Sermon for Easter 7: "A Trinitarian Soliloquy"

 + 7^th Sunday of Easter – May 29^th, 2022 + 

Series C: Acts 1:12-26; Revelation 22:1-20; John 17:20-26

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

 

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

 

The famous Bard of Avalon, the playwright, William Shakespeare, introduced theater goers to the soliloquy. It was the part of his play where a character reveals their inner thoughts and feelings; a revealing inner dialogue made public. Like when Hamlet speaks his famous line, “To be or not to be.” 

 

Long before Shakespeare came on the stage in the 16^th century, John recorded a much greater, soliloquy of sorts here in John 17. Jesus’ High Priestly prayer, however, isn’t an inner dialogue where Jesus was talking to himself or thinking out loud. No. It’s a Trinitarian soliloquy. When Jesus prays he prays to the Father. And along the way, especially here in John 17, he reveals a great deal about the inner dialogue and relationship of God the Father and God the Son.

 

My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you.

 

This is where today’s reading begins. When we hear these words we’re walking into a holy conversation between God the Father and God the Son. Like all conversations, Jesus’ prayer in John 17 has a context. In verses 1-5, Jesus prays for himself. Verses 6-19, Jesus prays for his disciples; his apostles. Here in verses, 20-26, Jesus prays for the Church. For you. 

 

The wider context of Jesus prayer is important too. Jesus’ relationship and communion with the Father is a huge part of John’s gospel. Jesus is the way to the Father. To see and hear Jesus is to see and hear the Father. Jesus reveals and makes known the Father’s love. Jesus also reminds us that, beyond John’s gospel, this prayer is a glimpse into an eternal conversation and relationship that he shares with the Father from all eternity, from before the foundation of the world.

 

And yet, here’s what’s remarkable about Jesus’ prayer. Jesus is both the eternal Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds, as we confess in the Creed, and yet, he is also deeply personal. Jesus the Great High Priest, the crucified, risen, ascended and reigning king of creation prays for you. 

 

I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you.

 

Jesus prays for you to believe in Him through their message. Who’s message? The apostles’ message, word, teaching. Logos. And the apostles’ word came from Jesus who is the Word made flesh. When you hear the word of Jesus the Word made flesh you are hearing the Father’s very voice of compassion, grace, and mercy. 

 

It is Jesus’ word, he says in this prayer, that holds us together with him. Like the center hub of a wheel, Jesus’ word is the center around which our life, faith, church, and everything we have revolves. Christian unity is in Christ’s word, and only in his word, not in politics, preferences, or personal opinions. Only in the word, teaching, and life of Jesus. That’s why as Lutherans we pay such close attention to what God’s word says and teaches us. 

 

Jesus goes on to pray. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. 

 

Glory is another important word in John’s gospel. The word “glory,” in Jesus’ teaching in John’s gospel is the opposite of what we think; not power, fame, might – but his crucifixion. That’s where and when the Son is glorified, dying on the cross to save you. That is where the Son also glorifies the Father by laying down his life to save you. His selfless, self-giving love for you glorifies the Father.

 

And it is this glory – Jesus’ innocent suffering for us the guilty, his sacrificial death to cover our sin – this is what brings unity, brings us to be one with the Father. No accident that when Jesus says “It is finished” on the cross, he’s using the same word he uses here in 17:23. His crucifixion is what brings us perfect fulfillment and completion. One in Christ crucified for you. 

 

Like the Shakespearian soliloquy, Jesus’ prayer reveals God’s inner desires and thoughts. His passion, zeal, and inner most desire is to save you, and to save the world by grace in the dying and rising of His Son. Or as Jesus says, that the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

 

This is why Jesus was sent. “Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. 

 

Jesus is the Father’s Sent One for you. Sent in his incarnation in the womb of the Virgin Mary to become flesh for you. Sent to Bethlehem in the manger to be born for you. Sent to the Jordan River and throughout Judea to live for you. Sent to the cross and into the grave and out again for you. Sent to teach you and reveal God’s love to you, and yes, to pray for you. In Jesus you know the Father. And through Jesus, the Father knows you. In Jesus the love the Father has for him is also for you. 

I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.”

Jesus’ language of unity, oneness, here in John 17 echoes much of the Old Testament, especially God’s promise through Ezekiel, that God himself would be the shepherd of His people. So there would be one flock, one shepherd. So that we who were lost and scattered and wandering in our sin would be found, gathered, and returned to the Father through Jesus’ dying and rising. One in Christ. One with the Father through Christ. 

