Untitled

Although I have been happily driving my "new" 2007 Volkswagen for almost a month, I am still legally the owner of the "old" 2002 Hyundai that breathed its last a month ago today. As I write this, I am still trying to figure out how to get rid of it. But I have run up against a colossal snag in the river of red tape that runs through Missouri. It's a rich source of amazing-but-true stories, though the truth is so amazing (and hilarious) that people who hear it may think I'm telling tales.

Today, I stand in awe at the symmetry at work in the universe. For I went through bureaucratic hell when I brought my Arizona-born Hyundai into Missouri. And now a similar nightmare bookends the Missouri life of that Hyundai.

The story really starts in 2006, the first year I renewed my tags since moving to Missouri in '05. That spring I had also moved from the hinterlands to the great city of St. Louis, where City Hall's gorgeous, neo-Baroque facade conceals a vicious, concrete maze where citizens run from office to government office like laboratory rats. Office A will only give you cheese in return for a peanut from Office B; while Office B requires a stuffed olive from Office C; and Office C won't stuff the olive unless you first give them a bit of cheese....

I had to make two trips to City Hall. I ran around between three offices on the main floor, then up to a higher level to purchase a money order--not once, but twice, because they only told me I needed the second one after I came back with the first one. I had to ring up officials in my previous county of residence and force them to negotiate with officials in the city, because I refused to drive out to the hinterlands to settle a property tax bill that I'm still not sure I owed. I had to ring up officials in my previous state and ride herd on a title search that had gone on for several months without a result. I got a ridiculously expensive parking ticket because the meter ran out while I was enduring all this. But in the end, I got everything in order so that I could renew my tags in '06. And again in '08. And again in '10, after investing thousands of dollars in repairs to pass the state-required inspections. And then, a month later, my car gave up the ghost.

Was it worth it? Oh, yeah! Because I now have a very clear memory that, in 2006, Missouri received whatever it needed from Arizona to create a title for the Hyundai. This memory anchors me as I float in limbo, a full month after requesting a duplicate title so that I can scrap my Hyundai and pay off the wrecker's bill. For now, the State of Missouri claims it has never seen a title for my Hyundai.

I learned this amazing news earlier today from a representative of Missouri's Department of Revenue (DOR). She wondered how it was even possible for me to get tags in Missouri, and renew them year after year, without producing a title for the vehicle. I told her this was precisely my point. I knew I could never have done that. I knew that in 2006, the first time Missouri told me they had never yet seen my title, though they had been happy to register my car the year before. And I know it even better since my 2006 paper chase at City Hall, which only happened because they wouldn't let me renew my tags until every scrap of paper was where it belonged. I remember the agonizing Arizona title search. I remember the sadistic county auditor from the hinterlands. I remember all too well that I wouldn't have had a car to drive home, parking ticket or no, had not the title turned up. And now, having renewed my tags twice since then without one whisper of a missing title, I'm expected to believe Missouri never had it. That's likely!

So what did my friend at the DOR suggest? She suggested I contact her opposite number in Arizona and request a duplicate title from them. Then I could use it to apply for a Missouri title, just so I can sign it over to a scrap dealer and be done with it. All right, I said! Give me the phone number! She gave me the phone number. I called it. The phone number was disconnected.

*Grrrrrrrrrr...*

So I went online and looked up a phone number for the Arizona Motor Vehicle Division (MVD). I asked their rep: What do I have to do to get a duplicate title for this car I bought in Arizona? "Sorry, we don't have it." Is this because I transferred the title to Missouri? "No, our records show we never had that title." (This lady I believed. Why? Because I could remember being here before... like, in 2006.) So, who would have that title? "Besides you?" Yes, please, let's assume I can't find it. "Well, our records show you had a lien on the car." That would be the bank I borrowed from to pay for the car. "You say bank, we say lien holder. Call the lien holder and tell them to [insert rapid stream of Arabic]." Could you say that again, more slowly? "Sure. Call the lien holder, and have them [insert slightly less rapid stream of Chinese.]" What? Wait, I'm trying to write this down...

