The Fourth Sunday after Trinity

 The Fourth Sunday after Trinity – July 13, 2025

Psalm 27; Genesis 50:15-21; Romans 8:18-23

St. Luke 6:36-42

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

“Judge not lest ye be judged,”[1] is among the most abused verses of Scripture, if not the most abused. It is taken to mean there is no place for harsh or negative words on the lips of Christians, as though we are commanded to live and let live. ‘Preach only the Gospel.’ ‘Be nice and the hearts of many will be turned.’

But no one who has read the Scriptures can come to this conclusion. The Bible is full of commandments to judge and condemn false doctrine – including sin. “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature. He who believes and is baptized will be saved; but he who does not believe will be condemned.”[2] Every pastor is commanded not only to forgive sins but to rebuke and warn against them; as well as train up Christians for every good work.[3] This requires making judgements and condemning false doctrine and sin.

This task of judging and condemning is not just given to pastors in their preaching. The Prophet Isaiah says, “Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; Who put darkness for light, and light for darkness; Who put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!”[4] Psalm 119 goes so far as to command us to “hate every false way.”[5] And Christ commands the sheep to “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves.”[6] It would be impossible to discern between a false prophet and a true prophet if you could not judge. And how do you judge this doctrine? By comparing it to the Word of God, the only inerrant and infallible rule and norm by which doctrine can be judged.

Then what is our Lord forbidding in these words, “Judge not, condemn not”? He is forbidding judging hearts, not according to God’s Word but according to our own thoughts, preferences, or opinions. It is judging without love and mercy but according to the passions of our own flesh. The synopsis, or summary, of the Gospel text this morning is “Be merciful, just as your Father also is merciful.”[7] But why should you be merciful as God is merciful? What should move, or motivate, you to be merciful as God is merciful?

First, you ought to be moved by the mercy God has shown toward you. Earlier in the sermon on the plain, Christ told us to do unto others as we would have them do unto us.[8] Here, that command is taken a step further. Do unto others as you would have God do to you. Don’t get me wrong, it is not our mercy that causes God to have mercy on us. It is not our actions that cause God to grant us grace and forgiveness. However, what we do in and with that grace and mercy can certainly cause our Heavenly Father to withdraw the same.

Think of the parable of the unforgiving servant. A servant owes his master 60 million days’ wages, somewhere in the neighborhood of $10 billion, or over 230,000 years of work. The master has compassion on his servant and forgives his debt. But then the servant finds a fellow servant who owes him $16,000, about 5 months of work. Since he can’t pay the debt, the servant has him beaten and thrown in jail. When the master hears what he has done, he throws the unforgiving servant to the torturers and jailers until the debt is paid.

The servant did nothing to earn the compassion of his master but when he failed to show similar compassion to his fellow servant, the master returned his lack of forgiveness upon him with the same measure: pressed down, shaken together, and running over. That servant was forgiven 230,000 years of debt and yet you have been forgiven more. Your Heavenly Father sent His Only Begotten Son to die for your debt of sin and to rise again that you would no longer be a slave but a son, and that you would enjoy this inheritance for all eternity. You have been set free from the punishment of the Law and the sting of death. Such is the sweet mercy of God that has been shown to you. Such is the same mercy you’ve been called to show to your neighbor.

When we say that good works are motivated by the Gospel, this is what we mean. Though we are but frail mortals, incapable of the perfect mercy of God, we who have been set free by such a glorious love are to reflect that love in our mercy toward others. What would it say to God if you refused to show forth the mercy that you’ve been shown? It would tell Him that what He has done means very little to you. It would be an abuse of everything that He has done for and given to you. He gives you life and you would use it in service to death.

Rather, see your forgiveness for what it is. It is a new life, a new beginning, a new existence as a son of God. A son wants nothing more than a father he can be proud of and to be like his father. We have a Father who defines what it means to be a father. As His dear children, our hearts ought to desire nothing less than to be like Him, to walk in His ways and enjoy His favor for all eternity.

I’ve already hinted at the second motivation to be merciful as our Heavenly Father is merciful. It is because of the consequences of not being merciful. When we heard of Lazarus and the rich man, I spoke of how seriously God takes sin. He hates sin. He cannot tolerate sin to stand in His presence. He also provides the antidote to the poison of sin. His great love sends the shed blood of Jesus to be for you the medicine of immortality. As seriously as He takes sin, He equally takes your forgiveness seriously.

