Jesu Juva

“Lenten Hope”

Text: John 11:1-53; Ezekiel 34:1-17; Romans 8:1-11

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

Today we’ve reached the Fifth Sunday in Lent. It is the start of Passiontide, the last two weeks of this Lenten season. So a little more is taken away from us. Our crosses are veiled. No more Gloria Patris. Next Sunday is Palm Sunday, then Holy Week, culminating with the crucifixion of our Lord. But we know that shortly - very shortly - after that, is the joy of Easter.

So what have you learned this Lenten season? From your time in Scripture, in prayer, perhaps in fasting, what have you learned? Or, maybe let me ask you this: If you had to sum up the Lenten season in one word, what would it be?

Some might say repentance. That’s a good word, and certainly a focus of this season.

Others might say prayer - Lent is all about prayer. That’s good, too. And if you’ve prayed more this season, that’s a good thing.

Still others might say Lent means giving something up (although that’s three words, not one!).

Maybe you are thinking of another word than those. But here’s mine: hope. Lent is so I might have hope.

The First Sunday in Lent we heard of Jesus fighting satan and temptation in the wilderness. The battle I so often fight and lose, He fought and won. For me. To give me hope on the battlefield of this world, and the battle raging in my heart.

The Second Sunday in Lent we heard Jesus tell Nicodemus of new life - the new life Jesus has come to provide for us by being lifted up on the cross. To give me hope that new life comes not by me fixing myself up (as if I could!), but by grace through faith in Jesus.

The Third Sunday in Lent we heard of the Samaritan woman at the well, burdened by all her sins and failures in life, beat up and beat down by others, and an outcast; and yet Jesus loves her and wants her. Which gives me hope that He might actually love and want me, too.

Last Sunday, we heard that Jesus gave sight to a man born blind, to give me hope that even though the ravages of sin continue to wreak havoc in this world, there is nothing that Jesus cannot overcome.

Even death.

Which is what we heard today. Sure, Jesus healing sicknesses and diseases is cool, cleansing lepers is great, giving hearing to the deaf and sight to the blind is amazing, forgiving sins and calming winds and waves at His Word is awesome, but there’s a boundary, isn’t there? A limit. When you’re not talking about fixing life or healing life or helping life, but when life is gone. Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. Martha said that. Mary said the same words. If only You had been here. If only You hadn’t delayed. If only . . .

If only means a line has been crossed. If only means that on this side of the line there was hope, but now, on this side . . . Our brother is dead. Four days in the tomb. If only You had been here . . .

Death is one of the toughest things about life in our sinful world. Sudden and unexpected death. Long, slow, drawn out death. Death at the hand of another. Death at your own hand. Death brings guilt and regrets - wouldas, couldas, and shouldas. I wish I had done things differently, told her I loved her, been there more. Death brings questions - why? how? Even when death brings relief from suffering and pain, there is still separation and sadness. We try to make death look good, like with flowers; we try to make death sound good, that it’s better this way; some would deny death, believing that our loved one is still with us, somehow still caring for us, watching over us, for our good. But there’s nothing good about death. It was never meant to be. It is the result of sin. It is the destruction of life. It is the enemy, Scripture says (1 Corinthians 15:26).

As long as there’s life, there’s hope. Hope of healing, hope of change, hope of a miracle. We pray for these things. Lord, if only You would come and do this! But when death comes, that hope ends. It’s over. Lord, if only . . .

But then, with just three words, Lazarus, come out! Jesus shows that with Him, there is never no hope. The one who created life with His Word, can restore life by His Word. And I’m sure there was much joy in Bethany that day as Lazarus was unbound and restored to his family.

But that’s not enough. Because sometime in the future, the events of those four days in Bethany would be repeated. Lazarus would again die, from an accident, a disease, or just old age. And then what? Call Jesus back again? Have Him do it again? How many times? And what about us? We could rise from death, but what about the next natural disaster, the next pandemic-causing disease, the next accident or stray bullet? No, just power over death is not enough. Death is the enemy, but it’s not the problem. So Jesus has come to get at the root cause of death, to not just overpower death but to defeat death. To give us hope not just here and now, for a time, but an ongoing hope.