This convo went on for a long time before I was able to make sense of what I was supposed to do. And what was I supposed to do? I was supposed to ask the Bank (or "lien holder") send me an original title and lien release for the Hyundai. Then, I was supposed to send that to the MVD along with a $4 fee and a title application (Form #96-0236, available at the end of a convoluted series of internet links), taking care to keep copies of everything -- the best advice I've heard all day! Then, having received a title from Arizona, I could apply for a Missouri title, but why bother? I could just as easily sign it over to the wrecker & have done with it. Only then I would also have to send the MVD a "sold notice" (Form #46-8502). However, in the very likely event that the Bank could not send me the title, I could at least get the lien release, send that to Arizona with two title applications--one with the lien holder's information, and once with my own--along with $8. I kid you not.

Well, I thought, at least now I know what I have to do. So I called the Bank (lien holder), which in fact released the lien in 2008 when I finished paying off the Hyundai. "May I have an original copy of the title and lien release, pretty please?" No, you may not. "Why?" We can't send you an original lien release because we do not currently hold a lien. "But you're the lien holder. Everybody else is pointing fingers at somebody else, and you're the end of the line. You've got to be able to do this." That's too bad. The loan was paid off in 2008. "That's what I'm saying. I paid you. Now cough up." But the lien was released in 2008. We can't release it again. "Oh. Well, how about a duplicate of the '08 release, then?" That won't do you any good. The state won't accept a duplicate, particularly not with a 2008 date on it. "[Angry outburst snipped.] All right, put yourself in my position. Suppose you've lost the only original copy of your car's title. Surely, there must be somewhere you can get a duplicate. What would you do?" You could ask the Arizona MVD to apply in writing for a duplicate lien release... "Oh, never mind! I've got another idea." (Click.)

So I called Missouri's DOR again. I spent another 15-20 minutes on hold. I spoke to another person who couldn't explain what was or wasn't in my file. This time, I read to him the Title Number on the receipt for my registration renewal. He was amazed to learn such a title actually exists. "Can you verify that it's in the file?" It's right there, issued in 2006 after an out-of-state title search. "Could this title be duplicated?" Yes. "And my request for a duplicate title is in good order?" Yes. "So were good?" No. "Why not? Doesn't the existence of this title prove that, as of 2006, Missouri was satisfied with my Hyundai's documentation?" The Catch (22, anyone?) is, this evidence conflicts with another documented fact: After Missouri issued that title, someone filed another out-of-state title request--which, for unknown reasons, was denied.

I now have to wait for a nice young man in Jeff City to shake some trees at the DOR and find an explanation for these two conflicting pieces of evidence. At this late hour of the day, he couldn't promise to start his investigation until tomorrow, when (I hope) he will call me and give me the final verdict. Perhaps then, after I settle with the mechanic who, in turn, paid the wrecker for towing my car, and after all the fees and penalties and (if necessary) well-placed bribes, I may have enough cash left over to buy a Happy Meal at McDonald's.

Five years ago, after my first collision with the bureaucratic sadism of a Missouri license bureau, I said I understood why this state has such a problem with vehicle tags being stolen. It's obvious: The legal process of getting tags is so awful that, even to a law-abiding citizen, stealing them starts to look like a good idea. (Though perhaps these afflictions are reserved for folks bringing a car in from another state.) Now, at the other end of the life cycle of an Arizona-bought, Missouri-registered car, I understand why some people walk away from their car with the key in the ignition and the windows down. Next to what I'm going through, a bit of insurance fraud looks like a good way to get rid of a vehicle. I love that my primary-care mechanic is an honest guy, but sometimes I could use the type who is open to under-the-table deals. Or a state that doesn't have its head screwed into... never mind.

Green Parable

To what shall I compare this green, green generation?

It is like an environmental scientist who devoted his life to finding a new, earth-friendly source of energy. After many years of passionate research, the scientist finally discovered a fuel that burned so clean...

