Sermon for Easter Sunday: "The Greatest Comeback Ever"

+ The Resurrection of Our Lord – April 5^th, 2026 +

Series A: Jeremiah 31:1-6; Colossians 3:1-4; Matthew 28:1-10

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

Alleluia! Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

 

No one thought the 1980 U.S. men’s hockey team had a shot at winning a gold medal. But they did.

No one ever thought Jamaica would have a bobsled team. But they do. 

No one ever expected to see Cinderella at the ball, much less marry the prince. But if the glass slipper fits, well, there she is. 

 

We love a good underdog story. The comeback no one saw coming. Unexpected victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. 

 

The underdogs and comebacks of march madness and the movies are good, inspiring even. And yet sports heroes and superheroes won’t save you. They’re not sent to rescue or deliver. They can’t pay for sin. Conquer death. Open the grave. But these kinds of stories can, and quite often, point to the one who can. Who did. Who has. 

 

Jesus’ resurrection is the greatest comeback, underdog story in history. Good Friday defeat turns into Easter Sunday triumph. Sadness and sorrow become joy and wonder. Mourning is replaced by mirth. Wailing and weeping are wiped away in tears of delight and shouts of deliverance. 

 

That first Easter morning, no one thought Jesus’ tomb would be empty. But it was. Christ is risen!

 

You see, our Lord also loves a good underdog story. Christ Jesus is the ultimate Comeback King. Our Lord has a knack from snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.

 

No one expected aged Abraham and barren to bear a son. And yet God gave them Isaac. 

 

No one expected to ever be released from slavery in Egypt. And yet God sent the plagues. The Passover Lamb. The blood. And death passed over.

 

No one expected to be saved from Pharaoh’s sword or the surf of the Red Sea But YHWH opened up the sea, saved his people and swallowed their enemies. 

 

No one expected Gideon and his three hundred men, armed only with horns and torches, to defeat the Midianites. But they did, because YHWH gave them the victory.

 

No one expected David to defeat Goliath, much less do it with a sling and a stone and a prayer. But the shepherd boy slayed the giant.

 

No one who kept their distance from unclean lepers, or passed by the blind and lame beggars ever thought they would be made clean, receive their sight, or walk again. And yet, they did.

 

No one (except Jesus) thought that Lazarus who was four days in the grave, wrapped in burial clothes and smelling of death would walk out of his tomb alive again. But Jesus gave the command, he did.

 

No one standing at the foot of the cross on Good Friday expected anything but death to be the end of the story. Darkness. Blood. Agony. The bitter cries and mockery. Jesus’ final breath. His body went limp. Carried down from the cross. Stone rolled over the grave. Silence. Darkness. Gloom. Death. Sure this was a loss that no one could come back from, the odds no underdog could overcome. God had lost. God was dead. Sin. Satan. Death. They’d won the day. Dancing and champagne corks popped in hell’s locker room. But only for a moment.

 

No one thought Jesus’ tomb would be empty. But it was. And still is. Christ is risen!

 

Out of the grave stepped Jesus. King of the cross. King of the grave. King of Comebacks.

 

The earth quaked and trembled louder than a Seahawks game at Lumen Field. Our Lord’s angelic announcers gave the play by play. Stone rolled away. There they sat on the rock basking in Jesus’ victory, heralding the good news of the greatest comeback in history. 

 

Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who is crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. 

 

Good Friday was a fight to the death. But Lo, Judah’s Lion wins the strife and reigns o’er death to give us life. The cross which tolls the death bell for Jesus, also trumpets God’s victory.

 

Jesus flipped the tables on hell. Turned the world upside down. Winners lose and the loser wins.

 

God went down into hell and cut down the nets. Tore down the goal posts of the grave. The rafters of heaven shake with Alleluias; the angelic roar is deafening. The foundations of hell are cracked –the enemy is in retreat. Satan is bound and gagged. Sin is ambushed. Death is conquered. For the temple curtain is torn in two. The gates of paradise are unlocked. Noah’s ark has come to rest on Ararat. God has led us through the Red Sea. Canaan is on the horizon. Jordan’s waters are stacked up in a heap. And the gates of the Holy City stand wide open welcoming us to the Lamb’s high feast.

 

For no one expected to hear angels proclaiming glorious, good news, and yet they did. And so do we. 

