The Reformation Requires Change

Jeremiah 31:31-34

31 The days are coming,” declares the Lord, 
“when I will make a new covenant
with the people of Israel
    and with the people of Judah.
32 It will not be like the covenant
    I made with their ancestors
when I took them by the hand
    to lead them out of Egypt,
because they broke my covenant,
    though I was a husband to them,”
declares the Lord.
33 “This is the covenant I will make with the people of Israel
    after that time,” declares the Lord.
“I will put my law in their minds
    and write it on their hearts.
I will be their God,
    and they will be my people.
34 No longer will they teach their neighbor,
    or say to one another, ‘Know the Lord,’
because they will all know me,
    from the least of them to the greatest,”
declares the Lord.
“For I will forgive their wickedness
    and will remember their sins no more.”

The Reformation Requires a Change

Today we celebrate the festival of the Reformation. Embedded in that name is a word that means “change.”  Tax reform changes the laws and practices and amounts of taxes that the government collects.  Reform schools are meant to change troubled children’s behavior. 

During the festival of the Reformation we celebrate a certain change that had to be made in the past and recognize that it still needs to happen today. 

To illustrate that change, I’d like to paint you a picture of two pastors. 

Jeremiah is sometimes called the “weeping prophet” in part because he lived at arguably the most wicked and desperate time in Israel’s history.  The kingdom that David had built was in shambles – divided, split in two already for a hundred years, with 10 of the original 12 tribes captured and lost to history.  The remaining two were sandwiched between two superpowers – Babylon to the North and Egypt to the South – and they couldn’t decide who would make a better ally or which was the bigger threat.

And, if the political situation weren’t bleak enough, the spiritual condition of the people was even worse.  Fertility cults were common.  The Temple that Solomon built now housed prostitutes.  People dabbled in black magic, and even sacrificed newborn babies to false gods.  Sure, they worshiped in God’s house every week, but they wore their allegiance to God the way a superstitious person might carry a rabbit’s foot for luck. 

And it was in that setting that God tasked Jeremiah with preaching reform.  A change had to take place or destruction would come.  Jeremiah had reason to weep. 

Martin Luther is often called the “Reformer.”  He set himself to reforming, i.e. changing, the church of the Middle Ages, which didn’t sacrifice babies or hire prostitutes, but it had become power-hungry and greedy.  Church leaders abused their authority, and their people with it.  They held people’s consciences captive and sold forgiveness for a price.  They dangled the common person over the fires of hell to coerce them into obedience. 

Luther was no exception.  Following a series of near-death experiences and tasting his own mortality, Luther dedicated his life to the Lord.  He gave everything to God.  He was the best monk around, but he was still terrified.  He knew that death could come at any moment and he couldn’t bear the thought of standing before God with his sins.  His church told him that he needed to try harder, but that just made things worse.  The more he tried, the farther he felt from God.  Luther recognized the need for change in the church. 

On the one hand, you have a people who didn’t fear God enough, and on the other, people who feared him too much.  In both cases, something had to change.  In both cases, their focus was on their obedience.   In Jeremiah’s day, as long as they went to church, they felt like they were good with God; they could still dabble in all these pet sins so long as they maintained the outward appearance of obedience to God.  In Luther’s day, the only thing that could quiet a guilty conscience was burying it in a pile of good works; as long as you do more good than bad, you’d be good with God. 

Both were wrong and for the same reason.  It’s the same thing that threatens our faith today and requires this yearly focus on reformation.  Whether the outwardly righteous but inwardly immoral people of Jeremiah’s day or the hopelessly conscience-stricken sinners of Luther’s, both were relying on the old covenant to find comfort in God’s presence.  That’s what Jeremiah talked about in chapter 31:

“The days are coming,” declares the LORD, “when I will make a new covenant with the people of Israel and with the people of Judah. It will not be like the covenant I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to lead them out of Egypt…”[1]

He’s talking about the covenant God made with Moses on Mount Sinai.  He’s talking about the 10 Commandments – the same commandments we study and follow today, e.g. “You shall have no other gods,” “Honor your father and mother,” “You shall not murder,” etc…

In Jeremiah’s day, they kept the letter of the law – they didn’t take anyone’s life or steal anyone’s wife – but they trampled on the spirit of that law and instead of using it to cultivate a loving relationship with God, they used it as a license to live however they wanted.  They compartmentalized their lives, and once they crossed off the “godly” things on their to-do list, they felt free to do anything else. 

