When President Bush landed on USS Abraham Lincoln on May 1, 2003 to announce the end of major combat operations in Iraq, there was a banner displaying the words “Mission Accomplished.” That phrase would later come to haunt Bush’s presidency, as the insurgency in Iraq grew more and more deadly.

The complicated military situation in Iraq – a swift conventional victory, followed by years of guerilla warfare against hidden enemies – is a pretty good analogy to the situation we as Christians find ourselves in. On the one hand, victory has been accomplished, as we heard two weeks ago in Rom. 6: “We were therefore buried with [Christ] through baptism in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.” Christ’s victory in His cross and resurrection is ours in Holy Baptism. Mission Accomplished.

And yet, there is an insurgency within us that is not happy, not happy at all about the regime change. Our flesh was and remains quite enamored with the former tyrant. The things the commandments forbid, the flesh loves. What the Spirit leads us toward, the flesh resists, and what the Spirit urges us to reject, the flesh lures us toward.

It is a warfare going on inside each of us, a battle of wills, a struggle to the death between the new man, led by the Spirit, and the old Adam, who delights in sin and seeks only what pleases the self. Your will wants to love God, wants to hear the Word, wants to pray, wants to honor authorities; you want to help your neighbor, live a life of chastity and fidelity, be free of the desire for money and possessions, and speak what is kind and helpful. But we find in ourselves another will – a will that only does those things out of compulsion, and in truth hates it all. That fleshly will spins cunning tales of deception, is ready to bite and devour others, is filled with a lust for money, power, sex, all kind of physical gratification, and dishonors parents, pastors, presidents, hates to pray, hates to listen, especially to God’s Word, and ultimately has no respect for God whatsoever.

That was St. Paul’s experience. That’s my own experience. And if you dare to truly examine yourself, you’ll find it’s your own experience as well. Dr. Luther said, “There is no one among us who does not possess a big, fat share of the flesh; a whole kneeding trough full.” Those two wills, forces, desires, are battling it out within you every day. You have been baptized, your sins are forgiven, the Holy Spirit bestowed, heaven promised, and yet that natural man, like an army of insurgents, stubbornly remains and seeks to thwart the new will, resisting every impulse of the Holy Spirit.

All that is what St. Paul describes when he says, “What I will to do, that I do not practice; but what I hate, that I do.” What is the origin of these things that we hate yet nevertheless find ourselves doing? “I know,” he says, “that in me (that is, in my flesh) nothing good dwells.” We all have a big fat share of that flesh, and the longer we are Christians, the more we see how deep, insidious, wicked and depraved we really are. Our capacity for evil is horrifying in its enormity.

Well, if this is part of who we are, and we are stuck with the flesh in this life, does this mean that we just should stop worrying about it, learn to forgive ourselves, and accept the reality of sin in our lives? God forbid! Shall we keep on sinning, since we are forgiven? Certainly not! Shall we sin boldly, assuming that out salvation cannot be lost? May it never be!

The great Lutheran theologian Adolph Koeberle said that the Christian, “through the power of the Holy Ghost can and should cooperate, even though it be still in great weakness.” We are terribly weak, but the new will, the new man, the regenerate person who has been baptized fights, struggles, and cries out every day with Paul, “O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?”

Our flesh is never getting better. We seek to subdue it, control it, suppress it, lock it like a raging animal into a cage, but we will never reform it, never perfect it. The flesh is never getting better until it is destroyed. The Lord kills and makes alive; the Lord kills for the purpose of making alive, remaking us. We long and sigh for the day when we are rid of the sinful nature, and God raises us up in new bodies of flesh that are nevertheless free of our present impulse to sin.

For now, we live in a perpetual state of warfare, a new man who lives in joyful liberty, gladly doing the will of God, and the Old Adam who must be driven through bitter compulsion to obey the Commandments. Because of this war, because of this conflict, we always have to live in expectation of the judgment. For us, it must always be the eleventh hour, always anticipating for the coming of Christ, always cognizant of the danger of falling away. Those things you have done in secret, thinking that if no one knows, then you are safe – stop them. What you know is wrong, resist, and if you fall, confess it immediately.

