The Message of the Cross: a sermon on 1 Corinthians 1:18-25

For the rededication of St. John's Lutheran Church, New Minden, IL, on August 9, 2015

When billows blow and dark winds howl

When whirlwinds and cyclones scowl

The young, the old, the timid the bold,

Are all alike as hope grows cold

It was Sunday, November, you recall,

That brought violent weather for the fall

Remember that morning, what could be better?

Baptism and communion—the Lutheran double header!

But worship was over and people departed

That’s about when the trouble all started

The storm quickly turned joy into sorrow

We wondered what would be left standing tomorrow

With storms like this, we remember days past

We’ve become accustom to such a deadly blast

Twice before the village was reduced to sticks

Nineteen ought seven and eighteen ninety-six

The dark wind struck, the storm bared down,

How many would be dead?

The storm went north, it missed our town,

God hit His house instead.

In the Name of Jesus, our shelter in the stormy blast, dear beloved brothers and sisters in Christ,

The message of the cross is the power and wisdom of God. But to the world looking on, the proclamation of Christ crucified is nonsense. Why? Paul describes for us the way that the people of his day tried to seek God. Jews ask for signs. Greeks seek wisdom. But we have something better to offer both ourselves and the world. 

Looking for signs or wisdom is people’s natural reaction when they try to figure out God. Either they want some something they can see—as the Jews often demanded Jesus to show them a sign, or they want to learn something—as the Greeks liked wisdom.

When disaster strikes, we try to do the same thing. We think this must be some sort of sign. Tornadoes, however, don’t function well as a positive sign. A tornado has got to be a sign of something negative. Surely I must have done something to make God angry at us. Surely we must be doing something wrong. Or maybe God isn’t there at all. You’d figure after three tornadoes, it must be a sign of something—right?

Maybe if we don’t think of a tornado as a sign, we can also think that maybe God is trying to teach us something. Maybe God is teaching us to be thankful for what we have. Maybe we’re supposed to help our neighbor who is suffering. Maybe we’re supposed to cherish our families. Maybe we’re supposed to have a better understanding of our own mortality. Three tornadoes later, you’d think we’d at least learn something.

Those things are all true. Maybe you’ve even learned them through this experience. If you have, that’s wonderful. God wants us to be thankful, love our neighbor, our families, and be mindful of our own end. But should it take a tornado for us to learn them? We just read the Ten Commandments! We should have learned those things before.

Why did this tornado come here? Why did my house get blown away? Why did my neighbor’s house get blown away and not mine? I don’t know. Dad doesn’t know. We’re not going to try to make up and answer for you.

What we know is this: God calls us instead to look beyond the signs we see with our eyes. He calls us to disregard the wisdom we make up. He calls us to look at something that has been right in front of us the whole time—something that has been there long before any tornado destroyed anything here. He calls us to look to the cross.

The message of the cross is not only the message of Good Friday, but the whole story of what God has done for you. We can see in things like tornadoes that this world is broken. God didn’t plan for disasters like this to happen—ever. They are signs that this world is broken by sin—our sin.

But God couldn’t stand to see His creation broken—including and especially you. In Jesus Christ, God broke into our brokenness and started to fix it. We see this with the way Jesus interacts with His creation. He’s in the boat late one night in a storm. But at His word, the wind and waves have no choice but to stop. He is the one who walks on water, makes the lame walk, the blind see, the deaf hear, and the dead live. In other words, the worst of this world must submit when Jesus shows up.

He did signs. He taught wise things. So in our reading from John 12 we find ourselves on Palm Sunday. The disciples must have thought that finally Jesus was getting the recognition and praise He deserved. Jesus says instead, “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.” (John 12:32)

In other words, Jesus says, “You think this Sunday was awesome—just wait till Friday!” That Friday Jesus would be glorified as He hung there on the cross for you and for me. To the world this would look like absolute foolishness. Jews were looking for a Messiah who would win—not die on a cross like a failure. Greeks were looking for a great wise man—only fools, criminals, and slaves were crucified.

But this is the wisdom and power of God. Jesus would hang there between earth and heaven to be the perfect mediator—God and man. He would be broken for broken people so that they would be whole.

Because Jesus suffered, He is with you in your suffering. We have a God who knows what it is to suffer. He knows what it’s like to feel pain. He knows what it’s like to lose everything. He knows what it’s like to die. So when those things happen to you. Jesus is right there with you.