So then, how would you like God to consider you? Do you wish that He would overlook your besetting sins, those against which you struggle but still find yourself falling into? Of course! Then you should also be willing to overlook such sins in your neighbor. Do you wish to escape the loveless judgment of hell? Then do not judge your neighbor without love. On the last day, do you want God to commend your righteous and merciful deed to your neighbor, making no mention of your sins, as He does with the sheep at His right hand?[9] Then, whenever you can, speak well of your neighbor to the best of your knowledge. Before others and in your own heart, put the best construction on everything that he does.

Do not wish that God would remember your sins no more, keep no record of your sins nor add them up, turn His anger away from you, smile upon you, and hurl all your guilt into the depths of the sea, then turn around and keep tally of your neighbor’s sins against you so that you can use them against him at the opportune time. With the same measure that you use, it will be measured back to you.

The final motivation to be merciful as our Father is merciful as presented in our text is the burden of our own sin. You know the depth of your own sin. You know which temptations to which you are likely to succumb. In this knowledge, the temptation to lovelessly judge your neighbor is twofold. There is the temptation to judge those with similar sins. The man prone to anger is especially angered by another man prone to anger. One who steals is often the first to judge another thief. The opposite temptation is also true. It is very easy to judge someone who is tempted to sins that you are not tempted toward. Such self-righteous indignation boils over from a lack of sympathy.

Yet to be ever mindful of the burden of your own sin ought to move you to show compassion and mercy toward your neighbor. It is humbling to ponder your own sinfulness. This humility can then drive your attitude toward others. It is a somewhat slight example but think of the person who cuts you off in traffic or quickly pulls out in front of you. How easy it is to condemn them for driving recklessly. And it is true, what they’ve done is dangerous. What you don’t know is their child was just flown into the city for emergency surgery; or he has just learned of the infidelity of his wife; or he is a first responder who just received an emergency call that pulled him out of bed during his time off. And besides, who among us hasn’t missed a stop sign, unknowingly cut someone off, or even purposely broken traffic laws?

The point is that you know what it is to be a sinner, and you know what a sinner needs. A sinner needs to be forgiven. A sinner needs mercy. It is not your duty to determine the eternal fate of every person you encounter, but to love God and serve your neighbor. There is a time and place to judge and condemn false doctrine and sin, but there is also a time to remove the plank from your own eye first. Attending to your own sin prepares you with a humble heart to seek the reproof, correction, and instruction of your neighbor.

Your Heavenly Father has had mercy on you. By right, there is only One who may even call Him His Father, for Christ is the only True Son of the Father. Yet in His infinite grace and mercy, He has given to you everything that is His own, including your adoption as a child of God. In faith toward Him and in fervent love toward your neighbor, be merciful, even as your Heavenly Father is merciful.

In + Jesus’ name. Amen.

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[1] St. Luke 6:37.

[2] St. Mark 16:15-16.

[3] 2 Timothy 3:16-17.

[4] Isaiah 5:20.

[5] Psalm 119:104, 128.

[6] St. Matthew 7:15.

[7] St. Luke 6:36.

[8] St. Luke 6:31.

[9] St. Matthew 25:34-40.

Judica (Lent 5)

 Judica (Lent 5) – April 6, 2025

Psalm 43; Genesis 22:1-19; Hebrews 9:11-15

St. John 8:46-59

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

The sacrifice of Isaac is a stumbling block for many. It is used as ammunition for the enemies of Christ, and it is often a difficult hurdle for those interested in Christianity. Questions abound, such as “How could God tell Abraham to do this horrible thing?” and “Why would Abraham obey such a command?” Thankfully, both of those questions are answered in the words of Holy Scripture.

First, it is never wise to question God’s motives. His ways are not our ways. But on occasion, He provides us with the reason He does something we don’t initially understand. The sacrifice of Isaac was a test of Abraham’s faith. The language of ‘test’ shouldn’t be understood the way we think of a test in school. It was not a program by which God wanted to see how much faith Abraham had gained since being called out of the land of his fathers. When God tests someone, He is strengthening their faith.[1] He is putting them through a trial so that when they come through the other side, their faith is made stronger. When a bow is carved from wood, the bowyer must repeatedly bend it, putting stress on the wood fibers, so that it will finally achieve the correct shape and elasticity. When the testing is complete, the bow is ready to be strung and fired. Without such testing, the bow would snap under the pressure of the string alone.

