Sunday, September 14, 2014

Pentecost 12 Sermon: "The Way of the Cross is the Way of Life"


+ Pentecost 12 – August 31st, 2014 +
Redeemer Lutheran, HB
Series A, Proper 17: Jeremiah 15:15-21; Romans 12:9-21; Matthew 16:21-28

 
In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

What does the Christian life look like? If you had to draw a picture of your life in Christ in order to describe it to a friend or someone who couldn’t read, what would you draw?

Some might draw a ladder. The Christian life is a climb, a hike, rung after rung; onward and upward. Or better yet, for all the rock n’ roll fans out there, maybe the Christian life is like a stairway to heaven and once you’ve lived the right way, said the right things, and done right by others, well, you too could be knockin’ on heaven’s door. But then again, how would you ever really know if you had climbed the ladder high enough or marched up the stairs to the right floor?

Get behind me, Satan…For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.

Maybe instead you could draw a scale, like in the pictures of lady justice: you put your good works on one side and your sins on the other and cross your fingers and hope the scales tip in your favor. But think about that for a moment. Do you really want your sin and good works measured to see which one wins out?

Get behind me, Satan…For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.

Ok, fine, away with the ladders and scales. Time to get serious and bring out the exercise equipment. Maybe the Christian life is like a gym or a set of weights. Bulk up your prayers, do some spiritual weight lifting, and get ready to plant a round-house kick in Satan’s face. Don’t want any flabby, weak Christians here. But really, whose strength in the Christian life matters most, yours or Jesus’?

Get behind me, Satan…For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.

As we heard last week, Jesus isn’t your BFF, your Bestie, or your Homeboy. He’s not your Sherpa, guiding you up the stairway to heaven. He’s not your cosmic grocery clerk, measuring out what you owe according to what you’ve done. And he’s not your divine personal trainer, coaching you into a perfect spiritual specimen.

Jesus is your Savior. He suffers for you. Bleeds for you. Jesus climbs up the ladder of the cross for you. Jesus tips the scales in your favor by pouring out his holy, precious blood for you. His death outweighs all your sin. Jesus carries the weight of your guilt, sin, and death until it crushes him, all for you.

This is what Christ’s life looked like:

From that time Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.

That’s the shape of Jesus’ life for you. The way of the cross is the way of life for you.

But Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “Far be it from you, Lord! This shall never happen to you.

Peter and the disciples seem to have every expectation of what the Messiah should do except the right one. “Are you out of your mind, Jesus? Suffer, die, rise. Are you kidding? That’s the last thing in the world that the Messiah should do. You need to start flexing your divine muscle. You’re the Christ, the Son of the living God. Messiah’s don’t suffer; they end suffering. No one’s going to buy that. We’ve left everything to follow you. Everything! The family business, our homes, our friends. People are going to think we’re crazy. So no more talk like that, Jesus! Not another word about suffering, dying, and rising.”

Peter had one thing right. It would be easier if Jesus avoided the cross. It would’ve been easier to skip the betrayal and escape from the soldiers as they marched into Gethsemane. It would’ve been easier to wash his hands of everything as Pilate had done and get down off his cross and walk away. But Jesus loves you too much to take the easy way out. He loves you enough to stay on the cross.

But we think a lot like Peter. Lord, give us the easy way out too. It would be easier to preach a Christianity without Christ. It’s easy to tell your neighbor. Easy to live as a disciple without the whole: “deny yourself; take up your cross and follow me” bit.

We avoid Jesus’ cross because we avoid sin. We’re all in denial like Peter. We deny our sin. “I could be worse,” we tell ourselves. We deny that our sin has consequences – for ourselves and others. “It’s not that bad” we say. But it is. There’s no victimless sin. There’s no small sin. We’re deniers. We deny Jesus with our heartless words to others. We deny him when we fail to point others to the cross. We deny him in thought, word, and deed. There’s no easy way out of guilt, sin, and death. The only way out is Jesus’ way: the cross. Death and resurrection. There is no life apart from the cross.