Let me give you an example. When I was diagnosed with cancer earlier this year, the most comforting message came from a fellow pastor back in Missouri who has been through two rounds of what I'm going through. He basically told me, "You know, you've a great surgeon, great doctors, and a great team of nurses. Your prognosis is good. You'll probably make it." Thanks be to God, as of right now, everything is going very well. It looks like all the cancer is gone. But he continued, "You'll probably make it--but you might not. And that's okay because you belong to Christ." 

Those were the most comforting words because they confirmed my fear that this cancer might actually kill me. But better yet, it grounded me in Christ, and in His work for me. It centered me on the Message of the Cross.

The message of the cross isn’t just the message of Good Friday, it’s also the message of Easter! Yes, Jesus did fall into the ground like a seed and die. But He was just being planted. When you plan a seed it grows! Jesus rose again from the dead to guarantee to you that your sins are forgiven—to promise you that you have everlasting life—to give you hope in trouble that death is done.

Even in trouble you have the hope of resurrection. Job said in his distress. 

“For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. My heart faints within me!” (Job 19:25-27)

The message of the cross helps us to trust even when God doesn’t do exactly what we want. Just look at the people of Israel in the reading from Numbers 21. The people complain. God sends snakes. The people repent. Notice what they say: “We have sinned, for we have spoken against the Lord and against you. Pray to the Lord, that he take away the serpents from us.” (Numbers 21:7)

Notice what God did. Did He take away the snakes like the people asked? NO! Instead He gave them a promise—look at the snake on the stick and you will live. Snakes are still there, and God calls His people to trust in Him.

God calls us to do the same thing. He’s worked forgiveness life and salvation through Jesus’ death and resurrection. He calls you to look to Him in faith and receive the promise for ourselves.

That’s why you’ve come here today. You know that today you’re not going to hear someone trying to interpret signs or give you some good advice as we move forward. You came here today because Jesus is here. You came here to listen and receive once again that message of the cross.

As we dedicate the baptismal font, altar, lectern and pulpit today, listen to the promises that God has made concerning what happens here. God promises to be here with His life giving forgiveness and saving pardon.

We sum it up in one of the verses of the hymn we’re about to sing:

Here stand the font before our eyes, telling how God has received us.

The altar recalls Christ sacrifice and what His Supper here gives us.

Here sound the Scriptures that proclaim Christ yesterday, today, the same

and evermore our Redeemer.

The baptismal font may be a new color, but God will still remind you of the promise He made to you years ago each time you see a new Christian baptized. This pulpit looks a little different too. From it preachers have come and gone. But each Sunday you will hear the saving message of the Cross. The altar looks way different, but God will still give you Jesus here for forgiveness, life, and salvation with His body and His blood. The church looks a little different; it even has that “new church smell”. But here you will gather with your brothers and sisters in Christ—just as generations have at St. John’s for 169 years. You gather so that you would receive God’s promises and together be built up in Him.

The point is this—why would you ever want to be missing? You’ve missed being in here—haven’t you? Now that the church is back, don’t be missing yourself.

Here you’ll hear the message of the cross. Since it is the power and wisdom of God, we can use the things that seem to be signs and wisdom to talk about Christ and Him crucified. When people wonder if they were hit because they feel like God has it in for them, remind them that all of our sins were taken away at the cross. When they feel like God isn’t there, tell them that God is with us in our suffering because Jesus died for us. When they ask you what you learned, you can say that you learned that Christ is our only hope. He is there for us even with nothing else makes sense. 

            

            I bring you greetings this morning from your brothers and sister in Christ at Holy Cross in Emma where I serve. I can tell you for sure, that the people there are so excited for you today.

People back in Emma aren’t that different from you. Rural Illinois and rural Missouri are quite similar. After three years of living out there I can tell you that really the only difference is that in Missouri we have these things called “hills”. They’re these big mounds of earth that make it harder to grow wheat so most people have more cattle. But other than that, the people are very much like you. 

Actually, it was kind of spooky when we got the call documents--town of 200, congregation of 300 some, cow pasture out back--it was just like going home! Emma is very much like New Minden. I have no doubt that they would have responded just like you did in the days after the tornado.

It was kind of nice to be able to use you all as a good example. I was able to go back to them the next Sunday and pray that God would give us, in Emma, the same perspective that He was giving you, here, in those days after the storm. It’s really easy to see the need when people’s lives and homes have been ripped apart. It’s easy to see the need when the church is half gone. But it’s really hard to see the needs around us when they aren’t staring us in the face. Who looks for the family  where the marriage is going sort of rocky? Who looks for the person with the addiction to drugs or alcohol? Who looks for the people who are doubting, have lost hope, or are simply lonely?