This is the kind of unity we get a glimpse of in another one of John’s writings, Revelation 22. In this final chapter of John’s Revelation, we see a preview of what Jesus was praying for in John 17.

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb² down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. ³ No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. ⁴ They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. ⁵ There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever.

 

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

 

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

Sermon for Easter 6: "Praying in Jesus' Name"

 + 6^th Sunday of Easter – May 22^nd, 2022 +

Series C: Acts 16:9-15; Revelation 21:9-14, 21-27; John 16:23-33

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

Growing up I always enjoyed looking through those big books of cutaway illustrations. The kind of book where the illustrator takes an airplane, submarine, or castle, and draws a cutaway picture, so you can see how the thing works, the inner workings, and so on.

 

And while this isn’t a perfect analogy, something like that is going on in John 16 today. As Jesus is teaching his disciples in the upper room before his crucifixion on Good Friday, he spends a good amount of time on his relationship with the Father. Again, not a perfect analogy but Jesus’ words give us a kind of cutaway into the inner workings of the Trinity; a glimpse into the relationship of God the Father and God the Son, and how God relates to us through His Son, Jesus.

 

Throughout this section of John, Jesus teaches us who God is, as Father; who we are, as his children; and how we live, by his grace, and how we approach the Father through faith in Jesus’ dying and rising for you.

 

And in that day, Jesus says, you will ask Me nothing. Most assuredly, I say to you, whatever you ask the Father in My name He will give you. Until now you have asked nothing in My name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full.

 

To what day is Jesus referring? The day mentioned in last week’s reading from the earlier part of John 16. The day where his disciples would not see him a little while and then after a little while they would see him again. That’s the “little while” of Jesus’ death and resurrection. That’s the day that brings joy in fullness for his disciples and for you.

 

It’s also the day when the relationship with God the Father, broken the fall of sin, and our sin, is restored. The day of Jesus’ death and the day of his resurrection is the day of our restoration, rescue, redemption, and reconciliation. As St. Paul says in 2 Corinthians, God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, not counting our trespasses against us. 

 

That all seems pretty clear and easy to understand. But not all of Jesus’ words here in John 16 are so clear and easy. Like when Jesus says to his disciples, “You will ask me nothing.” And yet in the very next sentence he tells them, “Truly, truly I say to you, whatever you ask the Father in My name He will give you.”  

 

What does that mean? What’s going on here? I thought the disciples ask Jesus for things all the time. True. They do. They just haven’t called upon God as Father yet, but Jesus is teaching them to do so. Remember, the Lord’s Prayer. What Jesus is revealing here, is that through His death and resurrection and ascension, through him, in faith and trust in his name, his disciples – and you – will address God as Father. Now in Jesus’ dying, rising, and ascending, you have access to God the Father. 

 

Before Jesus’ dying and rising, in the Old Testament, access to God came by way of the Tabernacle and Temple. By way of the blood of the sacrifices. Now, in the New Testament, in Jesus the Tabernacle and Temple, and Priest and Sacrifice all rolled into one. Now the disciples, and you, come before the Father washed in the blood of the Lamb, made clean and clothed in Christ. 

 

And so here, our Lord Jesus, teaches us something profound about God and our relationship to Him. God is our Father. Through Jesus we have the honor of calling upon him as Father. And this is no small thing. Jesus’ words reveal that God is Father, that we approach him as Father. Or as Luther says in the Small Catechism, when we pray “Our Father,” we are praying that, “God tenderly invites us to believe that He is our true Father and that we are His true children, so that we may ask Him confidently with all assurance, as dear children ask their dear father.” 

 

This only happens because God has come to be our Father in Christ. Only because Christ has taken our sins upon himself and wiped them out by his victorious death we can stand before God, forgiven, His children in Christ. Only as we are bound to Christ can we come before God as His children, for the God sees us in Christ, wearing the garments of Christ’s righteousness. This is the key to who we are in relationship with God the Father. All contact and prayer with the Father is in Jesus, in Jesus’ name, that is in faith in him. Prayer only arises from faith in Christ. And apart from Christ and His atoning, redeeming work, God is no one’s Father.

