman was not able to continue, the author left the consecrated host crushed into the applesauce for her to finish at snack time.  She had never before left the host for someone to snack on later but her gut said it was OK.  Her end conclusion was how important it was to make communion as welcoming and accessible as possible without losing the core of what we believe... extending God's hospitality as far as humanly possible even if it means sometimes mixing Jesus' body with applesauce.

Now I know why I did not toss out this article and why I buried it in the clutter of my desk.  I have no doubt that LCMS Lutherans are guilty of the same sentimental bologna, but I can tell you one big difference.  In the LCMS we would not herald this practice in our official denominational journal as good pastoral care.  And this is exactly the problem with the ELCA -- not just that it is all over the page but that it trumpets such diversity and practice as a good thing.

Let me just say that nothing trivializes the sacred gift of the Lord's body and blood than foolish, sentimentalism like this.  No good pastoral practice leaves the host as snack for later.  If a person has trouble swallowing, break off part of the host, place it in the cup, and then commune the person with the spoon.  That is what I was taught by Pastor Charles Evanson.  That is good pastoral practice and extends the hospitality of the Lord faithfully and not frivolously.  But if somebody does something like this, at least do not publish it as a feature piece in your denominational journal to offer others the idea that a body of Christ and applesauce snack time are just what Jesus had in mind when he took bread, gave thanks, and distributed it to His disciples, saying, "This is My body..."

God save us from sentimentality and poor judgment parading as good pastoral practice!

The good, the bad, and the ugly. . .

The Good. . .

There are states with respectable numbers with regard to church attendance. It is always a good thing when say 40% church attendance happens.  I am fortunate to live in one of them, Tennessee, and am surrounded by others.

We should cite these as relevant statistics in the arguments of whether or not Americans are a religious people and whether or not faith is vibrant and vital in this land.

We should not be content with these statistics or let them define for us whether or not the work of the kingdom is done.  God does not watch statistics but has called us to proclaim the Gospel to every corner, to call the world to faith in Christ, to repentance of their sins, and to deny themselves, take up their cross and follow Him.  That does not stop because of good stats and it does not become more urgent because of bad stats -- it is what the Church does because of who she is.  Period.




The Bad. . .

There are places where religious adherence and where faith is less vital than in other places.  Sadly, these are the very places where faith brought our forefathers to this nation, where the halls of government and the leaders of our country are located, and where many of the esteemed institutions of learning are found.  None of this is good.

It is a sad state of affairs when the oldest of the colonies have become places where the faith and the faithful are the least vigorous -- thinking that one of the basic measurements of vitality is actual church attendance and not simply the numbers of names on a membership roll.

It is also a dangerous thing when the institutions of higher education, schools that receive disproportionate respect and esteem, are located in pockets the least friendly to the faith and the least tolerant of the faithful.





The Ugly. . .

The ugly is this -- the Gallup organization does not differentiate between orthodox Christianity or sectarian and distorted or false expressions of Christianity.  So the numbers for Utah, for example, are highly affected by Mormon church attendance though Mormons reject Nicene Trinitarian doctrinal formulation and the Christology of Chalcedon which would be basic for any Christian orthodoxy.

The ugly is also this -- the reporting of church attendance is highly subjective and requires the people being surveyed to remember for themselves and to recall accurately how often they attend.  I fear here that too many people have a faulty recollection that favors a higher church attendance than is true simply because people tend to think this way.  So, good or bad, the actual numbers may not be even as high as was reported here. . .

And we wonder where Biblical illteracy comes from . . .

So you compare 1908 with 2014 Minnesota reading lists for 7th and 8th grade students in public schools.

If you need some help, read Annie Holmquist's comparison here and here is another contribution by the same author.  Perhaps the most glaring fact from the comparison is not just how much shorter the modern list is but how recent the works are which are required reading.  Only four are more than 20 years old.  We are enamored with our modern age in so many different ways but who would have thought that public education would not only tolerate but encourage this narrow view of culture, society, history, and literature.

The thematic material is also narrowly modern as opposed to the 1908 reading list which gives the reader everything from ancient Greece to the modern world.  While I am no expert on this, she also documents that the reading levels have diminished so that, in effect, we are asking our children to read at a lower reading level than in 1908.

We might only add that reading the Bible even as literature is missing from modern day schools and the Biblical illiteracy that we often complain about is endemic not only for the education that takes place in churches but also the familiarity that came once from the literature (quoting Scripture) and the Bible itself within the public school setting.

Non-practicing Christian? Lutheran?

"There is no such thing as a nonpracticing vegetarian.”  I encountered the quote several times and I don't have a clue to its origins but it is a real gem.  We have slowly given up on the idea that faith and its practice are fully intertwined.  It has allowed us the strange and unchecked conclusion that what you believe and how you practice -- or even if you practice -- that faith are unrelated.  Lets just explore for a moment how that works out. . .  Okay, indulge me in this one!

I am a vegetarian.  But I love a grilled Nebraska rib eye when it is perfectly seasoned and done to a perfect pinkish red cool center.  Well, for that matter I also love bacon (who doesn't) and pork chops and veal and chicken and hamburger and kielbasa and bratwurst and hot dogs and bologna and. . .  but that does not mean I am not a good vegetarian!!  I believe vegetables are the best food for you and it would all be better if everyone of us was a vegetarian like I am.  I eat meat, well, nearly as much as I eat vegetables, but that does not detract from the faith of my heart that vegetables are king.  I love broccoli, asparagus, brussels sprouts, and cabbage.  I love carrots cooked and raw and onion and celery and rutabaga and turnip and parsnip and snow peas.  I don't eat them all that often because my plate is full of roast beef, ham, pork loin, lamb, and such but that in no way diminishes my love for, my appreciation of, and my devotion to veggies.