The Way of the Cross is the Way of Life.

Jesus wasn’t just talking about himself in this little exchange. He’s talking about you too.

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

What does your life in Christ look like? Jesus’ cross. The shape of your life in Christ is the cross. This is what it means to be a disciple.

A disciple is a follower. One who follows another. Being a disciple of Jesus isn’t so much about attending Jesus school. It’s about suffering, dying and rising. It’s about denying one’s self and confessing Christ. It’s about losing in order to win, dying in order to live. It’s about holding everything in this life with the open, dead hand of faith, to be dead to Sin but alive to God in Christ.

This is what happens to each of us in Baptism. In Holy Baptism you were given the cross, upon your forehead, over your heart. Jesus’ death and resurrection was poured over your head. You were washed in his redemption. You are marked by his cross – and that’s a good thing.

To follow Jesus is to be baptized into His death and life, to be joined to Him by Baptism in His suffering, death and resurrection. Your suffering and death can’t save you. They are the just wages of Sin. They are what Sin pays out in you. There’s no life there. But Jesus’ suffering and death give you resurrection and life.

The Way of the cross is the way of life…for you.

In Baptism you were joined to Jesus’ suffering. His wounds are now your wounds for your healing. In Baptism you were joined to Jesus’ death. His death atones for your sins. Jesus was denied by the Father for all our denials of him. Jesus took up your cross so that you could follow him through death into life. In Baptism you were given a new mind, the mind of Christ, set on the things of God not on the things of man. In Baptism you are made a disciple, a follower of Jesus.

This is what your life in Christ look like as one who is baptized and crucified with Christ. It looks like the cross.

Jesus cross upon you in Baptism. Jesus’ cross coming to you in words of forgiveness. Jesus’ cross coming to you with his flesh and blood to sustain your flesh and blood. Jesus’ cross upon your lips as you confess Christ to your neighbor. Jesus’ cross as you daily deny yourself and follow where Jesus leads, to the friend next door you invite to church and bible class; to the co-worker grieving the death of a loved one who needs the word of comfort you received this Sunday; to the family member, friend, or fellow Christian who is aching for reconciliation; to those in need of food or clothing; to single man or woman, to the widow or widower you invite over for dinner; to whomever our Lord places in your life.

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.

This is how we love our neighbor for this is how God in Christ loves us.

We follow where Jesus leads us: to the cross and to new life in his resurrection.

For the Way of the Cross is the Way of Life.

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Book Review of Stitched Crosses: Crusade

This is a long overdue post here on E-nklings. But I wanted to get it up and out for anyone who is interested in good reading, good books, and good story-telling. The author's name is Joshua Rothe, the book's title is Stitched Crosses: Crusade, and here's a short little review I wrote about it.

And if you want to check out the review and other goodies on the website for Grail Quest Books (which I highly suggest you do), here are some links:

My review

Grail Quest Books


I certainly hope this is the first of more to come....First of all, my knowledge of this era in history is woefully inadequate. It revealed a lack of awareness on my part about the events portrayed. However, I suppose that is what a book worth reading ought to do, to reveal, educate, and delight. Thankfully this is where the prose helped me in learning along with enjoying the story. It also made me want to read more about this time in history as well as stories of similar genre.

Secondly, I greatly appreciated the attention to detail both in the action as well as in the explanation of particular Christian practices. Whether one has knowledge of these or not, it helped the reader.

Third, the doctrine of vocation, I thought, rang throughout the book as well.

Fourth, I loved the last part where you explained the history and meaning of the word 'crusade'. That shed a light on the rest of the book and I was glad I read it first since it out my mind in the right frame for all the aspects and facets of 'crusade' which were present in the book and in Markus especially.

And lastly, this story has a way, in fact many ways, of giving the reader a glimpse of the one, great true story: the Gospel. The reader is drawn into a world of historical narrative, with knights, honor, adventure, and redemption, in order to shed light on the great redemption and restoration to life in Christ.

