This is the sermon I prepared for Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., for the Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, August 8, 2010.

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Readings

Genesis 15:1–6
Psalm 33:12–22 (antiphon v.22)
Hebrews 11:1–3, 8–16
Luke 12:32–40

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Prayer

Gracious Father, by your Holy Spirit refresh our faith in your Son, Jesus Christ, that our hearts may rest in you. Amen.

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Message

“You must be ready,
for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” (Luke 12:40, NRSV)
This is a word from the Lord,
a part of his whole Word that he spoke to his disciples.

Later in his ministry our Lord named those disciples as his apostles.
He and his Father poured out the Holy Spirit upon them.
Then these apostles proclaimed that Word,
and by God’s grace increased the faithful in the Church.
And all the while, no one knew when the Son of Man would come.

For many decades life in the Church meant danger.
The state made practicing the faith illegal.
Making the decision to be baptized was risky and life-changing.
Martyrdom more than a natural death was a real prospect.

And then, the currents of culture flowed in another direction.
The Roman Emperor Constantine decided
that the Christian faith would no longer be hounded, but embraced.
Confessing Jesus Christ as Lord was no longer an act of treason,
but a socially acceptable mark of participation in society.
The Church had arrived.
It grew comfortable, settled, and rooted.
But all the while, no one could know when the Son of Man would come.

This history goes on, page after page, volume upon volume.
The fortunes of the Church go up and they go down.
Congregations come and go, flourish and decline.
Controversies spark into flame and burn themselves out,
sometimes by exhaustion more than by resolution.
And the whole time, no one can know for sure when the Son of Man will come.

It’s a long story,
and here we stand,
a blank page before us,
volumes behind us.
We have no idea how many pages are left,
how many more chapters are yet to be written before the end.
But now the pen lies in our hands.
And all the while, we do not know when the Son of Man will come again.

Even so, even though we don’t know when he will come,
we do know that he will come,
and we know as well that he says to us: “You must be ready.”

A batter stands at the plate,
his eye on the pitcher,
and waits for the ball.
To stand a good chance of succeeding
three out of ten times,
a batter must be ready.

It’s much harder to be ready
when our attention is distracted.
I think that’s why Jesus had counseled his disciples
to keep themselves free of burdens.
If the Father gives us the kingdom,
then we don’t need great piles of possessions
as protection and insurance.
We can be dressed for action, with our lamps lit.
We can be ready and alert for his Son’s arrival.

To picture how we ought to live—
poised and attentive—
envision a dog sitting by the window,
nose pressed against the glass,
his breath fogging and fading the pane,
as he waits, patiently and doggedly,
for his master to return home.
And then, when he sees the car coming down the driveway,
he barks and leaps up and goes to the door, his tail wagging.

Such an attitude may be instinctive for dogs,
but for us, when it comes to waiting for our Lord and Master,
the attitude comes not from instinct but from grace.

Hopeful and watching waiting
for the Son of Man to return is an act of faith,
a gift of the Spirit poured out upon us from God our Father.

And so, as Hebrews proclaims so powerfully,
“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for,
the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1, NRSV)

By this gift of faith,
Abraham and Sarah, our forebears,
left their homeland and journeyed to a place they had not seen.
They trusted God to keep his promise of land.

And in their old age,
they again trusted God to be true to his word
to give them a son,
and through that son descendents “as many as the stars of heaven
and as the innumerable grains of sand by the seashore.” (Hebrews 11:12b, NRSV)

Abraham lived by faith as a stranger and foreigner,
not knowing where God would lead him to go.
And by the same faith the apostles lived with little and traveled light,
freeing them to witness to the Lord.
And as they did, they did not know when he would return.

With that exact same faith,
countless martyrs and myriads of Christians
have labored for the Lord over the centuries,
all the while trusting that the Son of Man would return some day.
And now, you and I, heirs of this history,
live each day by the same gift of faith.

Do we trust that the Father has given us the kingdom?
We can, by faith.
Do we let go of our possessions,
not only giving freely but also holding loosely,
so we are free to live with hearts in the Lord and not in the loot?
We can, by faith.

Are we dressed for action, with our lamps lit?
Are we alert and watchful, waiting for the Lord to return?
We can be, by faith.

And by faith,
we can stand together
before the Table of the Son of Man,
and we can pray, with conviction,
“Come, Lord Jesus,”
and mean it with all our heart and mind and soul and strength,
and be ready for the coming of the Son of Man,
because today, thank God, may be the day. Amen.