Sermon for 5th Lenten Midweek Service: "Psalm 130: Unfathomable Love"

 + Lenten Midweek 5 – March 29^th, 2023 +

Psalm 130

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

 

Psalm 130 begins in the darkness. The abyss. The depths. 

 

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord!

Imagery of the unseen depths of the ocean swell in our minds. The great caverns of the deep pour over us as we read and sing this psalm. Recall the waters that covered the face of the deep in Genesis 1. The and breakers that crashed over Jonah as he cried out from the belly of the great fish. The waters of the Red Sea that swallowed up Pharaoh and all his chariots and all his horses. It’s no wonder some of have thought Psalm 130 was written by a sailor or fisherman. Someone well acquainted with the deep.

 

Psalm 130 also begins in the depths and darkness of our sinful, fallen hearts. 

 

O Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive
    to the voice of my pleas for mercy!

 

We join the psalmist in praying, “O Lord, have mercy.” A short prayer. A good prayer. For days and weeks like this week, where death and darkness surround us and our brothers and sisters in Christ in Nashville.  

 

It’s also an honest prayer. “Lord, have mercy on me a sinner. I deserve to be tossed overboard and thrown into the depths. I have earned the flood of your wrath that foams and swells like the roaring sea.” Lord, have mercy.

 

Jesus’ disciples and other men of Israel feared the depths of the sea. And for good reason. It was a place of chaos. A watery grave. A bottomless pit that echoes back the endless darkness of our own sin. 

 

If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand?

Our unfathomable sin, however, is no match for the unfathomable depths of God’s grace and mercy for you in Christ crucified and risen. Yes, our sin is dark and deep as the grave. But Christ’s death and resurrection have swallowed up the darkness. Christ crucified and risen is your light and life. Jesus has gone into our grave with our sin and broken out alive again, bringing you with him. 

 

To us, our sin appears endless, like the oceans depths and the horizon of the sea. But Christ’s love for you is wider and deeper and stretches farther than all our iniquity.

 

But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared.

 

Psalm 130 moves us from a holy fear of our sin, to a holy hope in the one who forgives our sin. 

 

⁵ I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
    and in his word I hope;
⁶ my soul waits for the Lord
    more than watchmen for the morning,
    more than watchmen for the morning.

 

We wait for the Lord, like a sailor keeping watch by night. We wait for the Lord in the darkness of this fallen world, knowing that Christ in his dying and rising for you is our lighthouse who will bring us safely to the shores of the new creation. Christ crucified and risen is our safe haven, our shelter from the storm. Waiting on the Lord is never in vain. For it is in His word that we hope and wait, watch and pray.

 

⁷ O Israel, hope in the Lord!
    For with the Lord there is steadfast love,
    and with him is plentiful redemption.
⁸ And he will redeem Israel
    from all his iniquities.

 

Psalm 130 began in the depths, in a hole of sin and death. It ends, however, in hope the Lord; in the steadfast love of the Lord. In the plentiful redemption that is yours in Christ crucified and risen. For it is ultimately Jesus whom this psalm (like all the psalms) is really about. 

 

Christ Jesus is the one dove headlong into the depths of our sin to rescue, redeem, and reconcile you. 

 

Christ Jesus is the one who let all the breakers of God’s wrath for sin overwhelm him so that he would pour out upon you a lavish flood and washing away of sin in your Baptism. 

 

Christ Jesus is the one who was marked with all our iniquities so that we stand before the Father washed in the blood of the Lamb. 

 

Christ Jesus is the one in whose word we hope, for his word is a word of forgiveness. 

 

Jesus’ word is a word washes away your sin, cleanses you, makes you a new creation, and gives you a new birth from above by His water, word, and Spirit. 

 

Jesus’ word is a word that feeds and sustains us with his body and blood until we reach safe harbor. 

 

Jesus’ word is a word that gives hope in the dark night, his steadfast love and plentiful redemption is yours.

 

Jesus’ word is a word that redeems you from all your iniquities. Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.

 

 

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

 

 

Sermon for Lent 5: "Two Grieving Sisters"

 + 5^th Sunday in Lent – March 26^th, 2023 +

Series A: Ezekiel 37:1-14; Romans 8:1-11; John 11:1-45

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. It’s a familiar story. A true story. A beautiful story. Full of memorable words. Full of palpable emotions. Full of people like us – Mary, Martha, Lazarus, crowds of friends and family – in need of comfort in the face of grief and death. Most of all, it is a story full, and brimming over with Jesus’ word of promise that even in the midst of grief, in the midst of death itself, Jesus gives life to the dead. 