Monday, August 18, 2014

Heaven in Nebraska: Reflections on the LCMS Institute on Liturgy, Preaching, and Church Music


 
“How awesome is this place!
This is none other than the house of God and this is the gate of heaven.”

Genesis 28:17

This July, several of Redeemer’s music staff and I attended the 2014 LCMS Institute on Liturgy, Preaching, and Church Music. Now, spending five days in Seward, Nebraska in late July may not sound like heaven on earth, especially for someone so acclimated to California weather, but it was. Why, you might ask?
Well, it wasn’t because the weather was incredibly perfect – no humidity, clean country air, and a refreshing breeze – though that was a welcomed surprise.

It wasn’t due to the fresh corn (Nebraska is called the Cornhusker state for good reason!) and home-style hospitality, though we were all satisfied.
It wasn’t on account of the excellent trip planning by Wayne Pereboom, though his organization was greatly appreciated.

It wasn’t even because of the beautiful sights and sounds of Lincoln, NE – home of the state capitol, though the magnificent structure is topped by a 19 ½ foot statue of Jesus the Sower (and it’s the third largest building in all of Nebraska).
How then did we find heaven in Nebraska?
Because Christ’s people were gathered to read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest His Word through liturgy, preaching, and church music.

Because the choirs, voices, and instruments resounded with the song of heaven here on earth.

Because we sang with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven.
Because we were fed day in and day out the wholesome word of Christ by the Gospel’s handmaiden, music.

Because comfort was given to our consciences in the preaching and liturgy of the church; God was busy enacting consolation directly to our hearts and mind.
Because Jesus was there in his holy presence, to bring us the comfort we so desperately need. Comfort in sins forgiven. Comfort in a good conscience, absolved and prepared for the Lord’s Supper. Comfort in our Holy Baptism. Comfort in Jesus’ body and blood. Comfort in every bar, note, and word of the Divine Service. Comfort because Jesus was present for us.

And wherever Jesus is, there’s heaven. Heaven in Nebraska? Absolutely. Wherever Jesus is he brings all of heaven with him. Think about that the next time you come to Divine Service. You don’t have to go looking for Jesus in the far off fields of Nebraska. You simply have to go where Jesus promises to be present for you. Jesus brings heaven comes on earth in specific locations. So heaven comes to earth in your Baptism as the water is poured, the Word is spoken, and the Spirit descends. Heaven comes to earth, indeed is wide opened to you in Holy Absolution. Heaven comes to earth as Jesus feeds us with His body and blood for the forgiveness of our sins at His table, whether that’s located in Seward, NE or Huntington Beach, CA, or wherever His Word is preached and His Sacraments administered.
If you’re looking for consolation for a troubled conscience; if you’re looking for a safe haven in a wicked world; if you’re looking for rest and peace that knows no end; if you’re looking for heaven on earth – then come to the one place you can guarantee that Christ is present to give you comfort, forgiveness, shelter, and reconciliation in body and soul. Come to Redeemer, where heaven comes to earth and where Christ freely gives you comfort in his death and resurrection.

Comfort, comfort my people,
    says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
    and proclaim to her
that her hard service has been completed,
    that her sin has been paid for,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
    double for all her sins.

Isaiah 40:1-2
 
 
 
And now for something completely different...
 
 

Sermon for Pentecost 10: "The Canine Canaanite"


Pentecost 10 – August 17th, 2014
Redeemer Lutheran, HB
Series A, Proper 15: Isaiah 56:1-2, 6-8; Romans 11; Matthew 15:21-28

 In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Matthew’s account of the Canaanite woman is full of contrast.

The disciples, who are supposed to assist Jesus in showing mercy to others, are embarrassed. Either they’re embarrassed for the woman because she is annoying and needs to be sent away, or embarrassed by Jesus because he isn’t living up to their messianic expectations.
Jesus, an Israelite, is beyond the borders of Galilee. A Jewish rabbi is going out to spend time in Gentile territory, to seek out Gentiles and save them just as Isaiah prophesied while the Pharisees are still having a food fight about what defiles a person. The Pharisees blinded themselves to Jesus. And who is it that sees? In Matthew 15 it’s a woman.