And most importantly in all of this is renewing our life of prayer. None of us prays as we ought. Dr. Luther said that “A true faith will turn into a simulated faith if we do not live in the fear of God, watch and pray.” The end of our reading tonight, where Romans 7 turns into Romans 8, shows us the pattern of our prayers: “O God, you see what a wretched man that I am; I am not even fit to pray to You or cry out to You; who will deliver me from this body of death, this flesh that is intoxicated with sin? I thank You, dear God, that Jesus Christ my Lord has won the victory over sin and death. You baptized me, You have declared that I am in Christ Jesus, and that there is therefore now no condemnation for me. Help me day by day to stop walking according to the flesh, but to live according to the Spirit. Grant this for the sake of my Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Strong words from Jesus today; He calls His hearers children of the devil. That’s a pretty good way to not grow your church. At least, not growth in numbers. But if the church is going to grow, if you and I are going to grow spiritually as this season of Lent enters the last stage, we need to hear and believe that those words apply to us. We are by nature children of wrath. The desires of our father the devil we wish to do. What are those desires? St. Paul puts desires into two categories: of the flesh and of the mind: “we all once conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath” (Eph. 2.3).

These desires, which destroy us, are desires for personal gratification, whether the gratification of the flesh (through lust for sex, lust for food, lust for drink – all lust for pleasure), or gratification in the mind (the desire for revenge, desire for prosperity, desire for personal glory and exaltation). All these sinful desires assault and hurt the soul, because they drive us further away from the love of God, and God’s will for us in loving our neighbor.

Set before each of us, in every action, is the will of God and our own natural inclinations. As Christians, each action, each word, each decision must be measured not by what feels good to us, but by what the Word of God says. St. James puts it this way: “But each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed” (James 1.14). It was lust, desire, passion that led our first parents into sin. It is lust, selfish desires, foolish passions, that lead us into sin. And although nothing good comes from it, do you not find yourself doing the same thing again and again? It is corruption and leads to corruption. So the Apostle Peter reminds us that in the Gospel of Jesus, there “have been given to us exceedingly great and precious promises, that through these you may be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust” (2 Pt. 1.4). And again he says, “Beloved, I beg you as sojourners and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts which war against the soul” (1 Pt. 2.11).

The sad thing about the passions, our lusts and desires, is that while we may think we are commanding our own destiny and making our own choices, in following the passions we show ourselves to be enslaved, to be a servant of the flesh, to have our belly as our god, to set up our own ego as an idol to be worshipped. The Word of God describes the Christian’s former life like that: “For we ourselves were also once foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving various lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful and hating one another” (Titus 3.3). But when you were baptized, all that drowned and died; “Therefore,” says the Spirit, “do not let sin reign in your mortal body, that you should obey it in its lusts” (Rom. 6.12). So this is the first important teaching from today’s Gospel: sin is obeying lusts, obeying desires, that are contrary to God’s Word. But as Christians, we do not let sin reign, we do not let the passions rule us. 

By ourselves, we cannot achieve this. But we see this perfection in our Lord Jesus Christ, who seeks nothing of Himself, but is perfectly, in every way, obedient to the Father. After they say to Christ horrible, slanderous things, suggesting that he is a child of fornication and demon-possessed, He replies, “I do not seek My own glory.” That is a summary of our Lord’s work. He did not take on human flesh to seek His own glory. He did not forgive sins to seek His own glory. He did not suffer on the cross to seek His own glory. In every respect, He obeyed His Father’s will and sought our good. That is the second important teaching in today’s Gospel: Christ came to seek His Father’s glory and our good, not His own glory.

And the third teaching is this: the One who suffers for us in the flesh is God. The words of Jesus make plain His claim to be God. When Jesus says, “Before Abraham was, I AM,” He is not only saying that He precedes Abraham, but is saying that He has existed from and before all time. The same words were spoken to Moses at the burning bush: I AM. Because of this, the Jews seek to stone Jesus.