 

Knowing who Jesus is and what he’s done, his words and actions seem strange at first. His good friends Mary and Martha send word, “Lord, he whom you love…Lazarus is ill.” And you’d expect Jesus to hop on a donkey or start walking to Bethany as fast as his legs could carry him. Rush to his friend’s bedside. And do something. After all, he changed water into wine. Fed thousands. Healed the blind man. The lame. The sick. But no. Jesus didn’t do that. He didn’t do anything. For two more days. Jesus waited. And he waited because he loved Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. And his disciples. And you. 

 

“This illness does not lead to death.” Again, seems strange. We know what happens next. Lazarus dies. But Jesus is talking about two deaths. There’s bodily death and eternal death. Forever death. Lazarus’ death, Jesus says, does not lead to eternal, forever death. Like the blind beggar, Lazarus becomes Jesus’ object lesson in preaching his promise: Jesus gives life to the dead.

 

When Jesus is ready, and only then, he says to his disciples…“Let us go to Judea.” “Wait, what? Go to the Judea; where they want to stone and kill you, Jesus?” “Yes. That place. It’s time. My hour is at hand.” “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I go to awaken him.” 

 

For us, as it was for Martha and Mary, death is overwhelming. Fearful. But not for Jesus. Death is the last enemy, yes, but to Jesus, death is nothing more than a nap, sleep. “Let him sleep. I’ll wake him up.” That’s how Jesus treats humanity’s greatest enemy, Death. It’s a sleep from which He will wake us up as surely as He is risen from the dead. It’s also why we call a cemetery a cemetery. A sleeping place. When you walk among the headstones and grave markers you are treading on resurrection soil. You walk where those who have died in the faith will walk again out of their graves. Remember that next time you’re at a cemetery. Remember Jesus came and died and rose…Jesus gives life to the dead. 

 

When Jesus finally arrives in Bethany, Lazarus has been dead four days. It’s now the third day since Jesus found out he was sick. Remember that for later. Martha went out to meet Jesus. Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. 

 

We’ve all prayed that prayer, out loud or in quiet. Lord if you had only been here…my friend would’ve been healed. My relationship would’ve been reconciled. My doubt and despair and grief would’ve been gone. Like Martha and Mary, we all grieve…for someone, something. We grieve because everything in this world dies. Relationships. Communities. Dreams. These are all little deaths. Broken pieces of the bigger brokenness of Death itself. The death of loved ones. Of family. Of close friends. Our own death. The finality and fear of death appears set in stone. The wages of sin is death. Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. Will the circle be unbroken? 

 

“Your brother will rise again,” Jesus said to Martha. Jesus meant today. Martha thought ahead to the Last Day, which is true – the resurrection of the body is coming. But it’s not the whole truth. There’s more. Jesus speaks to Martha in her grief. He speaks to you. Jesus promises. I give life to the dead. Right here. Right now. Not only in the future. Today. Present tense.

 

I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die forever.

 

To us death appears to be the one thing certain in life. Not so says Jesus. There’s something more certain. The promise and reality of his own resurrection from the dead. Jesus’ words aren’t abstract. Wishy washy. No. Jesus is going to Jerusalem where he will die. Where he will rise from the dead. Jesus goes to give life to the dead. Jesus’ death is your death. Jesus’ life is your life. Jesus’ resurrection is your resurrection. 

 

I AM the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, lives even though he dies. (He lives in spite of his death.) And whoever lives and believes in me never dies forever (He may die for a while but not forever.)” Do you believe this, Jesus asks.

 

That’s the question. Do you believe this? Do you believe this in the face of your own, inevitable death? Do you believe this when the doctor says you have six months to live, when you see your friends dying all around you, when the world seems to be filled with nothing but death and despair? Do you believe that Jesus is resurrection and Jesus is life and that to live and believe in Him is to have life now and forever? Jesus is the antidote to Death. He is the One who died and rose to conquer death and give life to the dead.

 

“Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.” What a beautiful confession of faith. 