How clean did it burn?

...It burned so clean that, no matter what you burned with it, the environment would be measurably better off after it was burned than before.

So, you could burn down a forest, and end up closer to saving the planet than when the forest was still there. You could burn a garbage dump, and the ground, water, and air would be cleaner after the fire than before it. You could pump it into your car's fuel tank and wherever you drove, the air would be cleaner.

As the scientist published his findings, he realized that he found no peace in fulfilling his lifelong mission. Instead, he now had a new mission before him. For now it became his task to sell people on the idea that, in the best interest of their planet, they must douse themselves with his miracle fuel and set themselves on fire. Which of the two tasks do you suppose was harder?

Let him who can figure out what this parable is about, figure it out for himself...

Tackiness Roundup

I don't want to let the neighborhood ELCA church tackiness of the week slip by unremarked! In a time of uncomfortably muggy St. Louis weather, their lighted sign proclaims:

IT'S NOT THE HEAT
IT'S THE HUMILITY
THAT COUNTS

Doesn't that just give you a chill? It's almost a welcome feeling in today's weather. But when you really think about it, it's all wet. I mean, real humility isn't exactly something you can try for. It's something that gets beaten into you by affliction and by the terror of God's Law. Sure, you can model yourself on the example of past and present paragons of humility. But how proud are you going to be of your humility when you find out that, in and of itself, it doesn't actually count? It doesn't count any more than anything else you might be proud of. In Christ, the proud are humbled and the humble are exalted. And in St. Louis in June, the heat & humidity aren't the only cause of that back-of-the-shirt, tacky feeling.

Should You Have to Think...?

Imagine that you're a Lutheran pastor in front of a worshiping congregation. As you adorn the Divine Service with beauty and dignity, in response to the rich blessings Christ pours out in His Word, should you have to think, "Whoa. I hope I'm not being too reverent"? Of course not! Such a fear would never enter your mind unless you were confronted by pews full of idolaters!

Suppose that you're carefully following the liturgy according to the altar book that your church chose and approved. But look! There are notes written there, not only for the congregation to sing, but also for the pastor! You know that this is distinctively rooted in the historic practice of the Lutheran church. You know that there is no law, in heaven or on earth, against chanting the service. You know the notes, moreover, and you know how to sing them well. Should you have to think, "Gee, I hope I don't get in trouble for singing this"? Only in a legalistic church--which could certainly never wear the name Lutheran!

Suppose you have studied the Lutheran Confessions. You have wrestled with Scripture and the historic testimony of many other theologians. You have become convinced that the doctrines setting Lutherans apart from other Christians really matter, and that the Confessions have God's Word on their side. You have taken a vow to contend for this teaching and a public call to teach it. As you grip the pulpit-rail and look out over the faces of your flock, should you have to ask yourself: "Do I have the nerve to proclaim this?" Of course not! These folks are hungry for God's Word, right?

But suppose you have asked yourself these questions. Suppose that, literally in fear and trembling, you went ahead and shepherded your lambs by the best lights in view. And then suppose that, for your sins, you got whipped out of town by a disorderly mob. And now, busted down to a mere layman (yea, and less than a layman*), you searched and searched for a faithful congregation to worship with. Should you have to think, "Maybe I'm better off not going to any church"? Never! Especially not in a city that has as many Lutheran Churches as Taco Bell restaurants!

And having finally found such a parish, suppose a career bureaucrat from an auxiliary service organization known as "Synod" made a presentation to your church. Or, more likely, suppose someone went around whispering to your co-parishioners until a sliver-thin majority was convinced that your liturgical/doctrinal heritage was preventing the church from really hanging fire in the local culture--or, if not convinced, at least persuaded to keep quiet. Should you have to think, "Gosh! Our beliefs could really be holding us back"? Don't be silly! You joined this church because of its teachings; who dares to tell you that no one would join a church that teaches thus?!

