St John 16:16-22/1 Peter 2:11-20/Isaiah 40:25-31
In the Name + of Jesus. Amen.
On the night when He was betrayed, on the night in which He left to His disciples the durable legacy of unity with Himself in the Sacrament of the Altar, our Lord Jesus Christ also prepared them for His departure with the promise of return and of joy. Naturally they were puzzled by His words and so our Lord explains further with an illustration, Amen, amen, I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will have sorrow, but your sorrow will turn into joy. When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human has been born into the world. So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. Christ Jesus is speaking of the specific sorrow that the disciples will endure at His crucifixion and death.
But we do well to apply this to ourselves and to the sorrows we endure in this life while awaiting His imminent return. For the Church this side of glory is very much like a woman in labor. For the woman in labor bears the brunt and consequence of the Law. Remember the curse pronounced upon Eve and her children: I will surely multiply your sorrow in childbearing; in sorrow you shall bring forth children. Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.
Consider the bloody, dangerous passage of birth, for both mother and child. The mother is in great pain, out of her mind, but clearly focused upon, and caring about nothing but getting that baby out. So also we still bear the burden of the Law. We are forgiven, to be sure. And like Eve in the Garden, we cling to the Promise of the Messiah. But we are still waiting for the consummation of our joy. It is still in the future. And in the present, the consequences of the Law bring pain and sorrow.
For the present is filled with our transgressions. By our sins we have burnt bridges with family and friends, employers and neighbors. With a moment’s foolishness we have given in to our rage or frustration. In our selfish indulgence we have quietly nurtured our lust, greed, and malice. We’ve succumbed to temptation and hurt the ones we love the most. Our words have been spiteful, sarcastic, and mean. Our service to spouse and parent, neighbor and friend has been under duress and with great show. We have needlessly complicated our lives, caved-in, given up, run away. We have been weak. Sometimes its like we are two or more people at the same time. In the back of our minds we watch helplessly, ashamed of what we are doing, but not stepping out and stopping it.
Repent. Turn away from your fleshly desires. Remember that this is not your home. You are a sojourner here. An exile. Abstain from the passions of the flesh with wage war against your soul. Keep your conduct among the pagan unbelievers honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and give glory to God. Let the pain, the sorrow, even your victimization, focus you upon the coming joy.
For a woman in labor, for all her trouble, is uniquely focused upon the joy to come. She is not distracted by the petty things of this life. She doesn’t care if the doctors or nurses or passer-byes see her bare bottom or hear her cries, let alone whether or not her hair is mussed up or her shirt a little wrinkled. She is having a baby! And for a little while, that is all that matters! For a little while, she has sorrow. But when the baby is laid upon her, her sorrow is not only complete, it is forgotten! It cannot compare to the wonder and joy of the life of her suckling little baby.
So it was for the disciples. That Sabbath rest was indeed a bleak one for them. Their Lord was taken from them. Their sorrow was unbearable. But then they saw Him again! He showed them Him hands and side, and the disciples were glad, they had exceeding joy, when they saw the Lord. And that joy could not be taken from them. Not by executioners, nor judges, nor the Sanhedrin. Not by stones pummeling broken bodies, nor ravenous lions, nor torturers. Theirs is an eternal joy, an everlasting joy. A joy that comes from sins forgiven, from fellowship restored, from grace and mercy given. They lived their “little while,” and they now have Christ again, with a joy that cannot be taken away.
So it shall also be for you. This life is transitory. It seems long, but in retrospect we will see that it was brief. Our joy will be complete and no one will take it from us. Hang on. Be as focused as the mother in the delivery room. Jesus Christ did not die and rise in vain. It will end soon.
For now, dear Christian, you live in the “little while.” Your life is lived under the shadow of the Cross. It is tough. It is hard. But as the darkness wanes in the midst of your watch, know that you will mount up on wings life eagles and sore. Soon you will leave all this pettiness, this sweltering sin, these open sewers of false morality and half-hearted tries. You shall be free! No more pain, nor more suffering, nor more shame or regret. No more mindless bombings. No more government agendas. No more gruesome murders by abortionists.
By grace God shall cut the cords which bind you to this awful, dark place. For the payment for your selfishness has been paid. There is no more. God loves you in Jesus Christ and will bring you to Himself. You shall be free! You shall live!
