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Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. Let us pray.

 

O Lord, send forth your word into our ears that it may bear fruit in our lives. In Jesus' name. Amen.

 

So earlier this week, on an edition of a podcast called The Christian History Almanac, I heard one of the more interesting and one of the more outlandish conspiracy theories about the Bible that I can ever remember hearing. And it has to do with Psalm 46. The claim goes like this.

 

The King James Bible was published in the year 1611. And by that time, Shakespeare was already at the peak of his fame as both a poet and a playwright in England. And so, the theory goes, Shakespeare must have been involved in translating the Psalms into English for King James.

 

Or at least, enhancing their poetry. And where does this claim come from? Well, not from any historical record. This is where it gets a little bit outlandish.

 

It comes from the words of Psalm 56 that we chanted earlier. Or at least, the words as they would have appeared in the King James Version. You see, in the King James Bible, if you count 46 words in from the beginning of Psalm 46, you find the word shake in verse 3. The mountains shake.

 

And if you count 46 words in from the end of Psalm 46, you find the word spear in verse 9. He shutters, or he cutteth the spear asunder. And so obviously, in Psalm 46, if the 46th word from the start and the 46th word from the end combine to make the name shake and spear, well then Shakespeare obviously must have translated the text for the King James Bible and hidden his name in the Psalm. Now to be clear, that is not what happened.

 

There is no historical evidence that Shakespeare was involved in any way with the translation of the King James Bible, even though it is true that it happened during his lifetime. But more interesting, I think, is how conspiracies like this draw our attention to how we actually read the text of Scripture. How do we read the Bible? What should we be looking for in the text? Should we expect to find these hidden codes and secret messages? Believe it or not, that was one of the questions at the heart of the Reformation.

 

When Luther was trained as a student, as a theologian, he was taught that there are layers to the Bible. The first layer was called the literal sense, and that's what actually happened. What actually happened in history and what the text really says.

 

But, Luther was taught, that is the least important part. He's taught there are other elements to Scripture. Things where there are obscure details buried in the text that reveal hidden spiritual truths.

 

This was called the allegorical sense. He was taught to look for what the text had to say about the moral and ethical lives of Christians. This was called the tropological sense.

 

Or, he was taught to look for ways that the text pointed believers to something that would only make sense in heaven. That was called the anagogical sense. But for Luther, for all the Reformers, reading Scripture in this way missed the point.

 

Elevating the moral or the allegorical aspects of God's word over the literal historical sense of the text, that only obscured what our Lord is actually trying to do in the Scriptures. It sent the reader into the text looking for secret codes, looking for hidden symbols, and thereby blinding them to the plain and obvious meaning of the words themselves. And for Luther, the Reformers with him, the true purpose of our Lord's word was anchored to that literal sense.

 

To knowing what our Lord actually did, to knowing what he actually said, and then thinking about what that means for his people today. Now that doesn't mean there's no foreshadowing or no typology in Scripture. Of course there is.

 

It doesn't mean that there's no symbolic numbers or colors or names. Those are obviously there too. The point is that those things enhance a message that is already clear on its own.

 

We don't need to go looking for secret meanings. It's a message that's clear and accessible to all who read it, and it tells us everything that we need to know for our salvation. It is the clear proclamation of our spiritual helplessness on our own and what our Lord has done to redeem us.

 

It's the clear proclamation of the depths of our sins and the gift of our Lord's forgiveness. The clear proclamation of who God is, who we are apart from him, and who we are in him. Those themes are all present in today's readings.

 

All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified by his grace as a gift through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. Apart from our Lord, we are slaves to sin. When we abide in his word, we know the truth.

 

And that truth sets us free. And that truth is the good news from the eternal realms that our Lord has proclaimed to all who dwell on this earth, to every nation, to every tribe, to every language, and to all people. The message is clear.

 

But for the rest of our time this morning, I want to consider how we see that message through the words of Psalm 46, a psalm not written to cleverly conceal the name of Shakespeare, but to clearly proclaim the name of God, to comfort his people with the compassion and his promise that he has given us. For God is our refuge and strength. He is not a God who is against us.

 

He is the God who is for us. He is like the strong fortress into which we can flee for absolute safety. He is the source of the strength necessary to withstand all the afflictions of this life.

 

And so no matter what hardship life in this world throws our way, we belong to a God who loves us. And he is our refuge, and he is our strength. And he has proven this time and time again.

 

Therefore, no matter what happens in this life, we need not live in fear. If the mountains crumble into the sea, we will not fear. If the seas roar and foam, we will not fear.