Notice also that the test is appropriate to the one being tested. God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his only son, an extreme test by any measure. God did this because of the great faith He had already bestowed on Abraham. The Lord did not command Sarah to sacrifice Isaac. He did not command Moses to sacrifice Aaron. He didn’t even command David, a man after God’s own heart, to sacrifice a child. They each received the tests of faith that were appropriate to their own stations and God-given faith. This fact ought to be comforting in that God provides the very faith by which Abraham will endure the test. So too, He will only test you according to the faith you have been given.

In Abraham’s case, that faith led him to be certain that even if he sacrificed his son, his only son of the promise, God would raise Isaac from the dead. This is confirmed as true in the eleventh chapter of Hebrews, “By faith Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac, and he who had received the promises offered up his only begotten son, of whom it was said, “In Isaac your seed shall be called,” concluding that God was able to raise him up, even from the dead.”[2]

There is also the allegorical reality, two of which can be seen in this text. First, there is a father who goes to offer his only begotten son to death on a solitary mountain. It doesn’t take much imagination to see the crucifixion of Christ being portrayed in the sacrifice of Isaac. The only Begotten Son of God the Father is offered as an all-atoning sacrifice on the lonely hill of Calvary. His blood is the sacrifice offered to God to “cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God.”[3]

Perhaps the better allegory is that of the ram crowned with thorns. Abraham is commanded to offer his son as a sacrifice to God. Death is the wages of sin. The death of Isaac, the son of promise, would be just in the eyes of the Lord because all man deserves death. Our mortality is the consequence of our sin and therefore our death is justified in the court of God’s Law, however that death might occur. Yet just before the death stroke, the Angel of the Lord stays the executioner’s hand. The punishment of sin is abated.

In place of this child, a ram is found, crowned with thorns. The life of the ram will be sacrificed in substitution for the life of Isaac. An adult, male sheep will now be offered to God to make atonement for the life of Isaac. The boy is redeemed by the blood of the ram. Here we see Christ taking our rightful place on the cross. He is crowned with thorns, just like the ram. A ram is an adult sheep, who was born a lamb. Christ is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. He acts as our substitute, taking the punishment that we deserved, that we earned. By His death, we are redeemed, bought back from the jaws of death. “Not with the blood of goats and calves, but with His own blood He entered the Most Holy Place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption.”[4]

Despite the clarity with which Scripture describes the Sacrifice of Isaac as a testament to God’s faithful character, the faith given to Abraham, and a foretaste of the substitutionary atonement of Christ, the fallen mind of man scoffs at the account. Our Post-Enlightenment views of equality and justice would condemn both God and Abraham for their actions. We have built our own standards of “right and wrong,” “fair and unfair,” “good and evil,” and expect God to act according to the sensibilities that we have progressed into. Where once Christians did not count equality with God something to be grasped, we now demand justice on our terms.

So too, with the Jews and chief priests of Christ’s day. They refused to hear the Word of God. They refused to see the works of Christ. And because they do not hear or see, it is clear they are not of God. They would set their own standards above God, effectively making themselves like God, the very first temptation of satan. That is why Christ tells them they are of their father, the devil. They are liars and murderers, just like their father. Christ threatens not only their wealth and status before men, but He dares to challenge their convictions about God. Their lack of faith in Him reveals their lack of faith in the Father. Their god is one of their own making, in which some are more equal than others.

Today is Judica, so called for the antiphon to the Introit. Sadly, our translation of the Introit might make this difficult to understand. It could be translated, “Judge me, O God, and plead my cause against an ungodly nation: O deliver me from the deceitful and unjust man.”^[5] It is a bold plea to ask God to judge you. He sees all and knows all. He knows that you are in fact unworthy of salvation. He knows your secret sins. Just one sin is enough for your damnation, and He knows them all.

In a sense, crying out, “Judge me, O God,” is asking to be tested as Abraham was tested. It is asking that God would review our sins and purge them away. It is also a bold cry of faith. “Judge me God because Christ has died for me. I do not deserve salvation. I do not deserve the death of Your Only-Begotten Son. I do not deserve that my Lord should take frail flesh and die.