Wait! There's one more step. If you're a Missouri Synod Lutheran, this step is now being tested in a California circuit court. Suppose your congregation agrees to stick with its wholesome, historic doctrine and liturgy. Suppose you vow not to let go of the assurance of God's full, free, unconditional forgiveness--the priceless comfort that makes Lutheranism unique. You feel safe knowing that, if Synod goes to the dogs, you can always exercise your congregational sovereignty and depart, church property and all. A surprise may be in store for you. For a day is coming when you may have to think: "Whoa! All our base are belong to them!!"

Weekend Whimsy

This past weekend brought me another road trip, including a day and two nights of conviviality with my parents, a preaching engagement, and two scenic drives that came just short of being uncomfortably long.

The outward trip came a little closer, however. It was a glorious Friday afternoon and only my third road trip in the "new" VW, I was rarin' to crack open a can of Fahrvergnügen. But except for one very brief stretch of one of the nicest highways you could ask for, I spent most of the trip trapped behind one slow-poke after another.

First there was a "wide load" truck that drove just under the legal limit (ugh!). Then there was a flat-bed carrying a low-slung, irreguarly-shaped cargo covered in a flapping tarp behind a tractor that lost speed on every up-hill grade. The latter finally turned off the highway... two driveways short of the road my parents live on. Aaargh!

But there was one unexpected bright spot. I got to try out my car's passing capability, particularly coming out of the last town before my parents' village that was big enough to have a four-way controlled intersection. As the cars ahead of me took their time accelerating to highway speed, I joyfully zoomed around them. And I laughed to hear my self shouting at the first guy I passed: "Two-point-five liters, beeatch!"

The only other memorable whimsy of the weekend is the suggestion with which my father sent me to bed laughing last night. I had dry, hacking, smoke-related coughing fit as I turned back the bedclothes in the guest room. I heard my father shouting something from the living room, so I opened the bedroom door to ask him to repeat it. He obliged: "Shouldn't you say 'Quote...'?"

This is so like my Dad, who follows a belch with "...or words to that effect," who calls the cordless phone a "port-a-potty," and whose explanation of the acronym of the rural oil company "M.F.A." cannot be repeated on a family blog. For the rest of the night, every time I visualized myself excusing a coughing fit with the words "End quote," I broke up laughing... which led to more coughing... ("End quote")... You see what I mean. It took me a long time to get to sleep!

Who Is This Man?

Here is a sermon on Luke 7:36–8:3... coming soon to a Lutheran pulpit where I am guest-preaching tomorrow...

It’s a funny thing. Deep down, many people view the Christian religion as a feminine thing—a place for old ladies, a place for wishy-washy men who can’t make it in the world of real men, so they have no other choice than to become pastors. I doubt you would express such a thought to Pastor Dave’s face, but still that idea is out there. A lot of smaller, older congregations seem to be full of widows, elderly spinsters, and the type of married woman who can’t seem to get her husband or kids to come to church with her. Their prayerful devotion is moving to behold, but it can feel awkward to be a guy in a local culture where devout faith is seen as something soft and womanly.

At the same time, historic Christianity is often challenged to answer the charge of being a good-old-boy’s club, closed to the contributions and service of women. Scripture names a few faithful deaconesses and even prophetesses, such as Deborah, Anna, and Huldah. More often, however, women who attempt to take on a role of religious leadership are cast as villains, such as Miriam in the book of Exodus, Noadiah in the book of Nehemiah, and Jezebel in the book of Revelation. And at least one prophetess, the unnamed wife of Isaiah, seems to get her title from the fact that she is married to a prophet!

Many men secretly suspect Christianity of being a woman’s game. At the same time there are a lot of women, especially feminists, who aren’t happy with the historic faith because it favors men too much. The church’s historic belief that only men should be pastors is now hotly debated, and the simple Biblical answer to that question no longer seems good enough for some people. At a time when many women are seeking more ways to serve in the church, fewer men are going into the ministry, fewer attend church, fewer participate in their children’s faith-formation. So Christianity is at odds with the inclinations of men and the expectations of women. It’s offensive to everybody! Yet it remains a household of faith, an oasis of spiritual refreshment and healing for all who receive its message.