She’s a Canaanite. Canaanites were Gentiles, idolaters, enemies of Israel and God. She knows all this. She knows a Canaanite woman has no business talking to a Jewish rabbi. But she has nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. She’s desperate. Her daughter has a demon. And though she may not be able to articulate why or how, she knows Jesus can help. She’s heard the strange accounts of healing and miracles. So she comes with all boldness and confidence.
“Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David...”

These are strange words coming from the lips of a Canaanite. “Son of David” is Israelite talk. This is the language of the faithful expecting the promised Messiah. She has no right to address Jesus this way.

But isn’t that how it is for us? That we – who have no right to claim any favor from God; God gives us the right to be called sons of God. That’s the promise of Holy Baptism. We were gentiles, idolaters, and enemies of God by birth and deed. And God throws you into the water, cleanses, and gives you a new identity. We’re transformed and given the faith of Abraham. That is how we pray Our Father in all boldness and confidence as dear children ask their dear father.
And though she has no right to do so, the Canaanite woman prays the same way.

“Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely oppressed by a demon.”
We’re not told how the demon came to oppress her daughter and torment her house. Could’ve been years of false worship to a false god. False teaching invites demons. But one way or another, her house had become a beachhead for demons.

It’s a word of caution. As Jesus warned the Pharisees and disciples earlier in chapter 15, we’re defiled by the evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, and slander that come out of our sinful heart. Sin is more than a flesh wound; it’s deadly and specific: gossiping about our fellow members, coveting our neighbor, pornography, drunkenness, even those little grudges we all have. Repent: do not return like a dog to its vomit. Keep watch. And pray: Lord, have mercy.
And what is Jesus’ reaction to this Canaanite woman’s petition? Silence. Perhaps that’s why the disciples ask him to do something. “Give her what she wants and send her away, Lord.” Problem is we’re not told why he’s silent. Just as we’re not told why our prayers seem to be met with silence at times. There’s no use in psychoanalyzing Jesus or trying to say more than the text says. Jesus is silent. But don’t take Jesus’ silence as his absence. Look what his silence reveals.

Jesus’ silence reveals his disciples’ embarrassment.  Either they’re embarrassed for the woman’s sake and want her quickly dealt with and sent away. She’s a bother, a nuisance, and don’t forget, a Gentile. Or they’re embarrassed by Jesus himself; he’s not acting the way they think a good little Messiah should act.
Jesus’ silence reveals something deeper in the woman. She is persistent. She does not leave. Even as Jesus breaks his silence saying:

I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. She is a Canaanite
Yet this woman will not give up. Like Jacob she wrestles with God and will not let Christ go without a blessing. She will not take Jesus’ silence for an answer. She comes closer to Jesus. She falls at his feet. She touches her face to the dirt. She is humble. She worships Jesus as a lowly beggar before the great king. Now she drops all pretenses, loses the “Son of David” Israelite accent, and speaks out of her brokenness.

Lord, help me.
We pray the same way. O Lord, I am a sinner. I am a beggar. Apart from you I have no good thing. Lord, help me.

And Jesus answered, “It is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs.”
There’s no way to soften these words. Jesus’ words are plain and blunt. It was no nicer to call someone a dog in the first century than it is today. Maybe it’s dangerous to ask Jesus to speak because he might say what we don’t want to hear from him: the truth.

But even more shocking than the truth is that the woman agrees.
Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table.

Yes, Lord. I am a dog. Yes, Lord. I am a beggar. Yes, Lord; I am a sinner. You’re right about me. She sees her own unworthiness. And yet she sees in Jesus something which she can cling to.
“Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table!” (Matthew 15:27). Yes, Lord, even Rahab, the Canaanite, Rahab the prostitute, that Gentile dog, turned to the Lord for mercy and found it. Isn’t that Canaanite, Rahab, your own great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother? Yes, Lord, dogs don’t deserve to sit at the table with Abraham’s sons. But wasn’t Naaman, the Syrian, cleansed with water and healed, so others would know that a prophet was living in Israel?

