Bloghardt's Reflector
“If now I seek the forgiveness of sins, I
do not run to the cross, for I will not find it given there… But I will find in
the sacrament or Gospel the word which distributes, presents, offers, and gives
to me that forgiveness which was won on the Cross.” (AE 40, 214)
Dr. Nagel - St. Matthew 6:25-34
Posted On: September 01st, 2005 at 3:36 am
When I'm having a bad day or when I forget who I am, I remember this sermon:
Dr. Norman Nagel
St. Matthew 6:25-34
Pentecost 20 - 10-14-1985
Concordia Seminary Chapel
"Do not keep company with a dancing girl, or you may be caught by her tricks.
Do not let let you mind dwell on a maiden, or you may be trapped in her
penalties."
"Let your mind dwell," is in the Septuagint, katamanthano, which our Lord
bids us do with the lilies of the field. What comes from such attentive
looking, has, as we have observed, consequences. The consequence of the
attentive looking that our Lord bids us do, is that we learn of the lilies how
to grow.
But which of the lilies are to teach us? Not the strumpet-trumpet lily. Not
the bold canalily, that has something of the dancing girl about it, in the way
it thrusts itself at you.
Jesus speaks of the lilies of the field, scattered in extravagant profusion.
Little flowers, so many, that in the crowd of them, at first glance, they all
look alike. Jesus, as is His way, draws our eyes to just one of them. "Let
your eyes dwell on this one. More is given by this one little flower, than by
Solomon in all his glory."
Solomon's glory is not reproached. The queen of Sheba spoke true and
faithfully, "Blest be the Lord your God Who has delighted in you." Solomon is
acclaimed as one given to, bountifully, by the Lord. And she joins in the
Lord's delight-in-giving with her yet more gifts. Solomon's glory is all "gift
from the Lord."
But he sinned. He contradicted that it was all gift from the Lord. He supposed
that it belonged to him for his own glory to use as he pleased. His heart
turned away from the Lord. And there was great anxiety.
Not so the lily. The lily lives as it lives only from God's hand. And so it
grows. No other trust or confidence and so no anxiety.
The lily has no anxiety, for it does not live as if God were not on the scene,
as if God did not care to give it life and growth.
There is no Romantic nature mysticism here, no pretty pantheism of some bulletin
covers; no Wordsworthian pathos:
To me the meanest flower that blows
can give thoughts that do often lie
too deep for tears.
Wordsworth attended only to the flower. Attending only to nature, we can only
end in tears. The lily that speaks to us, is the little flower in the hand of
Jesus. And we have only received its message, when we are given what it tells
of Him.
One of a dozen children playing in the streets of Nazareth, larking about,
indistinguishable from all the rest.
Little Jesus wast Thou shy once
and just as small as I?
In His Incarnation He lived the truth that no hair, no sparrow falls, without
the Father. The grass of the fields which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown
into the oven. And Jesus too, in solidarity with the lot of all creatures.
What all creatures bear, He bore more. The weight of all was upon His
shoulders. He was thrown into the oven.
Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies it remains alone. But if
it dies, it bears much fruit.
There is Calvary and there is Easter. His—and yours! Yours, given you in
Baptism. A newness of life, from Him, with Him, and so, no more living as if He
did not die and rise again for you. And so, no more anxiety.
Those who choose to, remain alone—isolated items having to look out for
themselves as if the Lord were not there, not caring, or not caring well enough
so that some alternatives have to be devised to fill in for His failures:
idols, other gods, that last only as long as we can keep them going. Endless
anxiety.
Jesus calls us out of anxiety to grow as the little lily grows, with no final
confidence, but in God. Thirty fold, sixty fold, an hundred fold. The little
flower in the hand of Jesus.
Did He pluck it? It was His. Then its life was spent---telling of Him! Was
ever flower more beautiful?
You too! How much more you, than the grass of the fields and the birds of the
air, O men of little faith?
Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief. Amen.
Edited on: September 06th, 2005 11:43 pm