But this doctrine is our highest comfort, to know that in Jesus it is God who came in the flesh, whose incarnation in the womb of the virgin we just celebrated last Wednesday; God has come for us, Himself to die for us and rise for us. 

That is why Abraham rejoiced to see the day of Christ. He saw it prophetically when he said “God will provide for Himself the Lamb.” God demands, according to the Law, everything we have. For Abraham, the most prized possession he had was the son born to him in his old age. God demands the death of Isaac, and even that would not, could not ever be enough to atone even for Abraham’s sin, much less the sin of the whole world. So Abraham rejoices to see the joy that in Christ, all sin will be atoned for, the dead in Christ will rise, and we will live in God’s kingdom. There is nothing greater or more full of joy.

Because of all this, they seek to put Jesus to death. But He is hidden from their eyes, showing also the power of the divine nature: unlike us, Jesus is able to walk on water, pass through a locked door or the wall of a tomb, and in this case be hidden from the eyes of those who would stone Him. All this shows us that when Jesus is crucified, He will be crucified willingly. He chooses to go to death for us – but at the right time, at the time and under the circumstances appointed by the Father.

So what should you take away from this Gospel today? You should cling most fervently to these words of our Lord: “Most assuredly, I say to you, if anyone keeps My word he shall never see death.” Not seeing death means not feeling it or experiencing it eternally. The Christian dies believing Christ’s Word of forgiveness, and so you “will pass from this life as in a sleep and live forever” (Luther). So what have we learned today? Flee the passions, your lusts and desires; cling to Christ, who did not seek His own glory but was obedient to the Father; and remember that it was God in the flesh who died for you willingly. Hold on to this Word, believe it, and you will never see death.” +++In the Name of Jesus.+++

Some of the phrases and most all of the thoughts in this sermon are cribbed from Luther (The Festival Sermons [Mark V Publications] and the House Postils [Baker]).

Rejoice, highly favored ones, the LORD is with you! Blessed are you among the children of Adam, for in your baptism, you received grace, and in the Communion you have been filled with grace! Rejoice and be glad!

But as you know well, this dark world, along with the devil and our own wicked inclinations, would deny us that gladness. This particularly happens through the exercise of our reason, fallen human reason. The things that Christians believe in most dearly – the virgin birth, the resurrection and ascension of Jesus, the forgiveness of sins, the coming resurrection of all men on a day of judgment, the kingdom of heaven – all of it goes against our experience, which says that this life is all there is, suffering or success are arbitrary, there is no god, there is no meaning to your life.

To a young virgin girl, probably 14 years old or so, an angel comes. How are we to believe that? But even if it is true, how is she to believe what he says? But note how Mary reacts. When Gabriel comes, she does not first speak, but listens. What the angel tells her is contrary to all human reason: “You, Mary, will become pregnant and give birth to a son without the aid of a man.” Never in all the history of the world has such a thing happened, before or since. How can such a thing be believed?

But then there is more: “The child you will bear will be the Son of God, incarnate deity in your womb.” None of this can be understood or apprehended through her reason, or ours. So Mary must, and does, let everything go, and she clings only to this Word of God spoken through the angel. Dr. Luther says, “Faith builds on nothing nor allows itself anything but the Word of God.” So Mary is for us the premier example in the Scriptures of what it means to have faith. She does not doubt, she does not waver. She hears the Word of God and says her “amen” to it.

Now extraordinary things like this do not happen to us. Angels do not appear to us, virgins do not conceive. But as Christians, our reason is no less challenged than was Mary’s. For the angel, the messenger, the pastor and Scriptures come to us with incredible claims: claims about Christ and His virgin birth, His crucifixion and resurrection, His payment for sins as our substitute, His ascension, His coming at the final judgment; but then also incredible claims about ourselves – your many and great sins are forgiven in Jesus; death has no power over you; your body shall rise again; the almighty God truly does love you, even you, and will welcome you into the kingdom of heaven. And in the face of our sins and the threat of death, amidst the scorn of the world and the fears of our own damaged and frail psyches, how is any of this to be believed? Who am I, that I should gain heaven? Who are you, that you should receive God’s favor?