 

And so Jesus’ words teach us a great deal about who we are as well. We come before God as children. Beggars. Entirely, utterly, completely dependent upon His grace and mercy in Jesus. Jesus teaches his disciples, and us, that faith in Him also means a rejection of ourselves. Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to Thy cross I cling. Not I, but Christ. We come as beggars before God and have no right to ask anything. For we are neither worthy of the things for which we pray, nor have we deserved them, but we ask that God would give them all to us by grace. But that is precisely who God is, Jesus reveals. God is a gracious Father who sent His only Son to die for you. To bring you home. To make you his children by washing you in the blood of the Lamb. To reconcile you back to Him through His Son.

 

Jesus is also teaching us, and his disciples, to do here, what he taught earlier. How  to live as God’s children, that we live every breath, every minute, every hour, every day by God’s grace to us in Christ. So we pray, Our Father, as we do in the Lord’s Prayer. We pray in Jesus’ name. Everything goes through Jesus. Our redemption and reconciliation, and our prayers. 

 

To pray in the Name of Jesus, then, isn’t some kind of magic formula or incantation. As in, dear Lord I really want a fully loaded 4x4 Jeep…in Jesus’ Name, and I expect to get it. No. To pray in the Name of Jesus is to pray in faith in Jesus. To pray “God’s will be done, not mine.” To pray with all the totality of who Jesus is and what he has done for us. To pray in Jesus’ name is to ask the Father on the basis of everything Jesus has done in his life, death, and resurrection. It is to pray to the Father, through the Son, and by the Holy Spirit. 

 

It is in Jesus’ Name that you are saved. It is in Jesus’ Name that you are reconciled to God and call him Father. It is in Jesus’ Name and death and resurrection that your joy is full. It is in Jesus’ name that you pray with all boldness and confidence as dear children asking their heavenly Father – in view of everything he is and does for us. And it is in Jesus’ Name that you live each day by God’s grace.

 

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

 

Sermon for Easter 5: "Two Kinds of Theologians"

 + 5^th Sunday of Easter – May 15^th, 2022 +

Series C: Acts 11:1-18; Revelation 21:1-7; John 16:12-22

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

Did you know that the church this morning is full of theologians? You might not think so. You might not consider yourself a theologian. But it’s true. Whether you’ve been to seminary or not, written great tomes or not, everyone has thoughts about God; everyone thinks something(s) about God. Everyone is a theologian. 

 

The question isn’t how great, famous, or learned of a theologian we might be, but what’s our theology. 

 

Looking at the Scriptures, and looking at fallen humanity, Martin Luther wisely observed that there are really only two kinds of theologians or two kinds of theologies in the world. Luther called these two different, contrasting theologies, a theology of glory and the theology of the cross.

 

A theology of glory expects the Christian life to be total success, having all the answers, winning all the battles, and living happily ever after. A theology of glory is all about my strength, my power, and my works.

 

The theology of the cross, by contrast, sees God’s greatest success revealed in suffering; His victory in the defeat of the cross. The theology of the cross is all about Christ’s strength made perfect in weakness, his power revealed in dying and rising.

 

A theology of glory says that when I am happy, healthy, and prosperous, I know God loves me. A theology of the cross says that God comes to me in my weakness and suffering and makes them his own on the cross.

 

Or to put it another way. A theology of glory wants Easter without Good Friday; the theology of the cross, however, doesn’t go around the cross to find God’s glory, but sees God’s glory in Jesus’ cross.

Or, to use Jesus’ words from John 16, a theology of glory desires joy without sorrow; a theologian of the cross, however, confesses that present sorrow gives way to future joy.

 

Here in John 16, Jesus gives his disciples, and us, a marvelous lesson on the theology of the cross. 

 

Truly, truly, I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy. 

 

Present suffering, future glory. The cross, then resurrection. Sorrow, then joy. That’s the pattern for us theologians of the cross. 

 

Paul says it this way: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Paul knew suffering. His life was marked by suffering – imprisonments, beatings, rejection by his own people, expulsion from the synagogue, antagonists and false teachers, congregation problems, health problems – you name it, Paul likely experienced it. Paul lived the theology of the cross.

 

So did St. John, exiled to the island of Patmos. His churches were under siege. Christians were being tortured and martyred. False teachers were worming their way into the churches deceiving Christians with their seductive lies. The fabric of society was coming apart at the seams. Government was corrupt, the family was weakened, immorality reigned. Everyone did whatever they thought was right in their own eyes. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it. 

 

John lived the theology of the cross too. And in the midst of suffering, and for those who suffer, he points us to joy in Jesus who makes all things new. “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Sorrow turned into joy. 

