First Lutheran Church

What does it mean to invoke the name of God? Perhaps Luther’s explanation of the second commandment can give us some insight, “We should fear and love God so that we do not curse, swear, use satanic arts, lie, or deceive by His name, but call upon it in every trouble, pray, praise, and give thanks.” The name of God, the name above all names, isn’t meant to be used in nefarious ways or in some flippant manner. Instead, it is to be used in a reverent and holy manner befitting of who God is. Of course, I am sure you know this. But how often do we really consider the Lord’s name and greatness that it bears? For to call on the Lord’s name is to call upon the Lord Himself. Names do not exist in a vacuum but are attached to someone. Typically, when you call someone’s name, they give you their attention. It is no different for the Lord.

After the Invocation, after we call upon the Lord to be in the midst of us, we immediately move to Confession and Absolution. Which, of course, makes sense. If we call the Lord to be with us, we must then ask for His forgiveness so that we stand in His holy presence with joy and not trembling. However, most people don’t enjoy doing this. I don’t say this as an insult but more of a fact. The act of confessing something that you did wrong is widely regarded as difficult. I don’t have to tell you that. You know this to be true. Look at how we act toward one another in regard to saying sorry. Generally, we have to work up the courage to say that we are sorry and more often than not we just say, “I am sorry.” The response being, “It’s ok,” or “It’s fine.” But is that really the proper way to do these things? Think about how much more impactful, meaningful, and genuine an apology (confession) sounds when you actually name the thing that you do wrong. Instead of the “I’m sorry” that just assumes we all know what is going on the Lord teaches us to be specific. “I’m sorry that I sinned against you in this way by doing or saying this thing.”

The response to such a confession is also important. In the pre-marital counseling sessions I’ve been blessed to do, I have often reminded couples that the right response to a confession is to say, “I forgive you.” The Lord doesn’t teach us that we are tell people that their sins against us or sins against others is “ok” or “fine” or that we “shouldn’t worry about it.” Instead, we say “I forgive you” as if to say “I know that you have wronged me and I will not hold this against you. Christ has covered this sin as well as my sins. I love you.” If this is the way the Lord has taught us to confess to one another, how much more so should we also confess to God in such a way. That is why there is more than a moment of silence before we recite our corporate confession together on Sunday mornings. It is not silence for silence’s sake. Instead, we take that time to actually confess before God the sins that burden us. More importantly we hear His comforting words of the Absolution. The Lord comes to us willingly and joyfully full of grace and mercy for His people. So next time we confess together, remember how much God loves you. His responses are not flippant but full of wonder and love. God says, “I forgive you and I love you.”

It is clear from the two parables that Jesus uses in Luke – the lost sheep and the lost coin – that he values repentance over righteousness. That may seem strange to us, since the New Testament exhorts us again and again to live godly and righteous lives. Yes, as followers of Christ we are to strive to live daily in a manner as free from sin and darkness as possible. In this process of sanctification, we need daily help from the Holy Spirit, who helps us recognize our sin, convicts us of it, and gives us the power to turn aside from its alluring temptation.

But Jesus values repentance even more highly, since it is through repentance that we can meet Him and he can return us to a close relationship with Him. We are the lost sheep; we are the lost coin. We wander away from time to time. We get lost in dark corners. We cannot find our way back. So, in His great love, He comes to find us. In His mercy, He forgoes punishment and leads us back to the light, to the security of the sheepfold, and to the place of usefulness.

It is when we acknowledge that we have gone astray that Jesus comes to our rescue. It is then that we rediscover His mercy and love. We are like foolish sheep when we deny that we need His saving. We will remain lost when we fail to be honest about the state of our soul or about our dangerous circumstances. Sometimes He allows us to wander off until we are in danger. He waits for us to call out desperately to Him before He reaches out to save us. He is always there. His love is constant, as He waits for us to express our need.

Prayer: Lord, help me to confess my sin and lead me in repentance back to you. Amen

“Therefore I tell you, her sins which are many, are forgiven, because she has loved much; but

he who is forgiven little, loves little.” – Luke 7:47

Does it surprise you that Jesus relates our ability to love to the amount we have been forgiven? Many think that a person can learn to love: that some- how we can set our wills to love and it would just happen, like learning algebra or physics. But Jesus makes it very clear that our receiving forgiveness has a great deal to do with our loving others.