 

Today we stand at the exit of the tomb. Ash Wednesday is behind us. Resurrection and new creation is before us. 

Today, Abraham’s promised Seed…

Today, the Passover Lamb has been slain, risen from the dead and eaten by his conquering troops. 

Today, all Pharaoh’s hosts have been drowned in the sea.

Today, your Gideon has arisen in victory.

Today, David’s Son has slain the giant.

 

…for Christ has risen, just as he said.

 

A blessed resurrection of our Lord to each of you…

 

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

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

Sermon for Good Friday: "In the Dark"

 + Good Friday – April 3^rd, 2026 +

Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 22; Hebrews 4:14-16, 5:7-9; John 18-19

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

When it’s the middle of the night and you can’t find your way around your house, your big toe is sure to find the coffee table or a stray chair leg.

 

When the power goes out, even for an hour, you realize how helpless we are in the dark.

 

When you go for a drive or a walk, it’s impossible (and inadvisable) to do so with your eyes closed.

 

When it comes to our daily life, we don’t do well in the dark. How much more so is true in our spiritual life. We don’t do our best in the dark. Just the opposite. We do our worst in the darkness.

 

No wonder Scripture, time and again, compares our sin and death to the darkness. 

 

We’re right there with Adam and Eve, in the shade of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, trying to cover our guilt and shame and the shadow of death with fig leaves.

 

We’re right there with Israel on the dark side of Mt. Sinai setting up our own idols to fear, love, and trust in, when the road grows deep and dark on the horizon.

 

We’re right there alongside Israel in the days of the judges, everyone doing what is right in our own eyes, each of us blind to our own folly.

 

We’re right there with David, coveting Bathsheba and sneaking her into his home at night while sending her husband off to die.

 

We’re right there with Jonah, in the depths of the sea, in the deep, dark abyss of our rebellion against God.

 

We’re right there with the people of Israel in Isaiah’s day, imprisoned in death and darkness of idolatry and exile. On our best days we’re faintly burning wicks. And on our worst, our sinful hearts and mouths are a minefield of deep, yawning, cavernous open graves.

 

In the darkness, we stumble and fumble. Gripe and grope in the dark. Sitting in darkness for too long leaves you feeling lost. Helpless. Alone. Blind. In the dark we are full of dark deeds; we are selfish, self-serving, self-righteous, lying, sneaking, hiding, gluttonous, greedy, murderous and adulterous and covetous. In the darkness of Good Friday all our darkness of sin is revealed for what it is: death. The death of Jesus. The death of the Son of God.

 

But here’s the difference. And it’s the difference of night and day. Death and life. The grave and the empty tomb. Our works and God’s works. Dark and Light.

 

While we do our worst deeds in the dark, our Lord does his best saving and delivering work in the dark.

 

In the shadows of paradise lost, God promises a Son and Savior and a Serpent-Stomper.

 

Out of the abyss of the deep flood waters, God brings forth a new creation. Sets his bow in the sky as a promise never again to flood all creation.

 

Up in the night sky the Lord beckons Abraham to look and behold the stars. Number them if you can. So shall your offspring be, in the blessed Seed of Abraham.

 

On the night of Israel’s exodus from Egypt, the Lord spared his people from death and darkness by the blood of the Lamb.

 

In the thunder and quaking and clouds of thick darkness on Mt. Sinai the Lord sends Moses as a mediator, and promises a prophet like him, only better. One who is Mercy incarnate. Not only a Law-giver, but the Law-keeper. Law-fulfiller. Jesus the Mediator and our Great High Priest.

 

In the dark days of the Judges, the Lord delivers in the dark. Gideon and his 300 unarmed soldiers win the victory because YHWH fights for them in the night.

 

From David’s line comes the perfect, holy, and righteous King, David’s Son and David’s Lord, who is crowned in thorns and robed in mockery and enthroned on the cross to save you.

 

Out of the dark belly of the great fish, the Lord delivers Jonah after three days in the heart of the sea, pointing to Jesus, our Greater Jonah who spends three days and nights in the belly of the earth before rising again.

 

Our Lord brought his people back from their darkness and wandering in exile. A down payment of the greater exile and return Jesus accomplishes on the cross, through the grave, and out again in his resurrection. 