How is any of this to be believed? In the same way as Mary. By setting aside our reason and clinging to the Word of God. Of course, we are reasonable people. We need to use and employ our God-given reason in our work and in the things we do each day, the equipment we operate, the calculations we make, etc. But this Word of God surpasses all that, and God comes to us saying, “With Me, nothing is impossible.”

So we do not cling to the promises of Holy Scripture as though we were believing a fairy tale. We believe these things, even though they are beyond our present experience, because of the testimony of God’s Word. If a man said and invented nice stories to comfort us, then it would be the greatest folly to believe it. But what we have is not the words of men, but the promises of God.

So give glory to God for what seems to you to be impossible. “How can it be,” says the blessed virgin, piously, “that I shall conceive, since I have not known a man?” With God, all things are possible. “How can it be,” says reason at a Baptism, “that this washes away sins?” With God, all things are possible. “How can it be,” says reason kneeling at the altar, “that this bread is the body of Jesus?” With God, all things are possible.

And so God’s Word tells us the truth, even when we cannot see how it can be so. And the great truth we marvel and revel in today is that God was made man in the womb of a young virgin in Nazareth. The child in her womb was true man, of the substance of His mother Mary, but true God, of the substance of His Father, God the Father. Listen to how beautifully Dr. Luther puts it: “In that hour when [Mary] said, ‘Be it unto me according to thy word,’ she conceived and became the mother of God; and Christ, therewith, became true God and true man in one person. Even though he is a tiny fetus, at that moment he is both God and man in Mary’s womb, an infant, and Mary is the mother of God.”

This beautiful and lofty doctrine is our greatest comfort. For God chose not just to come among us, to visit us and help us; He chose to take on our nature. He takes on our nature to redeem our nature; He becomes man to redeem man; He became one of us so that we could become like Him. And in that flesh He died, so that our flesh would not die forever, but live forever in and with Him. Today is conceived the One whose death and resurrection we will in a few short weeks remember. It is all of one piece, God comes into our flesh, dies in our flesh, rises in our flesh, and now in this Sacrament gives us His flesh in order to redeem our flesh.

To that unbelievable, incredible, wonderful saying full of love, the blessed virgin Mary had nothing to say but, “Amen. I am the Lord’s servant. Let it be to me as you have said.” And kneeling at the altar, we in effect repeat those words, and rejoice that with God, nothing shall be impossible. +INJ+

Related, Pastor Weedon also has a good post reminding us to be Christian in our internet behavior.

My former parishioner, friend, and now colleague Pr. David Juhl posted a beautiful excerpt from Johann Gerhard on having a good conscience.

Peter Leithart condenses an argument by Charles Krauthammer that the confiscation of the AIG bonuses was unconstitutional.

Pastor Lehmann (when you think of Lehmann in its hominyminal form, that title + name always makes me laugh, but then, I’m weird that way) discussed prophetically the Confessional Elephant.

If you know anything at all about the Redskins, Daniel Snyder, and Vinnie Cerrato, you will find this diagram gut-busting funny.

Weedon again, on growing in the faith.

Great sadness has descended upon the Purple faithful, especially those who have a man-crush on the smartest center in the NFL: Matt Birk is breaking up with us.

Finally, I’ve known that soccer was ruining America for a long time, but I didn’t know why until this terrific piece over at the sadly-Neuhausless First Things ‘splained it to me.

So when I’m preaching or presiding at mass, I’m deadly serious. If you’re among the congregation gathered for Divine Service, I expect you to be too. If I’m hearing confession, I’m serious. If I’m baptizing someone, or saying the commendation of the dying, or officiating at a funeral, I’m serious.

Otherwise, I’m probably joking. I like to laugh, and for too long I suppressed it. I almost never tell a joke during a sermon. I may say something funny, but it will be for a serious purpose. But the rest of the time, there’s plenty of things to poke fun of, both in myself and in our crazy world. Now I’m a terrible joke-teller – can’t remember ‘em, get nervous trying to deliver the lines at the right time. Since I can’t tell a joke, I use sarcasm, understatement, and hyperbole. So lighten up a bit, and don’t take it so seriously!