In Luther’s day, the people were so terrified of God’s righteous anger against sin that they worked tirelessly to improve their morality.  Luther beat and starved himself. He slept without blankets and went days without speaking, all to avoid and atone for sins he couldn’t stop committing.  Every stray thought, every idle word, every missed opportunity to serve God was another nail in Luther’s coffin. 

In both cases, their confidence came from their obedience.  But there’s a problem with that.  It’s what God says to Jeremiah as he finishes this sentence: “It will not be like the covenant I made with their ancestors… because they broke my covenant…”[2]

In fact, you could say that before the ink was dry on God’s first covenant, God’s people were already breaking Commandment #1.  Moses hadn’t even gotten down from Mount Sinai to speak to the people before they were dancing around a golden calf as if that were their god – as if this hunk of metal they just created had been responsible for taking them by the hand and leading them out of Egypt.  They broke God’s covenant. 

But we’re no better.  We fall into the sin of both Jeremiah and Luther’s day.  We look at all the “good and godly” things we do and feel like that makes us good with God.  We swell with self-confidence, which the Bible calls self-righteousness and is in reality self-delusion.  If you think God loves you because you come to church and then turns a blind eye to what you do outside these walls, then you don’t know God.  How often do you come here and nod your head in agreement about a particular way God wants us to live our lives, and before you leave the parking lot, you commit the exact sin that we talked about in worship? 

And that can lead you to the opposite ditch.  Once you realize how sinful you are and how often you break God’s commands, you can spiral so easily into self-doubt and despair and really want to dedicate yourself to becoming a better person who doesn’t fall into the same stupid sin over and over again.  You feel that if you can just take it one day at a time you can slowly begin to right the ship again. 

But we don’t.  Each new day comes and we may experience minor victories or even overcome major obstacles, but they never stop coming and eventually we get tired and weary and unwilling to keep trying or unable to resist.  And we revert to the self-loathing and hopelessness that Luther felt. 

The answer is not what Luther’s pastor told him: “Try harder.”  It’s what God says through Jeremiah: “The days are coming when I will make a new covenant… It will not be like the [old] covenant… because they broke my covenant, though I was a husband to them,” declares the LORD. “This is the covenant I will make… I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God and they will be my people… I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more.”[3]

Reformation is not about reforming our behavior.  It’s about changing our focus, from the old covenant to the new.  The old covenant wasn’t working, not because there was anything wrong with the covenant – God was still keeping up his end of the bargain; he was still being a husband to us, even while we were being unfaithful to him.  The problem was with us, and our inability to keep it.  So God made a new covenant, one that doesn’t depend on us or our obedience – a covenant of forgiveness and love. 

Jesus talked about that covenant on the night before he died: And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.”[4]

Jesus is the new covenant.  He came into this world to fulfill the old covenant, i.e. to do what you and I cannot, to keep both the letter and the spirit of the law.  Jesus came to live for you, as your perfect substitute, but he also came to die for you.  His body and blood, given and poured out for you on the cross, mean forgiveness for all your sins.  The Son of God gave up his life to save yours. 

In God’s eyes, then, your sins are forgotten.  He doesn’t hold them against you anymore.  He considers you righteous – and not a self-righteousness we earn by our obedience.  No, a righteousness gifted to us by faith, i.e. a “right-ness” with God earned for us by Jesus. 

That’s what the Reformation is all about – killing whatever germ of self-righteousness lingers in our hearts, while at the same time lifting the burden of our sin from our shoulders.  The change that Jeremiah needed in his ministry, the change that Luther championed in the church of the Middle Ages is the same change we need today. 

We need to stop finding our confidence (or hoping to find it) on the basis of our obedience, based on how good we are.  That can only lead to pride or despair.  But the new covenant in Jesus’ blood gives us true hope and complete confidence, not based on anything we do, but resting solely on the forgiving love of our Savior Jesus. 

When we change our hearts from focusing on our obedience to God’s forgiveness, then we can rejoice with Jeremiah and know the comfort that Luther rediscovered for the church of his day – that in God’s Word and in his holy promises we have hope and forgiveness, a mighty fortress and a loving God.  May he be your refuge today and every day.  Amen. 

 


[1] Jeremiah 31:31,32

[2] Jeremiah 31:32

[3] Jeremiah 31:31ff

[4] Luke 22:19,20

Welcome Home: Our Need for Christian Community

Hebrews 2:9-18

But we do see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.

10 In bringing many sons and daughters to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through what he suffered. 11 Both the one who makes people holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers and sisters. 12 He says,

“I will declare your name to my brothers and sisters;
    in the assembly I will sing your praises.”

13 And again,

“I will put my trust in him.”

And again he says,

“Here am I, and the children God has given me.”