 

Jesus was born in the darkness of Bethlehem for you.

 

Jesus slept under the stars of night, and walked from town to town in the dark for you. 

 

Jesus made his way to Jerusalem with the clouds of Good Friday on the horizon for you.

 

On the night he was betrayed in the darkness of the garden, he took bread and broke it and gives it to you still. This is my body. He took a cup of wine. Pour it out for you still. This is my blood. Blood of the Lamb. Shed for you.

 

In Gethsemane, Jesus prayed in the dark for you. Jesus was betrayed, tried, mocked, and sentenced to death, in the dark, for you. 

 

On the cross, in the thick clouds of darkness, Jesus cried out, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? And he did this for you.

 

From noon to three, Jesus bore our the darkness of our sin and death as he hung in darkness. Then his disciples laid his body in the deep, dark dungeon of the grave. The sun set. The stone was in place. Jesus rested in the dark. Friday came and went. Saturday passed too. Sunday morning finally came. 

 

But remember. God does his best work in the dark. And there, in the darkness of dawn. Just before daybreak. Before the light cracks the lid open on the eastern skies, our Lord cracked open the seal of the grave. Darkness cast out by the Light of the world. Death defeated by the Lord of Life. Sin, sorrow, and the shadow of death dispelled in resurrected glory. 

 

So whenever you find yourself sitting, weeping, mourning, living in darkness, even when you’re resting in your own grave. Remember this: On Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday, Jesus does his best work for you in the darkness. 

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

 

 

 

 

 

Sermon for Holy Thursday: "Welcome to the Feast"

 + Holy Thursday – April 2^nd, 2026 +

Exodus 12:1-14; 1 Corinthians 11:23-32; John 13:1-7, 31-35

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

 

We’re used to thinking of Scripture as a book. And rightfully so. It is certainly a book. Many books. One story of God’s rescue and salvation. And yet it’s also something more.

 

When you open Scripture you quickly discover that not only is God’s Word a book, it’s a banqueting table. 

 

Here in God’s holy word he spreads a feast of forgiveness for us. He sets his divine dining table before us loaded with the daily bread of his word. 

 

When God proclaims his promises and rescues sinners, he quite often does so alongside a table. A sacred meal. A holy supper. It doesn’t take you long to realize that God loves a feast.

 

When the Lord created the heavens and the earth promised and gave every good tree of the garden – save one – for Adam and Eve to eat of it’s fruit and live. 

 

When the Lord made his covenant with Abraham he joined him for a feast, a sacred bbq with the Son of God who promised that from their son would come the Son and their descendants would be more than the largest dining room table imaginable.

 

When the Lord sent Joseph’s brothers to Egypt during the famine, upon meeting their brother whom they had sold, betrayed and left for dead – they were forgiven. They were fed.

 

When the Lord delivered his people from slavery in Egypt in the Passover he fed them. A holy meal. A sacred, sacrificial table. A dinner of deliverance. A lamb. Blood. Sacrifice. Death passed over. While God’s people feasted on the very lamb whose flesh and blood had saved them.

 

No sooner had the Lord rescued his people from Pharaoh’s chariots and horses at the Red Sea than he fed them once again. Bread from heaven. Quail of the air to fill their grumbling mouths and stomachs. Water in the wilderness. 

 

When the Lord sent his prophets and psalmists to proclaim his coming in the flesh, he did so by giving us all a preview of his messianic menu:

On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
    a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine,
    of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined.
⁷ And he will swallow up on this mountain
    the covering that is cast over all peoples,
    the veil that is spread over all nations.
⁸     He will swallow up death forever

 

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.

Not only is the Lord’s banqueting table piled high with holy promises. It is long and stretches all the way from Eden to Bethlehem, the house of bread. Where the Lord who feeds the ravens when they call is born for us. To hunger and thirst for us. To set the table of his mercy and goodness for us.

 

And so he did. When Jesus saw the crowds were like sheep without a shepherd, he fed them. By the thousands. 

 

When Jesus called his disciples he filled their boats to the brim with fish.

 

When Jesus was invited to a wedding he poured out the finest of wines for the feast.

 

When Jesus sat down to dinner, he did so quite often, rubbing elbows and sharing table fellowship with sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes. 