And again, that is what Lent is all about: hope. Hope, whether you are a first century Pharisee, a Samaritan woman at a well, a man born blind, or a man, or the family of a man, four days in the tomb. So that we might have hope in all times and in all places, no matter who we are or what our condition, Jesus has come to conquer the root cause of it all, which is sin. The sin that is wreaking havoc in our lives and in the world.

This is a question I often ask my catechism classes. Why did Jesus rise from the dead? And the answer is often: because He is more powerful than death. Which is true, but not really the answer. That’s the Lazarus answer. Or, maybe we could even say, the Ezekiel answer - with the powerful Word of God bringing back to life that valley of dry bones. But neither of those is really what Jesus has come to do. They are pointers to it, foreshadowings of it. But what Jesus came to do is deal with death another way, not in power, but in weakness, on the cross. The cross is where Jesus dealt with the root cause of death by atoning for the sin of the world. And if sin is dealt with, then death is not just overpowered, but undone, defeated. And there is not just hope and life for some, but for all.

And so for you. Whatever your situation, whatever attacks you are sufferings, whatever is seeking to rob you of life. For you, there is no, Lord, if only you had been here, for He is here for you, in water, words, and bread and wine; living water, life-giving words of absolution, of forgiveness, and the same Body and Blood that hung on the cross and rose from the dead now fed to you that you have that life in you. To deal with the root cause of sin in your life. That you hear, and know, and believe that your sins are forgiven. That you hear, and know, and believe that there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. That there is therefore now no condemnation for you, for you are in Christ Jesus and He is in you. And so in Him you have hope and life.

Hope on the battlefield against satan, sin, and temptation.

Hope for new life when your old life keeps weighing you down.

Hope when you’re thirsting for something that satisfies, living water, in an ever-changing and unsatisfying world.

Hope to see Jesus in a world where we see so much sin and rebellion and hate.

Hope in the midst of a world of death, in the midst of a world dying to live, in the midst of a dying world.

Hope in a world when one day’s solution is the next day’s fake news; where what worked one day doesn’t work the next; where we don’t know what to count on, what we can rely on, what is the truth.

Hope to cut through all that, and say: Here is the one you can rely on. Here is the one who is and speaks truth. Here is the one who has what you need, namely life, and hope. Here is the one you can believe and trust with your life. Because He gave His life for you.

This season of Lent focuses us on that. We start with our little ashen crosses, but end at His cross. Praying, fasting, and almsgiving take away the distractions of the world and of our lives to focus on the cross. We repent, we give up, until on Good Friday, we have nothing left but the cross. And there is our hope. Our hope in life, our hope in death. Our hope now, our hope for the future. Our hope in times of tribulation, our hope in times of prosperity. Hope that will not let us down.

Which doesn’t mean life will be easy or always go your way - you know better than that. Sin and its havoc on us is real. And while life may dish out more than we can handle, it can never dish out more than Jesus can handle. He is the victor, then and now. And that victory He has given to us. Just as surely as He won the victory that day in Bethany.

So when you are baptized, it is Jesus calling out to you, Come out! And you are born again, born from above, to a new life.

When you are absolved, Jesus is calling to you, Come out! Come out of your sin and live the new life that I have given you.

When you hear the Gospel, Jesus is calling to you, Come out! Hear the truth in a confused and messed up world and live not in sin, but in the freedom I have given you.

When you eat and drink the Body and Blood of Jesus here, Jesus is calling to you, Come out! And go out into the world from this place with your new life, and live in the victory over sin and death you have here received.

Now maybe, like Lazarus, you’ve been bound in sin and death. And maybe, like Lazarus, it has been for a while and you stink. The good news is that Jesus is the resurrection and the life. That Jesus unbinds you and anoints you with His Spirit. And just as there was joy that day in Bethany, so there is joy in heaven over one sinner who repents, who is forgiven, who lives in Jesus. Joy that is our’s too, even in Lent. For we have hope. We have Jesus. And He has us. As we journey through this world, through death, and to life everlasting.

In the Name of the Father, and of the (+) Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Now the peace of God which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds through faith in Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen.