Fifth Sunday of Easter (May 18, 2025)

“Loving Lavishly Because He Lives”

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

The night before His crucifixion, Jesus did something unexpected.

He spoke of glory.

"Now is the Son of Man glorified," He said, "and God is glorified in Him." (John 13:31)

It might seem strange that Jesus would speak about glory just after Judas had left to betray Him. The wheels of suffering and death had been set in motion. Yet Jesus calls this the moment of glorification.

Why?

Because His love was about to shine in its fullest brilliance.

Because the Father’s plan of salvation was reaching its climax.

Because the cross—ugly to the world— was, in heaven’s eyes, the radiant center of divine glory.

Jesus would be glorified not by avoiding suffering, but by embracing it in love for others. And the Father would glorify Him again— by raising Him from the dead.

This is glory unlike the world has ever known.

And then, after speaking of that glory, Jesus turns to His disciples and gives them a command:

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (vv. 34–35)

But we don’t always see it that way, do we?

We chase after other kinds of glory—

glory that gets noticed,

that impresses,

that gives us a sense of worth.

We love the glory of success. The glory of applause. The glory of being admired or envied.

And it starts early. We learn quickly that our value often seems tied to performance. That if we don’t stand out, we might not be seen at all.

Even Jesus’ disciples weren’t immune to this temptation. On the very night Jesus knelt to wash their feet, they were arguing about which of them was the greatest. The Lord of glory was stooping down with a towel— and they were still jockeying for status.

That’s not just their story. It’s ours.

Consider this:

A young man—let’s call him Mark— is finishing high school. He’s been accepted into a competitive college. He’s excited, proud, and a bit nervous. But as the summer wears on, he begins to feel the weight of expectations. Will he succeed? Will he stand out? Will he matter?

The temptation grows:

· to chase after approval,

· to compare his worth to others,

· to believe that success equals significance.

And soon, he’s more focused on building a résumé than on building relationships. He becomes less available, less vulnerable, and less open to others.

It’s not that he stops believing in Jesus. It’s just that the glory he craves slowly drowns out the glory he’s meant to reflect.

Or think of Peter’s experience in Acts 11. He is called to love in a way he never imagined— welcoming Gentiles as equals in Christ. It takes a vision from God and the witness of the Holy Spirit falling upon Gentiles for Peter to realize: this love, this Church, this Gospel is bigger than he thought. God’s love breaks boundaries we assumed were fixed.

And Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 13 show us what that love looks like:

“Love is patient, love is kind... It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.”

These aren’t just moral ideals. They’re a picture of Christ’s love— the love we now receive and reflect.

You see, the more we chase self-glory, the less we are able to love. And the more we try to love from our own strength, the more quickly we burn out.

But here’s some good news:

Jesus came not just to show that kind of love— but to give it.

He didn’t come to condemn status-chasers like us. He came to redeem us.

He came to wash the feet of the proud. To die for the glory-hungry. To forgive those who couldn’t love purely— and to make them new.

And more than that, He lives! He is risen!

Because He lives, He doesn’t just leave us with a command to love. He gives us the power to do it.

The same Jesus who laid down His life for us now lives in us.

His Spirit produces the fruit of love.

His Word reshapes our values.

His forgiveness frees us from shame.

His resurrection declares that a life poured out in love is never wasted.

Because He lives, we are free— not to seek our own glory, but to reflect His.

So how might we reflect the glory of Christ that we see by faith?

When you forgive someone who hurt you deeply, you reflect the love of Christ who forgave you from the cross.

When you serve others quietly, without recognition, you mirror Jesus, who washed feet and took the lowest place.

When you love someone others find difficult, you show the world what supernatural love looks like.

When you speak the truth with grace, you show the same balance of conviction and compassion that Jesus displayed.

When you prioritize worship and God’s Word, you declare that your life revolves not around performance, but promise.

Today, we celebrate and bless our high school graduates.