 

When Jesus tells his parables so many of them end with a joyous feast, a lavish party, or a wedding banquet. When the wayward younger son leaves home and returns, his father sacrifices the fattened calf and throws a party for the whole house. The whole village. For he who was lost is found. He who was dead is alive.

 

And when Jesus comes to this most holy of weeks. This holy night in which he is betrayed. This holy supper which he gives and gathers us to. 

 

Our Lord Jesus loves a feast. And tonight, once again, he sets the table. He gathers us as his chosen, beloved guests. 

 

Once again he eats and drinks with sinners. Gives a sacred table for his body and blood. A holy supper of his holy body and blood by his holy death and resurrection and made possible all by his holy word. He throws us a feast of forgiveness. Pours out wine from his side. Flesh that was crucified. Into the chalice. Take and drink. For you. Into the bread. Take and eat. For you.

 

Here is true fruit of the vine of the tree, pressed in sacrifice to save you. Here is Abraham’s greatest offspring, the Son of God, giving his flesh for the life of the world. Here our famine – like Joseph’s brothers – has come to an end in Jesus our brother. Here is Christ, the Passover lamb, who has been sacrificed for us. We feast on the very flesh and blood of the Lamb who saves us. Here Jesus’ body in the bread from heaven. Jesus’ blood in a cup of wine in the wilderness. Here is the feast of rich food and well-aged wine that comes from the mountain where Jesus swallowed up death forever. Here, we who were lost, are found. We who were dead are alive. And seated at our Lord’s banqueting table. Our Lord Jesus loves a feast. And the good news is, it’s for you. welcome to the feast. You’re invited. Fed. Forgiven.

 

²³ For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, ²⁴ and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, “This is my body, which is for^[f] you. Do this in remembrance of me.”^[g] 25 In the same way also he took the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” ²⁶ For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes.

 

 

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

 

Sermon for Easter 2: "Peace in Jesus"

 + 2^nd Sunday of Easter – April 12^th, 2026 +

Series A: Acts 5:29-42; 1 Peter 1:3=9; John 20:19-31

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

Jesus breathes on His disciples. How’s that for a welcome?! You’re behind locked doors, scared out of your wits, the women have reported Jesus is risen and then, all of a sudden, Jesus appears. 

 

But He’s no ghost. No hallucination.  “Look at my hands; my side.”  He is real. He is alive. He is risen! 

 

Jesus doesn’t wait for an invitation. He enters. “Peace be with you.” The Hebrew word is “shalom.” Shalom is a blessing and a greeting all at once. Shalom is harmony, wholeness, everything in its place.  All is well. Genesis 1 before the fall: very good. “Peace (Shalom) I leave with you, my peace (my Shalom) I give to you.  Not as the world gives, do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”

 

This is exactly why Jesus crucified and risen: to bring peace for His disciples and for you. The Father is well pleased by His obedient, Crucified and Risen Son. His sacrifice has restored life, to His disciples, to you, to me. Sin, death and the devil are defeated. In the blood of Jesus, you are at peace with God and God is at peace with you.

 

“As the Father has sent me to Shalom the world to Himself, even so I am sending you.” And when Jesus said this he breathed on the disciples – a little Pentecost - the big one is coming, 50 days after Easter.  The God who once breathed life into Adam’s dusty lungs, the God who breathed upon the waters of creation and parted the Red Sea waters, the God who breathed life into the valley of dry bones now breathes on His disciples.

 

“Receive the Holy Spirit.  If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld.”

 

Jesus and the Holy Spirit are always together.  At His Baptism. Good Friday. On Easter. At Pentecost. In his Church. In the Word. In the Sacraments.

 

Jesus is born breathing our toxic, sin poisoned air, to suffer, die and give up His breath on Good Friday – suffocated by sin - so that he can breathe new life into our lifeless graves by rising from His own.  From the disciple’s panic room to His people huddled in His Church, wherever they are gathered, whatever fear, doubt, confusion or sin you are struggling with - Jesus gives his breath of life and peace for you, his people.  

 

Jesus doesn’t leave us gasping for forgiveness.  If we are to give a reason for the hope that is within us (1 Peter 3:15), we need mouths to speak, words to declare. We need Jesus’ breath. O Lord, open my lips and my mouth will declare your praise.       