 

Even if the earth itself gives way, we will not fear, for the Lord of hosts is with us, and the God of Jacob is our fortress. And so while the world outside the fortress of our God is trembling and roaring, within the city of God, there is a river whose streams make glad the people of our Lord. Notice the intensity and the chaos of the language describing the world outside God's city.

 

The mountains and the seas and the earth itself tremble and give way. And notice the smallness and the serenity of that which gladdens the heart. It's not even the whole river.

 

It's the streams, the channels, the tributaries. But don't let the serenity and the smallness blind you to the gift. This is the holy habitation of the Most High.

 

This is our Lord's church. It's the Israelites of old gathered around the altar of our Lord in His holy city. It's the people of God today, gathered around His altar throughout the world.

 

The church is the city of God, and God is in the midst of her. It shall not be moved. The nations around the church will always rage.

 

The kingdoms of this world will always totter and fall. For when the Lord speaks it, the things of this earth melt away. Because He alone is eternal.

 

He alone is everlasting. But He's not an angry tyrant. He is our fortress.

 

He is our strength. He is our protector. So come, let us look together at what our Lord has done for His people.

 

At the desolations and the great things that He has done on this earth. The kingdoms rise up against each other. Each one trying to increase its own strength and its own influence.

 

The kingdoms rise up against the church, trying to knock God off His throne. But they don't get the last word. The Lord of hosts makes wars to cease to the ends of the earth.

 

The world may try to gather its forces in opposition to the Lord of heaven and earth. But He breaks their bows. He shatters their spears.

 

He burns their chariots, and their tanks, and their jets, and their drones. For He is the Almighty. He is the Omnipotent.

 

He is the Creator and Sustainer and the Ruler of all things. But more importantly, He is your strength. He is your safe place.

 

So do not fret and panic, run around in fear when the world puffs its chest. Be still and know that He is God. And don't hyperventilate, gasp, or fret when this life attacks.

 

Be still and know that He is God. And more than that, know that He is God for you. The one whom the nations cannot overcome, He's on your side.

 

The one whom the nations are powerless to stop, He's watching over you. The commander of the heavenly armies sends his legions to protect you, not to attack. The Lord of hosts is with us.

 

And the God of Jacob is our fortress. That's the clear proclamation of this psalm. It's the clear proclamation of all of Scripture.

 

No hidden meanings, no secret code to unlock, just the promise of God for you. The God who created you to live in His image, He knows what your sin has done to you. He knows you cannot save yourself.

 

He knows you cannot make yourself worthy. So He sent His Son, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him. He has given you new life through the water of baptism.

 

He sustains that new life with the spiritual food that He feeds you from this altar. And He sends you out into this life, into your vocations, to live in faith toward Him and love towards others, not to make yourself right, but because He already has. And His promise for you is that when life in your vocations is difficult, when you're staggering under the weight of expectations you haven't met, when you're exhausted by the seemingly endless onslaught of temptation, when you can't see a way out of the struggles of a dying world, in that moment, He does not abandon you.

 

The God of hosts is with you. The God of Jacob is your fortress. He is your refuge and your strength.

 

He is the one who consistently proves Himself to be your help in times of trouble. So be still and know that not only is He God, but He is God for you. And He is your strength, and He is your hope, and He will not let you go.

 

In Jesus' name, Amen.

 

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Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. And let us pray.

 

O Lord, send forth your word into our ears, that it may bear fruit in our lives. In Jesus' name. Amen.

 

Today we honor the memory of St. Luke and his contribution to the New Testament. So one piece of trivia about Luke. Maybe you knew this, maybe you didn't.

 

Most people know that Paul wrote about half of the books of the New Testament, 13 out of the 27. If you take all the words that Paul wrote from all of his letters, that accounts for about 25% of the New Testament, one quarter of it. And that's a lot, but it's not the highest percentage of any New Testament author.

 

That distinction belongs to Luke, who even though he only wrote two books, accounts for about 27% of the words of the New Testament. So there you have it. The trivia about Luke to take with you to work tomorrow.

 

But what do we know about him? We don't know for certain whether he was Jew or Gentile. I personally think he was probably born a Jew, but lived in a Gentile community. He seems far too interested in the sacrificial system and the temple to be just a Gentile.

 

But he might have been a Gentile. We just don't know for certain. We know that he traveled and he worked with Paul, but we don't know where he was born.

 

Church history says it was probably Antioch, and there's no reason to doubt that. He probably died in Thebes somewhere around the year 84, but we don't know that for certain either. There's a lot that we don't know about Luke.

 

But there is one thing that basically every historian agrees on. Luke never met Jesus. Not the way that Matthew did, or John, or Mary Magdalene.