You may not think that I am not a good vegetarian but who are you to judge?  You vegans are all narrow minded, judgmental, hypocritical, and holier than thou types.  Just because you actually eat your vegetables and do not eat meat, you think you are better than me.  Well, you are not.  I am just as good a vegetarian as you are -- in my heart.  By the way, it is people like you that give vegetarians a bad name.  We suffer because of the likes of you vegan zealots and your organized vegetarianism.  Nothing good comes from organized veganism.  It matters more what you believe in your heart than what you put in your mouth.  I resent all you holy priests of veganism who condemn me because I am not like you.  Well, I am glad I am not like you and my spiritual vegetarianism is pure and sincere.

So don't you go telling me that I have to actually eat vegetables in order to be a vegetarian.  It is part of the great hypocrisy of you vegans that you are more interested in organizing vegetarians than believing in the heart and sincerely the truth that vegetables are king.  Okay, so occasionally I actually go to the meetings and mumble the vegan credo -- I do that for nostalgia sake and not because I think this is what the great artichoke wants me to do.  And I hate it when on Veggieday you wear your carrots on your foreheads.  Just because I have no outward sign of my inward faith does not mean I am not as holy or good as you.  I am.  Even better, actually.  So keep your holy tofu and edamame.  I am munching down on some sausages right now and that does not make me any less of a vegetarian than you.

Just sayin. . . 

Cleaning up what is messy. . .

It occurs to me that much of liturgical renewal is in reality an attempt to clean up what we have received.  Even Luther did this, most clearly in his reform of the baptismal rite.  What each generation had added had become, in the mind of many, cumbersome and unwieldy.  So what we needed was mass stripped of some of its accretions and a streamlined church year that was more orderly.  And that is what we got.

The fruits of liturgical renewal in post-Vatican II Roman Catholicism and the Lutheran counterparts have left us with a liturgy that some claim to be older but which is, in many respects, cleaner and more orderly.  In most parishes, the fuller use of the pericopes has been abandoned and we have bare minimums.  Many congregations have taken it upon themselves to economize on the liturgical excess and strip it even barer so that what might be appropriate for a weekday service is normative for the Divine Service on Sundays.  We trim the readings, we cut back on the liturgy, we shorten, and we sing only a few stanzas of the many those nasty Lutheran hymns usually sport.

In the liturgical year we have attempted to clean it all up and make it sensible.  And the three year lectionary is certainly more sensible than the one year was.  Gone are the gesimas that left us wondering what season we were in and we have placed such things as the Transfiguration in a strategic place for a people ready to head down the mountain and begin Lent.  It is not that I find it all evil or wrong.  What is misguided is that by cleaning up what is messy in the church year (or the liturgy) we are also attempting to clean up our messy God and make Him more orderly, predictable, and logical (at least to the human mind).

Like the proverbial cloth coat sported by the wives of Republican presidents, we have gone with utility and frugality in place of the festive or elaborate. We splurge for certain things, mostly for ourselves, but not for God.  Like the disciples of old, we fear extravagance as unseemly for spiritual things.  Pastors who wear vestments are called showy while the simple uniform of khaki's and a polo are more down to earth.  Pastors who wear clerical collars are characterized as distant and too inflated with their own sense of self-important while a pastor in jeans and a tee shirt is unpretentious.  A pop melody and a refrain chanted repeatedly are judged more accessible to people and more typical of our tastes than chant or rhythmic chorale.  Yes, we are good at deciding what is too much when simpler is better for everything of God (but hardly anything of ourselves).

More and more I think we should have left it all messy -- a church year with Latin names for Sundays that no one can pronounce and with feasts and festivals that defy logic and order in the grand scheme of things... a liturgy with too much rather than too little, too long rather than short and concise.  Nope, I am not sure that the fruits of liturgical renewal have been born as we hoped.  Sure, we commune more often and more pastors are wearing full Eucharistic vestments but our piety and our mindset still have not changed. We are too ready to short shrift God while making sure that if it is something we want, nothing is too much.  And that still sounds like sin to me. . .

The cost of discipleship. . .

Sermon for Lent II B, preached on Sunday, March 1, 2015.

    It seems pretty darn arrogant for Peter to tell Jesus He was wrong.  The Kingdom of God ain't gonna come by betrayal, suffering, cross, and death.  It might have been Peter attempting to protect Jesus but it was more than foolish.  It was satanic and earned Peter a swift rebuke from Jesus.  Could it be that there is the same bit of Satan in us that Jesus must also cast aside?
    No, I don't mean we want to prevent Jesus from suffering and dying on our behalf.  I am talking about the rest of what Jesus said.  "If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me... and lose his life for My sake and for the sake of the Gospel..."  We are not as concerned with what happens to Jesus as we are what happens to us.  Jesus can go and do what He must but the way of the cross, suffering, self-denial, and service is not my plan.
    "If any would come after Me, let him deny himself..."  These are the hard words of the Gospel.  It is great to receive but it is not so great when receiving comes with consequences.  Here Jesus calls us to self-denial – to deny that we are large and in charge of our lives, that we can handle everything that happens to us all by ourselves, that we are basically good and slip up only now and again.  Self-denial does not begin with giving up little things we like, it means surrendering our independence because all it has earned us is death and despair.
    The call of Christ is to surrender what matters to most of us – our very selves, our lives, and our happiness.  You cannot have it all – not God and mammon, not your way and His way. Don't blame me, this is Jesus talking.  You cannot love your self, and seek the things that appeal to your happiness and pleasure and be a follower of Christ.  It is not Christ AND what I want but Christ alone.  So precious is the Gospel as a treasure that we give up every other treasure for it.  Even our very selves.
    You have no glory.  Sin has stolen every glory you were created to enjoy and the devil has left you alone in your sin, alone in your guilt and shame, powerless to do what is good and right, and impotent before the enemy death.  No, the only glory we can hope to have is the glory Jesus gives us, the glory He gave to us in our baptism, and the glory we grasped by faith.
    If any would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow Me...   But what cross must we take up?  Though we usually think of problems in life or problem people in our lives, these are not our crosses.  No matter how hard your spouse is to live with or your job is to work or your finances to balance, these are not your crosses.  The cross is not your choosing nor is it a consequence of living in a sinful and fallen world.  The cross is the shape of Jesus' own cross lived out in the domain of your own daily life and work.
    Love is your cross.  Loving your spouse, children, neighbor, stranger, and even enemy as Christ loved you – even to death upon the cross.  You do not manufacture this love but mirror or reflect it.  What Christ has done for you in love, you do in love toward others.
    What cross?  Love.  Love that sacrifices is the only real love there is.  Marriages and families do not fail because people run out of passion for each other; we run out of passion all the time.  They fail because we get to a point where we refuse to give up any more for that man or woman or  parent or child.  Love fails when we no longer pay the price of loving.  Jesus loved us to death on a cross. Like that old Meatloaf song, "I will do anything for love but I won't do that."  When we can identify the "that" we will not do, love dies.  Christ's love does not fail because it has no ending point.  He loved us to the end; He loved us more than life itself.
    Take up what cross?  Love is not a temporary or even momentary choice.  The love which we receive from Christ is that love that loves until all things are complete.  Love that does not give up on Christ or reject God when things don't go as we desire.  That is the cross we bear – we live by faith and not by sight, trusting in what we cannot see and may never see until Christ returns to finish it all.  We don’t get to prove faith; all we can do is trust it.
    There is enough Satan in us to resist this kind of self-denial so that is it only by the power of the Holy Spirit we believe in Jesus Christ or come to Him, only by the power of the Holy Spirit, that let go of what the world insists is important to hold on by faith to that which is eternally important.
    The athlete will pay this cost of self-denial in order to obtain the glory of winning but not forever.  Christ has paid this cost for you and for me.  We love not for the reward but because He first loved us.  His unrelenting love on the cross is our strength, our patience, our hope, our endurance, our comfort, our peace, and our satisfaction.  This is the cross shaped life of faith into which we were baptized and in which, by the power of the Spirit, we walk every day, one day at a time, toward the heavenly goal.  Amen.

A conversation expanded. . .

Now the dreaded fear of the chalice has raised the specter of disease or just plain ickyness. And what shall we do? The typical response is to make the distribution conform to our fears. The entrepreneurs have beat us to the punch by providing hermetically sealed bits of cracker and Welches guaranteed untouched by human hand or mouth. Maybe then we will feel secure.  Or will we?

Sadly, our fears are too often bigger than our trust in the Jesus.  Nothing demonstrates this more that the fear of the chalice.  Strangely enough, however, it is the hand into which too many of us receive the host that ought to be of greater concern.  Science has shown us how irrational our fears of the chalice are.  Yet we are never too smart when it comes to fear.  This is but one small way in which we demonstrate our greater fear of our Lord, His will, His works, and His ways.  We may renounce Satan's but we are not fully ready to trust the Lord's.  So we trust our instincts and intellect over God's Word, we force God to forever prove Himself and render faith immune from risk, and seek a faith which is not only neat and tidy but safe.  Such a faith is no faith at all. 

We continue to sanitize the practices of the Lord to fit the sacred cows of our modern day perspective.  We have cleaned up God's loose ends to make Christianity intellectually palatable.  We have cleaned up Calvary to render the cross and sufferings of Christ PG.  We have isolated perspectives that conflict with our contemporary views to the constraints of the age (from abortion to birth control to homosexuality to cohabitation to divorce).  We have a homogenized and pasteurized brand of Christianity which hardly is recognizable in comparison with the Christianity of Scripture and the early church.  We have either tacitly or openly made Jesus but one voice among many who bring us to spiritual fulfillment and the vocabulary of sin, repentance, forgiveness, and faith have become strangers to the voice of the Church in preaching to the faithful or in witness to the world. And we have left God to conform His Word and will to our broken lives and our incapacitating fears. Is it no wonder that the world has little interest in such a bland and impotent Christianity?


Sometimes we act as children who cry out to God over and over again that there is a boogeyman under our bed.  In the end, it seems nothing the Lord does will answer our fears.  Or, could it be that we don't want them answered?  In any case, we refuse to be consoled because we refuse to trust.  There will always be boogeymen under our beds.  There will always be something to fear.  Perhaps that is the safest thing of all -- to keep crying to God to come to our aid without really trust in His mercy or His grace at all.  No one can be safer than when he expects to be disappointed.

Faith, if it is anything at all, is trust -- child-like trust.  It is a risk to be sure.  It is not safe.  It is not clean.  It is not easy.  It is not comfortable.  It is not reasonable.  Faith that trusts in God will seem as wild as God seems -- especially to a people who want Him tame, predictable, and easy.  You cannot look at the cross and find the God whom we know in Christ to be any of those things.  Yet He is trustworthy.  For our fears, this will have to do because God will do no more.  The cross is it.  Everything else seems positively frivolous in comparison to it.  So the cross bids us come. . . believe. . . trust. . . seeing Christ's end is seeing our end and seeing Christ's resurrection is seeing our own resurrection -- especially when our eyes are captivated by our fears.  Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.

