Trinity 24

Matthew 9:18-26 - Trinity Twenty-four - November 15, 2015
This Child Is Only Sleeping

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“But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14). 

Let us pray:

Teach me to live that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed.
Teach me to die that so I may
Rise glorious on Thy Judgment Day. Amen. 

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Laugh to scorn the gloomy grave
And at death no longer tremble. 

What a great thing to say!  It’s what we just sang.  But how can we laugh at the grave when it always wins?  How can we scorn death when we know it always wins?  As we sing in another great hymn,

Death doth pursue me all the way;
Nowhere I rest securely.
It comes by night; it comes by day,
And takes its prey most surely. 

Well, the answer lies in what we sang in the stanza right before:

Dying, they shall never perish. 

We die.  But we do not perish.  Adam and Eve were warned that if they disobeyed God and ate of the fruit that they should not eat, they would certainly die – and with this warning to die and to perish were the same thing.  God meant that they would die a spiritual death and a physical death.  They disobeyed.  Their spiritual death was instantaneous.  Immediately they were ashamed and fled from the voice of God, because they no longer loved and trusted him as they were created to do.  Instead they had evil and conflicting desires that opposed God.  And instead of burning with fervent love for one another, they burned with selfish lust and pride.  This was their immediate spiritual death that all Adam’s children are also born into. 

Their physical death on the other hand was gradual.  A slow death is the worst kind of death.  And that’s the death we’re all dying.  Slow and steady.  As the ancient adage puts it, “In the midst of life, we are in death: of whom may we seek comfort, but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased?”  

We seek comfort by hearing God’s word.  In fact this is why God in his kindness chose to make our physical death so slow and gradual.  It was so we might have opportunity to hear his word, to repent and be saved.  And this is why as long as we live we listen for the voice of our Good Shepherd.  It’s true that he is the same God who is justly displeased at our sin.  It’s true that his voice is the same voice that Adam and Eve ran away from.  They ran because they knew and felt their sin and that they deserved to die.  But this same voice, that brought their guilt to mind simply by being heard, pronounces more than just the law that asks us where we are and what we have done.  It speaks the gospel that teaches us God’s gracious plan to save.  The gospel doesn’t ask.  It tells.  It tells us where Christ is and what he has done. 

The first promise of the gospel was spoken to Adam and Eve.  He promised to send his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to trample the serpent who deceived and tempted them and who brought death into the world.  The law condemned them.  But the woman’s Seed would redeem them.  His heel would be crushed by crushing the devil’s head.  He would die.  But he would not perish.  He is God.  He would die bearing the sins of humanity.  But he would rise again with victory.  His victory consists not only of new life to give, but of the eternal favor and approval of God. 

With this promise of Christ – from the very beginning – God made an astoundingly profound and comforting distinction that had up to then not existed.  It is the distinction between death and perdition.  It is the distinction between dying and perishing. 

Christ would die.  He has died.  He was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate.  He bore the wrath of God against our sin so that it is all fully and finally punished.  But Christ did not perish, as the Psalm foretells,

Therefore My heart is glad, and My glory rejoices;
My flesh also will rest in hope.
For You will not leave My soul in Sheol,
Nor will You allow Your Holy One to see corruption. (16:9-10)

This holy one, our Lord Jesus Christ, freely shares his hard-won victory in the forgiveness of sins.  He who drove a wedge between dying and perishing draws a wedge therefore also between the sinner and his sin.  This means that he drives a wedge between your death and the eternal damnation your sins have deserved.  And this is not a false dichotomy.  It is the dichotomy of faith.  It is the unique skill of Christian faith for you to distinguish between your physical death and the wages of your sin.  Your death is no longer an indication that you have wages yet to pay.  Rather, because you are baptized into the death of Christ that paid for your sins, your death can only remind you that you are also baptized into his resurrection.  Your death must now serve only to release you from your body of sin and translate you to be where Jesus is in glory.  Jesus teaches you this distinction between death and perishing by giving you the forgiveness of your sins. 

It is such a fine distinction as between joint and marrow or soul and spirit, as the Bible says (Hebrews 4:12).  It must be a fine distinction, because what mortal can even know his own heart let alone how to remove his sin?  It must be a fine distinction because death and damnation naturally belong together.  Only the Holy Spirit can teach you to apply this distinction to yourself.  And he does so through his word, which he calls a two-edged sword.  He slices one way with the law to teach you repentance.  He slices another way with the gospel to divide you from your sin and guilt. 

In the forgiveness of sins – in your Baptism, in the words of absolution spoken in Christ’s stead and by Christ’s command, in the body and blood once slain for all sinners, yet given for us Christians to eat and to drink – through these means, we possess even now in the midst of earthly pain, doubt, suffering, temptation, and yes, even death and extreme sorrow – we possess in our mortal bodies – as in jars of brittle clay – eternal life.  The Holy Spirit has made us temples of the most high Lord God of hosts who makes his home in us through the word of mercy and forgiveness. 

Laugh to scorn the gloomy grave!  How better to laugh at something so vile as death than to give it a new name that mocks its power and claim.  Jesus calls death sleep.  Just as God caused Adam to fall into a deep sleep in order to form woman from his side, so also he caused his Son to turn death into nothing more than a deep Sabbath slumber in order that from his bloody side he might form his beloved bride – to be bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh – his holy and beautiful Church, radiant and glorious, washed clean by water and the word to stand before God in righteousness — not of her own doing, but of Jesus who bought her with his holy blood. 

