[This sermon was shared during worship with the people of Saint Matthew Lutheran Church in Logan, Ohio today.]
Matthew 5:1-12
Bill Hybels, pastor of the massive Willow Creek Community Church in the Chicago area, tells about the final inspection of the congregation’s new campus, which he and a staff person made with the head of the construction company that built it.
Before the meeting, the staffer had secured a huge skylight, one like those used at fairs and festivals. The meeting was taking place before sunrise and the staffer intended to circle the perimeter of the entire enormous facility with that light, pointing it toward the building so that on the inside, the seals around every window, door, and seam could be confirmed to be tight. If any light shone through, he reasoned, patchwork would have to be done.
But when the contractor arrived and learned what the staffer planned, he pointed out that their contract stipulated that re-sealing would have to be done only if “natural light” shone through the structure's seams. “No building could stand up to the light you want to use,” the contractor explained. The contractor knew that in light like that, any building would be shown to be imperfect.
As I begin this morning, I have to make a confession to all of you: The closer I get to Jesus Christ, the more imperfect I can see myself to be. That’s especially true today on this All Saints Sunday, considering our Gospel lesson. It contains Matthew the Evangelist’s rendering of Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.”
Martin Luther looked at these words of Jesus and said that they exemplified the perfect law of God which none of us can keep. Jesus laid them out, Luther said, to hold us up to the brilliant light of God’s holy perfection and show us our many imperfections and our desperate need of grace, God’s charitable forgiveness and acceptance. It will be no surprise to any of you who know how much I respect and appreciate Luther to learn that I think Luther is right.
But I also think that Jesus meant to do much more than hold us up to His light and drive us to His grace here.
I think that Jesus means to give us not just laws, but incredible comfort.
To see what I mean, we need to hold the Beatitudes, the opening salvo of Jesus’ sermon, up to some light this morning.
The first verse sets the stage for what follows. Matthew tells us: “When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him…”
We usually picture the Sermon on the Mount as an oration that Jesus delivered to throngs of people. I’m not so sure about that. To me, nowadays anyway, it appears that Jesus called out to the crowds to follow and some did follow. Those who did are called disciples, the first time this word is used in the Gospel of Matthew, incidentally. The word, disciple, mathetes, in the original Greek of the New Testament, means student or follower.
To me, that creates a comforting image. Even the most saintly follower of Jesus is just learning what it means to be a child of God.
I once heard about a lecture given by a Bible scholar and theologian who, at that point, was deep into his nineties. By all accounts, he’d been a loving and enthusiastic follower of Christ his whole life. He’d spent decades studying the Bible. After his lecture, someone asked him a question. I love his answer: “I have no idea.”
The Lord Who calls us to listen to Him again this morning is the God of the entire universe, infinitely wiser, more intelligent, and more powerful than any of us. This God may have become one of us, dying and rising for us. But if any of us thinks that, short of our own deaths and resurrections, we will ever be more than learners, students, disciples, of the Christ way of living, we’re fooling ourselves.
For me, whenever I feel confused or tormented by the mysteries of life—why suffering comes to the undeserving, why we must age and die, why some seem incapable of making healthy choices for their living, it’s enough to remember that the God Who enters our life through Jesus Christ, calls me to follow Him.
Jesus calls Mark Daniels, who grew up on the Hilltop in Columbus, Ohio, to follow Him. I didn’t have to do anything to earn His attention or His love. He loves me and all I have to do is follow when He calls!
If any of this sounds familiar to those of you who have taken Catechism class within the past seventy-five years or so, it should. About 1500 years before the birth of Jesus, on a mountain, God gave the Ten Commandments for Moses to share with God’s people. But, as you know, the commandments didn’t start out with rules. They began with God’s commitment to His people and His call to the people to follow. It begins with relationship: “I am the Lord your God...” God says.