When I write something like “Real priests wear rose,” IT’S  A JOKE. If you’ve been around this blog, or me, for any period of time, you know I’m a traditionalist. I think tradition is important. Really, really important. But I also believe that differences in fasting are not differences in faith. I think I read that somewhere.

So, I’ve prepared this handy guide to help you, gentle reader, delve into the Esgetological mystery:

• If it’s a sermon … no joke
• If it’s an exegetical discussion of Holy Scripture, the Word of God … no joke
• If it’s a discussion of just about anything else … probably a joke. Assume that I’m just poking fun at myself and you, trying to remain sane in this dark world

Rose (NOT pink!) is the liturgical color for Gaudete (the third Sunday in Advent) and Laetare (the fourth Sunday of Lent), and last autumn my parish gifted me (see, I can use that annoying verb too, but not without a parenthetical comment mocking it) with a rose chasuble. The long-suffering Kassie snapped a picture after Divine Service in the vestry.

Kindly note that my vestments are actually rose, unlike Petersen’s (you’ll have to see the pictures on Facebook).

The last few months have shown many that the foundation of their trust is crumbling. Yesterday’s investment gurus are today’s criminals. The value of your home, in which you trusted, is declining. The value of your investments, on which you planned to retire, is plummeting. For those finishing school, the prospects of employment are bleak. The powerful joke about the disadvantaged, the politicians break their promises, and the people around us disappoint.  Even in church, we can let each other down, losing our temper, not following through on what we promised. What then can we trust?

Today’s Gospel is set in the context of false trust. John 6 begins, “After these things.”  After what things?  Jesus has just said to the Jews, “Do not think that I shall accuse you to the Father; there is one who accuses you—Moses, in whom you trust.”  They trusted in Moses, that is, they trusted in the books of Moses—the Torah, the Law:  Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.  Their trust was in the belief that they were good people, keeping God’s Law.  Do you think you are a good person?  Then you also trust in Moses, i.e., you trust in the Law.  You imagine that on the last day God will add up your good points, deduct your wrongdoings, and if you show a net profit, then all will be well.  “But,” says Jesus, “Moses—the Law—will actually be your accuser.”

The Law that you trust in will accuse you, showing you that:  you have, by your lustful thoughts and actions, committed adultery; you have borne false witness with your lies, slander, and talking behind the backs of others; you have coveted and desired what God has not given you; you have despised the authorities God has put over you; you have been unfaithful in your worship and prayers, placing the hearing and reading of God’s Word below so many other things you consider more important; you have not feared, not loved, and not trusted in God above all things.  

The Epistle today (which is one of the more difficult ones [Gal 4.21-31]), speaks about the covenant that comes from Mount Sinai.  What happened on Mount Sinai?  There God gave the Law, the Commandments.  And what comes from Mount Sinai?  The Epistle says, it bears “children for slavery.”  The Law will only make you a slave—it can never set you free, you can never keep it to God’s satisfaction; it will always accuse you and send you to hell.  You cannot trust it, just like all those other things in which we trust—they will always fail us.

How self-centered we can be!  How materialistic we can be!  Look at these people in today’s gospel.  Why were they following Jesus?  Was it out of love for God?  Was it because they wanted to hear the preaching of God’s Word?  No; they “followed Him because they saw His signs which He performed on those who were diseased.”  They followed Him because they thought He would satisfy their personal desires.  They were self-absorbed.  

What about you?  Why do you follow Jesus?  What do you hope to gain?  Some follow Jesus out of fear of death and hell; they want to escape God’s wrath.  But that is not yet true love of God.  Others follow Jesus and come to church only in hopes of a reward.  But neither is that yet true love of God.  Whether it’s to escape punishment or to receive a blessing, both are self-centered; both say, “What can I gain from following Jesus?”  So I will ask you again:  Why are you here?  Do you wish to follow Jesus for His own sake?  In what do you trust?