I bring all this up because of the last portion of today’s lesson from Luke 8: “Now it came to pass, afterward, that [Jesus] went through every city and village, preaching and bringing the glad tidings of the kingdom of God. And the twelve were with Him, and certain women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities—Mary called Magdalene, out of whom had come seven demons, and Joanna the wife of Chuza, Herod's steward, and Susanna, and many others who provided for Him from their substance.” This sounds like the original chapter of the Lutheran Women’s Missionary League.

Now let’s notice two main things about this text. First, these women supported Jesus’ ministry. They were loved and appreciated so much that the church still remembers their names. Yet their service to God’s kingdom was mainly to collect offerings and mites for the mission. Even now, few are called to preach and teach. But through your offerings and sacrifices, as you give of your substance to provide for Christ and His work, all of you are ministers proclaiming the glad tidings of the kingdom of God.

The second point to note is that before these women served Christ, He first served them. Their love and generosity was built on gifts Jesus gave them. Their holy witness reflected the message He preached to them, and the freedom He gave them. For even before he tells us their names, Luke says Jesus had healed them of evil spirits and infirmities. Mary, for example, had been possessed by seven demons. Besides the three women Luke names, many others remain unknown. We do not know of miracles they did or messages they preached. But we do know what message Jesus preached to them and what miracles He performed on them. And we know that with their support, Jesus brought His message to all the cities and villages of Galilee.

The witness of Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Susanna, and the rest isn’t about what they did for Jesus, but what He did for them and through them. He preached and brought good tidings of the kingdom of God. Not frightening tidings like, “Beware! The world is going to end in a holocaust of fire!” Not demanding tidings like, “Shape up, people, and get your works in line!” Rather, Jesus proclaimed glad and encouraging tidings such as, “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”

In today’s story, it’s not the women who are amazing, but Jesus. Even the woman who comes up behind Jesus as He reclines at the table of Simon the Pharisee, the woman who washes His feet with her tears and wipes them with her hair; even her offering of kisses and fragrant oil; even the faith and love of that unnamed woman, are less amazing than what Jesus says to her and about her. Because we don’t know her name, we may be tempted to ask, “Who is this woman?” But that question can only lead to idle speculation, such as, “Maybe it’s Mary Magdalene,” or “I wonder what sin made her notorious.” By omitting these details, Luke covers this woman’s identity and the nature of her sin with a veil of forgetfulness, like how your pastor covers up whatever sins you confess to him. This covering-up of sin goes to the nature of forgiveness. The real question of the day is: “Who is this Man who forgives sins?”

In our first lesson from 2 Samuel 11 and 12, we see another sinful woman, and another example of God’s forgiveness. David and the wife of Uriah had committed adultery together. It was springtime, the time of year when kings went out to make war, but David stayed behind in Jerusalem. From that fact alone you can tell that something is up, and it can’t be good. What did this king do at home while other kings were out making war? “Peeping David” spied on Bathsheba as she bathed. He sent for her. He had an affair with her. He got her pregnant. Then David recalled Uriah from the front in hope that the man would go to bed with his wife and cover up David’s sin. When that plan backfired, David sent Uriah back to the front lines with orders that were sure to get him killed. So David, the king after God’s own heart, came by his beautiful wife and their newborn child by covetousness, adultery, deception, and murder. God grant that you never have such a monstrous sin on your conscience!

Along comes the prophet Nathan. He tells David that clever little parable about the rich man, the poor man, and the precious ewe lamb. Assuming that this story was literal truth, David grew angry and said the rich man, who had stolen the poor man’s ewe lamb, should not only die, but also repay the cost of the lamb four times over. In the heat of righteous passion, David unknowingly condemned his own sin. “You are the man!” Nathan revealed. “You have killed Uriah the Hittite with the sword of the people of Ammon. You have despised Me,” says the Lord, “and have taken the wife of Uriah to be your wife.” Now even David has to admit: “I have sinned against the Lord.” And suddenly, instantly, amazingly, Nathan declares David forgiven. “The Lord has put away your sin,” he says. “You shall not die.” Consequences would indeed follow as a result of David’s wickedness. But at the very moment David repented of his sin, God forgave Him, as the prophet Nathan announced.