After calling people to be disciples, displaying a similar love and commitment to those who follow Him, Jesus doesn’t immediately list laws. Instead, Jesus describes two different kinds of disciples.
The first kind are those who are empty in different ways: the poor in spirit (people who, rich or poor, find no hope in the rewards offered by this world), those who mourn (by which Jesus means all who are saddened by any sort of loss), and the meek (by which Jesus means anyone who’s been shafted in any way). Jesus says of these people that they hunger and thirst to be filled with something He calls righteousness. Righteousness is rightness with God, with neighbor, with self. We all hunger and thirst for this kind of rightness, no matter how close we are to God. Jesus says that one day, God’s kingdom will come and God’s will will be done in our lives.
The second description provided by Jesus is of those God uses to fill the emptiness of others. The merciful, Jesus says, will receive mercy. Those who are “pure in heart” (which means a God-filled point of view) will see God. Those who seek to reconcile God to people and people to people, the peacemakers, will be designated children of God. Those who take it in the neck for trying to fill up an empty world with the love and grace of God will be citizens of God’s kingdom.
In the last two verses of today’s Gospel lesson, the perspective changes. Jesus shifts away from describing what disciples to whom God’s kingdom comes look like. Now, as you teachers of grammar see, Jesus speaks to those He calls away from the world’s ordinary ways of doing things. He speaks to His disciples. That’s you and me. Jesus says: “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven…”
On this All Saints Sunday, it’s good to be reminded of what a saint is. A saint, you know, is just a disciple, a forgiven sinner learning how to follow Jesus.
One of Saint Matthew’s older saints died this past week. Like all the saints, Gloria Arnold was imperfect. But she was saved by the grace of God, given to us in Jesus Christ. During the one year and twenty-six visits through which I got to know Gloria, I saw her exemplify both kinds of discipleship that Jesus describes today.
Long illness had weakened her. In the past year, I only ever saw her in a chair and a bed in a single room, Room 308 of the Skilled Nursing Unit of Hocking Valley Community Hospital. Gloria hungered and thirsted for the rightness that we all lack while we live here. She craved Holy Communion. And, as Pastor Brian, with whom I did Gloria’s funeral on Friday pointed out, she never let a pastor leave her room without asking for prayer.
But in Gloria I also saw the second sort of discipleship Jesus describes today. Even sick and dying, she was full with something to give. Several days before she died, Gloria was still conscious, aware of what was going on. She told me that, although it had been a difficult concession to make, she was finally ready to go. She underscored that because she believed in Jesus, she wasn’t afraid of dying. She actually looked forward to it. Her only hesitation was about leaving her family behind.
I read a bit of Scripture to her, Romans 8:31-39. After I read it, I explained to her, as I have to you before, that I’ve told Ann that if that passage isn’t read at my funeral, I'm popping out of the box to read it myself. Then, hovering between this world and eternity, Gloria laughed, asking me to read the passage at her funeral. Before I left, she asked if I would look in on her family and if we could have a goodbye hug.
Gloria had asked for me to come to her room to fill her with the assurance of God’s help in her dying. Hopefully, she received that from me. But the fact is that, filled with the righteousness of God, Gloria had filled me with that assurance. She overcame my poverty of spirit, inspiring me with yet another confirmation of the powerful love and grace of God!
There’s only one way for you and me to be disciples—to be saints who yearn for God’s fullness and saints who fill the emptiness of others—and that’s to give up our resistance, to let Christ love us and call us His own, to allow God to use us for God’s purposes, and to simply follow when Jesus Christ calls us. We let Christ see us, sin and all, so that we can be made over in God’s image and experience reconciliation and rightness with God, with our neighbors, and with ourselves.
“Faith,” Martin Luther said, “is permitting ourselves to be seized by the things we do not see.” Saints are those who pray, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” and proceed to live in the assurance that, in ways they cannot always see, their prayers are being answered.
You have been made saints by Christ. Now be Christ’s saints
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