That’s the true question Jesus asks Philip, when He says, “Where shall we buy bread, that these may eat?”  How does Philip answer?  He starts talking about money:  “We would need two hundred denarii.”  Jesus has really asked Philip about where he places his trust, and Philip answers with a dollar figure.  So Jesus will show Philip that the answer is not a dollar or denarius amount, and that Philip does not yet believe in God as he ought.  What about you?  Do you believe God?  Is the real answer to your problems to be found in doctors or with dollars?  Do you believe God?  Why then do you fret, worry, despair, become frustrated, angry?  Jesus said to Martha, who questioned the wisdom of removing the stone from the tomb of her dead brother Lazarus, “Did I not say to you that if you would believe you would see the glory of God?”

Where is your trust?  In today’s Old Testament reading, the grumbling people had lost their trust in God, and in their pastors, Moses and Aaron.  “Give us bread and meat, and we will trust that!  Ah, how we long for the flesh-pots of Egypt!”  And the Lord gives them bread, and tells them that He is giving them their daily bread, even us He teaches us to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.”  And giving them bread for one day, He promises that there will be more tomorrow.  You would think that by now, after rescuing them from one crisis after another, they would have learned to trust their Lord.  Yet even in this small matter, they do not trust Him.  So they gather more bread than they were told, and hoard it overnight.  What does this mean?  The people did not trust their Lord, did not believe His Word.

When Jesus questions Phillips, He is testing him.  “Does he trust Me?”  He is asking you that question: “Do you trust Me?”  Do you?  Where is your trust?

Jesus says to His disciples, “Make the people sit down.”  Jesus is teaching His people trust.  To anyone observing this scene, it appears to be the epitome of folly.  “Why should we sit down and prepare to eat?  No one has any food!  Will Manna rain down from heaven as it did on our fathers of old?  These people will turn into an angry, grumbling mob if we tell them to get ready for a meal, since we have only a few loaves of bread and a bit of fish.”  Yet sit they do.  They sit down and wait patiently, expectantly, even though there is no earthly reason for hope, no rationality to their expectation.  All they have to trust is Jesus’ Word.  So they sit, and they wait.  It is written, “Blessed are all those who wait for [the Lord]” [Is. 30.18].

What will Jesus do?  He is not merely going to fill their bellies.  Jesus “will respond to all their real needs in the ultimately satisfying way” [Kodell].  Only in Jesus should we trust, for only Jesus can satisfy our real needs.  Not only our bodies, but our hearts are hungry until He gives us food.  Our souls are thirsty until He gives us drink.  Our hearts are restless until they rest in Him.  Our lives are lonely until He welcomes us into His fold.  Our hearts are downcast until He gives us joy; for “the joy of the Lord is our strength.”

Where is your trust?  Trust in Jesus’ true body, the bread from heaven, multiplied for us now, hidden under this bread, yet no less miraculous.  You have not trusted.  But again, did not Jesus say to Martha, “Did I not say to you that if you would believe you would see the glory of God?”  When the people were seated, waiting patiently for Him, Jesus “took the loaves, and when He had given thanks He distributed them to the disciples.”  The words are nearly identical to words we find elsewhere, words you know right well:  “Our Lord Jesus Christ, on the night when He was betrayed, took bread, and when He had given thanks, He broke it and gave it to the disciples and said:  Take, eat; this is My body…”

The bread that the grumbling Israelites greedily grabbed and hoarded overnight, what happened to it?  “It bred worms and stank.”  So will your bodies, when they are buried in the earth, be wormy and reek.  But receive this bread, the bread that Jesus gives, and you have this promise from Him, as He says shortly after He fed these 5,000:  “Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died.… Whoever eats My Flesh and drinks My Blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.”  That is the promise you should trust; it is the only thing that matters. +inj+

There can be no neutrality with respect to Jesus. “He who is not with Me is against Me.” Yet there are those who try to have it both ways. They do not want to openly reject Christ, but neither do they wish to make a real break from the Old Adam, the sinful nature. C.F.W. Walther calls these “half-Christians”:

“They are straddling the fence, and thus do not belong in Christ’s kingdom but in the kingdom of the devil. Such half-Christians are among the most accursed subjects of the devil. They think that, going down the middle of the road, they are on firm footing as members of Christ’s kingdom. But their faith is imaginary, and they are, in the end, traveling the road to hell” (God Grant It, p279).

