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.
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