David is often held up as an example for God’s people to imitate, an ideal for the faithful to strive for. But David is a troubling example, because his faith so frequently faltered, and his footsteps so often strayed. Aren’t heroes supposed to be flawless? Shouldn’t the man after God’s own heart be a perfect example? We may wish it were so. But the reality is that even David confessed: “I have sinned against the Lord.” Several of David’s psalms are heart-wrenching confessions of the lifelong power of sin that worked within him, and the consciousness of guilt that drove him to the edge of despair. But through the prophet Nathan, God announces exactly what it is that makes David the man after His heart, the pattern for us all. “The Lord,” says Nathan, “has put away your sin.”

Likewise, the unnamed woman in Luke 7 does something for Jesus that could be held up as a positive example. What a beautiful picture of devotion, what a moving image of deeply-felt faith! Behold, how her tears, her kisses, her offering of perfume, and even the service of her hair, bring honor to Jesus in a way that Simon the Pharisee failed to do! Yes, yes; all that is true. In a similar situation Jesus said, “Wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her” (Mark 14:9). But in this situation, Jesus explains that this woman’s love was not something she brought to God. Rather, she loved in response to being forgiven. The greatness of her love was in proportion to the greatness of her sin. For when the woman crept up behind Jesus, she was a well-known local figure. But she was not known for her great faithfulness or her acts of charity. Rather, she was a notorious sinner. “If this Man were a prophet,” Simon the Pharisee reasoned to himself, “He would know who and what kind of woman this is who is touching Him, for she is a sinner.”

Pharisees like Simon were used to sniffing haughtily at known and scandalous sinners. It was the Pharisees who objected when Jesus dined with tax collectors and sinners. It was a Pharisee who thanked God that he was not like other men, such as yonder tax collector who bowed in penitent sorrow, praying for God’s mercy on the sinner. To a Pharisee like Simon, even being touched by a woman like what’s-her-name would be a form of defilement. A good Pharisee was supposed to be above touching anything “common,” anything “unclean.” What this tells us about the woman in Luke 7 is that she wouldn’t make a good example of holy living.

She may have done things you would be offended to hear about. She may have been such a person that, if she walked in here right now, you all would look at her out of the corner of your eyes and whisper about her behind her hands: “What is she doing here? She, of all people, should know that there’s nothing here for her!” Yet Jesus had enough forgiveness even for her. In fact, it was because her sin was so great, and she could not help but know it, that she came to Jesus and wept and wiped and kissed his feet. Her need for forgiveness was so great that she didn’t know how else to express it. This is an act of mute humility. But it is also an act of love. For her faith in Christ’s ability to forgive—and, yes, His willingness to forgive even her—enabled her to pour out a lavish flood of love on Him, even in such a public place as the banquet hall of Simon the Pharisee, where everyone knew what kind of woman she was. When you look at it like that, this woman is indeed a mighty example of faith. But her faith, her love, her humble service, are all in response to the mightiest thing of all: Christ’s forgiveness.

The woman in Luke 7 is a strange example, like David. She was, above all, a sinner. But therein lies the reason she is an example for us. For more importantly, she is a forgiven sinner. Between her and upright Simon, which one needed correction? Simon did. And Jesus corrected him in much the same way Nathan corrected David. Jesus told a parable that forced Simon to draw the correct conclusion. Which debtor will love his creditor more? The one who was forgiven 500 denarii, or the one forgiven 50? Simon answered correctly, “I suppose the one whom he forgave more.” Then Jesus pointed out that the sinful woman showed Him more love than Simon did. This was because “Her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little loves little.”