As Jesus looked deeply into the faces of His disciples that night in the upper room at the table, He saw uncertainty, fear, doubt, sadness. Jesus was speaking of His impending death and resurrection. In a little while, they would no longer see Him. The stone would be rolled in front of his tomb and He would be seen no more. The world would rejoice as the disciples wept. They would be sorrowful. But their sorrow would turn to joy. 

 

“Again, a little while, and you will see me.” They did see Him, risen from the dead. Good Friday anguish turned into Easter morning joy with the news, “Christ is risen”. And all the darkness and death of that previous Friday was swallowed up in joy and light. Jesus was alive.

 

When Jesus says, “You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy”, Jesus isn’t saying that we’ll have so much joy in this life that we’ll forget all our sorrows. Or that joy is so going to cover up that sorrow, that you won’t have time to feel bad. No. Joy in Christ is not a distraction or gimmick. It’s Jesus actually addressing the very things that cause us so much pain, and grief, and sadness.

 

Luther described this life as a “vale of tears,” a valley of sorrow, what Psalm 23 calls “the valley of the shadow of Death”. There are certainly days where that rings true. Joy in this life feels fleeting. Peace seems temporary. Laughter seems to fade. We weep over our sin, our sinful condition, what sin has done to this world we live in. We weep over the hurt and harm that has been done to us and that we have done to one another. We weep over broken friendships, broken families, and broken lives. We weep over the state of the church, over the theologies of glory that have removed the cross from Christian lives, congregations, and doctrine. We weep over the loss of loved ones as we say farewell to them. There seems to be no end of sorrows in this life. Where, then, do we find joy? 

 

In a word, Jesus. True joy is found in Jesus who takes all our sorrow, suffering, and sin upon himself and dies and rises for you. Joy in Jesus’ death and resurrection. Joy even in the midst of suffering. 

 

Whatever it is that hurts. Whatever that is that makes you cry. Whatever it is that is too overwhelming to deal with. These are the very things Jesus went to the cross for. These are the very things Jesus died for. Jesus didn’t give these words to make us forget our sorrows. Jesus gave us these words so that we would know that it is okay to feel our sorrows. It’s okay to shed our tears. It’s okay to mourn our dead. It’s okay to cry out in our pain. Because those are the places where Jesus goes. Those are the things Jesus bears. Those are the times Jesus promises not to leave us alone. 

 

For the same Lord Jesus who carried our sorrows on the cross, still dwells with us in our sorrows and our crosses. And this, he promises, will be turned to joy in him, in his cross, in his resurrection. 

 

And in Jesus, your sorrow will turn into joy.  

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

Sermon for Easter 4: "The Shepherd's Voice"

 + 4^th Sunday of Easter – May 8^th, 2022 +

Series C: Acts 20:17-35; Revelation 7:9-17; John 10:22-30

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

 

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

 

You can tell a lot about someone by their voice. Are they sad, angry, anxious.  Joyful, excited, or hopeful. Is their voice soothing or harsh, hurtful or comforting. Whatever it may be, we come to know a lot about what someone by their voice.

 

This is also true when we turn to the Scriptures. Today’s gospel reading in John 10 reminds us that God, too, has a voice. God speaks. Jesus fills our ears with his voice by his word. 

 

Today Jesus the Good Shepherd comes to us with his voice and speaks his word of promise. The voice of Jesus is the voice of the Good Shepherd. And his voice is full of compassion. Assurance. Mercy. Rescue. Life.

 

My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand.

 

Jesus spoke these words in the temple at Jerusalem, during the Feast of Dedication. We know it as Hanukah. Jewish people gathered to remember a time of deliverance. Almost two hundred years ago, Antiochus Epiphanes had desecrated the Temple. He set up pagan altars to Zeus in the temple and brutally oppressed the Jewish people. They, fought back, however, in the Maccabean revolt. The temple was recaptured and reconsecrated to the Lord. At the Feast of Dedication, Israel gathered in Jerusalem and remembered the overthrow of Israel’s enemies and the rededication of the temple.

 

On this day, however, God in the flesh walks in the Temple. Jesus strolls along the colonnade and looks out, over the people. He sees their joy, and he desires that their joy might be full in Him. So, Jesus recalls another war, an ancient war, and promises His people a greater victory. It is a future victory, His victory. Not in a fight over stones which make up a Temple, but in a fight for their lives, and yours, in his kingdom.