Yes, Lord. You’re right about me, Jesus. I am a poor miserable, mangy mutt of a sinner. And yet He cleanses you from all sin. Your Baptism is a divine flee bath, flooding all sin in you which you have inherited from Adam and which you have committed since.
This Canaanite woman catches Christ with his own word, and he is happy to be caught (Luther). She holds onto his words knowing that God’s business is feeding his people. She does not want the children’s bread. She wants food straight from the source, the Master of the Table, Jesus himself.

I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord than dwell in the tents of the wicked.
Better to be a dog in the house of the Lord than to be a chew toy for demons.

The Canaanite woman was content to receive a crumb. One crumb of God’s grace is more than enough for us. One crumb of Jesus’ mercy is more than enough to end the starvation of our sin and send the demons running. But it is not enough for Jesus.
Jesus gives more than a crumb, to this Canaanite woman and to you. He gives you himself. Jesus became the outsider and the dog for you. He became sin and death for you. He died for idolaters and blasphemers and sinners like you and me and that Canaanite woman. He died in humility in order to raise you up and seat you at his table, not as dogs under the table or even as children, but as his beloved bride.

Jesus feeds you with the best food, the bread of life, his very own body. And the choicest wine: his blood shed for you. Where we would settle for a crumb, Christ gives a feast.
“O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.” And her daughter was healed instantly.

By faith in Christ this woman is no longer a dog. She is not lost. She is a member of new Israel, Christ’s holy bride: spotless. Clean. Undefiled. Without blemish. Pure. Holy.
Jesus makes the same promise to you. You are no longer dogs or Gentiles. The stain of your idolatry is wiped clean by his blood. The defilement of our lusting, coveting, gossiping, sinful hearts is cleansed. Jesus died for you. He became your sin so that you would be his bride. You are spotless. Holy. Clean. Undefiled. Without blemish. Pure. Holy.

Rejoice! The demons are on the run. Sin and death are defeated. Christ, your Master feeds you. You are at peace. Rejoice with the Canaanite woman in the gift of great faith that clings to Jesus’ greater salvation for you.

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Funeral Sermon for Shirley Grober: "Be Not Dismayed"


 
+ In Memoriam – Shirley Grober - August 13, 2014 +
Isaiah 41:8-10; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; John 14:1-7
 