 

Don’t forget about Mary though. Jesus calls her. She comes to him. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. That’s Mary. The disciple sitting at Jesus’ feet. Hearing. Following. Now weeping at Jesus’ feet. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 

 

There’s no conversation with Mary and Jesus, like Martha and Jesus. Yet Jesus is still busy. Jesus saw Mary weeping. Jesus joins her. Jesus weeps. We have a God who weeps with us and for us and knows what it’s like to grieve as one of us, to feel sorrow and anger and the sting of death. And more than that, we have the God who has come to do something about it. Jesus gives life to the dead. Jesus weeps with her, for her, but its more than grief. Jesus is “deeply troubled” most translations say. It’s a word that can also mean a snort, an urgent warning, or to admonish sternly. 

 

What is it that has Jesus so upset? Is it his grief? Is it the unbelief of the crowds? Yes, but more than that, Jesus is rip-snorting mad and burning with anger at Death itself. The death of his friend Lazarus. Death in his world made very good. Death that reigns from Adam in all children of Adam, except for our Lord Jesus. Death, his enemy. An enemy Jesus has come to destroy.

 

Jesus walks up to the tomb. A cave. There’s a stone. It’s the third day. Sound familiar? Jesus is pointing us through Lazarus’ tomb all the way to his own empty tomb. A dress rehearsal before the main event on Easter Sunday. Take away the stone.

 

Martha interjects. “Um, Lord…you know, he’s going to smell.” “Lord, he stinketh” (KVJ). No matter and no problem for Jesus. Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” An invitation to believe in him who is the resurrection and the life. You want the glory of God? Here I am Jesus says.  The glory of God is a living man (Irenaeus), a man who is God who came to give life to the dead.

 

Jesus prays to the Father for the sake of those gathered around. For his hearers then. For you now. Jesus does prays the way he does everything else. For your sake. 

 

And then, with a loud voice, like the sound of many rushing waters. “Lazarus, come forth.”

 

There’s an old preacher’s joke that the reason Jesus called out Lazarus by name is because if he simply said “come forth” all the dead within earshot would’ve rose from their tombs as well. Because it’s Jesus, the resurrection and the life, who’s speaking. What he says happens. 

 

And then, Lazarus, dead as a doornail, four-days-stinking-dead Lazarus came out of his tomb. His hands and feet bound with linen strips, his face wrapped with cloth. Unbind him, and let him go. 

 

It’s unclear who Jesus is talking to here, is it the crowds or Death itself. Why not both? When Jesus speaks Death cowers in fear. When Jesus speaks Death is defeated and defenseless. When Jesus speaks Death tucks its tail like a scaredy cat and runs away. When Jesus speaks there’s not a thing Death can do to stop him, because he is the resurrection and the life…for Lazarus, Mary, and Martha, and for you. 

 

What Jesus did for Lazarus he has done for you. Present tense. You are raised up in new life already now. And future tense too. I will raise you up on the Last Day.

 

In this world where bad news is always expected, Jesus brings good news that is unexpected…Jesus comes for Mary, Martha, Lazarus, the crowds, and you, to give you life from the dead. 

 

I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die forever.

 

Believe this.

 

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

 

Sermon for Lenten Midweek 4: "Psalm 102: Cry and Compassion"

 + Lenten Midweek 4 – March 22^nd, 2023 +

Psalm 102

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

Some psalms give us context about their origin and author. Psalm 51 last week, is a good example of that. Other psalms give us a reason for the psalm, a purpose, but no author to pinpoint when. Psalm 102 (today’s penitential psalm) is one such psalm.

 

We don’t know the who, when, or whys of its writing. Some think it was written by Hezekiah in the face of Babylonian onslaught. But whoever the Lord inspired to write it did so with the whole range and realm of human experience in mind. We are meant to see and hear ourselves in this psalm.  

 

There’s a little heading before the psalm begins. Quite descriptive actually. A prayer of one who is afflicted, when he is faint and pours out his complaint before YHWH. That’s the psalmist. But that’s also you and me. Afflicted. And so the psalmist invites us to join our lament with his:

 

Hear my prayer, O Lord; let my cry come to you!

When we see something ugly, something disgusting, or when we’re so angry with someone – we often say, “I don’t want to see that. I can’t stomach that. I can’t even look at you right now.” 

 

The Psalmist knows that YHWH is nothing like that, nothing like us. He knows that YHWH does not hide his face from our distress and afflictions. Rather, YHWH turns his face toward us. He knows that YHWH is slow to anger and abounds in steadfast love. And so he prays, and invites us to pray with all boldness and confidence. 