 

He never walked on the road with the Savior. Never slept in the same house. Didn't have a dramatic encounter like Paul.

 

That means that everything that Luke knew about the life and ministry of Jesus, everything he recorded for us in his gospel, he learned from someone else. He says so. He opens his gospel acknowledging that he had been following the story of Jesus very closely, and he set out to write an orderly account.

 

But he didn't experience the things themselves. He was not in the temple with Zechariah when the angel announced the birth of John. He was not with the shepherds when the angels announced the birth of the Savior, or when they traveled to see Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem.

 

He wasn't with Jesus in the wilderness when Satan attacked. He was not on the Mount of Transfiguration. He did not see the empty tomb.

 

He was not there when Jesus ascended into heaven, which is why today's gospel reading is actually a very appropriate choice to honor his memory, a day dedicated to honoring Luke's contribution to the history of our Lord's Church. Because today's gospel reading tells about Jesus sending out messengers. Messengers ahead of him, two by two, into every town, every place that he's about to go.

 

He sent them, he says, to prepare the way, to announce his arrival. It wasn't practical for Jesus to visit every little village on the countryside, and so he sent messengers ahead of him to make known to everyone out there that the one claiming to be Messiah was approaching. That way anyone who wanted to come hear him and see him would know, and they could come find him.

 

In this same way, Luke heard about and learned about our Lord, not from the mouth of Jesus himself, but through the work of his messengers, people that Jesus sent to tell others about him. That shouldn't really surprise us. That's the way our Lord tends to work.

 

Think of the Israelites. Yes, they heard the voice of the Lord from Mount Sinai, but before they got there, they heard the Lord's word through Moses. The whole community of Israelites was not gathered around the burning bush.

 

Moses was there. The Lord spoke to Moses and then sent him to convey the message to Pharaoh and the Israelites. Think about after Mount Sinai.

 

The Lord sent his prophets with messengers. They heard from the Lord directly, but the people didn't. All the way back to the Garden of Eden, when God delivered his word to Eve through the voice of Adam, our Lord has chosen to work through messengers.

 

The same is true for us. While we have each had an encounter with Jesus at some point, our encounter is more like that of Luke than that of Paul or one of the twelve. We're more like the Israelites than like Moses or the prophets.

 

We have encountered Jesus through his messengers, through his word. We've heard the history of what our Lord has done for our salvation through the words of others. We've heard his word about the depth of our sin and our hopelessness and our inability to save ourselves, but we heard it through the voice of others.

 

We've been comforted by his promise of restoration and renewal when others have spoken it to us. We have encountered Jesus, but we've done so through means, the voice of our Lord spoken through the voice of his messengers. And so today, as we remember Luke, it's fitting that we give thanks to our Lord for his means of grace, but also for the people through whom he gives them.

 

People like whoever it was that taught Luke. People like whoever it was that taught you. Your pastors, your parents, your Sunday school teachers.

 

These are the voices who spoke the word of the Lord that brought you to faith. Today, our Lord teaches us to trust the means, even though they're humble. The word of our Lord is more than just historical data.

 

It's not just information on a page. It's not just stories about people who came before us. This is the voice of God himself, and it's living and it's active and it's sharper than any two-edged sword.

 

As our Lord illustrates in the parable of the sower, his word is dynamic. It's life-giving. It changes things.

 

It'll take root and it'll grow when and where he chooses. Paul planted and Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. And that means that any time we thank our Lord for the growth that he gives through his word, we also give thanks for all the Pauls and all the Apolloses and all who plant and water that word.

 

We give thanks for people like Luke, who received that word and faithfully passed it on. Luke received a seed sown by someone else, and that seed grew up in his life, producing the fruit of faith, and that's the fruit that we read to this day, the seed that is sown into our ears. The word will work when and where our Lord grants it growth, and so we trust our Lord to do what he said.

 

We continue to read, to proclaim, to meditate on the word that has been passed down to us. And as we do so, we remember something else that Luke said. He said he set out to write an orderly account.

 

That means he was writing with a goal in mind. And what was that goal? Well, he gives us a pretty big hint in some of the last words that he recorded Jesus speaking in his gospel. They were the beginning and the end of our Intuit this morning.

 

Luke writes how Jesus opened the apostles' minds to understand the scriptures and how he said to them, thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer, and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance, resulting in the forgiveness of sins, should be proclaimed in his name to all nations. Luke says that's the purpose of his gospel. That's why he wrote it down.

 

And ultimately, that's the purpose of all the scriptures. Proclaim repentance and forgiveness. To get us to acknowledge that we are not the good Samaritan.