 

While Jesus was walking in the temple, the Jews surrounded Him and said to Him, “How long do You keep us in doubt? If You are the Christ, tell us plainly.”

 

You can know a lot about someone by their voice. And this, Jesus says, is the voice of unbelief. They have seen and heard God’s voice in action in Jesus’ teaching and signs. And yet, Jesus says, “I told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in My Father’s name, they bear witness of Me. But you do not believe, because you are not of My sheep, as I said to you. 

 

If the voice of the Jews in John reveals their unbelief, what do our voices say about us? What do our words reveal? At times our voices reveal that we are wandering, lost, and straying sheep in need of a shepherd who will deliver us from ourselves. That, like sheep, we have a mean, stubborn, prideful, streak; we’re constantly butting and kicking one another to get our way. All we like sheep have gone astray. Everyone has turned his own way. That’s our problem. We love ourselves and want to be our own shepherds and yet we’re constant failures at being our own shepherds. 

 

Still, at other times, our voices reveal that we are wounded sheep in need of rescue us from suffering, pain, agony, sadness, and loss. Past or present trauma brought upon us haunts and cripples. Despair and the daily battle with mental health wears us down. Pain and grief overwhelms us. 

 

And into the din of all this noise, Jesus the Good Shepherd, your Good Shepherd, enters in. He speaks. Jesus fills our ears with his voice. 

 

“My sheep know My voice.” He says, “I know them, and they follow Me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of My hand”

 

The Devil and the world and our sinful flesh try and claim us, try and fight and snatch us from God's hand. But Christ promises: “My sheep know My voice.” He says, “I know them, and they follow Me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of My hand.”

 

Whatever suffering you see, whatever tribulation you touch, whatever evil you endure, Jesus is with you. His voice. His word. His life. He holds you and carries you through.  

 

Yes, you can tell a lot about someone by their voice. Jesus’ voice reveals God’s compassion and assurance; his grace and rescue. Jesus’ voice gives you life. 

 

Even as Jesus was walking in the colonnade of the temple that day during the Feast of Dedication, he was on his way to overthrow our enemies of sin, Satan, and the grave; he was preparing for the greatest victory and rescue of all in his dying and rising for you. He would return to Jerusalem at the feast of the Passover so that the Good Shepherd would come and lay down his life for you, his sheep. So that Christ the true Passover Lamb, would be sacrificed for you. So that the temple in human flesh would be destroyed but in three days raised up again for you. 

 

Jesus does it in the most marvelous, gracious, unexpected of ways. Instead of overthrowing his enemies in violence, Jesus allows his enemies and violence to overthrow him. Jesus hangs on a tree. Endures death itself. The temple of his body was destroyed,  but raised up again three days later. Nothing and no one can defeat Jesus. Not death. Not the devil. Not your sin. And because Jesus stands in victory, so do you. Nothing and no one can snatch you out of his hands. 

 

It is his voice you hear today. I know you, and you follow Me. I give you eternal life, and you will never perish, and no one will snatch you out of My hand.”

 

Today, Jesus comes as your Good Shepherd. You recognize His voice. He kneels down, looks you in the eyes, and says, “You are mine. You know My voice. I hold you in My hand and no one can snatch you out of My hand.”

 

Today, here in his house, the Good Shepherd speaks. Jesus fills your ears, hearts, and minds with his voice. The same voice that speaks and forgives you all your sin. The same voice that joins you to his dying and rising in your baptism. The same voice that places his body and blood in the bread and wine for you. The same voice that speaks that you might know his everlasting love.

 

My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand.

 

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

Sermon for Easter 3: "An Easter Epiphany"

 + 3^rd Sunday of Easter – May 1, 2022 +

Series C: Acts 9:1-22; Revelation 5:1-7; John 21:1-19

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

 

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

 

Whenever I visit the Hobby Hall at the Puyallup Fair the display of quilting, cross-stitching, and needle point entries always stand out. There’s a marvelous craftmanship found in the sewing and stitching together of countless threads and a wide spectrum of colors, and, in the end, threading them all together to reveal a work of art. 

 

John is doing something similar for us in today’s gospel reading from John 21. John artfully and carefully takes various threads from the life and ministry of Jesus and stitches them all together for us in this final post-resurrection account of his gospel. 