In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
But you, Israel, my servant,
    Jacob, whom I have chosen,
    the offspring of Abraham, my friend;
you whom I took from the ends of the earth,
    and called from its farthest corners,
saying to you, “You are my servant,
    I have chosen you and not cast you off”;
fear not, for I am with you;
    be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Though these words were spoken by the prophet Isaiah almost 3000 years ago he could just as well have said them today. That’s one of the marks of a good prophet: he declares God’s Word for all people in all seasons, people like you and I today, who are in need of consolation and strength in God’s promises. God’s word of comfort is for you: Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God.
Shirley knew these words well. This was her confirmation verse:
fear not, for I am with you;
    be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
These words strengthened her faith not only on her confirmation day, but throughout her life, especially these past weeks and months battling with cancer and chemo and doctors’ visits. “I say this verse every day” she told me. And in her last hours, when it looked to all earthly senses that her strength was gone, God spoke his promise, strengthening her faith even in the face of death.
Yes, Death is an ugly enemy; it causes us fear and anxiety; we grieve and weep because of it.
But there are a few other things you should know about Death. Death is not final. Death does not win. Death is weak. Death is dead. Death could not hold Jesus for three days, and neither will it hold Shirley, or you, or me forever.
For the same Lord who promised Isaiah and Israel that he would be with them and uphold them with his righteous right hand is the same Lord who laid bare his righteous right hand on the cross for Shirley, for you, and for life of the world. Jesus is also the same Lord who showed his righteous right hand to his disciples after his resurrection: Do not be afraid; it is I. Look and see the scars. Jesus was upheld on the cross so that you would be upheld by his righteous right hand in his resurrection.
That is why Paul writes, we do not grieve as others do who have no hope.  For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.
This is no abstract hope. Our hope is a person. Our hope is in the God who took on our human flesh and blood: Jesus born for you. Jesus’ life for you. Jesus Crucified for you. Jesus risen for you. Jesus ascended and reigning in heaven for you. Jesus who will come again and bring resurrection to Shirley and to you. Jesus who will breathe the breath of eternal life into our lifeless bodies.
Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God.
Shirley clung to these words in death and in life. This is why Israel’s name of “servant” is also a fitting one for Shirley. Whether she was at home or work, church or school, behind the desk at church or assisting children with special needs, Shirley was synonymous with servant.
She learned about service from Suffering Servant Jesus who came not to be served but to serve and give his life as a ransom for Shirley, and for you, and for all.
This is the kind of loving, self-giving service God gave Shirley at her Baptism: “I am your God. You are mine. I have called you by name and washed your sins away. You are holy. And by water and Word I declare that, “You, Shirley, are my servant whom I have chosen; you whom I took from the farthest ends of the earth; “You are my servant, I have chosen you and not cast you off”.
But Shirley is not alone in that promise. In fact, she’s not alone at all. She is with Jesus. And you are there too. In Baptism we are united to Christ in life and death – just as Shirley is. That’s one of the great joys of Christ’s death and resurrection for us: you are never alone. Jesus is with you today, and every day as we wait the resurrection of the dead and the life everlasting. We live and die as Shirley did, at rest in God’s promise:
fear not, for I am with you;
    be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
 
In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
 
 
 

Monday, August 11, 2014

Pentecost 9 Sermon: "Hearing is Believing"


+ Pentecost 9 – August 10th 2014 +
Redeemer Lutheran, HB
Series A, Proper 14: Job 38:4-18; Romans 10:5-17; Matthew 14:22-33

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Seeing is believing we say.
“I’ll believe your room is clean when I see all the Legos picked off the floor.”
“I’ll believe the economy is in recovery when I see my bank account in recovery.”
“I’ll believe the church is strong when I see more people in the pews.”

Seeing is believing we say. But that’s not always true.
What if we applied the same thinking in our readings today?

What did Job see? Goods, fame, child, wife – all of it wrenched away. He saw faithless friends condemn him and Satan accuse him. He saw boils and plagues, death and disaster. Trial, suffering, and sorrow flooded his vision.

What about Paul, what did he see? His saw his people, God’s covenant people - who had received the Law of Moses and all God’s promises of the coming Messiah - reject, disobey, and close their ears to the saving Gospel, as he himself had once done.

What did Peter see? He saw Jesus walking on the water around 3 AM. He saw his look of panic and terror mirrored on his fellow disciples’ faces. Then he saw Jesus. But he didn’t believe. So he saw his feet hit the water and step towards Jesus. Then he saw the wind and waves and began to sink.

What about us? What do we see? Family members wrestling with relationships and divorce. Illness. Dementia. Inexplicable diseases that baffle doctors and patients. Loved ones on hospice care. Untimely deaths. Christians martyred for the faith in horrific ways. Faithless churches. Faithless peddlers of God’s Word. Faithful churches struggling. Financial worries at home, work, or church. Uncertain futures. Troubled consciences over our own sin. Failure and weak faith. Doubt. Despair.
Is seeing really believing? No it is not.

For if seeing is believing Job would have concluded that God had abandoned him after all.

If seeing is believing Paul would have given up altogether on delivering the Gospel to his Jewish brothers and sisters.
If seeing is believing Peter would have drowned and died in the Sea of Galilee.

