Twenty-first Sunday after Trinity

The Christian faith is a religion of words. This is so because our God has revealed himself to us as the God who speaks. He created the world by speaking it into existence. He sustains the universe by the power of his Word. And when it became necessary to redeem His creation, the Word of God took on human flesh and lived among us as man. Who is Christ our Savior? His name is the Word of God.

The devil knows that our lives and salvation depend on hearing and believing what God says. So from the beginning until now he seeks to undermine our trust in the Word of God, asking, as he always has, “Did God really say?” He knows how easy it is for us to turn away from the spoken Word to something we might consider more concrete and practical. After all you can’t eat words, can you? You can’t pay bills with words. You can’t fight viruses and diseases with words. Words, we often say, are cheap.

In our Gospel text today, a father went off on a mission to save his son. But he came home with nothing but words. This would not make a good movie plot. The hero never comes home empty-handed. He returns with a vial of elixir from the mountain of the gods, or a chalice containing water from the fountain of youth, or, at the very least, he comes home with a doctor. But this man, as his son lay dying, set out on a journey, found Jesus, and then started to travel home with nothing but words. Surely he was a fool, at least, that’s what our unbelieving world would call him.

But this man was no fool. He was a Christian. To be a Christian means to live by the words of Jesus. It means to trust that his words are sure and certain, even when the reality we experience through the senses says otherwise. This is, after all, the very definition of faith: the substance of things not seen, the evidence of things hoped for (Heb 11:1). To be a Christian means to trust that there is a reality that surpasses what can be seen and felt, that there is evidence beyond what can be proven in a courtroom, that the words of Jesus are more real, so to speak, than the reality we naturally perceive.

The man can to Jesus with a simple request: “Sir, come down before my child dies” (Jn 4:49). We can see evidence of his faith already. He travels more than a day’s journey to find Jesus. He knows that Jesus has the power to save. He also knows exactly what He needs Jesus to do for him, “Come down to my house, before my child dies.”

Have you ever had a plan all laid out for what God must do for you? “Lord, I’m in a tough spot. The rent money is due next week. My marriage is on the rocks. My situation at home is a disaster. Here’s what I need you to do for me…” Does God hear your prayer? Always. But how does He respond? Jesus heard the man’s request: “Come down to my house.” Did He do what the man asked? No, He didn’t. Instead, He did something far, far better: He gave the man words.

Put yourself in the man’s shoes. What would you have thought? “I traveled all this way to find Jesus. I know what I need, and it’s not just words. I need something more. I need physical, concrete action.” But the words of God are never just words. When He speaks it is done. Unlike human words and promises, the words of Jesus are His action: “Go, your son will live!” (Jn 4:50).

And now we see the true extent of the man’s faith. Faith brought him to Jesus expecting to receive good from His hand. And having heard the Word from Jesus, faith led the man to go contentedly on his way. He had nothing else to take home with him, no empirical evidence that his son was healed, nothing to hold in his hand, nothing that could be see with the eye. Yet he believed and went on his way.

Now why are we talking about this man, an official and a father who lived two-thousand years ago? Because you are this man. You have a problem, a sickness unto death, you might say. This is the human condition. You were born a slave to sin, and the Word of God states clearly that the soul that sins must die. Every moment of your existence on earth is but a slow, relentless march to the grave. And beyond the grave, you have an even bigger problem: the righteous judgment of God upon all sinners. Yes, as we confessed earlier, each of us deserves temporal punishment, but it’s the eternal consequences of sin that ought to weigh most heavily upon us.

You have a big problem: sin, death, and damnation. But you have heard of a man who speaks with the voice and authority of God. You have heard that He has power over sickness, and death. Even the demons are subject to Him. Perhaps this Man, who claims to be God incarnate, does have the power to grant life.

And so, moved by faith, you came to the place where Jesus is. You came to the house where God dwells, even as you confessed your unworthiness to enter it: “Lord, I do not deserve your kindness, yet even so, be merciful to me. Kyrie eleison! Lord, have mercy upon me!” A few minutes from now you will kneel here before the altar, once again imploring God to be gracious to you, expecting, just like the man in the story, to receive good and not evil from the hand of the Lord. Yes, you are that man pleading for mercy. This story is about you.

And how does Jesus answer? The same way he answered two-thousand years ago: with words. “Words?” someone might say, “I’ve got real problems. I need more than just words. Words are cheap.” Some words are cheap, yes, but not these words. Dear believers in Christ, let me say to you the most costly words ever spoken, “In the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins.” Are these just words? Far from it. These words were purchased at the price of Jesus’ own blood, poured out for you and for many. These words may be spoken today by the humble servants of God here on earth, but they are the words of God Himself. These words deliver what they say: the forgiveness of sins. These words are God’s action: the saving sacrifice of Jesus upon his cross brought forward through the centuries and applied to you in this moment. Your sins are forgiven. God says it, and it is done.

The man went on his way believing, and discovered later that the healing occurred at the very moment when Jesus spoke. So it is today. Jesus says to you, “Go in peace. Your sins are forgiven. You will live.” What your ears hear is not a history lesson about something that happened a long time ago. To be sure, the historical events of the crucifixion did happen exactly as recorded in the gospels. But today, as these words of forgiveness are spoken in your hearing, God is doing what He promises in this moment. Sins are being forgiven. The dead are being given new life. The doorway to heaven is being opened to you.

In a few minutes, after having received the very same body and blood that was given and shed for sinners two-thousand years ago, we will prepare to return to our twenty-first century lives, singing, “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace according to Thy Word.” Outwardly, it may not appear that anything measurable has changed. To an unbeliever it seems as though we went to church and came away with nothing but words. But we go away, like the man, believing in Jesus, rejoicing in his promise. We go away in peace with the burden of sin lifted, knowing that God has given us what we truly need. We live, not by bread, but by the words of Jesus, the Son of God. Whoever hears and believes these words has life eternal. Amen.