So, are we looking for the needs of our community? We don’t have to look too hard. If we find a need to we feel compassion? If we feel compassion will we be moved to action? I pray that God would give us the same perspective—His perspective. Remember what happened in the days after the tornado:

Before the stones could finish falling

God’s people began to answer the calling

You are God’s house of living stones

A truth that you know way down in your bones

You came with your truck, backhoe, and tractor

Red, yellow, orange, or green it wasn’t a factor

You came with fried chicken, casseroles and pies

Folks always came in to a tasty surprise

You picked up debris across country side and fields

You helped the farms protect their yields 

You were there for the broken, crushed, and frustrated

You shared Christ’s hope that makes us elated

Now that the stones are all back in their place,

And we’ve gathered for worship again in this space

A challenge I’ll offer, if I may be so bold,

A challenge that comes to you—twofold

You did it, you loved God and served your neighbor

You showed with your work and your labor

How will you love now that news trucks are gone?

And the governor’s not standing out on the church lawn?

It’s still true for you, the washing with water

That’s where God made you His son or His daughter

Why wouldn’t you come, each time you are able

To receive forgiveness at the Lord’s Table?

So when billows blow and dark winds howl

When whirlwinds and cyclones begin their scowl

Remember God’s mercy, you’ll know what to do,

Share the message of the cross, what Christ’s done for you.

Amen.

When Billows Blow

A poem for the rededication of St. John's Lutheran Church after the November 17, 2013 tornado

When billows blow and dark winds howl

When whirlwinds and cyclones scowl

The young, the old, the timid the bold,

Are all alike as hope grows cold

It was Sunday, November, you recall,

That brought violent weather for the fall

Remember that morning, what could be better?

Baptism and communion—the Lutheran double header!

But worship was over and people departed

That’s about when the trouble all started

The storm quickly turned joy into sorrow

We wondered what would be left standing tomorrow

With storms like this, we remember days past

We’ve become accustom to such a deadly blast

Twice before the village was reduced to sticks

Nineteen ought seven and eighteen ninety-six

The dark wind struck, the storm bared down,

How many would be dead?

The storm went north, it missed our town,

God hit His house instead.

Before the stones could finish falling

God’s people began to answer the calling

You are God’s house of living stones

A truth that you know way down in your bones

You came with your truck, backhoe, and tractor

Red, yellow, orange, or green it wasn’t a factor

You came with fried chicken, casseroles and pies

Folks always came in to a tasty surprise

You picked up debris across country side and fields

You helped the farmers protect their yields 

You were there for the broken, crushed, and frustrated

You shared Christ’s hope that makes us elated

Now that the stones are all back in their place,

And we’ve gathered for worship again in this space

A challenge I’ll offer, if I may be so bold,

A challenge that comes to you—twofold

You did it, you loved God and served your neighbor

You showed with your work and your labor

How will you love now that news trucks are gone?

And the governor’s not standing out on the church lawn?

It’s still true for you, the washing with water

That’s where God made you His son or His daughter

Why wouldn’t you come, each time you are able

To receive forgiveness at the Lord’s Table?

So when billows blow and dark winds howl

When whirlwinds and cyclones begin their scowl

Remember God’s mercy, you’ll know what to do,

Share the message of the cross, what Christ’s done for you.

Holding All Things Together: a sermon on Colossians 1:13-20

This was my sermon at Holy Cross on November 24, 2013--the Sunday after the tornado hit New Minden. I had spent the better part of the previous week back in Illinois helping with the recovery. It was good to review it as I prepare for preaching for the redidication service on August 9, 2015. 

In the name of Jesus, who holds all things together, dear fellow redeemed,

             On Monday I had the opportunity to sit at lunch with my Dad. Unfortunately we were not alone. It was crazy in our school basement. Victims, rescue workers, and volunteers were all grabbing a bite to eat before getting back to the recovery. Of course, victims, rescue workers, and volunteers weren’t the only one who were there. The media was there too. As I sat down with Dad, two reporters from a large Metro-East newspaper joined us.

            They asked the questions you would expect from reporters after a tornado strikes: What do you say to your people after something like this? Is God judging us?

            Dad pointed them to the hymn we just sang. “Built on the Rock the church shall stand even when steeples are falling.” That rock is Christ, who is first in everything as our reading tells us. The church is built on Him. It doesn’t depend on a building no matter how beautiful or historic.

            This is where our reading today takes us. It reminds us that Jesus is the one who holds creation itself together. He is also the one who holds His body, the church together. That’s what I saw with my own eyes this last week in New Minden, IL. I hope today we can see this together as we examine this text.