In your travail, ponder this profound and simple truth: For His own reasons, from His own goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness in you, He loves you. He calls you by name. The inheritance of righteousness is rightfully yours, for you are His. In Christ, dear ones, you are already free.
You are free from worrying about yourself. You need not defend yourself, look after your rights and honors, or be insulted by the stupid behavior around you. Patience is learned in the Cross. For there we see that nothing else really matters. You are free from those who hurt you, from the devil’s accusations, from death. Jesus Christ Himself is your Defender, your Advocate, your Friend. He never sleeps or grows faint. Let Him worry about you. For who would dare to stand against you, the King’s own chaste Bride? These labor pains which you suffer and endure, are not punishment. Mysteriously, they are the proof of His love.
And while you wait, knowing that your time is coming, that nothing else matters, receive already the foretaste of that Joyous Feast to come. Be strengthened, encouraged, and refreshed for your labor, your sojourn. Eat His Body and drink His Blood for sustenance. Your sins are forgiven. And the Church Militant, that it you, joins its worship to the worship of the Church Triumphant., the Church at rest in glory, which has already been delivered. Add the Divine Service is but a practice, a dress-rehearsal for what is to come. You are continuously going from death to life, from the font to the altar, from repentance to the forgiveness of sins, from making the sign of the Cross to singing the Nunc Dimittis.
This is your strength to carry on; that is, Christ is your strength. His service is for your good. He raises up the troubled heart, He is peace for the tired, hope for the future. Here you are united to Christ crucified and raised, and thus are united to fellow confessing pilgrims on earth. Look about you – these are not strangers, but your brothers and sisters in Christ, for faith is thicker than blood.
And there is unity with the confessing cloud of witnesses that even now surrounds and prays for you. This is not an epidural, a narcotic to numb and drug you out of your mind, that you feel no pain. This is a promise of joy to come given, that is, delivered to you now, in order that you would endure in confident Hope and Faith. So relax, breathe, fear not. In a little while you will see Him and your joy will be complete, your travails forgotten. And no one will take it from you.
In the Name of the Father and + of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
In the Name + of Jesus. Amen.
On the night when He was betrayed, on the night in which He left to His disciples the durable legacy of unity with Himself in the Sacrament of the Altar, our Lord Jesus Christ also prepared them for His departure with the promise of return and of joy. Naturally they were puzzled by His words and so our Lord explains further with an illustration, Amen, amen, I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will have sorrow, but your sorrow will turn into joy. When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human has been born into the world. So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. Christ Jesus is speaking of the specific sorrow that the disciples will endure at His crucifixion and death.
But we do well to apply this to ourselves and to the sorrows we endure in this life while awaiting His imminent return. For the Church this side of glory is very much like a woman in labor. For the woman in labor bears the brunt and consequence of the Law. Remember the curse pronounced upon Eve and her children: I will surely multiply your sorrow in childbearing; in sorrow you shall bring forth children. Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.
Consider the bloody, dangerous passage of birth, for both mother and child. The mother is in great pain, out of her mind, but clearly focused upon, and caring about nothing but getting that baby out. So also we still bear the burden of the Law. We are forgiven, to be sure. And like Eve in the Garden, we cling to the Promise of the Messiah. But we are still waiting for the consummation of our joy. It is still in the future. And in the present, the consequences of the Law bring pain and sorrow.
For the present is filled with our transgressions. By our sins we have burnt bridges with family and friends, employers and neighbors. With a moment’s foolishness we have given in to our rage or frustration. In our selfish indulgence we have quietly nurtured our lust, greed, and malice. We’ve succumbed to temptation and hurt the ones we love the most. Our words have been spiteful, sarcastic, and mean. Our service to spouse and parent, neighbor and friend has been under duress and with great show. We have needlessly complicated our lives, caved-in, given up, run away. We have been weak. Sometimes its like we are two or more people at the same time. In the back of our minds we watch helplessly, ashamed of what we are doing, but not stepping out and stopping it.
Repent. Turn away from your fleshly desires. Remember that this is not your home. You are a sojourner here. An exile. Abstain from the passions of the flesh with wage war against your soul. Keep your conduct among the pagan unbelievers honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and give glory to God. Let the pain, the sorrow, even your victimization, focus you upon the coming joy.