14 Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil— 15 and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. 16 For surely it is not angels he helps, but Abraham’s descendants. 17 For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. 18 Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.

Welcome Home!

“Welcome home!”  Those two words can change your day.  The stress of your week can dissolve in an instant once you cross the threshold of your safe space and someone you love is there to greet you: “Welcome home!”  After you travel – or maybe after you move away – when you come back to your childhood home and grandma is there with a plate of cookies, “Welcome home!” are just the words to make you forget the long hours in a car or on a plane, the sleepless nights on unfamiliar beds.  There’s power in those words. 

If you’ll forgive me, I’d like to get a little autobiographical today.  I hadn’t really thought of it this way until I was presented with this text for this Sunday.  My life has been kind of nomadic.  In just over 30 years, I can count 14 different mailing addresses.  So, for me, “home” is an interesting word. 

But this was my revelation this week.  As much as I’ve moved around, there’s at least one place in my life that’s always felt like home.  My brother recently sent me a picture of my nephew and niece next to the fireplace of my grandma’s cabin in northern Michigan.  I’ve never lived there.  I can probably count the number of times I’ve visited with just my fingers and toes.  But I look at that picture and I can smell the wood paneling.  I can feel the spring in the seat of that chair and the heat coming from the hearth.  I know that if you look around the corner, you have the perfect view of her private lake.

Do you have a place like that?  No matter where you are, no matter how far away or how long it’s been, you can walk in those doors and feel at home.  Why do you think these places feel that way? 

I mean, I have more comfortable chairs in my house here.  There are spiders in the basement of that cabin that make me want to cry.  There’s the distinct smell of mothballs in all the bedrooms. 

And apart from the facilities, there are memories that aren’t all that great either  – bloody noses caused by cheeky comments; family squabbles, grudges, drama and hurt feelings. 

The cabin up north is far from perfect in my memory, but it still feels like home because of something that is built into the foundation of that house – a love that overcomes and persists, a love that comes back and wants to be there with family members who get under your skin, a love that makes me want to share it with my friends. 

I’m sure each of us has our own cabin up north – this place where you feel completely at home – not because of the location or the aesthetic but because of what that place means to you and because of the people who populate it. 

“Welcome home!”  Those are the words I used to greet you this morning – and it wasn’t just because that’s the title that was given to this service or because that’s the emphasis of this synod-wide initiative.  That’s legitimately how I feel, but, more than that, it’s how God wants you to feel whenever you step foot in his house. 

This place has had drastically different looks.  If you were here at the beginning, then you remember how we used to gather in the dining room of the parsonage.  Then there was the purple shag carpet and the bare concrete walls. Now it’s this beautifully remodeled space.  But it’s not the place that matters.  We could go back to the dining room and be just as much at home, because there’s something about our gathering that transcends our location. 

It’s the people who fill it.  Families – generations of people – who are still here.  Familiar faces that greet you with a smile and a hug at the door.  Friends in Christ who know just how to pray for you. 

But that sword can swing both ways, can’t it?  Your Christian friend can stab you in the back.  You can feel neglected, passed over, unwelcome.  Maybe you walk in those doors and you don’t feel at home because you don’t have enough history here, or maybe because you have too much. 

If you don’t feel at home when you walk in these doors, I don’t doubt that you have legitimate reasons for feeling that way.  We all carry scars and sadly sometimes it’s the church and the brotherhood of believers that inflict them. 

But that’s why God takes our attention today and focuses it on his Son: “But we do see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.”[1]

Jesus had a home in heaven where everything was good and right – where there was no strife, no family feuds; it’s exactly where he belonged.  But “he was made lower than the angels for a little while.”  He gave up his comfy seat in heaven; he set aside his glory and honor; he was born of a woman to wander in this world with you and me, because he saw the problems here.  He knew the issues we create with each other.  He felt the sins we committed against him.  And he knew all too well the death that we all deserve to taste. 

I’ll never forget it.  We had been in the car for 7 hours – 8 of us in one full-size van.  I had been pestering my older brother for probably 6 of those 7 hours, and, finally, as we’re pulling into the drive to grandma’s cabin – when I think I’m safe – I say the one thing I know will get his goat.  I didn’t have to see it coming to know that it was – a fist aimed squarely at my nose.  I could taste the blood before I felt the punch.  And as much as I protested, I knew I deserved it. 

Do you ever feel that way?  You let loose your verbal barbs.  You know exactly how much they’re going to hurt.  At first you feel a sense of vindication: “Good! I hope you feel devastated.”  But then the shiver runs down your spine, a sinking feeling in your gut – if only for a moment – reminds you how horrible it is to treat anyone that way, let alone a family member or a brother or sister in the faith.  We can get pretty adept at silencing those pangs of conscience, but even if we can sleep at night that doesn’t mean that what we said and did to each other was right in God’s sight. 