If seeing is believing then this entire Gospel reading is one big allegory. And the moral of the story is: Peter didn’t have enough faith to walk on water; if you only had enough faith you could walk on water too! Sadly, this is how a lot of folks have interpreted this reading: as a faith-o-meter. If you only prayed harder, gave more, were nicer to people and had a better attitude, you too could have a heroic faith, you wouldn’t have financial problems, your church would be growing, your loved ones would be healed and on down the list. But that’s not what this reading is about at all. Seeing isn’t believing.
Peter isn’t held up as an example. He failed. And so do we. The first time Peter doubted whether it was really Jesus. The second time Peter doubted whether Jesus was able to do what he said he would do for him. And we’re no different.

This reading is not about what you see but who you hear. And who is speaking the words. This reading is about who Jesus is and what he says.
Seeing isn’t believing…but hearing is. In the Christian faith you see with your ears. It’s not what you see but who you hear. In the midst of persecution the baptized hear the voice of Jesus: I am with you always. In the midst of illness we hear the voice of our good physician: behold I make all things new; I AM the Good Shepherd. In sorrow and grief we hear his promise: I AM your resurrection and life. In the face of the manifold fear we see, we hear Jesus promise: Fear not; I AM here; Do not be afraid.

And in hearing we truly see.
For Faith comes by hearing and hearing through the Word of Christ.

And what do we hear in these readings?
From the prophet Job, we hear that the righteous do suffer. But they do not suffer alone. Hear the Word of the Lord…

…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…
Job’s Redeemer is your redeemer. Job’s confession is your confession. You do not suffer alone. For Christ your Redeemer lived, and died, and lives again for you. He, the righteous One suffered all your sin, all your disease, all your death, and all your unrighteousness. And nothing in all creation can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus your Lord.

From the apostle Paul we hear: the Scripture say, “Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame.” For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; for the same Lord is Lord of all, bestowing his riches on all who call on him.  For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
The same Lord who sent Paul to Jew and Gentile is the same Lord who send you to your neighbor to speak the Good News. And you go with words on your lips, and in the Name of God given you in Holy Baptism.

From Peter we hear a prayer. Peter looks around at the wind, the waves, and starts to sink. And he prays faith’s little prayer: “Lord, save me.” Jesus is all that Peter has at that moment. And Jesus is all he needs to save him.

That’s our prayer too. When it seems as if we’re going to drown and there’s nothing to hold on to but Jesus. “Lord, save me.” And immediately (immediately!) Jesus reached out His hand and took hold of Peter. Freeze that moment in your mind. Peter sinking, panicking, praying: “Lord, save me.” Jesus reaching out His strong and sure hand and grabbing hold of Peter. Whose grip matters most at that moment?

The answer is the same for you as it was for Peter. Jesus’ grip matters most. Jesus’ hands gripping your sin and death on the cross for you. Jesus gripping you in Holy Baptism. Jesus’ hands pulling you out of your grave.

Jesus didn’t let Peter sink in the consequence of his own foolishness and sin. And neither will he let you drown in your doubt, sin, and death.
The point of this story isn’t for you to work on your building up your superhero faith. There’s nothing to admire about Peter’s faith here. He is weak. He doubts. He failed. But that’s precisely the point. No, the point is that Jesus rescues you from weakness, saves us from drowning in our own sin and death. Jesus’ doesn’t promise that you’ll walk on water, but that you’ll walk out of your grave.

The solution to Peter’s problem wasn’t in what he saw, but in who he heard. It was simply to listen to Jesus’ Word. Peter’s weakness is revealed so that Jesus’ grace and mercy would be seen more clearly. Along with the disciples, we’re given faith to believe in Jesus, not faith to defy gravity.
We’re called to hear Jesus’ Word. Faith comes by hearing Christ’s promises. We hear his word of Law which rebukes our sin: oh you of little faith, why do you doubt? And we hear his word of gospel that comforts us in our doubt and weakness. Take heart, it is I. Do not be afraid.

Jesus speaks the same promise to you today. Take heart, it is I. Do not be afraid.
Seeing isn’t believing; hearing is believing.

Hear the Word of the Lord: I forgive you all your sins.
Hear the Word of the Lord: Take, eat; this is my body. Take, drink; this is my blood shed for you.
Hear the Word of the Lord: Take heart, it is I. Do not be afraid.

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.