Sunday, July 23, 2017

The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost (Matthew 11:25-30)

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ  (Ro 1:7).  Amen.

I was reminded of this the other day.  It shows what kind of friends that I have.  Just not the quality.  I will let you be the judge.
A few weeks before his wedding, my buddy realized that he did not mail the wedding party an invitation to the big day.  In his defense, since everyone dropped a few dollars on a black tux or a beautiful dress, they had already somewhat committed to attend.  So he snagged the one remaining invitation that they had left, slapped it on the photocopier, and sent it out.  (This was before color copies so it came out a blurry black and white.)  You can never accuse him of being sentimental.  He hasn’t changed either.  He also recently denied ever doing this.
What if you got that from the postman?  Perhaps the questions would cross your mind, “Is this for me?  And is this for real?”  We don’t have to wonder with Jesus.  Jesus’ invitation is real with a word of praise and with a word of promise.  We read from …

Matthew 10:25-30

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ Jesus, who praises his Father and promises his faithful,
If I remember correctly, the fancy, duplicated wedding invite from the bride and groom read, “Best man and guest.”  I was the best man.  Apparently now I had to find an unnamed guest.  It was along the lines of, “You and fill in the blank.”
Maybe you have been in that awkward situation before.  You happen to be at the right place at the wrong time.  You are standing with someone who gets invited to some sort of an event like a birthday party and then the person spots you.  You hear:  “Oh yeah, you can come too, if you want.”  That is not a ringing endorsement for your presence.
That is not Jesus.  He is genuine.

Jesus’ Invitation Is Real
1.  With word of praise  (25-27)
2.  With a word of promise  (28-30)