Catholic Liturgy. . .

I have been attending mass with more frequency of late, no longer as a tourist, so to speak. Since I am coming from the outside to the inside, I figure I have a right to ask a few things I hardly ever asked as a tourist.

My questions have nothing to do with the great issues roiling in the Church, but with worship. Oh, not liturgics. I know the outline of the mass very well; it is essentially the same used by Lutherans. Better put, Lutheran liturgy is, when employed properly, a Catholic liturgy, except for a few hiccups here and there. 

So Russ Saltzman, lately of Lutheranism and now a Roman Catholic, opines upon the frustrations of a convert with a new (old) church.  You can read him here. . .  One thing he wrote struck me -- Lutheran liturgy, when employed properly, is a catholic liturgy. . .  His complaints about Roman Catholics singing, or to be more accurate, lack of singing, are to be expected.  No one every accused a Roman Catholic parish of raising the roof in song (or chant).  It might irritate me, if I were to swim the Tiber, but it would be surely expected and no surprise.  The mighty singing tradition of Lutherans, and most of their Lutheran chorales, are absent in the average Roman Catholic parish.

His point is well taken.  The Lutheran liturgy, when employed properly, IS a catholic liturgy.  There is no denial of this in our Confessions nor did the Lutherans feel especially uneasy about this until more modern times. When we are Lutheran on Sunday morning, it is a catholic liturgy that is the prayed form of the truth we confess.  But the alternative is just as important.  When the Roman Catholic mass is done poorly, it is just as bad as what you often find in a less than stellar Lutheran setting.  And it is done as poorly in the average Roman parish more often than not.  I look at the Roman parishes around me and they sing evangelical style Haugen songs, if they sing at all.  The chant tradition and the use of the full propers is largely absent from any Roman Catholic parish around me (even the Roman Catholic Cathedral in Nashville where the guitar reigns supreme as done the sound of contemporary Christian music).  Many of the people do not ever open their mouths to speak the liturgical responses or do anything at all except receive Holy Communion.  In and out as quickly as possible is the norm here (can anyone point me where it is not the norm for Roman Catholic parishes).  Maybe if you live in Manhattan (the city in New York not in Kansas) you might find enough choices to find one where the mass is observed piously, reverently, with strong participation from the pews, and where the preaching is grand, but that is not what you find in a typical Roman Catholic parish.

There are those who say that Lutheranism in theory is better than the practice.  Yup, you got that right.  But it is also my experience that the same is true of Roman parishes.  The theory is better than the reality of Sunday morning (or late Saturday afternoon).  But the preaching is typically far worse than you find in the average Lutheran parish (and I do not say this to showcase Lutherans as well above average -- except in Lake Wobegon, for sure).  There are surely those who will disagree with me, but they do not have a Tennessee address and I bet most of them looked long and hard to find a Roman parish which had the best of both worlds.  So why not look as hard for Lutherans who employ it properly?

I suppose if someone wants to jump ship, the theory is enough to make you do it... but the Sunday morning experience will have to sustain you.  In that regard, I will gladly take the average hymnal using Lutheran parish, where the liturgy may not be high church but it is done reverently and where the people participate with voices in song and responses more than a mumble.  The theory may be enough to get you to jump but the Sunday morning experience is what will keep you afloat.  I don't know what Saltzman is finding but if he lived here I think it would not take long to long for some of what he left behind.

The problem with moral progress. . .

We want to believe that things are getting better.  It is often more than we can bear to admit that at best things are the same and at worst they are in decline.  We are ever hopeful that the Christian life will become easier, that doubts will disappear from believing, that we will be able to look back and see the moral improvement in our character and lives, and that are becoming more righteous and holy.  There is nothing wrong with this hope but there is something terribly wrong when we pin our faith to it.  We want to believe that we getting better -- day by day in some small way -- and this is too often what we use to prove that the Bible is true, that Jesus is real, that we are Christians, and that God is good.  It is a terrible trap and leaves us without refuge when the truth of sins, lies, enemies, doubts, and fears can no longer be masked.

I don't know about you  but I see little moral progress in my life.  My heart knows the pain of sins so familiar to me that they are like family and of the strangeness of holiness -- even though my mind knows this is what I should desire.  My life bears the marks of my failures and my failings in ways I cannot hide or ignore.  There are preachers and churches who presume such moral improvement and I wish I saw it but I don't.  Sin is my addiction and I am like an alcoholic but one drink away from losing sobriety.  This is why daily repentance is so important.  I know who I was, God knows who I will be, and every day He must convince me of who I am -- forgiven, born anew, raised from death to life by the merits and mercies of Jesus Christ alone.

Christianity is not a luxury for me.  It is a necessity.  My shame would drive me completely to despair were it not for the value God has placed upon my life.  I look in the mirror and my conscience tells me I am worthless.  I look into the water of the baptismal font and God declares me worth the priceless blood of Christ shed to cleanse me from my sin.  I look at the world and I feel defeated already.  I look at the cross and I see the victory that no one and nothing can steal from me.  I am undone except for Christ.

Hope for me is not some imagined progress toward holiness but the God who should be but is not put off by my sin, who became sin for me, that I might wear His righteousness as my new clothing.  I am not saying that there is not moral improvement or progress but only God sees and knows it.  And that is how it must be.  We would so quickly abandon the scandal of the cross in exchange for a feeble good work we want to trumpet before those around us and show off to God.  So it must be that while God can look and not see the darkness of my heart, I must see it so that I do not depart from Jesus Christ.  On the cross He has extended His arms in suffering to carry my wounds and on the wounds of His back He bears the full weight of my disobedience.  Jesus does not add something to my life -- He IS my life.