“And yet by Your grace and mercy, You have poured out Your wrath on Him and not on me. Jesus Christ is now my advocate, pleading on my behalf. For His sake, Judge me as righteous O God, and do not be silent before me. I have been reborn in the water of Holy Baptism, now finding my origin in the flesh of Jesus and claiming the Name of God as the seal of my salvation.

“Speak your Word into my ears that I would repent of my sins and receive forgiveness. Speak your Word into my ears that I would be cleansed from my secret faults and receive the white robe of righteousness. Speak your Word into my ears that I would hear the sweet song of the angels and the glorious Name of God sung among Your people.”

The crosses are veiled to remind us that we are not worthy of the death of Christ, let alone to gaze upon our salvation. Moses sinned against a direct command of the Lord and was thus barred from entering the Promised Land. So too, if we honestly examine our souls, we will find that there is nothing within us that is worthy of salvation.

Moses, however, did get to peer into the Promised Land. He was given a foretaste of the inheritance promised by God to His dear children. So too, we can still see the shape of the cross. We can still see the shadow of the figure nailed to this cross. The crosses are not removed but they are veiled because despite our unworthiness; despite the veil of sin which clouds our vision; Christ is still raised from the dead and will bring us to His side in eternity.

As for the Gloria Patri, at the beginning of our preparations, we silenced the Greater Gloria, the Gloria in Excelsis. Now, we silence the Lesser Gloria. The song of the angels is silent and now our proclamation of the full Name of God falls silent. This again reminds us that we are not worthy to speak the Name of God, let alone call upon Him in every time of need.

And yet we invoke the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit at the beginning of the service. We still cross ourselves to remember our Baptism into that Name. We still have this Name of God sealed upon our foreheads and our hearts, marking us as children of the Heavenly Father, Temples of the Holy Spirit, and siblings of our Redeemer.

In + Jesus’ name. Amen.

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[1] Hebrews 12:6; Proverbs 27:17; 1 Thessalonians 2:4; 1 Corinthians 3:13.

[2] Hebrews 11:17-19.

[3] Hebrews 9:14.

[4] Hebrews 9:12.

[5] Psalm 43:1 in the King James Version.

Ad Te Levavi (Advent 1)

Ad Te Levavi (Advent 1) – November 27, 2022

Psalm 25; Jeremiah 23:5-8; Romans 13:[8-10] 11-14

St. Matthew 21:1-9

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

No one man, not even a group of men, sat down and created the Church Year, or the liturgy. It has developed over hundreds, even thousands of years. Because of this slow development, handed down over generations, there are some parts of the Church Year that don’t seem to make sense. This slow development has also led to many insights that one man alone could not conceive. The beginning of the Church Year occurring with Advent and the choice of the Triumphal Entry as the first Gospel reading of the year are just such magnificent insights.

The word “advent” means “coming.” Thus, in the season of Advent, we celebrate three times our Lord comes to man. First, He came in the flesh, born of a Virgin in Bethlehem. Second, He comes to us by grace, wherever His Word is spoken, and His sacraments received. Finally, He will come in power and might to judge the living and the dead.

The season of Advent is then the perfect bridge to bring us from the end of the Church Year to its beginning. We end the Church Year hearing our Lord’s teachings and warnings about His return. We heard of the division of the Sheep and the Goats, where many who believe they are Christians by their outward works will be condemned and those whose faith has taken hold in their hearts will be saved.[1] We heard also of the wise and foolish virgins, in which our Lord calls His beloved Church to vigilance, for we know not the day or the hour of His return.[2]

After this focus on Christ’s return in judgment, we hear of our Lord entering Jerusalem for the last time. He comes humbly, seated on a donkey, and rides into the city to die. He is coming to fulfill His ministry. He is coming to fulfill your salvation. He is coming to die that He would rise and conquer death. This text is heard in the context of Advent, the season immediately before Christmas, when we celebrate His coming in the flesh, the Incarnation. The Son of God must have taken on flesh so that He could die in your place. Therefore, we begin the Church Year by encompassing the two greatest feasts on our calendar: the Incarnation at Christmas, and the death and resurrection at Holy Week and Easter.

Christ’s entry into Jerusalem has another aspect that directly affects you today. The crowds that gather to hail our Lord proclaim, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!”[3] You sing these words every Sunday, as you hail the coming of your Lord in and under the Bread and Wine. You sing them in the Sanctus. 