 

We are the man beaten and bloodied and left for dead on the side of the road, who was rescued and nursed back to life by an unlikely savior. We are not the 99 sheep. We are not the nine coins who don't need rescuing.

 

We are the one that our Lord left heaven to save. Luke proclaims that the one who opened the eyes of the blind, who opened the ears of the deaf, and the tongues of the mute, that he has given us new life through water and the word. He's called us away from all else that we might look to for rescue, because there is nothing else that can save.

 

He calls us to repent, to change our minds, to change our allegiance, and to look for nowhere else outside of Jesus. Look to nothing else. There is no other name under heaven given to men by which we might be saved.

 

And then Luke reminds us that we have that name. We have been given the name of Jesus, baptized into his name, forgiven in his name, feasting in his name, alive in him. Repentance and faith.

 

That's the message Luke received. That's the message Luke delivered. That's the hope we cling to today.

 

The ground on which we stand. When the chaos of life feels overwhelming, when the fear of sickness or death takes hold, when all else fails, we remember Luke's message of repentance and forgiveness. Give up trying to make yourself worthy.

 

Give up trying to be strong enough on your own, and rest in the arms of your Savior. Hear his promise of life and restoration. Hear his words of forgiveness, spoken through the voice of his messengers, and trust that word.

 

For the God who spoke it is trustworthy, and he will not let you down. In Jesus' name, Amen.

 

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Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. And let us pray.

 

O Lord, send forth your word into our ears, that it may bear fruit in our lives. In Jesus' name. Amen.

 

When I lived in Houston, or Michigan, Indiana, morning fog was a common occurrence. Many mornings would be marked by a thick blanket of fog laying over the road. Fog so thick that it is difficult to even see the pinpricks of the headlights in the oncoming cars, till they're no more than a few feet away.

 

The beams of my own headlights, the water molecules, would swirl around and dance like a swarm of gnats, darting this way and that. The moisture was thick in the air, covered the landscape like a bed sheet, laying there like a quilt. A blanket is the picture that the prophet Isaiah gives us today.

 

He speaks of a veil, a covering that is cast over all the people. It's the covering of death. And like fog, this veil of death limits how far we can see into the distance.

 

And like fog, this veil of death swirls all around us. And like fog, this veil of death is in the air. You can feel it.

 

You can't avoid it. For me, it's especially true on days like today, weekends where we have back-to-back funerals at our church. It's times like these that force us to deal with the reality of death.

 

But it's the image of the blanket that struck me again this past week. I was reminded of an experience that I had over a decade ago, still in the back of my mind. It was an experience with a member of the church I served up in Michigan.

 

I remember watching him struggle with a blanket. It was only a day or two before he died. He was very weak.

 

It was December in Detroit, so it was cold outside. He'd lost so much weight. His circulation was so poor that he was always cold.

 

So they turned up the heat in his room. They covered him with a warm blanket. But then he got too warm.

 

So he started to try to get the blanket off of his chest. It would have been a simple task for him five years earlier, but that day it was a struggle. He was just so weak.

 

And so he fought that blanket until finally, either he was satisfied with where it settled, or he just got too tired and gave up. I was thinking about that as I was thinking about the readings for today. That image popped into my mind, the image of a dying man struggling against the blanket.

 

Because Isaiah speaks of a blanket. Isaiah speaks of a covering cast over all peoples, but his words are some of the most comforting in all of Scripture. The Lord will swallow up on his holy mountain.

 

He will swallow up the covering that is cast over all the peoples and this veil that is spread over all the nations. He will swallow up death itself. I find those words comforting because when it comes right down to it, we are each of us a dying man struggling under the weight of a blanket.

 

We are all in some way trying to free ourselves from the oppressive cloud of death that hovers around us like a fog. We might be tempted to try to comfort ourselves in convincing ourselves that death is just a natural way of things, treating Isaiah's blanket as if it's nothing more than a fort at a slumber party. But it's not that kind of blanket.

 

No, this blanket is death. And pretending that it's natural won't make it so. The world tempts us to spend so much time and energy hiding from death.

 

We aren't even comfortable using the word death, instead opting to soften the blow with one of any number of euphemisms. We hide the aging of our bodies under makeup and cosmetic surgery. So much of our lives are spent ignoring or hiding from the stark reality that each of us is struggling to pull that blanket off of our own chest, struggling to free ourselves from its grasp.

 

But we'll never win. That blanket is too heavy. It's not going anywhere unless someone else reaches down and moves it for us.