Some are comforted by the fact that they love Jesus.  I wish I loved Him.  Truth be told my heart is fickle and shallow.  I know I love myself but the Spirit has to teach me to love Jesus.  Like the sons of Zebedee I can hear the words of the cross and then ask God to make me happy and give me what I want -- and fail to see any disconnect between them.  Jesus tells me the truth always -- even when I would be content with the lies I want to hear.  So I come on Sunday morning -- not to beat my chest and tell the folks to do like I do because I have gotten the hang of it all.  No, I come on Sunday morning to pray, "God, have mercy upon me, a sinner."  And the Lord lifts my eyes from me to Him, from sins to the cross, from death to life, and from the joy of the moment to the everlasting joy of the resurrection to eternal life.  Lamb of God, I come.... I come... Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, have mercy on me... grant me Your peace.

A legacy of political correctness that is hard to shake. . .

One of the richest legacies of the modern movement for politically correct ideology and conversation is that dogma is not worth conflict, that difference does not mean right or wrong, and that heresy is too strong a word for those who reject parts of Scripture and the Christian faith.  Even in the Church we see this lasting influence of politically correct thinking -- even within conservative churches where doctrine is still believed, confessed, and taught.  I think of two of many examples:  Rome and St. Louis (the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod for those who might have missed the identification).

Playing out in Rome today is the idea that relationships are more important than doctrines.  So there are those who say that sincere people should be given a place at the Table of the Lord even though they were divorced or divorced and remarried or cohabiting.  There are also those who think that marriage might be a benefit for the gay and lesbian Christians and that an ordered disorder is better than a disordered one.  In addition, we have witnessed no less than Francis enter the fray of the debate of science and Scripture with respect to creation and a shrug of the shoulders over the rejection of the Biblical word as mere symbolism or mythology.  Finally, the Roman Catholic Church is struggling today over the idea of truth itself, more than mere loyalty to an individual or an institution.  The witness of popes praying at mosques and non-Christian religious folks being invited to days of prayer in Christian sanctuaries raises the inevitable question of whether the truth of Christ is for all and over all or merely one version among many coequal truths.

Playing out in Lutheranism today is the question of doctrinal integrity.  Some in Missouri believe that the fuss over doctrine and life is much ado about nothing -- that we already possess a greater measure of doctrinal unity than nearly all Protestant churches and that this ought to be enough.  Others are insisting that there are many things that could and ought to be ditched in favor of the higher and nobler goal of winning people for Jesus -- such things as sacramental identity, the liturgy, and the music of worship.  Hidden underneath it all is the idea that such things are not worthy the fight and the consequences of fighting over them are worse than the diversity that may test the limits of unity and order. 

On the other hand, when the ELCA adopted its opening to gay and lesbian clergy and marriage in 2009, it began with a conscience clause the appeared to allow congregations and clergy to dissent from this decision.  Now, almost six years later, it appears that in the ELCA you can deny the Virgin Birth of Jesus, doubt the physical resurrection of Jesus, disagree with the historicity of and the historical integrity of the Biblical accounts for just about everything but you may not disagree with the GLBT decisions of the ELCA.

The question remains:  what is so important it is worth fighting for?  What doctrinal truth, what practices reflect that truth, and what diversity from the confessional position of the church transcends the boundaries of unity?  Is the witness of Scripture clear or muddled?  Can we be certain enough of our faith to disapprove of that which contradicts that faith?  What deviation from the confessional position of the church breaks that confession and fractures our unity at the altar rail?

Obviously I am not going to solve those questions here.  Let me say, however, that the reason we fight is not because we are narrow minded, controlling, obsessive, etc...  The reason we fight is because we take the Scriptures, our Confessions, and our life together seriously -- so seriously, in fact, that we risk being misunderstood by the world around us when we dispute, contest, and even refute false teaching and unfaithful practice.  What is at work here is not some idyllic desire for lock step uniformity or some deluded idea of a pristine, golden age without dispute.  No, what we face is the very integrity of the faith we confess and the salvation in which we hope.  Our unity is not formed by common speculation but by common conviction -- Scripture teaches, catholic tradition affirms, our confessions declare, and we act in accord with them.

Missourians may seem to be a culture of infighting to those outside us.  Rome may appear to be a few old, angry, white haired men resisting modernity to those outside her.  Such a stereotype is convenient but inaccurate.  Of course there are those who simply cannot tolerate any diversity and who would insist that everything is church dividing.  Just as there are those who believe nothing is so important we should fight over it.  But every age and every generation has been tested and tried and now it is time for us to come down on the side of Scripture, catholic tradition, evangelical confession, and faithful practice.  The risk of losing the faith is worth it.  Certainty in what we believe, confess, and teach is worth it.  Integrity of confession and life together are worth it. Here we stand.

Some things are just not funny. . .

I have been tempted to comment and then thought better of it but in the end decided that something should be said. 

First Things recorded that the “Director of Civil and Human Rights” for the United Methodist Church, Bill Mefford, posted a picture to Twitter yesterday mocking the pro-life marchers. Mefford, who works for the church’s lobby arm, the General Board of Church and Society, ridiculed the marchers by posting a picture of himself standing before them with a sign saying “I march for sandwiches.”

Paul Stallsworth, himself a UMC pastor, wrote in First Things of his own sorrow over that sign.  You can read him here. . .