When the crowd proclaims them, they are reciting at least a portion of Psalm 118, if not the entire psalm. What is far more interesting is that they change the psalm. The twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth verses of Psalm 118 read, “Save now [or hosanna], I pray, O Lord; O Lord, I pray, send now prosperity. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! We have blessed you from the house of the Lord.”[4] The crowd replaces the divine name, “O Lord” with “the Son of David.” This is a Messianic title. They are saying that Yahweh, the Lord God Almighty, is the Messiah, the Savior, the One who comes to save them. What’s more is that they are saying that this Jesus is that Messiah. Jesus is the Messiah who is the Lord God Almighty and has come to save them from sin, death, and the devil.

There is a problem, however. This same crowd, when asked about the identity of this man, will call Jesus nothing more than a prophet from Nazareth.[5] It is almost certain that a portion, if not the entirety, of this crowd will also be present days later when they cry out, “Crucify Him!” These subsequent actions force us to ask, “Did they know what they were saying on Palm Sunday? Did they know they were heralding the coming of the Son of God in the flesh?”

Scripture is silent as to their understanding and so we cannot answer this question. There were certainly some within the crowd who had faith and knew Jesus to be the Messiah. Even some of these likely got caught up in their own sin and joined in with the cries to crucify their Messiah.

A more fruitful answer to the question of just what the crowd understood is this, “Do you know what you are saying?” The danger of a set liturgy is it can become rote, memorized and repeated without thinking. How often do you find yourself reading from the page, responding from memory, or even forgetting to respond without thinking? How often do you look up from your morning devotion and not remember a single word you have read? How often have you not cared about what you say, chant, sing, or read?

These are truly dangers to your soul. Such sloth is dangerous because it is treating the Holy Word of God as less than common. If you can recite the stats of players from the Chiefs but not a psalm, then shame on you. If you know the words to the top 10 hits of any decade but cannot sing a hymn from memory, then shame on you. This is not from lack of access nor opportunity. It is from lack of desire.

It is true that memory is difficult and becomes far more difficult with age. The shame of which I speak does not come from the failure of your memory but from your misplaced priorities. The desire to know the Scriptures, to know what God says to you is part and parcel of faith. If only we recognized the multitude of gifts God has given us each day, we would shout with joy, “Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever!”[6] Instead, we grumble when trouble arises. We grumble with fear when facing a situation that seems hopeless. We accuse God of being unjust because we don’t get what we want. We sound like spoiled children. 

Nothing we sing, speak, read, or pray in the Church that just fills the silence. Drawn from Scripture, the Liturgy is God’s Word coming to you in manifold and rich ways. No one can be expected to know and understand every insight of the liturgy, but all are expected to receive it. All can sit in quiet contemplation of the Word of God. All can search the Word of God for the understanding of why we sing what we sing or say what we say. You may not find the answer to your specific question, but you will be enriched by the journey.

Lest we fall into the trap of moving from slothful ignorance of God’s Word to purely satisfying intellectual curiosity, remember that it is in the Word of God and His Holy sacraments that Christ comes to you today. He comes to you in that very Word which we sing, chant, speak, and read. He comes to you humbly, seated in Bread and Wine. He comes to you in grace, not on account of your preparations or worthiness, but on account of His love and mercy. He has descended into your flesh so that you would be elevated to be with Him in eternity.

Today, and at every celebration of the Lord’s Supper, when you sing the words of the Sanctus, remember that you stand with the crowds. You stand with them both as they hail the coming of their Lord and cry out for His death. You stand with them because you are prone to fall into sin. You stand with them as you hail the coming of your Savior. You also stand with them as you await the final coming of Christ, when He will descend not upon a donkey or a paten, but upon a cloud. You stand with the crowd in the shame of your sins and cry out to the one who has come to relieve you of those sins. You stand and sing because the Lord is good, for His mercy endures forever.

In + Jesus’ name. Amen.

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[1] St. Matthew 25:31-46; the Holy Gospel for Trinity 26, the Second Last Sunday in the Church Year.

[2] St. Matthew 25:1-13; the Holy Gospel for Trinity 27, the Last Sunday in the Church Year.

[3] St. Matthew 21:9.

[4] Psalm 118:25-26.

[5] St. Matthew 21:11.

[6] Psalm 118:1.