First, Jesus holds creation together. The first verses of the text remind us that Jesus, along with the Father and the Holy Spirit, is the one who made the world.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. Colossians 1:15-16

           

            Nothing that has been made was made without Him. He is not part of the creation as Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses would say. “By Him all things were created” doesn’t really leave anything out. 

For us as Christians, the fact that God made the world goes much further than debating what should be taught in schools. It shapes how we look at the rest of creation. That’s important because we living in creation. If we believe that God made the world then we believe that nothing in all creation is outside of His control. Indeed this is what our text says. “In Him all things hold together!”

We can have confidence that the universe won’t suddenly zap out of existence. Think of it. If the universe is here accidentally, then it could suddenly disappear accidentally. I’m not sure why more atheists aren’t worried about that. We never have to worry about that because “In Him all things hold together.”

If God is holding creation together, then why does He let things like tornadoes happen? This is a really good question. It’s one that makes some question either God’s goodness or even His existence at all.

Here’s the best answer we can give: God allows us to see glimpses of hell sometimes. That is to say He lets us see what the universe would be like without His providence. He lets us see how horribly broken the world actually is. It’s our fault. We are the ones who rejected God’s perfection. We thought our own way was best. For brief moments like a tornado or for long moments like a battle with cancer, God lets us see what the whole world would be like if it was left up to us without His protection. It’s a reminder that if this disaster or disease doesn’t get you, something else will. Death is coming for us all.

He doesn’t let these things happen to punish individual, specific sins. He does these things so that we know He’s the only one we can trust. He’s the only one on whom we can depend.

He even goes further than that. He begins the process of making peace. “For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.” (Colossians 1:19-20)

Jesus has made peace between His rebellious creation and its perfect creator. He did this joining the creation and became part of it by being born as a human being. He made peace by shedding His blood for you on the cross. There He died so that you wouldn’t have to fear death.

He rose again from the dead as the firstborn from the dead. That if you have a firstborn, what does that mean? It means you’re going to have more. In this case many, many more. If He is the head then He will certainly bring His body with Him. What is His body? It’s the church! It’s you. It’s me. In baptism you were made a member of Christ’s body. He made you a part of Himself. He can no more easily be separated from you than you can from your own right hand.

            Jesus holds us to Himself. Jesus holds us close to everyone else He’s holding close to Himself. This is how He holds the church together.

            St. John’s New Minden was built from locally quarried stone during the Civil War. In places, the walls are over four feet thick. The stones are tied together to give mutual strength and support. But this week, when the rocks were falling apart, another kind of stone was coming together. Hear what Peter, the rock, said about this in his first epistle:

As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious, you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 2:4-5)

            When I was home this week it was wonderful to see the church holding together. They saw that Jesus was the corner stone. They were each living stones in the church. They supported each other just as the stones did in the church building. People, who for years had heard that the church was more than just the building, were now not only actively confessing this but were showing it with their actions.

It was easy to see. On Monday afternoon I walked into the school basement and immediately all my senses were reminded of the out pouring of love and support I saw in Joplin two years ago. You could see everyone gathered together to support each other. You could hear the sounds of people encouraging each other. You feel the warmth of Christ’s love in the room. And of course you could smell and taste the food, which so many loving hands had donated and served.

Debris was cleared. Homes were surveyed. Track hoes and skid steers went to work. Pieces of lives were picked up so they could be put back together. The church was there, even without its building.

When people see a need, as in this tornado, it’s easy to know how to respond. I know you all would do the same. You guys cook really well. If this happened here, there would food to feed an army. You guys have the machinery to clean up, and you’d be happy to use it. I have no doubt that you all would respond to such a disaster in the same amazing way.

The challenge comes when we look for needs which are constant. Just here this week we have the food drive for the food pantry. Next week the angel tree will be up with ideas for things we can give away. I know you all would be willing to help with something big. Yet right here God is giving us the opportunity to help with things that are small. Will we be up to the challenge?

            Just now, we’re coming up on 10 o’clock this morning. God’s people back in New Minden are gathering for the service, which will begin in just a few minutes. They’ll be meeting in the school basement. They will probably be there for a while. They’ll be outside their normal sanctuary for a while and without their organ, bell and steeple for even longer. But they’ll see that they are still the church as verse two of our hymn proclaimed:

We are God’s house of living stones, built for His own habitation.

He through baptismal grace us owns—heirs of His wondrous salvation.

Were we but two His name to tell, Yet He would deign with us to dwell.

With all His grace and His favor

             May God give us the same perspective. Let’s just hope He does it without sending us a tornado. Amen.