 

Jesus ordained His apostles by this breath. Jesus gives them authority to do what God alone can do - forgive sin. He gives an Office.  A Spirit-breathing, life-giving office.  A preaching and hearing office. Given to forgive and retain sins.  That’s what God calls pastors to do. That’s what the church is for: a wind tunnel of the Holy Spirit, bringing you forgiveness, from Jesus through his appointed means to you.

 

That’s the hard part for us - understanding and believing that the Spirit is at work in lowly, ordinary, daily stuff of creation. Words. Water. Bread and wine. Fellow sinners. 

 

Thomas gets a bad reputation. But honestly, we’re far more like Thomas. So often for us, seeing is believing. A friendship that reconciles after a huge argument? An end to constant illness? A politician who keeps their promises? Nothing to worry about or be anxious over?  Sure. I’ll believe it when I see it.  

 

Problem is, believing isn’t always seeing. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). God masks Himself. Jesus looks, lives, and dies like a man – yet faith says, “Jesus is Lord.”

 

You go about your daily work, sweat, labor, toil – not always whistling while you work – yet faith says, “This labor is holy, divine work, for I am God’s instrument for the good of others.”

 

We get sick, lose jobs, loved ones die, we hurt, cry, suffer – yet faith says, “I am a child of God, Baptized and loved by Him.” And nothing and no one can snatch you out of his pierced hands.

 

Believing is not seeing. To believe is to confess that God is where God seems not to be, to confess that God is good when God seems to be bad, to confess that what is really real is not what you see, but what you hear. 

 

Just like our twin, Thomas, we want something real. “Just let me see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side or else I will not believe.”

        

Thomas may have been many things – stubborn, hard-headed, confused, unbelieving – but John never uses the word doubt. And yet, thank God for Thomas. Jesus takes the triple-dog-dare. Gives him hard proof.  “Go ahead, Thomas; read my wounds like Braille; put your finger here; place your hand into my side.  Do not disbelieve but believe.”

 

“My Lord and my God.”  It’s a Spirit-filled, God-breathed confession breath. No condemnation. Rather, flesh and blood peace. Peace be with you, Thomas and all of us, his twins.

 

Jesus takes your doubt, your unbelief, your sin and death and He makes it His own.  He gives you the kind of peace that knows that no matter how great your sin, Christ’s love – His peace – is greater.  Jesus’ breath creates believing for you as he did for Thomas.

 

What Jesus did for Thomas and his disciples, He does for you every Sunday until He returns. Jesus delivers peace. The Crucified and risen Jesus still blusters His holy breath upon His church.  He announces His holy absolution into your ears.  He pours out his body and blood from those holy scars to fill the chalice.  The Spirit hovers over the waters of Baptism to make you a new creation. 

 

And the Lord gives us, as he did Thomas, a blessing. “Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet believe.” 

 

For these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name. (John 20:31)

 

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

 

 

Sermon for Palm Sunday: "The Donkey"

 + Palm Sunday – March 29^th, 2026 +

Series A: John 12:12-19; Isaiah 50:4-9; Philippians 2:5-11; John 12:20-43

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

Anyone with a pet at home wonders from time to time, if my cat or dog could talk, what would they say…besides of course, feed me now, human!

 

And we know the story of Balaam’s donkey talking in the book of Numbers. 

 

But what about the Palm Sunday donkey. If he could talk what would he say? What story would he tell? It might go something like this.

 

The next day the large crowd that had come to the feast heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem…and Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it.

 

You can imagine my surprise. There I was one moment, minding my own business, chomping on some delicious, fibrous hay; and the next moment, there I am, the donkey that’s never been ridden before, slowly trotting at the head of a parade into the Holy City. I was ready to buck and kick and put up a fight, but he was humble and gentle and kind. We simply rode on in holy fanfare.

 

People were waving palm branches and throwing their cloaks down to cover the dusty road ahead. Crowds of people were crying out, “Hosanna! (I learned later that means, Lord, save us). Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the king of Israel! He has come to save you and all creation.

 

Yes, you heard that right. The King was riding on my back. The King of creation was riding atop one of his created beasts. Me, a beast of burden, honored to carry the One who was carrying the burdens of all creation on his back. 