While we adamantly disagree with the pro-choice position, the worst thing of all in this debate that has divided America since 1973 is that we trivialize either position or the debate as a whole.  Surely the stakes of this issue are too high to allow us to mock what has caused hurt, consternation, division, and passion to several generations of Americans.  Mr. Mefford may have thought he was being cute, even witty.  In the end he showed himself to be the joke.  I hope and pray that all sides in this debate are serious about the issues, serious about the consequences, and serious about the stakes of our choice as a nation to permit the life of children in the womb to be ended at the will of the mother.  Whether you are pro-choice or pro-life, this is not funny, not in the least, and not at all. 

Good Lent. . .

Okay it is a good week into Lent. . . How is your Lent going?  I draw your attention to an article by George Wiegel in First Things about the journey part of keeping Lent.  I would also remind you of the article I penned for the great Seminary publication, For the Life of the World, on keeping a "good" Lent.

In addition to what we omit, Lent is also distinguished by what we add.  With those words I tried to draw attention to the fact that Lent is not merely about self-denial, about the giving up of favorite activities or foods.  It is about the addition of a focus and perspective.  We refocus ourselves and the worship of Sunday morning (and Wednesday evening) to the cross.  We refocus ourselves and our lives around the call to repentance -- the daily repentance in which the Holy Spirit works in us to meet our Lord at the foot of the cross, to leave behind there the sins, guilt, shame, and despair for which He died, and to rise up the creatures of His making in baptism.  We refocus ourselves toward the goal of our earthly lives and the outcome of our faith, the resurrection and eternal life to which all things in this present moment point.  We refocus ourselves on the good works that contribute nothing at all to our salvation but demonstrate the Spirit's life within us and mark us as God's own in the world.  We refocus ourselves on the Gospel -- that the Son of Man must be betrayed into the hands of sinners, suffer and die upon the cross, and on the third day rise again and that the forgiveness of sins be preached in His name from this place and time for all times and to the ends of the earth.

So at the risk of being misunderstood, let me say it again.  Good Lent.

The rotting foundation of Europe. . .

It has been said by others before and said better than I can say it.  Europe has a rotting foundation.  The whole of the culture, erudition, arts, and tradition of Europe has faded and beneath its great tourist facade lies its decaying structure of faith and values.  The once noble Christian character that fueled learning, the cause of women, the end to slavery, and caused the fine arts to flourish has been replaced by skepticism, boredom, and immorality.  Some places have been slower to manifest the decline than others and some places are precursors of the future for the rest of the West -- should we fail to heed its warning.

I write this with a great deal of sadness.  And for the example of what will be without repentance, a renewal of the faith, and a resurgence of the Christian piety and life, I point you to Belgium.  Yes, Belgium.  As one writer had dubbed it: Belgistan.  You take an affluent, self-centered, morally adrift and bored people accustomed to ease, entertainment, socialism, and faith left to the very fringes of life, and you end up with modern day Belgium.  It is a country that has been ripe for the pickings of Islam.

Brussels was imagined as one of the great cities of Europe, like London, Paris.  The European Union thrust Belgium to new found prominence with the national governmental agencies of the Common Market and the primacy of banking and finance.  What should have been a rebirth became a fatal illness.

Belgium doesn’t only hold the record for jihadists in Europe, it is also the European country with the highest suicide rate. The most notorious suicide is the Nobel Prize laureate in Medicine, Christian de Duve, who, two years ago, killed himself in front of his four children.

Six suicides a day. With a suicide rate estimated at more than 20 per 100,000 inhabitants, Belgium breaks all records in Western Europe. The world average is 14.5 per 100,000 inhabitants. Suicide is indeed the first cause of mortality among Belgians between 25-44 and the second leading cause, after vehicle accidents, between 15-24.  The tragic statistic would grow if we counted the thousands of deaths that occur under the law of euthanasia, with six deaths per day. Belgium is also the site of the first “supermarket of death.”
Belgium is a country dominated by nihilism, where Islam is already the first religion. In the schools of the capital of Europe, the teaching of the Muslim religion has exceeded that of students of Catholic faith. A full 43 percent is studying Islam, and the same figure stood at 41.4 in high schools; 27.9 percent are following courses of “secular morality” (atheism), and only 23.3 percent opted for studies in the Catholic faith.  Already today, in Brussels, one in three people is Muslim, the most common name is Mohammed, and by 2035 it will be a city with a Muslim majority.

The great moments of life, such as baptisms, weddings and funerals in Belgium are no longer tied to Christianity, this in a country whose symbols have long been the cathedral of Antwerp, the dog of St. Hubert and the University of Leuven (founded by Pope Martin V).  In Brussels today only 7.2 percent of marriages are Catholic, only 14.8 percent of children are baptized, and there only 22.6 percent of funerals were Catholic. Read more here. . .

The end of Catholicism and Christianity in Belgium is being overseen by some of the most liberal bishops in the Roman Catholic hierarchy and, sadly, Francis is known to favor at least one of them, the fellow likely to become the primate of the Roman Catholic Church in Belgium.

I write this only to show that people are spiritually hungry but the empty faith of liberal Christianity has little or nothing to offer.  In contrast, Islam does have something to offer -- conviction and obedience.  These are the very things that liberal and social Christianity have forgotten most of all.  We surrender our conviction to our feelings and the Scriptures to modern social trend.  We give up certainty over a wishful thinking that is powerless to grasp us from the abyss of our despair.  And then we give up obedience to the god of our feelings and desires so that nothing is really wrong except self-denial in any form.  The culture of me thrives only because it allows us to ignore our despair, it distracts us from the hopelessness so many feel in the midst of all that modern life has to offer, and it keeps us secure in our skepticism and doubt of anything objectively true -- until it all comes crashing down on us.  Then we are left with the struggle to find hope.  Islam does not offer much in terms of hope but it does offer order, conviction, and obedience.