And so this is what death has become.  It is nothing more than a sleep from which we will awake.  Can there be a better way to mock what we are all so fearful of than to confess with confidence what Jesus asserts: “She is not dead, but sleeping.” 

This reminds me of that wonderful hymn by Paul Gerhardt, Now Rest Beneath Night’s Shadow.  Instead of comparing death to sleep, he compares his nightly rest to his future death:

To rest my body hasteth,
Aside its garments casteth,
Types of mortality;
These I put off and ponder
How Christ will give me yonder
A robe of glorious majesty. 

Oh yes, our bodies will die.  They will turn back to dust.  But because our spirits now live, because we now have life through faith in Christ, because the Holy Spirit of the Father who made us and the Son who redeemed us now dwells within us, death has lost its power over us.  It must serve us – to rescue us from our bodies of death and make way for God to restore us to life free from sin, pain, and any memory of guilt and shame.  And so death is as trivial for us as sleeping.  And watching our bodies age and die is as inconsequential as casting off our clothes at the end of the day.  When we wake up, we will put on new clothes.  Daily here by faith we don the righteousness of Christ whose blood makes our robes white.  And ultimately in heaven we will wake from death to be clothed in glory never to be soiled again. 

All of this is ours by faith.  In our gospel lesson Jesus deals with those who need his help.  He deals with a weak faith that he bears with and kindly indulges.  He deals with a strong and bold faith that he identifies and praises.  The man with weak faith is fretting over the death of another that is moments away.  The woman with strong faith has suffered long with her own slow and draining death that has already taken everything from her. 

Death was winning!  It was beating both of them.  But faith – both weak and strong – latched onto that which makes death lose.  Both of them sought Jesus. 

The man, whose name St. Mark tells us is Jairus, was a ruler of the synagogue.  Most of the others at the synagogue would doubtlessly have looked down on him for running to Jesus for help.  But if anything could compel him to say, “I don’t care what you think!” it would be the impending death of his daughter.  And so it is for us.  The rulers at the synagogue thought that they would win God’s favor by their devotion and adherence to the law.  But death served to be a sobering wake up call.  If nothing you can do has the power to rescue your daughter from dying, then why would you trust in anything you can do to rescue yourself from sin?  And so he went to Jesus.  His faith was weak inasmuch as he assumed Jesus needed to come under his roof and be there.  Really, a mere word would have been enough as it had been for the centurion in the previous chapter who told Jesus that he was not worthy to have him come to his house.  “But only speak a word,” he said, “and my servant will be healed.”  But did Jesus rebuke this ruler?  Did he tell him how needless it was for him to go all that way when all he had to do was speak?  No.  He went with him.  He bore with his weak faith with the full intention of granting him what he came for. 

The woman, whose name we don’t know, had a terrible hemorrhage for twelve years.  It caused her pain, and, as St. Mark tells us, all her money.  No doctor could help her, though they didn’t fail to charge her for their services.  Jesus was busy.  He was hastening on his way to the ruler’s house.  She would not take up his time.  She know only the slightest contact would be enough.  The reason Jesus stopped and asked who touched his cloak, as St. Mark tells it, was because he wanted to point out her faith.  “Your faith has made you well.”  And then and there she was healed – for free.  Take note, Jairus.  This is all that is needed.  All he needed too was Jesus to speak the word. 

By the time he got to his house it was too late.  His daughter had died.  But Jesus told him not to be afraid.  “Only believe,” he said.  “The girl is not dead, but sleeping.”  At this he was ridiculed.  He would not have that.  He expelled everyone from the house except his disciples and the parents, he touched the girls hand and demonstrated the power of his word.  She rose to life.  What a beautiful thing! 

Jesus meets us in the weakness of our faith.  It is true that our faith should be stronger – like the woman who was dying slowly and knew that the slightest touch would give her what no one could.  But our faith isn’t that strong.  It’s weak.  We see death coming a mile away and we think nothing of it.  It’s a concern for later.  But our deepest need even years from death is found in him who has conquered death for us by bearing our sins on the cross.  If you are not afraid of dying, then be afraid of your sin.  That will put things into perspective for you. 

But then flee to this Jesus who will not mock your weak faith.  He will indulge it.  He will strengthen it.  He will come to you with his body and blood – though certainly his word alone should grant you peace – and it does!  But he will enter your home anyway, just as he enters time and space today.  It is not his dead body and his dead blood that he feeds you – though it is his crucified body and blood.  But no, it is his risen and glorified body and blood – it is the medicine of immortality, because it gives you the forgiveness you need to escape death and turn it into nothing more than sleep. 

Since Thou the power of death didst rend,
In death Thou wilt not leave me;
Since Thou didst into heaven ascend,
No fear of death shall grieve me.
For where Thou art, there shall I be
That I may ever live with Thee;
That is my hope when dying.

My spirit I commend to Thee
And gladly hence betake me;
Peaceful and calm my sleep shall be,
No human voice can wake me.
But Christ is with me through the strife,
And He will bear me into life
And open heaven before me.  Amen.