 

The setting is the Sea of Tiberias, also known as the Sea of Galilee, a familiar backdrop to many of Jesus’ words and works. Peter, Thomas, Nathanael and the Zebedee boys go fishing just as they did when Jesus first called them  follow him as his disciples. Once again there’s a miraculous catch of fish. Fish and bread appear again just as Jesus fed the crowds at the feeding of five thousand. Peter, who denied Jesus three times by a charcoal fire, is now restored by Jesus three times beside a charcoal fire. Once again Jesus invites his disciples to a meal that is more than a meal; it is table fellowship. A foretaste of the feast to come. 

                                                                                                                                  

John sews all of these details together, and in the end, reveals the restoration, forgiveness and life Jesus delivers to us in His dying and rising. On the seashores of Tiberias, our Lord appears to Peter and his disciples in a great Easter Epiphany. But not only for Peter and the disciples. Jesus is the crucified and risen one for you too. The same crucified and risen Lord who appeared to Peter and the disciples is the same Lord who rescues, redeems, and restores you in his dying and rising.

 

So… when the morning had now come, Jesus stood on the shore; yet the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. ⁵ Then Jesus said to them, “Children, have you any food?”

 

What a marvelous picture of Jesus’ compassion. Jesus calls them children. A term of family and love and welcome. A relationship that he restores in his dying and rising. Not only that, he knows exactly what his disciples need even before they reply. He knows they’ve caught nothing. His question anticipates his gracious, abundant giving. Same is true for us. Before the prayer leaves your mouth, the Lord knows. He sees that we, like the disciples, have nothing to show for on our own. So Jesus gives and fills and provides for us in his dying and rising. And because he provides the big things in life – forgiveness, life, salvation – he also promises to provide for the little things in life. 

 

And so Jesus tells them, “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” And they did. A boat-load of fish. Jesus reveals once again that he is the Lord of creation. Now in his resurrection he reveals that he is Lord of the new creation as well. He exercises dominion over the fish and the sea, just as he has dominion over death and the grave. Nothing is outside of his good and gracious rule and reign. And he does it all for your good.

 

Jesus also reveals himself as the God who feeds his people. Just as God fed Israel manna and quail in the exodus, God in the flesh now feeds his disciples a feast of resurrection victory by the seashore. 

 

as soon as they had come to land, they saw a fire of coals there, and fish laid on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish which you have just caught.” “Come, and have breakfast.”

 

An abundant catch of fish. A gracious invitation. A meal with Jesus. John seems to echo the road to Emmaus where Jesus was known in the Word and the breaking of the bread. This lakeside breakfast also echoes the Lord’s Supper and looks forward to the marriage supper of the Lamb. Jesus is present with and for his disciples just as he is with us and for us and gives himself to us in the Lord’s Supper.

 

Just as Jesus sat and ate with his disciples, so too, he sits and invites us to His table. Where Jesus gathers sinners. Feeds sinners. A holy communion of Jesus’ holy body and blood to forgive sinners and make you holy.

 

Here by the sea of Tiberias, Jesus also reveals himself as the forgiver and restorer. Over a charcoal fire, Peter denied his Lord three times. Here beside a charcoal fire, Peter is restored and absolved three times. 

“Simon, son of Jonah, do you love Me more than these?”

He said to Him, “Yes, Lord; You know that I love You.”

He said to him, “Feed My lambs.”

In Peter’s restoration we see our own restoration. Like Peter we are rescued, redeemed, and restored in Jesus’ death and resurrection. All of our denial and betrayal. Our fears. Guilt. Sorrow. Sin. Even death itself. Jesus took that all upon himself on the cross, buried it in his tomb, and then, like those fish, he drags us through the net of his death and resurrection, hauls us ashore, and brings us back to the Father. 

 

There’s a beautiful exchange that takes place in Peter’s restoration. Jesus moves Peter from denial and betrayal to restoration and reconciliation. From death to life. 

 

Our Lord does the same for you as well. Not by the Sea of Tiberias, but in the sea of the font, where your sin is drowned. Where you are buried and raised with Christ. Where you are clothed in his death and resurrection. Where you are caught in his gracious nets and hauled into his holy ark, the Church. 

 

Where he invites us to dine with him. “Children, come, eat and drink. My body in the bread. My blood in the wine. Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of all your sins.”

 

And, like the disciples, he sends us out in our daily vocations, our callings as witnesses of his grace and mercy for all. You are his priests and servants: called to pray for and live in humble service to others in our daily lives; to love as Christ first loved us. Come, follow me.

 

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