If you aren’t right now one of these “half-Christians,” you live daily in danger of falling into it. We must not underestimate the power of the devil. He can in a moment “recast and pervert a godly man who has a strong faith, and beguile a pious husband, who today is living chastely in his marriage, to become an adulterer tomorrow” (Luther, HP 1:336). He propels men into fornication, greed, anger, hatred, envy, and holds on to them so tightly that they cannot free themselves. Likewise he drives people into despair, heartache, fear, anxiety, and grief. These things can consume and incapacitate us.

As a result, the experience of the law—God’s just wrath against us—and the power of sin in the world (both our own besetting sins, and suffering from being sinned against) – both these things cause us to feel desolation. That’s the emotional and spiritual condition of the psalmist in today’s antiphon, where he says, “I am desolate and afflicted.” He is lonely in his solitude, and feels he has no one to turn to, no one who will share his suffering. Many of you I know have felt this. The Bible says  it is not good for the man to be alone, but that is what the sin does – it separates us both from God and our neighbor.

But then there is another method the devil uses to turn people away from following Christ and make them “half-Christians” – through “empty words,” as St. Paul mentions in the Epistle: “Let no one deceive you with empty words.” So the Devil seeks to deceive by means of “empty words,” and he does so quite comfortably from pulpits. Those “empty words” are the preaching of forgiveness without genuine contrition and repentance. Empty words are an absolution given to those half-Christians who attend church but are not really “with the Lord,” make no effort at amending their sinful life, and as Luther said in the Large Catechism, leave at the end of the year no different than they were at the beginning. St. Paul gives us a list of identifying markers: those who are do not imitate God, who do not walk in love, who engage in sexual immorality, impurity, covetousness, filthiness. And what about foolish talking, crude joking, or coveting (desiring what God has not given you)? Do not be deceived: those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of Christ and God.

And the truth is, we so easily stumble like drunken fools into this kind of half-Christianity, mouthing prayers and attending services while living a life that is consumed with thoughts and desires for the things of this world.

Today, the Third Sunday in Lent, is called Oculi, meaning “eyes,” from the beginning of the Introit: “My eyes are ever toward the Lord.” If we are going to be kept safe from the devil’s assaults, if we are going to be rescued from our penchant for being “half-Christians,” our eyes need to be constantly directed towards God, constantly praying, constantly listening to His Word, constantly receiving His Sacramental gifts. Otherwise, we will be trapped in the enemy’s net, the snares of sin and false belief, and will perish. The encouragement of this 3rd Sunday in Lent continues last Sunday’s theme: that the Lord hears and answers persistent prayer.

Likewise today’s Gospel, which is a stern warning against allowing the devil to be readmitted to your life, is also written for our encouragement, so that we are comforted by the knowledge that as strong as the devil is, our Lord Jesus Christ is stronger still. He works by the powerful weapons of the Word and the Sacraments, which alone have the potency to drive away the devil and defeat him. Only the Means of Grace, i.e., the gifts of Christ, can free a person from slavery to sin and the devil’s tyranny.

So here is what you should take away from today’s Gospel: Christ has overcome the strong man, the devil. On the cross He is victorious; it was the greatest feint in the history of battle, for by the evil one’s own devices he was overthrown; the moment he thought he had secured victory—the death of Jesus on the cross—was the moment of his defeat. By yourself, you have no power against the devil. But you are not by yourself. You are not desolate and afflicted, solitary and alone. You are in Christ, and so you are never alone in this life’s struggle against the devil, against worldly influences, and against your own sinful flesh. God’s Word has come and turned your eyes toward the LORD, and He shall pluck your feet out of the devil’s net.