1.  With word of praise  (25-27)
Not every invitation is a welcome one.  A dad who shouts down the stairs to his son, “Come here right now,” is probably not going to share how proud he is of an unmade bed.  Jesus is the opposite as he speaks to us.  Jesus’ invitation is real with a word of praise.
That is how Jesus began:  “At that time Jesus said, ‘I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth’”  (Mt 11:25).  He addresses his Father—who is over all creation and above all creatures—and announces his thanks.  “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children”  (Mt 11:25).  What are “these things?”  It is the reality that Jesus came to remove the sin of all and rescue all from Satan.  That includes us.
But not everyone sees that.  In fact, to the highly educated and the extremely intelligent that seems simple or silly, if not foolish  (1 Co 1:18).  They have their smarts and their brains—titles before and initials after their names.  But their advanced education gets in the way of appreciating Jesus for who he is.   Who needs Jesus’ invitation?  To them, “these things” remain covered.
There are those who celebrate them.  To those who turn to and trust in Jesus Christ and him crucified with the faith of a child, the Father uncovers true wisdom  (1 Co 1:23,24).  That doesn’t mean that we have no intellect.  The Father has given us our exceptional bodies and incredible minds with all of our unique abilities  (Explanation to the First Article).  But when Jesus guarantees us that our guilt is gone for good, we grab ahold of that as a little one takes mommy and daddy at their word.  There is no doubt or distrust.
Faith is a gift of the Holy Spirit  (1 Co 12:3).  It is not a human accomplishment for a few like the individual who devotes hours and hours to completing classes and writing essays to hang a masters degree on the wall or have a doctoral hat on the head.  Those are not wrong in and of themselves.  God doesn’t hinge our salvation on several graduations and certain diplomas.  That might fill some with pride because of what they have achieved and leave others with despair because of what they have not accomplished.  But none of that has a part in becoming a child of God.
No.  We look to the Lord.  To us the good news about Jesus is uncovered like we open a gift to find out what is inside the wrapping paper.  That is the way God wants it.  That is why Jesus added:  “Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure”  (Mt 11:26).  It is not dependent on our IQ, but on God’s kindness to the littlest baby to the oldest adult.
A lawyer who passes the law exam is qualified to work in a courtroom.  Jesus is qualified to make God known to us because he is God  (Jn 1:18; 14:6).  “All things have been committed to me by my Father”  (Mt 11:27).  And so Jesus relays valuable information to us.  “No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him”  (Mt 11:27).  If we want to know the Father, we have to go through the Son just like I would have to inform you about my dad.  Jesus shows us the Father’s heart, so filled with love that he dispatched his Son to die in our place  (Jn 3:16).  Jesus’ invitation for us to come is real with a word of praise to his Father.  He allows us to believe in him and the One he sent.
2.  With a word of promise  (28-30)
Some invitations are wanted.  A husband’s stomach is touching his backbone because he is famished after a long day.  His wife calls him from the other room:  “Come here right now to eat.”  Everything is on the table.  That is nice.  So is what Jesus presents.  Jesus’ invitation is real with a word of promise.
Most invitations start with that one word, “Come”  (Mt 11:28).  So does Jesus as he addresses his “little children”  (Mt 11:25)—those who hold to him completely, us.  He gives; we receive.
And he is specific when he extends his offer.  “Come to me”  (Mt 11:28).  We may be tempted to go to someone else or someplace else.  We find another who tells us what we want, “You aren’t so bad.”  Or we fill up our days so full that we don’t have time to dwell on our broken relationship with God.  Or we make resolutions that tomorrow we are going to try harder to make God happier.  But how does that work?  We can’t wish sin away, schedule it away, or plan it away.  Only Jesus can take it away.
And not just some or several.  “Come to me, all”  (Mt 11:28).  Not even we are left out.  It is in that little word “all.”  Listen closely and carefully.  It is not just the woman at Jacob’s well to whom Jesus gave living water  (Jn 4:10).  Or the little man Zacchaeus up in a tree whom Jesus came to seek and to save  (Lk 19:10).  All  (Ro 6:23).  You.  And me.
And so he continues:  “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened”  (Mt 11:28).  He mentions two characteristics.  We can put a check by each of them.  We have been there or are there.
“Weary”  (Mt 11:28).  You know the feeling if you have ever mowed the lawn in the heat is in the 90s and the humidity is about the same.  That doesn’t even take into account the dew point.  That is ongoing—weary.
“Burdened”  (Mt 11:28).  It is like a tug boat pushing one of those barges down the mighty Mississippi that ride low to the water because they are loaded down.  That is the state where we stand—burdened.
How do we get to that point?  It is not the temperature outside or the cargo riverside.  It is the weight of a guilty conscience.  The apostle Paul felt it as he fought it.  We echo his sentiments:  “I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature.  For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.  For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing”  (Ro 7:18,19).  That beats us up and beats us down as we drag around that stinky garbage bag of wrongs—things done and not done.  And that doesn’t even take into account the steady problems and significant pains that wear on us—from our bills to our blisters.
And to those Jesus holds out the word of promise:  “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest”  (Mt 11:28).  This is not an exotic vacation to a sandy beach, swinging on a hammock underneath some palm trees  (as pleasant as that might sound right now).  Jesus is emphatic:  “This is what I will do.  I will refresh you.”  It was Augustine, an early church father, who once contended:  “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.”  And we do.  All because Jesus picked up our sin and paid for it on the cross  (Is 53:4-6; Jn 1:29).  He gives us a clean heart in exchange for a dirty one.  We reiterate what Paul reminded us:  “What a wretched man I am!  Who will rescue me from this body of death?  Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!”  (Ro 7:24,25).  Or what the psalmist had us sing:  “Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise”  (Ps 145:3).
And then he goes with us in the journey of life as he guaranteed to Moses as the Israelites would make their way through the wilderness.  “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest”  (Ex 33:14).  He would make good on that as well as sending the One who would be the perfect “Rest-giver”—Jesus.
And that rest changes life.  “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light”  (Mt 11:29,30).  A yoke is a wooden bar that sat across the shoulders of two oxen.  It tied them together to pull a big cart or plow.  It was a symbol of slavery.  That is what the law does.  It causes us to groan because of its demands of constant and continual striving for perfection.
But we are fastened to Jesus who kept the law perfectly for us and in our place.  So then the law is no longer difficult, but delightful.  It is not something that we have to do, but get to do—cheerfully and willingly.  We take pleasure in what God asks of us to give him thanks.  It is not a chore to wash the bowls in the sink if you are going to fill them with ice cream.  It comes down to a changed attitude.  And to top it off, he bears us up and carries us along both in happiness and heartache.  Jesus’ real invitation does that with his word of promise to give us refreshment and renewal.
I haven’t gotten a wedding invite for a while.  They are not hard to recognize.  There is elegant script on the note and a self-addressed envelope.  (I am not sure what that special sheet of crepe paper is for.  I don’t know if that would work on a photocopier.)  Jesus’ invitation is real with a word of praise to his Father for wisdom about him and with his word of promise to his faithful of rest from sin.  Enjoy that wisdom and that rest.  Amen.

To the only wise God be glory forever through Jesus Christ!  Amen  (Ro 16:27).


July 23, 2017

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