 

Do not hide your face from me in the day of my distress!

This psalm opens with a holy demand based not on the holiness of the one praying it, but on the steadfast love of the holy God who has commanded us to pray and promised to hear us and deliver us in the day of trouble. And to do so in his Son Jesus. 

 

Incline your ear to me; answer me speedily in the day when I call!

 

Here in Psalm 102, our Lord invites us to join the psalmist in pouring out our complaints towards him. To voice our cries for mercy. to confess our sin. To address our afflictions. To cast all our burdens on him, for he cares for you. 

 

Luther calls says this is what God has invited us to do, to take his promises to hear and answer and rescue and throw them back in God’s ears with our prayers.

 

And so we join the psalmist in doing just that. We bring our afflictions before our Lord.

 

Afflictions of our sin and suffering…when our bones burn like a furnace. When we are struck down by our own guilt and shame. Restlessness. Sleepless nights. Tossing and turning because of what we’ve done and left undone. When we remember that we are like the grass that withers and decays and dies. When we are left alone and lonely and weary because of our own sin. 

 

I am like a desert owl of the wilderness,  like an owl of the waste places;

I lie awake; I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop.

Afflictions come from outside of us as well. All the day my enemies taunt me; those who deride me use my name for a curse.

 

Family. Friends. Loved ones. People we thought we knew well betray us. Break trust. Fail us. Hurt us as we have no doubt done to others, in thought, word, and deed.

 

At times, affliction comes to us from God himself. because of your indignation and anger; for you have taken me up and thrown me down.

 

Where do we go with our affliction? We follow the first words of Psalm 102. When we are faint, afflicted, burdened…we pour out our complaints to YHWH. To the one who gave us these words. To the one who gave us His own Son.

 

Let this be recorded for a generation to come,
    so that a people yet to be created may praise the Lord:
¹⁹ that he looked down from his holy height;
    from heaven the Lord looked at the earth,
²⁰ to hear the groans of the prisoners,
    to set free those who were doomed to die,

If we are meant to see ourselves in Psalm 102, we are also meant to see Christ. For he is the one who commands us to pray, promises to hear, and has already delivered us. 

 

In Hebrews 1, Psalm 102 is quoted in pointing us to Christ. “You, Lord, laid the foundation of the earth in the beginning, and the heavens are the work of your hands; they will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment, like a robe you will roll them up, like a garment they will be changed. But you are the same, and your years will have no end.”

 

Psalm 102 and Hebrews and the rest of the Scripture remind us that not only will our Lord’s years have no end, so too will his mercy and grace have no end. Your afflictions, whatever they may be, they will come to an end. They will perish. But not our Lord’s mercy for you. 

 

Surely he has borne our griefs
    and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
    smitten by God, and afflicted.
⁵ But he was pierced for our transgressions;
    he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
    and with his wounds we are healed.

 

Every single one of our afflictions. All our distresses, sin, and death. Jesus took all of those upon himself on the cross for you. Jesus was afflicted for you. He cried out to the Father for you. The Father’s face was turned away from His Son for you. Our Lord heard you and still hears you and answers all your prayers and cries of distress with a word: it is finished.

 

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

 

Sermon for Lent 4: "A (Formerly) Blind Beggar"

 + Lent 4 – March 19^th, 2023 +

Series A: Isaiah 42:14-21; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

At the famous battle of Thermopylae (480 B.C.) the Persian thousands outnumbered the 300 Spartans. “Our arrows will blot out the sun,” the Persians yelled. Dienekes famously replied…”Then we will fight in the shade.” 

 

Great quote. But what does that have to do with John 9. A blind beggar. And our Lord Jesus? 

 

When you think about John 9, John’s Gospel, and the rest of Scripture, there’s a similar pattern. Our Lord does some of his best work in the darkness. Out of the darkness of creation, “Let there be light!” Out of the darkness of Egypt, “Let my people go!” Out of the darkness of Good Friday, “It is finished!” Out of the darkness of Easter Sunday, “He is not here, he is risen, just as he said!”

 

The darkness is no match for Jesus. Here in John 9, Christ our Lord reveals himself and fights for us in the darkness. It’s cosmic. Jesus enters the darkness of this fallen world. He appears to be surrounded. Outmanned. Outgunned. Satan’s arrows seem to blot out the sun. And yet, Jesus Christ is the Light of the world, the light no darkness can overcome.