 

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Of all the animals he created, he picked a donkey? Really? What was he thinking? Doesn’t he that conquering heroes ride horses, carry swords and wear noble, gilded helmets?”

 

Let me stop you right there. 

 

I know you expected the King to ride into Jerusalem like Samson with his flowing locks, wielding a donkey’s jaw-bone for a weapon, ready to kick some Roman rear-end. But listen to what the prophet Zechariah said about the King:

 

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
    Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your king is coming to you;
    righteous and having salvation is he,
humble and mounted on a donkey,
    on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Did you hear that? Humble. Now, I know you humans have a hard time with that. Humility isn’t something that you’re used to. After all that means thinking of someone other than yourself. It means being a servant, carrying other’s burdens on your back. It means sacrifice, looking out for others concerns and cares above your own. But this why the King rode into Jerusalem the way he did.

This the kind of King Jesus is for you. Oh, he is a King alright. King of humility. King on the cross. King who rides a borrowed donkey and rests in a borrowed tomb. He bears no sword but his word. And he’s pierced by nails and spear for you. He has no helm of war upon his head, only a crown of thorns. His throne is the cross and he conquers by laying down his life for you. 

 

And, before you go on thinking the palms, cloaks, singing, and all the fanfare are above this donkey’s pay-grade, (and by the way, please, don't get me confused with that animated impostor who sold out for the gig with the green ogre)…let me remind you there was a donkey riding along with Abraham and Isaac on their way to Moriah for the sacrifice. And there I was, riding with the Greater Isaac on my back, not towards Mt. Moriah, but not far from Mt. Calvary, the place of the skull. Later in the week Jesus wouldn’t have me there to accompany him to the cross. He would walk alone. To the cross. For you.

 

It was Balaam’s donkey who saw the Angel of the Lord and told Balaam concerning the Word and will of the Lord. And now here’s that Angel/Messenger of the Lord, in human flesh, the Christ, incarnate, God in human flesh, riding on my back through Jerusalem to fulfill God’s will and salvation for you.

 

It was a donkey that the great kings of old, David and Solomon, used to ride upon heading into Jerusalem as a sign of their royalty. And now David’s Son and Lord, the One Greater than Solomon is here, riding on my back to bring you into his everlasting kingdom.

 

It all happened just as the prophet Zechariah foretold:

 

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
    Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your king is coming to you;
    righteous and having salvation is he,
humble and mounted on a donkey,
    on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Yes, Palm Sunday was a day of rejoicing for me. What an honor. What a joy to serve the One who is the servant of all, to bear the One who came to bear the sin of the world. But the joy is not mine alone. It is yours. The One who I bore on my back bears your sin on his.

 

Jesus the King entered Jerusalem for you. Jesus honors you and glorifies you by bearing your sin. Jesus is humbled unto death, for you. Jesus exchanges your selfishness for his humility. Your guilt for his grace. Your death for his life. Your sin for his salvation. 

 

 

Fear not, daughter of Zion; behold your King is coming.

 

 

A blessed Palm Sunday to each of you…

 

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

 

In Memoriam - Jan Whittig: "Home in Jesus"

 + In Memoriam – Jan Whittig – March 28^th, 2026 +

Lamentations 3:22-23; Romans 8:31-39; Luke 24:1-7

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Miton, WA

 

 

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

 

“There’s no place like home,” Dorothy said, as she clicked the heels on her ruby red shoes.

 

“Home is where the rump rests, Piglet,” said Whinnie the Pooh with his paws deep in a pot of honey.

 

Home and hearth aren’t just the stuff of fairy tales and fictional adventures in the forest. These are holy gifts from our holy God. The humble yet holy gifts God invites us to pray for when we pray: give us this day, our daily bread.

 

Throughout all her journeys, and Jan loved to travel, she always loved coming home. Being with her family at home. Spending time with Jerry tending the home and garden. Building, always by God’s grace and blessing, a family and a home that has been blessed with the joy of children, grand-children, and a very special great-grand son too. 

 

Whether Jan was traveling around the Northwest or following the Zags to Vegas, the East coast or West coast, or the coast of the Mediterranean in Israel, she looked forward to the joys of coming home to family, friends, and fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. Jan rejoiced in what we read in the psalms earlier: 

 

Behold, he who keeps Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The Lord is your keeper;
    the Lord is your shade on your right hand.