If Christianity is to offer anything, it has to be a vibrant Christianity, replete with conviction and confidence, and strong enough to call us not only to repentance but to the obedience of faith.  During our time, we must not surrender the vital church of our ancestors to the spiritual and material decadence of the day or the rotting foundation of the West will only be hastened toward its final demise.  God will not surrender His Church to the gates of hell.  Neither should we.

Lead us not into temptation. . .

Sermon for Lent 1B, preached on Sunday, February 22, 2015.

    We pray over and over again, “Lead us not into temptation.” Who wants to be tempted with sin and evil?  But God is not our tempter, says the Scripture.  We have trouble believing it.  Sin has rooted in us the idea that God is out to get us and that He sets traps to try and trip us up – that we are earnest people just trying to be good and God is luring us into being bad. What could be further from the truth!
    We don’t need God to lead us into temptation. We find that all by ourselves.  We are not tempted by God but tempted as people in but not of the world.  We were born into temptation and we live in a world filled with temptation.  Even good things become our temptation and we abuse the good all the time.
    We find temptation all by ourselves without any help but God did thrust Jesus into temptation.  God does not tempt us but Mark tells us that the Spirit literally drove Jesus right from His baptism into the desolation of the wilderness and into the waiting arms of the devil.  Jesus must undo what was done in Eden.
    We face temptation because we are sinful people living in a sinful world but Jesus endured temptation  not as a sinner but as the Sinless One to redeem sinners.  The Lord of creation who spoke and all things came to be is now weak, hungry, and a vulnerable target for the allure of the devil. The Lord of truth is tempted to trade piety for desire, a common barter for us. 
    The Lord of all good is asked to do evil as a means to an end, getting back the sinners whom the devil has in his pocket simply by giving up a little worship to the prince of lies and darkness.  It seems an easy trade and every one of us would have made the exchange to avoid the pain and suffering of the cross - not Jesus.
    Jesus resists not as example to us so that we can do what He did but as the One who must undo what Adam and Eve did. It is a dangerous idea to make Jesus the coach who tries to get us to believe we can and then to do what He does. Jesus is tempted to undo the fruits of temptation to which Adam and Eve succumbed. Our first parents chose temptation and we have suffered from their choice since the beginning.  Jesus chooses righteousness so that His obedience can undo the disobedience of Adam and His righteousness be the covering for all those born in sin because of Adam and Eve's temptation and fall.
    The Lord’s obedience becomes our own – and we who are disobedient are counted with Christ’s perfect obedience simply by the obedience of faith that trusts in what He has done.  The Lord is faithful and now we unfaithful are declared faithful in Christ whose “yes” to God and “no” to Satan counts for us.
    The Lord trusts for you and me, for the skeptics and doubters who are sure God is out to get us.  The Lord’s perfect trust in the will of His Father in heaven wins the day – for you and for me.  We are declared righteous simply by believing in Jesus Christ.  If God tests anything it is our faith, like Abraham found when asked to sacrifice his only son Isaac. Isaac was always key to the Lord's plan of salvation and the Lord never intended to take his life but Abraham's faith in God's plan was key.When Abraham found God can be trusted and that trust becomes our delight and our joy, laid down a legacy for all those whose faith will be credited as righteousness.  Christ suffers so that you and I might be counted holy by faith.
    We look at this all wrong.  Jesus did not go into the wilderness of temptation to show us the secret way to undoing temptation.  He is there to undo Eden.  Where Adam and Eve ate and sinned, Jesus fasts and feeds.  Where Adam and Eve trusted in the lies of Satan, Jesus is the truth to untie the knots of Satan’s lies that hold us.  Where Adam and Eve surrendered their souls and their children for a fake glory and a false image of freedom, Jesus surrenders His freedom and glory to rescue Adam and Eve and all their children – right down to you and me.  That is what happens in the few short sentences that St. Mark devotes to Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness.
    Let me say one thing more.  Satan always breaks his tools when he is finished with them.  The perfect love of Adam and Eve was marred by impure desire and love required constant labor just like life.  Their sons became mortal enemies and conflict has tested every home since.  The ground refused to give up its bounty without the hardest work and now our backs ache and our minds are weary.  And the grave claimed our worn and tied bodies before we are ready to let go of them.  Satan always breaks his tools when he is finished with them.  Temptation is not some small thing but the path of sin and despair.
    Satan breaks his tools but not Jesus.  Jesus reclaims, restores, and renews us by the grace of forgiveness so that even when temptation snares us Christ overcomes it still.  Yes, we benefit from fasting, prayer, and the knowledge of God’s Word.  Remember that on Ash Wednesday Jesus did not say IF you fast but WHEN.  Yet none of us ever stands where Adam and Even or Jesus stood.  God does not tempt us and He takes no joy in our trials.  But He thrust Jesus into the hard place for us to undo what temptation had done to Adam and Eve and us.  Because Christ stood firm, we stand upright in Him. The grace of forgiveness enables us to stand even when we fall.  Amen.

Problems with new pastors. . .

Newly minted pastors are often problems for old parishes.  Right now you are probably thinking that the direction I am going with this will end up talking about a lack of experience, failure to build relationships before making changes, etc...  Those are problems some people might identify (and maybe truthfully) but there are other problems.