 

It’s true on a personal level as well. Jesus fixes his eyes on this man. As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. Imagine being blind from birth Not the foggy, crusty eyes we all get in the morning. Not blurriness without our glasses. Maybe something more like being in the ape caves when the lights go out. This man’s entire life was lived in the darkness, until he met Jesus.

 

The man who couldn’t see was seen by Jesus. Overlooked. Looked past. Not by Jesus. Just another beggar. Not to Jesus. Jesus saw him. 

 

The disciples saw him too. “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

 

We’ve all asked this question in one form or another. What did I do? What did he do? Did I do something to deserve this? What we’re really asking in those moments is, “who’s fault is it? Who’s to blame?” Was it the blind man’s fault? His parents? 

 

There has to be someone to blame. And, sometimes there is. The Ten Commandments reveal all kinds of ways we fall short. Sin breaks stuff. Sometimes that’s my fault. Sometimes it’s yours. Sometimes the sin that breaks stuff is so ground into the dust that there’s no way to figure out who to blame, short of Adam. He brought sin into the world. He passed it through DNA to the blind man and his parents, to you and me. There’s plenty of blame to go around.

 

But Jesus doesn’t play that game. As understandable as it is to ask it, don’t get hung up on the disciples’ question for too long. That’s a long, dark rabbit hole without Christ. 

 

Jesus wants more for us than wandering around in the darkness finding blame to sling on each other like monkeys at the zoo. There’s no comfort there. There’s nothing but darkness, dust, and death. Instead, Jesus points to himself. You want answers? You want a way out of blindness? You want a way out the darkness of the grave?

 

It’s all there in Jesus. Jesus doesn’t assign blame. He speaks. He heals. He shows mercy. 

 

Jesus directs his disciples, the blind beggar, and us, back to Himself. It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him. 

This is something that only Jesus can reveal. That this man’s was a canvas to display Jesus’ glory as the light of the world.

 

Remember, our Lord does some of his best work in the darkness. So, Jesus spits on the ground, makes some mud, forms some clay together. Works it in his hands just as he did when he formed Adam from the dust and clay of the earth. He rubs it all over the man’s face and eyes like a day-spa. And then tells him to go for a dip in the pool of Siloam. 

 

How about that for the mighty works of God. Seems odd, but it is. Ordinary and mighty all at once. Spit. Clay. Jesus’ healing hands.

 

It’s a small town. Everyone talks. The neighbors don’t believe him. The pharisees disbelieve as well. They also call him a sinner from birth, as if they weren’t sinners from birth too. The Jewish crowds even try and involve the man’s parents. Eventually the formerly blind beggar is kicked out of the synagogue. 

 

Jesus hears about it. Finds the beggar and says, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”^[c] He answered, “And who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?”  Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and it is he who is speaking to you.”  He said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped him. 

 

A beautiful confession isn’t it. Ironic too. The blind beggar saw and believed in Jesus before he ever saw him with his eyes. While the pharisees and crowds who have seen Jesus’s signs and heard Jesus preaching. They don’t believe. But the formerly blind beggar believes. Jesus has been leading him back to Himself all along.

 

The same is true for us. That man born blind is all of us. You and me. Everyone. We’re born blind, steeped in sin, beggars. Just as a blind man cannot will his eyes to work, so we cannot by our own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ as Lord or come to Him. He comes to us in our sin, our blindness, our darkness. He “Christs” us in Baptism. Anoints. Christens with water, Word, and Spirit. Baptism is our Siloam, our sent water, where He sends us to wash and see.

 

for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Therefore, walk as children of light

 

Our Lord does his best work in the darkness. For the blind beggar. And for you. Christ our Lord reveals his light and life in the darkness to save you.

 

Jesus heals the man and shows where God really makes Himself known. In the darkness, working mercy. Jesus in the darkness of our lives with his light and life. Jesus in the darkness of our doubt, despair, guilt, and shame, shining his righteousness, grace, and mercy. Jesus in the darkness of illness, anxiety, fear, and death, casting out the shadows with his word and promise.

 

Jesus in the darkness bearing our sin and blindness. 

Jesus in the darkness of Good Friday, clinging to the cross, dying your place.

Jesus in the darkness of his tomb.

 

And then, Jesus out of the darkness of his tomb and ours on Easter Sunday.

 

In Jesus crucified and risen, we are all formerly blind beggars. Our Lord Jesus has done and will continue to do his greatest work in the darkness for you. 