Luther has a helpful tool to remind us of God’s expectations for us.  He calls it the Table of Duties, and in it he uses Scripture to explain what we owe to each other – parents to children and vice versa, to spouses or society, government, pastors, teachers and so on.  He says, “Fathers do not exasperate your children.  Do not embitter them, or they will become discouraged. Instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.” 

“Young people, be submissive to those who are older. Clothe yourselves with humility.”

“Husbands, be considerate as you live with your wives.”

“Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord.”

On and on the list could go.  How do you live up to it?  Do you love your brothers and sisters the way God wants you to?  Or do you wait to love them until they show love and respect to you first?  How quickly do you grow resentful?  How often do you take offense at someone else’s good intentions, or give offense with careless words or actions? 

Whether we like to admit it or not, we are often the ones who leave emotional scars on others.  And it does more than hurt our relationship with them; it destroys our relationship with God.  That’s why Jesus had to intervene.  That’s why he had to be made lower than the angels and leave his heavenly home to enter ours here on earth. 

You’d think our Father in heaven might be like our fathers on earth, who get angry when their children are fighting, who threaten to pull the car over or worse, when one brother bloodies the nose of another.  But he doesn’t.  He loves us by sending Jesus.  He loves us and bloodies his Son for us. 

We see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while… so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.[2]

When we get in trouble, we deserve punishment, but that’s why Jesus came – to be punished for us so that we could be forgiven – and this passage demonstrates that point over and over again:

To taste death for everyone.[3]

To bring sons and daughters to glory.[4]

To pioneer our salvation through suffering.[5]

To share our humanity so that he could die.[6]

To free us from our slavery to sin.[7]

To be our merciful and faithful high priest who makes atonement for our sins.[8]

Jesus left his heavenly home to become our brother in flesh and blood here on earth.  As true man he was tempted in every way, just as we are.  He had people challenge him, question him, spite him. He had people ignore him and reject him and overlook him.  He felt every stimulus for anger that we feel, but he resisted every one.  He never grew angry, resentful, bitter or frustrated; he never held a grudge or withheld his love.  He always did exactly what we should do. 

And, do you know what I think is the most amazing part of it all?  After having resisted every temptation and after having suffered death on a cross, he didn’t resent us for making that sacrifice necessary for our salvation.  The writer to the Hebrews puts it this way: Both the one who makes people holy and those who are made holy are of the same family.  So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers and sisters.[9]

Lord knows what you’ve done wrong.  Lord knows how you’ve hurt or neglected your brothers and sisters here.  Lord knows the dysfunction in our earthly families.  But he welcomes you into his family by the blood of his Son who became our brother and died as our Savior.  He has removed our sin and guilt.  He has reconciled us to himself, and as a result has gathered us in this place, into this family where he still lives with us. 

Maybe you didn’t notice, but Jesus, your brother, is here today.  He makes the promise to his Father and ours in heaven, “I will declare your name to my brothers and sisters; in the assembly I will sing your praises.”[10]

Wherever two or three are gathered in his name, there he is with us, and that’s what makes this place home. 

You may have things going on in your family that make your house feel hostile and unwelcome.  You may have had differences of opinion and exchanged choice words with your brother or sister in the faith in this congregation that make your interactions with them now feel more than a little awkward.  But in this house, we have Jesus.  In this place, we live by grace.  Here we all fall under the shelter of God’s forgiveness through our Savior who suffered death to set us free.  Here we are united by the sacrifice of Jesus and bonded together in his blood. 

His love is more than enough to overcome our dysfunction, and even when we fall back into it, his forgiving arms are there to lift us up again, until the day when we hear those two words in a completely different setting. 

“Welcome home!”  That’s what this place and these people are meant to be for you – a home away from home, a community that needs and relies on each other, so that no matter where you grew up, no matter how long it’s been, you can walk through these doors and feel the love of your brothers and sisters, of your Brother Jesus and our Father in heaven, until you close your eyes in the sleep of death and open them again at the gates of heaven, where Jesus – and all these faces – will be waiting for you with these same two words, “Welcome home!” Amen.   


[1] Hebrews 2:9

[2] Hebrews 2:9

[3] Hebrews 2:9

[4] Hebrews 2:10

[5] Ibid

[6] Hebrews 2:14

[7] Hebrews 2:15

[8] Hebrews 2:17

[9] Hebrews 2:11

[10] Hebrews 2:12