For a woman in labor, for all her trouble, is uniquely focused upon the joy to come. She is not distracted by the petty things of this life. She doesn’t care if the doctors or nurses or passer-byes see her bare bottom or hear her cries, let alone whether or not her hair is mussed up or her shirt a little wrinkled. She is having a baby! And for a little while, that is all that matters! For a little while, she has sorrow. But when the baby is laid upon her, her sorrow is not only complete, it is forgotten! It cannot compare to the wonder and joy of the life of her suckling little baby.
So it was for the disciples. That Sabbath rest was indeed a bleak one for them. Their Lord was taken from them. Their sorrow was unbearable. But then they saw Him again! He showed them Him hands and side, and the disciples were glad, they had exceeding joy, when they saw the Lord. And that joy could not be taken from them. Not by executioners, nor judges, nor the Sanhedrin. Not by stones pummeling broken bodies, nor ravenous lions, nor torturers. Theirs is an eternal joy, an everlasting joy. A joy that comes from sins forgiven, from fellowship restored, from grace and mercy given. They lived their “little while,” and they now have Christ again, with a joy that cannot be taken away.
So it shall also be for you. This life is transitory. It seems long, but in retrospect we will see that it was brief. Our joy will be complete and no one will take it from us. Hang on. Be as focused as the mother in the delivery room. Jesus Christ did not die and rise in vain. It will end soon.
For now, dear Christian, you live in the “little while.” Your life is lived under the shadow of the Cross. It is tough. It is hard. But as the darkness wanes in the midst of your watch, know that you will mount up on wings life eagles and sore. Soon you will leave all this pettiness, this sweltering sin, these open sewers of false morality and half-hearted tries. You shall be free! No more pain, nor more suffering, nor more shame or regret. No more mindless bombings. No more government agendas. No more gruesome murders by abortionists.
By grace God shall cut the cords which bind you to this awful, dark place. For the payment for your selfishness has been paid. There is no more. God loves you in Jesus Christ and will bring you to Himself. You shall be free! You shall live!
In your travail, ponder this profound and simple truth: For His own reasons, from His own goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness in you, He loves you. He calls you by name. The inheritance of righteousness is rightfully yours, for you are His. In Christ, dear ones, you are already free.
You are free from worrying about yourself. You need not defend yourself, look after your rights and honors, or be insulted by the stupid behavior around you. Patience is learned in the Cross. For there we see that nothing else really matters. You are free from those who hurt you, from the devil’s accusations, from death. Jesus Christ Himself is your Defender, your Advocate, your Friend. He never sleeps or grows faint. Let Him worry about you. For who would dare to stand against you, the King’s own chaste Bride? These labor pains which you suffer and endure, are not punishment. Mysteriously, they are the proof of His love.
And while you wait, knowing that your time is coming, that nothing else matters, receive already the foretaste of that Joyous Feast to come. Be strengthened, encouraged, and refreshed for your labor, your sojourn. Eat His Body and drink His Blood for sustenance. Your sins are forgiven. And the Church Militant, that it you, joins its worship to the worship of the Church Triumphant., the Church at rest in glory, which has already been delivered. Add the Divine Service is but a practice, a dress-rehearsal for what is to come. You are continuously going from death to life, from the font to the altar, from repentance to the forgiveness of sins, from making the sign of the Cross to singing the Nunc Dimittis.
This is your strength to carry on; that is, Christ is your strength. His service is for your good. He raises up the troubled heart, He is peace for the tired, hope for the future. Here you are united to Christ crucified and raised, and thus are united to fellow confessing pilgrims on earth. Look about you – these are not strangers, but your brothers and sisters in Christ, for faith is thicker than blood.
And there is unity with the confessing cloud of witnesses that even now surrounds and prays for you. This is not an epidural, a narcotic to numb and drug you out of your mind, that you feel no pain. This is a promise of joy to come given, that is, delivered to you now, in order that you would endure in confident Hope and Faith. So relax, breathe, fear not. In a little while you will see Him and your joy will be complete, your travails forgotten. And no one will take it from you.
In the Name of the Father and + of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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