Jesus is not saying the woman’s act of love caused God to forgive her; nor was it the reason God forgave her. He is not suggesting we should show greater love in order to be assured of greater forgiveness. Least of all is Jesus advising us to sin more so that we may have more forgiveness. He is simply comparing Simon’s coolness toward Jesus to the sinful woman’s warmth. The reason for this lies in how much each of them has been forgiven. As a Pharisee, Simon took great care to need as little forgiveness as possible. He aimed to commit fewer sins than the average person. With less to feel sorry for, he felt less need to be forgiven. And being forgiven less, he felt less joy, less love, less gratitude than the sinful woman who had been forgiven much. Perhaps Simon was guilty of being a little smug. It is a danger that often threatens those who avoid committing actual sins. It is a sin called pride, which can be more spiritually dangerous than lying, adultery, and murder. It is the sin of justifying oneself, of attempting to appear righteous before God based on one’s own works.

In Galatians 2, Paul confronts another Simon, also known as Peter, for mixing Jewish legalism with Christian faith. Paul declares: “We know that a man is not justified by the works of the law but by faith in Jesus Christ… for by the works of the law no flesh shall be justified…. For if righteousness comes through the law, then Christ died in vain.” No one is justified by the law in God’s sight, but Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, being crucified for the sins of the world. Anyone who wants to justify Himself forfeits the full and free forgiveness that comes of being justified by Christ. Anyone who wants to build a bridge to heaven by his or her own works risks hearing the sentence of Galatians 5:4, “You have become estranged from Christ, you who attempt to be justified by law; you have fallen from grace.”

But in David, and in the woman that crashed Simon’s banquet, we see two examples of the righteousness of faith in Christ. No sooner did David confess his sin than he was instantly forgiven. And let’s not make the mistake of thinking the woman earned Jesus’ forgiveness by showing love. Rather, Jesus pointed out her love as evidence of how much she was forgiven. Knowing no more about her than that she was a scandalous sinners and that her tears were tears of repentant sorrow, Jesus told her: “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”

Here Jesus is proclaiming the glad tidings of the kingdom of God. And He’s not just talking about something happening elsewhere. He is not just informing the sinful woman about a divine decree of forgiveness that took place in heaven. His words actually perform what they tell. Nathan, too, gives David more than a mere assurance of God’s forgiveness. He is speaking the Word of the Lord, giving the very forgiveness the Son of God proclaims from the cross. Who is this man who forgives sins? Jesus, the Son of David, the Son of Mary, the Son of God. But wait—who is this man here today who tells you your sins are forgiven? Again, I say: Jesus. What is my forgiveness worth? I can only give you what Jesus commands me to give. My lips—His Word. My sin and your sin, forgiven by Christ. My body and your body, cleansed by His body. My blood and your blood—indeed, all of humanity, all our sin-polluted, afflicted, dying, human nature—cleansed by His blood. We are called God’s children by His power, His will, His choice; not ours. We are called righteous by His grace, His justice, His holy sacrifice. We are called His saints, kings and priests, men and women after God’s heart, not by what we have done in love or faithfulness but by what He has done for us.

Little children, let us welcome our Savior today with love proportional to His forgiveness. Welcome Him with penitent tears and joyful kisses. Welcome Him with the anointing perfume of holy prayers and the spiritual offerings of praise. Let our sacrifices for His ministry, for proclaiming glad tidings of God’s kingdom, rise before God as a soothing aroma. Let our humble faith and our devotion to Word and Sacrament bear witness how much we are forgiven. Let our mutual love and forgiveness ring out into the world, vibrating in harmony with God’s forgiveness. And may the One who sprinkles every nation astonish many with His redeeming love, so that they may come and see who this Man is who even forgives sins!

Ontological Tackiness

This week's lighted-sign message at the neighborhood ELCA hospice for the terminally tacky:

GOD DOES NOT QUESTION YOUR EXISTENCE.

The thing is, He actually could. He could end it, too. Meanwhile, isn't it a kind of poverty when the most encouraging and specific thing you can confess about God is that He exists?