 

I pictured myself watching a dying man struggle under the weight of the blanket, knowing it would have been easy for me to reach down and move it. But I was a young pastor. His wife didn't seem too worried about it, so I kept my hands to myself.

 

But I know that even though he didn't have the strength to move that blanket himself, it would have been easy for me. That's the promise of hope that our Lord gives us through the prophet Isaiah. On the Lord's holy mountain, he will swallow up the covering that is cast over all the peoples, the blanket that we are too weak to remove from ourselves.

 

He will swallow up the veil that is cast over all the nations, a veil that we are helpless to remove. He will swallow up death forever. In many ancient Near Eastern cultures like that in the days of Isaiah, the pagan god Mot was considered the embodiment of death, pictured the grim reaper.

 

He was pictured as having an insatiable appetite, just consuming everything that stood in his path, crops, buildings, people. Like a fire that will eventually consume anything in its path, death was pictured as the great consumer, coming to swallow us all. But Isaiah proclaims that on the mountain of the Lord, death will not consume anyone.

 

Death itself will be consumed. While the Lord feeds his people with the best wine and the best food, he himself consumes death. He will swallow up death forever.

 

So today we're here to remember that, to celebrate that. Every Lord's day is a celebration of that. Death has been swallowed up in victory.

 

Our Lord Jesus was swallowed up in the darkness of death, placed into a tomb, swallowed by the earth as the mouth was sealed shut. But the grave could not hold him. He burst forth with the rising of the sun, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by immortality.

 

On that Easter morning, Mary Magdalene, the other women brought spices. They wanted to put a blanket over the stink of death, a veil of perfume, trying to hide death by just layering blanket upon blanket. But when they arrived at the tomb, there was no blanket there.

 

Death is not what they found. The blanket that tried to pin our Lord down, he had cast off. And in the water of baptism, his defeat of death becomes your victory.

 

We know that we were buried with him by baptism into death, in order that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. Blessed and holy are the ones who share in the first resurrection of baptism.

 

Over such, the eternal second death has no power. Death tried to swallow up our Lord, but it could not hold him. Instead, our Lord has swallowed up death forever, and he invites us to the banquet of life.

 

We get a foretaste of that banquet here, in the supper of our Lord's own body and blood. While our Lord consumes death, he feeds us with the bread of life, the food of immortality. In this meal, he gives us a foretaste of the feast to come as we wait for the day of resurrection, the day when we will be gathered out from under the blanket with all the faithful, with the marriage feast of the Lamb and his kingdom which has no end.

 

We already say today what we will say at that feast. Behold, this is our God. We have waited for him that he might save us, and save us he has.

 

Let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation. Our Lord is the Lord who has swallowed up death, and he has promised us that his resurrection is just the first fruits. We and all those who have gone before us in the faith, we are the full harvest.

 

And when we do finally arrive at our Lord's feast, it will be a joyful reunion with those we love who have died in the faith, seated around the table of our Lord, where God himself will wipe away every tear from every eye. Death will be no more, neither will there be mourning or crying or pain anymore, because the former things have passed away. Even now, today, this morning, we get a glimpse of that future reality when we gather at this rail with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven.

 

Here our Lord comforts us. Here our Lord wipes away our tears. Here our Lord delivers us the gift of life, so that when our time comes and the grave tries to swallow us, it's left hungry for more.

 

The grave cannot hold you, for death has been swallowed up in victory. The blanket has been removed, and this is our Lord's doing. Let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.

 

In Jesus' name, Amen

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Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Father, through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. And let us pray.

 

O Lord, send forth your word into our ears, that it may bear fruit in our lives. In Jesus' name, amen. So what do you like to watch on TV? What kind of movies do you watch? I don't think I would ever want to actually be a trial lawyer, but I do like the courtroom shows.

 

I'm looking forward to the final season of Lincoln Lawyer when it's finally released. I've seen a lot of the John Grisham movies, and who doesn't love my cousin Vinnie? But I like those scenes when someone gets cornered on the witness stand. I think, for example, of the movie A Few Good Men.

 

Even if you haven't seen the movie, you've probably seen some rendition of the exchange between Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson, the one that ends with, you want answers, I want the truth, you can't handle the truth. Just the buildup to that moment, it's beautiful. It starts with Tom Cruise asking about life on base under Nicholson's leadership.

 

Through casual back and forth, he gets the colonel to testify that on his base, soldiers always follow orders. Out here, we follow orders or people die. And with that admission, the trap is set.