Dear graduates: you are stepping into a new world— college, work, military, gap years. Whatever your path, you will be told that your worth depends on achievement, appearance, or acclaim.

But Jesus tells you something very different.

He says:

You are loved because He loved you first.

You are His.

You belong.

And your calling is this: to love as He has loved you.

There will be opportunities to show that love—

through kindness in a roommate conflict,

humility when success tempts pride,

generosity when you’d rather keep to yourself.

People will take notice. Some may not understand your beliefs— but they will say, “Something special is going on here.”

This is what Jesus meant when He said, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples.”

Love doesn’t replace Word and Sacrament— but it makes the Gospel visible in your life.

So to you graduates—and to us all—this is our calling:

“As I have loved you,” Jesus says, “so you must love one another.”

That love flows from the cross, from the empty tomb.

· It flows into your life—

· into your homes,

· your dorms,

· your workplaces,

· your friendships.

In a few minutes we will see this in a beautiful way.

We will witnessed six people come to the waters of Baptism— one infant, four adolescents, and one adult.

Each of them—no matter their age— will be claimed by the love of Christ. Each of them will washed, not because they had earned anything, but because Christ gave everything. Each of them will be brought into the family of God by grace alone.

In the world, we earn identity through performance. In the Church, we are given our identity as a gift. That is the love we now reflect.

Baptismal love reorders everything.

It reorders our pride.

It reorders our prejudices.

It reorders our purpose.

That’s why Jesus said, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples.”

The word “all” is striking. The Lutheran Confessions teach that the marks of the true Church are the Word rightly preached and the Sacraments rightly administered.

But not everyone can discern faithful preaching. Not everyone understands what baptism or communion truly signify.

But love? Love is visible. Love is unmistakable.

Even non-Christians can see when a church loves extravagantly, when people care for each other without demanding anything in return. That love makes people stop and say, “Something special is going on here.”

So, congregation—and especially you who will be baptized today—this is your calling:

“As I have loved you,” Jesus says, “so you must love one another.”

That love flows from the font, from the cross, from the empty tomb. It flows into your life— into your homes, your schools, your jobs, your friendships.

So let us return to where Jesus began: to glory. Not the self-glory we chase after, but the cross-shaped glory of Christ.

Let us look again to the One who stooped low in love—

· who gave His life,

· who conquered death,

· who pours His Spirit into our hearts.

Let me ask you: What does seeking Christ’s glory look like in your life right now?

· Who needs to be forgiven?

· Who needs your time?

· Who needs to be seen and heard?

Is there a part of your heart still clinging to self-glory— where Christ is gently calling you to let go?

This week, choose one act of love. Just one. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide you.

Make a phone call.

Write a note.

Serve a neighbor.

Reconcile with someone.

Give generously.

For only the love of God can break the grip of selfishness. Only the love of God can forgive what we’ve failed to do. Only the love of God can shape a community that surprises the world. And only His love can empower us to love one another— as He has first loved us.

Over 100 years ago Frederick Martin Lehman penned the lyric to a grand hymn. Just listen to the words:

1 The love of God is greater far than tongue or pen can ever tell; it goes beyond the highest star, and reaches to the lowest hell; the guilty pair, bowed down with care, God gave His Son to win; His erring child He reconciled, and pardoned from his sin.

2 When years of time shall pass away and earthly thrones and kingdoms fall, when men who here refuse to pray, on rocks and hills and mountains call, God’s love so pure shall still endure, all measureless and strong; redeeming grace to Adam's race— the saints’ and angels’ song.

3 Could we with ink the ocean fill and were the skies of parchment made, were ev’ry stalk on earth a quill and ev’ry man a scribe by trade, to write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry; nor could the scroll contain the whole, tho' stretched from sky to sky.

Refrain: O love of God, how rich and pure! How measureless and strong! It shall forevermore endure: the saints’ and angels’ song!

In the name of the risen and loving Christ. Amen.