Perhaps this is also one of the reasons A Mighty Fortress was one of Jan’s favorite hymns. In that famous hymn of Martin Luther, we sing of Jesus as our trusty shield and weapon. Our shelter from and warrior against the old evil foe. Christ our deliverer, King, death-conquering victor. And, our home. Our dwelling place. A mighty fortress is our God.

 

Our dear sister in Christ, Jan, knew this well. Confessed this. Believed this. For this is what God’s word declares to us from Genesis to Revelation. The joyous, gracious good news that the dwelling place of God is with man. From Eden to the day of resurrection in the body in the new creation, our Lord loves to dwell with and for his people.

 

Sometimes he did this by walking in the cool of the garden. Sometimes in the burning bush or the pillar of smoke and fire. Other times in the tabernacle and temple. And our Lord saved his best dwelling place for last. In the fullness of time there was fulfillment of all God’s dwelling places of old. 

 

God became man. God was born of a woman. In a humble, rural town of Bethlehem. God rested in the manger and in the arms of the Virgin Mary. God made his home with us, as one of us, and for us. For Jan. For you. For us all. 

 

God walked and talked, traveled from house to house and town to town, eating and drinking in the homes of sinners, having no home of his own, so that finally he could make his way to the cross, lay down his head on that cruel beam. So he could make his home in the grave, even there, a borrowed tomb. So he could rise again on the third day and send the women who had seen the empty tomb running back home with good news: He is not here. He is risen just as he said! Christ is risen from the dead! 

 

And all of this Jesus did for Jan and for you. God made his home with us that he could bring us home through the cross and the grave back home to our heavenly Father. 

 

But a home is only as good as its foundation. And this – Jesus’ dying and rising was, and is, and ever shall be Jan’s foundation. And ours. The firm foundation of faith. Our lives, as it is for Jan, rest entirely on this foundation. 

 

Our hope and faith and life, rest not on the sinking sand of our feelings, thoughts, words, deeds, or anything of our own. Jan knew and confessed this daily. Weekly. Every Sunday we join that confession of sin. That what our sinful hands and hearts have built is not a home, but an unholy mess of everything God declared good and holy. A shack of sin. A storage shed full of shame and grief and sorrow. The temples of our bodies, the frame of our bones infested by cancer, disease, and death. 

 

Rather, as Jan believed and confessed, we rest, as Jan now rests from her labors, on the solid rock of Christ our Redeemer. On the sure foundation of his death and resurrection for us all. We are built on the bedrock of his saving love for us. There are many rooms in this mighty fortress built out of wood and nails and blood and an empty tomb. 

 

This is the house that Jesus built by his cross and resurrection for Jan and for you. And what our Lord Jesus did on the cross and out of the grave is not only cosmic and universal. It’s personal and hits close to home. Jesus, the Good Physician of body and soul makes house-calls. Jesus, the author and perfector and architect of our faith and life, makes his home with us. Dwells with us and for us still.

 

Jan had many homes throughout her earthly life, especially her beloved home with Jerry for 60 years. And as good as that is, our Lord has given her, and gives to all who are baptized something even greater. An eternal home with him who came to dwell with us and for us. With water and word and the Holy Spirit, Christ made Jan his holy habitation. Through Holy Baptism, our Lord fashioned and built himself a dwelling for the Holy Spirit in Jan, and in all who believe and are baptized.

 

For Jan and for you, Christ Jesus made his home in the manger, on the cross, in the grave, and in his word and water and body and blood here in his holy house. All so that he could bring you, along with Jan and all the saints, home to him. 

 

And not some kind of mythical or metaphorical heavenly home. But to a real physical new creation. In a real, physical, raised from the grave and glorified body. A creaturely and earthly, touchable, tangible new creation. Along with our sister in Christ, Jan, we await that day of Jesus’ return. To call us out of the grave. Into the resurrection of flesh and bone, of blood and guts. And there, to find our home in Christ. Where every tear is wiped away. Every cancer cell is banished. Where sorrow and sighing are not allowed. Our eternal home in Christ, our Merciful and Mighty Fortress.

 

Until that day…

 

The Lord will keep you from all evil;
    he will keep your life.
⁸ The Lord will keep
    your going out and your coming in
    from this time forth and forevermore.