 

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

Sermon for 3rd Lenten Midweek Service: "Fall and Redemption"

 + Lenten Midweek 3 – March 15^th, 2023 +

Psalm 51

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

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

 

There you are one day cleaning out your garage or a closet or some shelves in your basement and before you see it, you smell it. That musty. Dirty. Earthy smell. Then you see it. Black and green residue covering one box, then two, then three. Ugh. It’s everywhere. What happened? Where did this come from? How did things get so bad?

 

Find the source and you’ll find the answer. There’s a cracked pipe, a clogged drain, and moisture has been seeping in. 

 

Quite often, our lives feel like those boxes covered in mold, or those window sills that start to dry rot. Where did I go so wrong? Where did that thought, that word, that sin come from? How did I end up here?

 

In Psalm 51, our Lord gives us the answer. 

 

Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
    and in sin did my mother conceive me.

That’s not something you write on your mother’s day card, but it’s true of all of us. It’s what we call original sin. Or the chief sin. David’s words in Psalm 51 diagnose our underlying spiritual condition. Psalm 51 plumbs the depths of our fallen sinful hearts to reveal the source of the problem: a corruption so deep in our fallen human nature that there is nothing healthy, nothing uncorrupted remains within or without. We are born this way. We sin because we are sinners. Not the other way around. As we confess on Sunday mornings, we are by nature sinful and unclean…and as a result…we have sinned in thought, word, and deed by what we have done and what we have left undone. We have not loved God with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.

 

For I know my transgressions,
    and my sin is ever before me.
⁴ Against you, you only, have I sinned
    and done what is evil in your sight,

 

Psalm 51 is David’s confession. Not only his lust of Uriah’s wife, Bathsheba. Not only his adultery with Bathsheba. Not only his murder of Uriah. He confesses those sins, but he also confesses the deeper condition. Sin itself. The source. The sin that he conceived in his life was born of the sin that he was conceived in even before he was born. Like a good plumber or doctor, David goes to the source of our problem. We too are heirs of corruption. Sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. Conceived and born in sin. And that sin in which we are conceived, conceives yet more evil. Like David we see the symptoms: our lust, greed, and selfishness. The deeper we go, the darker it gets. 

 

If, in this psalm, is hidden the depth of our Sin, so too, in this psalm, our Lord has hidden the greater depth of his rescue from our sin.

 

For hidden in this psalm is the story of another David. The conception and birth of one who changes everything.

 

Think back to Christmas for a moment. To Luke 1 and Gabriel’s announcement to the Virgin Mary. Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.  And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus.

 

Conceived in Mary’s womb, is the answer to David’s sin and our sin. Conceived in Mary’s womb is a greater David who is like us in every way, except without sin. Jesus’ conception and birth changes everything. 

 

If there’s not a single cell of sanctity within us, not a drop of original purity in us, then our only rescue and our only hope is found outside ourselves and in someone else. In the Son of Adam, the Son of David, the Son of Mary the Son of God. For you, Jesus is conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary.

 

If our conception is sinful, we need one whose conception is pure for us. If our birth is in sin, we need someone whose birth is holy for us. If our lives are a constant display of selfishness, greed, lust, we need one whose life is full of righteousness, who resisted every temptation, who kept every divine Law for us.

 

That’s why Jesus, the Son of God came to us through the womb…passing through every stage of life for us, and he did so perfectly. Through Jesus’ perfect life and death we receive perfection in Him.

 

Christ was not conceived for himself but for you. He was not born for himself, but for you. He did not live and keep the Father’s commandments for himself, but for you. Our Lord Jesus did not die and suffer and rise again for himself, but for you.

 

Psalm 51 is David’s prayer of repentance but it’s so much more. It’s also our prayer of repentance. And even more than that, it’s a promise and proclamation of a new and better David who has come, whose conception conceives in us hope, redemption, and forgiveness of sin and all our sins. 

 

When we confess, Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! That’s exactly what Jesus does. He washes. Renews. Restores. Redeems. Rescues. Reconciles you.

 

Jesus, the new David, blots out our transgressions. He washes you in holy water. He hides his face from our sin and creates in you a clean heart; his Spirit dwells with you by his word and water and promise. 

 

In Jesus, the new David, you are cleansed. Washed. Whiter than snow. From his conception to his cross, from the full womb to his empty tomb, Jesus is your Savior. 

 

 

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