To You, O Lord

Mark 2:18-28

There used to a vineyard here in Nazareth in Jesus’ day where Jesus probably joined the boys of his village in stomping on the grapes in this winepress.

New wineskins for new wine. It’s still wine. Jesus doesn’t throw out fasting or the Sabbath. He just applies it differently. The disciples will still fast. The Sabbath will still be a day of rest every seventh day. He returns them to their meaning and applies them accordingly.

Have we, on the other hand, “thrown the baby out with the bath water?” No fasting, no rest on the seventh day? Go, go, go, and eat on the run.

If we are “Christ-followers”, why aren’t we following Christ? He observed the Sabbath, granted, in his way, according to God’s original intention. He fasted for times of prayer and spiritual focus. These things were made for man, for our good. What spiritual blessing are we missing in ignoring them?

Mark 2:13-17

Levi could have collected taxes from fishermen or tolls on the Via Maris, the major trade route from Damascus and points north and east to Egypt (click map for more).

I can only imagine how Levi/Matthew must have felt most of his life. Gotta make a living. Feed the family. Not much of a fisherman (neither am I to be honest). Not many friends. No respect. No invitations to dinner from the people you grew up with, the good people anyway.

Levi’s tax booth would have been along the road somewhere along here, along the Sea of Galilee.

But then the Master stops by your booth. Sees you, really sees you. Knows you and the aching in your heart. Invites you to join him. And then gets hassled for it.

Will he draw away when others point out your unsavory life, the compromises you have made? You know you’re unclean. You feel it too.

“I came for him and for all his friends,” he says. He doesn’t pull back from the table but reaches over and touches his shoulder. He is not ashamed to call me his brother.

Ceramic cups and bowls may be able to pick up the uncleanness of things they come into contact with. But not the heart, the one who comes in love and grace. His pure love overcomes the uncleanness in my life and restores me to the circle of Life again. No need to be ashamed here.

Welcomed here. Accepted here. Loved here. Healed here. Friends here.

Mark 2:1-12

Somewhere in this village, some men cut through a roof so that they could get their friend to Jesus to be healed.

Living with Jesus is such a comfort. I don’t have to have all the answers. I don’t even have to have all the right questions or know exactly what’s wrong. This is what’s going on, Jesus. This is how I feel, Jesus. This is what I’ve done. He is the master diagnostician.

Like these four friends. They bring their friend to Jesus. They lower him in front of the Great Physician and he figures out what is wrong with him. He diagnoses the man.

Your sins are forgiven.

Objections go up, but not from him.

I must confess, sometimes I object. What I really need is just more money, Jesus. What I need, Jesus, is just to have this cold taken away. You must be wrong, Dr. Jesus, because all I really need is a new job.

Your sins are forgiven.

They say that many of our physical problems start in our heart. Guilt can do crazy things to the body. A lack of love, a deficient connection to God, sick relationships, can make us sick.

The Master knows that and he has our best interests at heart. He wants us well and whole. And so he gives us the pill that we really need.

I trust my doctor and take the medicine he prescribes. He has been to medical school and studied the human body. Jesus knows me even better. He put me together, body and soul. I must gladly take the medicine he prescribes too.

Mark 1:29-45

In this house belonging to Peter, Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law.

Where did this man get this authority? That demons should be cast out with just a word and the sick should be healed?

The streets of Capernaum outside Peter’s house would be filled with people coming for healing.

Certainly the residents of Capernaum and the surrounding towns would have been impressed with his power. With the power of his words.

But there is something else that would have impressed them too. The compassion of his touch.

In both healings in this chapter, Jesus touches the hurting people and they are healed. Peter’s mother-in-law secluded in the house sick with a fever. The leper who was kept outside the village limits and 100 feet away from anyone else. Jesus touches both of them. Grasps them by the hand. Moved with compassion, Mark says.

His compassion is as amazing as his power. That he should care – and not just care but feel the pain, the loneliness, the hurt along with these people and feel it so deeply that he would reach across the boundary of custom, law, and good sense to enter into their pain and by his love and power bring healing, strength and hope.

Of course, having reached across the greatest distance, from heaven to earth, from God to humanity, to reach across this foot or even 100 feet may not be so much. But it certainly helps us to understand why he comes in the first place. Moved with compassion.

It is that compassion that we count on today too. He feels our pain too. And he cares.

Side note. There is also a lesson here for us who follow Jesus and continue his kingdom work. Especially us Lutherans and evangelicals who talk so much about how God works through the Word and how important it is to be speaking the Word.