New pastors come with enthusiasm.  Old parishes (like old pastors) often grow tired and lazy about things.  Perhaps there is a good side of complacency but I have yet to find it.  We who have been in the pews and in the pulpits a while have seen many things come and go.  The upside of this is that we know things will endure and we are not the saviors of the moment.  The downside of this is that we no longer get excited about much of anything -- certainly not church.  A new pastor comes along and he can hardly sleep Saturday night because he is so excited thinking about Sunday morning.

New pastors have dreams.  Old parishes tend to fade away in part because the people have stopped dreaming.  We have grown too accustomed to disappointment.  We have seen the peeling paint and ceiling cracks for so long, we don't notice these things anymore.  New pastors come along and they dream about addressing problems and fixing things we long time folks did not even know needed attention.

New pastors take faith and the church seriously.  Old parishes (like old pastors) are too likely to live and let live.  Doctrine, worship, and piety are old news.  A new pastor shows up and he actually believes every word in the creed (even to kneel or genuflect at the incarnation).  A new pastor expects people to pay attention to the Word and actually confess the confessions of the Church when, the truth is, we have come to take these things with a grain of salt, so to speak.

New pastors are interested in new people.  Old parishes (like old pastors) often seem to have made their peace with the fact that few new people come through the doors on Sunday.  In contrast to that, new pastors are often excited by apologetics (not saying I am sorry but rather defending the faith in a winsome manner).  They want to seek out people -- even the dead wood on the membership rolls -- and welcome them (back).

New pastors believe in the Church.  Old parishes (like old pastors) take the Church seriously, believe the Church is essential to the faith and the faithful and relevant to the age.  They expect great things from the Church and those who are her members.  A new pastor thinks that the Church is a good thing while many of those who have been around for a while think it is at best a necessary thing.


Wait, come to think of it, new pastors and new members are very much alike in this regard.  Maybe that is why we prepare ourselves for a new pastor and cannot wait when new members become as complacent and lazy as us old ones. 

Speaking personally here, I wish we could all remain new, fresh, with big expectations and big hopes and dreams for life together as the Church.  Being new is not so much a chronological thing as it is an attitudinal thing.  I love it when people wonder "why not" instead of shrugging it off with a "why would anyone want to..."  We need a mix of perspectives in the Church.  Too often we have too many who have gotten tired of doing thing, weary of disappointment when things do not go as planned, and adjusted their hopes and expectations too low to make it easier and easier to deal with their disappointments.  Church growth gurus are always telling us how excited and effective folks are when a mission is still a mission and how things tend to get old when the parish gets old (saddled with a building, debts, and an institutional memory).  It does not have to be that way.

There are folks in my parish who are old in age but new in attitude.  They are constantly looking hopefully at the future and expectantly at the Church.  Sometimes I am one of those people.  That is why I like about new pastors, freshly minted from seminary with the new pastor smell of a recent ordination.  They challenge me and the churches in ways we need to be challenged.  They tend to take the faith seriously, take the Church seriously, and take the work of the Kingdom seriously.

In my parish, we have folks who look at us and the Kingdom with fresh eyes.  We need that.  Buildings need to be freshened every now and then and so do our attitudes.  The folks operating in international and national mission in Synod are like new pastors -- they are excited, enthusiastic, and expectant.  They actually believe the Word of the Lord will accomplish God's purpose in sending it forth and that it will not fail.  When we catch this vision, things do happen -- not because we make them happen but because we are more likely to believe, confess, and teach boldly.  Yep, there will be disappointments and struggles and failures.  Everyone knows this -- even new pastors and new members.  But those who refuse to let these things dampen their hopes, dreams, and expectations of Christ working by His Spirit through the means of grace will also see accomplishments, victories, and successes (great and small).

As my friend Will Weedon so often says, we have not tried Lutheranism and found it wanting.  We have not yet tried Lutheranism.  New pastors and new members are ready and waiting to try Lutheranism while some of us who have been around a while think we have and things did not go so well.  We need each other -- some wisdom from age and experience and some excitement and enthusiasm about actually being Lutherans!

The soft underbelly of theological education in the LCMS

Seminaries begging for money all the time... students borrowing money for undergraduate and seminary cost.... Dwindling numbers of residential students at our sems....  is there a common thread for all of this?  Watch and weep...



Now do something about it.  Contribute to Concordia Theological Seminary, to Concordia Seminary or to the Joint Seminary Fund.  Do it.  Do it now.  Do it generously.  Do it joyfully.

What is happening with ISIS, Islam, and the war in the Middle East. . .

Having listened to President Obama walk on egg shells to avoid admitting that there is any religious dimension to ISIS, ISIL, and the violence in the Middle East and Europe. . .  Having listened to pundits explain that religious terrorists are hijacking a noble and ancient faith. . .  Having listened to conservative talking heads bash Obama without adding much more than heat and certainly little light to the situation. . . I read what has to be one of the most powerful, profound, and professional assessments of ISIS and what this groups wants.

It was published in The Atlantic and you can read it online here. . .

Far from being the rag tag band of misfits that we usually encounter, this enemy is no mere collection of psychopaths. It is a religious group with carefully considered beliefs, among them that it is a key agent of the coming apocalypse. That ought to be enough to perk your interest. . .

The Islamic State is committed to purifying the world by killing vast numbers of people. . . The caliphate is not just a political entity but also a vehicle for salvation.. . . The Islamic State differs from nearly every other current jihadist movement in believing that it is written into God’s script as a central character. . .

Below are two videos from Lutheran Hour Ministries on the Quran and Islam:

Challenge of Islam (Promo) from Lutheran Hour Ministries on Vimeo.


Challenge of Islam (Pt2): Defending the Christian Faith - Promo from Lutheran Hour Ministries on Vimeo.