 

If your soldiers always follow your orders, and if you ordered your soldiers not to harm the one soldier, then why did you need to transfer him off the base to keep him safe? Wasn't your order enough? So the colonel is caught by his own words, and the exchange escalates into that iconic scene. It's called the rhetoric of entrapment. And it happens when a speaker, maybe a lawyer, but maybe someone else, when a speaker structures their argument in such a way that their opponent is forced into a position that either undermines their credibility, or in extreme cases, where they have to admit their own guilt.

 

Think of the classic exchange between King David and the prophet Nathan. David, hiding what he had done with Bathsheba and Uriah, gets a visit from the Lord's prophet who proceeds to tell David the story of two men. One was wealthy and had abundant flocks.

 

The other was poor and had only one ewe lamb, and that lamb was more like a family pet than simple livestock. And a traveler came to visit the rich man, and rather than slaughtering one of his own many sheep for the meal, he took the family pet and served that instead. And David burned with anger against the rich man and told Nathan that a man like that has to pay four times over for that ewe.

 

You probably already know Nathan's iconic reply, David, you are the man. Entrapped by his own words, David recognizes his sin and turns to the Lord in repentance. The Old Testament reading today, its rhetoric of entrapment.

 

Isaiah sings a love song to the vineyard of the Lord. The Lord planted the vineyard on fertile hillside. He tilled the soil and removed all the stones, planted it with the best vines, built a wall around it to keep the wild animals out, built a watchtower to protect it from thieves.

 

He did everything possible, everything necessary for the vineyard to produce an abundant harvest, but when he looked, it yielded only bad fruit. With the song, Isaiah sets in place the pieces, getting ready to spring the trap. So then he turns to the audience and he asks, well, what do you think? You judge between me and my vineyard.

 

Was there anything more I could have or should have done? Am I not justified in tearing this vineyard down and planting another? To which the people would have, of course, responded, yes. And in that, the trap is sprung. The rhetoric of entrapment.

 

The vineyard of the Lord Almighty is you, O Israel. The people of Judah are the vines he delighted in, but when he looked for justice, he saw only bloodshed. And when he looked for righteousness, he heard cries of distress.

 

Therefore, he will take away the hedge of protection from around his people, break down their wall, the vineyard will be trampled, it will become a barren wasteland. There will be no rain there, and the only thing that will grow will be briars and thistles. The song of judgment.

 

And if the story stopped there, it would be a depressing end indeed. But Isaiah's vineyard song is more than just a clever way to tell the people that the coming judgment is their own fault. As with Nathan and David, the rhetoric of entrapment is meant to drive people to repentance.

 

Consider Psalm 80, a psalm most likely written only a few short years after Isaiah first delivered this vineyard song. And it's a psalm definitely written with this picture in mind. In Psalm 80, the psalmist cries out to God to restore his people, but hear what he says.

 

Lord, you have brought a vine out of Egypt. You drove out the nations and you planted it, you cleared the ground for it, and it took deep root and it filled the land, so that why have you broken down its walls, so that all who pass along the way pluck at its fruit? The wild boar from the forest ravages it, and all that move on the field feed on it. Turn back, O God of hosts.

 

Look down from heaven and see. Have regard for your vine which you planted, and for the son whom you made strong for yourself. You see, the psalmist recognizes that God's judgment against his vine.

 

He recognizes that the Lord is the one who can save the vine. He calls upon the Lord to reestablish the vine, even going so far as to call the vine God's son. And in those words, we get a glimpse of what God was up to all along.

 

The vinedresser did everything he could for his vineyard, but it produced only sour grapes. The Lord did everything he could for Israel, delivered them out of Egypt, established them in the promised land, even dwelled among them in his temple, but it produced only rotten fruit. And why? Well, because no matter what the gardener might do to the soil or the watchtower, if the vine is bad, the fruit will be too.

 

And so if the gardener wants a harvest of good grapes, he needs to plant a new vine. That's what our Lord did. I am the true vine, says the Lord Jesus Christ, and my Father is the vinedresser.

 

I am the vine, said Jesus, and you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit. Apart from me, you can do nothing.

 

When our Lord looked out over his vineyard of old, he saw nothing but rotten fruit. What began as the choicest of vines had grown diseased and corrupted by sin, and no amount of wall fixing or soil tilling was going to fix that. The solution was to tear down the vineyard and plant a new one.

 

And so that's what our Lord did. He sent the true vine into the world to bear good fruit. We're in the same boat today.

 

We are sinful people. If our Lord were to address our sinful fruit by simply tilling the soil and building a better wall, by changing the circumstances around us, he would still find the same spoiled harvest. The solution is not better soil.

 

The solution is a new vine. We don't need a change on the outside. We need a change within.