“And suddenly a sound came from heaven like the rush of a mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting.”

– Acts 2:2

Scientists tell us that most of us take a breath at least twenty thousand times per day. It is an understatement to say that this is a great deal of activity. Yet, when was the last time you noticed yourself breathing? (I know, probably as soon as you read this question!) Breathing itself is a primal act that we usually take for granted. The experience, or even the thought, of not being able to breathe can fill us with fear and panic, for we know it means certain death –

“When thou takest away their breath they die and return to dust” (Ps 104:29). The account of our beginnings in the book of Genesis depicts God, as if bent over his newly formed clay creation, as he “breathed into his nostrils the breath of life” (Genesis 2:7). At that moment, “man became a living being.” The breath of God is the spring of our life, yet its very quietness and subtlety can delude us into thinking that we are independent and self-sufficient, unless something comes along to remind us again of our life’s source.

The church, as the climax to the entire Easter season, celebrates the day of Pentecost, the fiftieth day, the perfect fulfillment of God’s promise (7×7+1). And Easter is the story of our salvation through Jesus Christ, the hope of our own resurrection, the pledge of our inheritance of new and eternal life, even as the Son of God “breathed his last” (Luke 23:46). It is perhaps no surprise, then, that one of the signs of the Holy Spirit’s presence among Jesus’ disciples on that day of Pentecost was the sudden blowing of a “mighty wind.” Contained within a single room, such a squall must have caused a frenzy of sight and sound!

Here is the genesis of the newly born Body of Christ, a new beginning for the people of God. By this storm, the Spirit comes to resuscitate a dying world. Into the lungs of the infant church, God is breathing the breath of life. The image of that event is a vivid and vibrant reminder, throughout the generations, that only God can give life, and that when he does, wonderful things begin to happen. For the Spirit still comes breathing, moving, and blowing where he will (John 3:8). Is there any better day than the Day of Pentecost to ask that he breathe afresh in us?

Pastor Schultz

Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” -John 20:15

I have discovered that my eyes tear up at movies more often than they used to. Perhaps it is that I am just getting older and closer to heaven. Recently I noticed there are three kind of scenes that bring a lump to my throat and make my eyes well up. The first are quite sad, others are actually quite happy, and a third kind is neither sad nor happy, but scenes brimming with nostalgia. My reaction in all three cases suggested that I was more than a distant observer. I was there.

There is a tradition within the church which considers tears to be a gift of God, and the shedding of tears an expression of some of our deepest affections for God — repentance, longing, joy, love. When something (or someone) touches our lives, deeply enough to cause us to cry; we know that more than our mind is engaged in the relationship. In some way, we have given over our hearts. This was surely the case with Mary Magdalene. Her early morning search for Jesus was driven by a love which could not let him go, even in death. We can only imagine the sorrow which had torn at her soul as she watched her Lord suffer and die (Mark 15:40). Finding that his tattered body, placed in the tomb so carefully two nights before, was now absent from its resting place, must have broken her heart. Of course she wept. She was no distant observer. Jesus was her life, her love.

We have heard the Easter message probably more times than we can count. The risk of such familiarity, of course, is that the resurrection of Jesus Christ becomes a ‘matter-of-fact” announcement. We were not there, nor can we recreate the event no matter how many times it has been scripted and acted. Are we simply distant observers? I think not. This Easter season, let us recall that Jesus has taken over our hearts. Let us remember that we have met this Person, that sometimes we wish he were here by our side, and that we know he is alive. And, if anyone wonders why eyes well up as we hear the Gospel readers proclaim: “Now on the first day of the week,” or as we sing: “Jesus Christ is risen today,” we can tell them, “Because this is all about my Lord.”

Prayer: Dear Jesus, thank you that I am not a distant observer of Easter and for the gift that allows me to express the depth of your love for me. Amen.

In His Peace,

Pastor Schultz

Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” -John 20:15

I have discovered that my eyes tear up at movies more often than they used to. Perhaps it is that I am just getting older and closer to heaven. Recently I noticed there are three kind of scenes that bring a lump to my throat and make my eyes well up. The first are quite sad, others are actually quite happy, and a third kind is neither sad nor happy, but scenes brimming with nostalgia. My reaction in all three cases suggested that I was more than a distant observer. I was there.