Jesus did not just work through the Word. He also worked through touch. He touched the sick, the hurting, those no one would else would get close to. And in his compassionate touch he brought healing. And in his compassionate touch he was revealed.

We, too, must not just speak the word with power. We must also touch with compassion.

Mark 1:21-28

This fourth century synagogue in Capernaum is built on the basalt foundation of the first century synagogue. Here Jesus taught and cast out demons.

Demons were often associated with magic and magicians often tried to subdue other spiritual forces by invoking their names. If the demon here is trying to subdue Jesus in this way (“I know who you are” was used to subdue spiritual powers in magical texts), it doesn’t work. Even though they know Jesus’ true identity when everybody else doesn’t have a clue, they still have no power over him. Quite the contrary, he knows them and has power over them. Not through elaborate spells or magic incantations like the exorcists of his day but just through a word. Like the word that created the universe and brought all things into being. Like the Word that became flesh and saved us. Just a word. Come out!

And the demon was struck dumb and came out.

The people were amazed. Something new was happening here. The king had come and was casting out the powers of darkness from his kingdom. Overthrowing the usurping dominions. Tromping on the established powers.

Where is that power today? The power of the Word?

It is in the Word we have received by faith, who dwells in our hearts and in our assembly, who gave us the power to forgive, the ability to love, the command to wash feet, the compassion to sit with the hurting, the courage to stand up to the powers and speak, the faith to give our lives for the sake of his kingdom and the world that he loves.

The demons continue to be silenced and cast out as we live the Word. As we speak the Word. Here. Now.

Mark 1:14-20

This First Century fishing boat was probably working on the Sea of Galilee when Jesus was walking along the shore.

James and John were doing well, Simon and Andrew too. They were fishermen and the fishing was good. So good that the Zebedee’s had hired servants helping them. And they had family responsibilities. Simon had a wife and a mother-in-law and James and John had a hard-working dad who needed their help in the family business.

But then Jesus came by preaching, “The kingdom of God is at hand. Come follow me.”

They had to decide – right now. “Immediately” Mark says, they left their nets, their father, their families, and they followed him.

Of course, if you noticed, he didn’t call everybody to leave and in the next paragraph we see Peter going home, bringing Jesus home, to meet and heal his mother-in-law. So maybe, thankfully, he may not be calling us to exactly leave our families.

But the kingdom of God – and the king – are at hand. And he does call for a snap decision. We have to choose. Each moment presents us with a decision. Will we just go on with our lives barely looking up from our work or will we follow him in all that we do?

Those moments pass so quick. This one almost slipped by me … browsing the web, checking email, no time left to talk with him as he passed by this morning.

People who need help, serendipitous moments to share the good news, an opportunity to say I’m sorry or to forgive, moments that may never come again.

He is standing there in front of you lingering now for a moment. Come, he says. Come follow me.

Mark 1:9-13

The mount of temptation in the desert above Jericho

Courage. You don’t very often think of courage when you think about Jesus. Because, of course, he was the Son of God. Almighty. Strong. Impervious.

I think about him this way though, maybe because I lack such courage. To run into buildings to save others. To stand up to bullies. To face myself even.

But he, he has the courage, the greatest courage of all, the courage to love. Sticks and stones may not hurt him, but I wonder if my words or my ignoring of him might not hurt. Whenever you love, I think, you risk the chance of being hurt. The greatest love, the greatest hurt? It takes courage to be God.

Read more: Sermon for February 26 – Courage to stand up to Temptation

Mark 1:1-8

The gospel begins here. At the Jordan River, Mark says.

Though not here so much because we couldn’t get close to the place John baptized because it’s on the border with Jordan, too sensitive and too protected to get near. Which is probably appropriate since we put up all kinds of fences to keep others, God, and even our own consciousness and consciences away from the barren places of our souls.

The gospel begins here, though, along this water as John the Baptist calls us down the river, from the pretty places where the trees and bushes and flowers cover up the rocks and dirt beneath, to the desert where our sin is laid bare and we come face to face with the barrenness within.

“Repent,” he calls. Turn. Come down. The river valley goes down to 1200 feet below sea level from this point to that. The deepest place on earth, except for the pit within our own hearts. Go down into that. The path up to Jerusalem, to the heights, to resurrection and forgiveness, to the city of the great King, Messiah, and his kingdom of life and joy and peace, it begins there. In the lowest place. In the place where our barrenness is revealed. Where our souls are laid bare.

Go down and find the “Gospel.” “Good News.” Jesus the Son of God. To the lowest place he comes to begin his ministry. To the pit of the earth to lead us up to city of the King, to the throne of God, to the kingdom. Go down and find him and let him lead you up.