 

And that's what our Lord gives. Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a right spirit within me.

 

Put to death that which is sinful in me and raise me to new life in you. That's the gift our Lord gives. He gives it first in baptism, where all who are baptized into Christ Jesus are baptized into his death, buried with him by baptism into death, in order that just as Jesus was raised from the dead, we too might walk in newness of life, a new life and a new vine.

 

And then because we're baptized, we receive our Lord's gift of repentance, where the old Adam in us is daily drowned and put to death along with all sins and evil desires, and a new man daily emerges and arises to live before God in righteousness and purity forever. If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away and the new has come.

 

Our life is hidden in Christ, the true vine. And whoever abides in him, well, that's the one who bears good fruit. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can we bear fruit unless we abide in Jesus, the true vine.

 

And we do abide in Jesus, for he abides in us. He lives in us, and so we live in him. And we bear the good fruit the vine dresser is looking for.

 

We bear the fruit of repentance, not thinking more highly of ourselves than we ought, but humbling ourselves before our Lord and before each other. We bear the fruit of compassion, bearing with one another in our weaknesses. We bear the fruit of fellowship, praying together, laughing together, weeping together, living together.

 

We bear the fruit of community, giving of our time and our resources to support the work of God in this place. Apart from Jesus, we can do nothing. On our own, we bear only rotten fruit, but we are not on our own.

 

We are branches connected to the true vine, and so we bear fruit in him. The image of a vine. It's a picture our Lord gives us to remind us who we are and who he is.

 

It's an image that reminds us that what we need is not an outward change of circumstances, but a change within, a change that our Lord gives. So may he continue to work such a change in us. Through the proclamation of his words, the gift of his sacraments, may he continue to work such a change in us that we might bear much fruit in him.

 

In Jesus' name. Amen.

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Transcribed by TurboScribe. Go Unlimited

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. And let us pray, O Lord, send forth your word into our ears, that it may bear fruit in our lives, in Jesus' name, Amen. Let's start today with a short game, a little bit of trivia.

 

See how many of these proverbs you are familiar with. A stitch in time saves nine. You've heard that one.

 

It's better to fix a small problem while it's a small problem than ignore it and have it turn into a big problem. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. It's better to hold on to that one sure thing than gambling it away, chasing an unguaranteed prize.

 

Don't count your chickens before your eggs hatch. You know that one. Don't make plans or assumptions based on success that hasn't happened yet.

 

Too many cooks spoil the broth and too many people try to run or lead the same project. The results are usually worse for it. And finally, the fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children's teeth are set on edge.

 

Maybe you're not as familiar with that one. It's the proverb quoted at the beginning of today's Old Testament reading from Ezekiel. And while it might not be a common saying today, it was apparently very popular at one time because it shows up here and in the prophet Jeremiah.

 

More significantly, it's a proverb, God says, that he has no time for. As I live, declares the Lord God, this proverb shall no more be used by you in Israel. But why not? What does it mean? Don’t think about the imagery.

 

The fathers have eaten sour grapes. When's the last time you ate something sour or bitter, actually spoiled? Took a drink of the orange juice that's been in the fridge just a little bit too long? What'd you do with your face? Crinkle your nose in disgust? Did you gag just a little bit? Have you ever had that feeling while you're watching someone else eat something spoiled? But was it as intense as when you've eaten that thing yourself? We all know the general principle. When I eat something spoiled, it's my stomach that gets upset, not someone else's.

 

I bear the consequences for my own choices. If I eat poorly, I get indigestion. If I don't drink enough water, I get the headache.

 

And if I eat sour grapes, it's my teeth that ought to be set on edge. That's the meaning of the proverb. The proverb that the Lord bans from the mouths of his people.

 

The fathers have eaten sour grapes, but it's the children whose teeth are set on edge. It's the children who have upset stomachs. It's the children who suffer the consequences of the parents.

 

That's what the Lord banishes from the mouths of his people. Now, if you're like me, at this point you're probably wondering, why? Aren't there times where that's exactly how life works? It's not hard to think of examples when children suffer the consequences for their parents' choices. So why would the Lord ban his people from saying so? Happens on a small scale.

 

If a student is late for school because mom or dad wasn't ready on time, the parent doesn't get a tardy, the kid does. Or on a much more significant scale, like when parents are imprisoned or addicted or die young and then their children have to carry the emotional weight, the emotional scars for circumstances that just aren't their fault. There are obviously times when children suffer due to the sins of their parents, so why would God ban this proverb from his people? Well, it's because of the way they were using it.

 

So they weren't just making a general observation about how sometimes life gives you lemons, but this was an accusation against God. This was a charge that God is not being fair. Remember the circumstances of Ezekiel.

 

Ezekiel was part of the first group of people captured from Jerusalem, taken into captivity in Babylon. These are people who are being judged by God for generations of failing to listen to the prophets. And so this proverb is an accusation that it's not fair for God to punish them for something they didn't do.

 

Why were they the ones who are in exile when they weren't the ones who broke the covenant? Why were their teeth set on edge? Why did they have the upset stomach when it was their parents who had eaten the rotten grapes? The problem wasn't recognizing that the circumstances of life are impacted by the people around us, especially those closest to us. The problem was a spirit of blame, victimhood. And so ultimately the prophet is not saying that God is going to put an end to the way humans exist together.

 

What he's putting an end to is the excuse making. He's giving us a different way to react to the circumstances of our lives. He's not saying the sins of the parents will no longer affect the lives of their children.

 

He's saying the children would no longer use that as an excuse for their own failures. So we heard in verse 30, I will judge you, O house of Israel, every one of you according to his ways. Or in verse 4, all souls are mine, declares the Lord, the soul of the father and the soul of the son.

 

And he says, the soul who sins shall die. Everyone is accountable for his own sin, says the Lord. Stop blaming the circumstances.

 

Stop blaming other people as if that somehow excuses you. So you're in captivity because of the sin of your parents. What of it? You're still responsible for what you do there.

 

You're suffering under the weight of a burden you did not choose. But to paraphrase the wizard Gandalf, that's not for us to decide. All we have to do is decide what to do with the time that's given to us.

 

No longer, says Ezekiel, no longer will you mope around and pout and complain about how life's not fair. But again, the question is, why? Why not? Is it just because God doesn't like complainers? Is God just sick of people whining? No, it's more than that. It's because whining and excuse-making, blame-casting, well, they get in the way of the real solution.

 

The real solution is not to say, God, it's not my fault. The solution is to heed the prophet's warning and to acknowledge that if God will indeed judge each of us according to our own ways, he's got more than enough evidence against me. The real solution is to give up any claim to victimhood and instead throw ourselves at the feet of God's mercy.

 

The solution isn't to make up excuses for my sin, pretend that it was justified, or that God somehow just let it slide. The solution is repentance. That's the culmination of God's message through Ezekiel.

 

The last verses of the chapter we read this morning, repent and turn from all your transgressions, lest iniquity be your ruin. God doesn't want his people to end up in ruin. Cast away from you all the transgressions you have committed.

 

Make yourselves a new heart and a new spirit. Why will you die, O house of Israel? I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, declares the Lord God. So turn and live.

 

God takes no pleasure in the death of anyone. So turn and live. Why will you die, O house of Israel? Why will you stubbornly refuse to repent? Turn and live.

 

Why do you keep excusing your sin, blaming it on circumstances that are out of your control? Don't you understand what you're doing? Why are you fighting to keep your sin? Why not just let it go? Turn and live. That's our Lord's invitation to us also. The world in which we live will give us a laundry list of excuses that justify our sinful behavior.

 

Some can point to the upbringing, maybe something in my subconscious, some claim of just being born that way. Don't blame me for what I said. I just have a bad temper.

 

Our Lord invites us to drop all the excuses and to remember who he actually is. He's the God who took on human flesh to forgive our sin. He's the one who became obedient unto the point of death, even death on a cross.

 

He's the God who has already forgiven our sin. So why do we hold on to it? Why would we make excuses? Why would we want to fight to keep our own sin from the one who wants to remove it from us, as far as the East is from the West? Let us rather be people who rejoice in our Lord's gift of forgiveness. Rather than complaining about sour grapes, we sip from the sweet wine of forgiveness.

 

We feast on the bread of reconciliation. We rejoice that our Lord has claimed us through our baptism, that he continues to forgive our sin through the ones he sends to stand in his stead. We rejoice in our Lord's church, for here we are not pressured to find excuses for ourselves.

 

We're under no obligation to justify our behavior or to wallow under the weight of perpetual victimhood. Here we rejoice in the one to whom every knee will bow, and we find our hope in the new life we already have in him. It's a life of forgiveness, a life of reconciliation with our Lord and with each other.

 

We rejoice to forgive each other, eager to maintain the unity we have been given as the body of Christ. So no, we don't let the circumstances of our lives drive us to a spirit of blame or bitterness or victimhood. Rather, we stand steadfast on our Lord's word of forgiveness.

 

The new life we have in him, letting go of our sin, receiving the gift of love from him until the day of Christ's return. In Jesus' name, Amen.