The day would never be forgotten by any of them. It began with high excitement and ended with shocking sorrow.

It could have been the best day of Aaron’s life. Instead, it was the day that he saw two of his sons killed.

Killed by God.

We know that the Bible says the wages of sin is death. But death does not usually come so quickly after sin—and not so dramatically.

Aaron had been chosen to be the high priest by the Lord himself. Four of his sons were selected to share the honor of officiating at the worship services of Israel.

On this first day of ministry, Aaron had just slaughtered an ox and ram. He sprinkled their blood against the sides of the altar. He placed pieces of the animals onto the altar. The fat was then burned off. He offered the sacrifice for sins exactly as the Lord God had commanded.

Then, the Almighty himself appeared there in the form of the glory of the Lord. They had seen this pillar of fire leading them across the wilderness. It had been a reassuring sight.

Now, fire shot out from it and burned up the offering still on the altar. We hear, “And when all the people saw it, they shouted for joy and fell facedown” (Leviticus 9:24).

They had reason to rejoice. The fire, which might have appeared as lightning, showed that the holy Lord God was with them. He had accepted their sin offering. They could sing, “The Lord of hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge.” They need fear nothing in life or death.

They needed to fear nothing else—except God, himself.

This lesson was taught in a most fearful way.

On that grand and glorious day, fire from the Lord killed Nadab and Abihu.

Their bodies were dragged out while still in their priestly clothes and buried outside of the camp.

Moses then explained to his brother, “This is what the LORD spoke of when he said: ‘Among those who approach me I will show myself holy; in the sight of all the people I will be honored.'”

And the shocked father? “Aaron remained silent” (Leviticus 10:3).

It wasn’t just the shock of seeing his sons killed that silenced him. He was under orders. The rest of the nation could mourn the death of his boys. But not Aaron, nor his two remaining sons.

“Do not let your hair become unkempt, and do not tear your clothes, or you will die and the LORD will be angry with the whole community” (Leviticus 10:6).

No form of grieving was allowed him. No hint of disagreement with God’s actions was to be shown.

The Lord God is a just God. On this day, justice was served.

But what was the crime? “They offered unauthorized fire before the LORD.” We don’t even know what that was—except it was “contrary to his command.”

They sinned.

It’s enough to frighten us—and frightened we should be. But frightened away from sin, not from God!

It reminds us of another time when a Father kept silent as his Son was being killed. It also was a time when justice was served. On that dark Friday, the greatest sacrifice of all was made—for us.

We were sentenced to live, not die. We can live because he died.

The way we live is to demonstrate that we fear, love, and trust in him above all things.

It’s true: “The wages of sin is death.” But this is also true: “The gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 6:23).

The hymn reminds us:

If you think of sin but lightly Nor suppose the evil great,
Here you see its nature rightly, Here its guilt may estimate,
Mark the sacrifice appointed, See who bears the awful load—
‘Tis the Word, the Lord’s Anointed, Son of Man and Son of God.
(Christian Worship 127:3)

We do remember.

It’s not enough to see something happen. It’s not enough to be part of an event. We also need to know the meaning of what’s happening.

A person transported from the times of the horse and buggy days to today may watch as green and red lights blink at an intersection. But if he is going to drive on our roads, we surely would hope that he knows what those lights mean—especially the red ones.

Three disciples of Jesus were allowed to be present at an event that would have fit well into the old TV series called The Twilight Zone. For a brief time, the gulf separating the eternal heavenly and the temporal earthly was bridged. Moses and Elijah, who had left this earth millennia before, stood before Peter, James, and John to chat with Jesus. Then, someone else joined them, speaking from a bright cloud. He called Jesus his Son. This was God the Father, maker of heaven and earth.

The disciples knew what they saw on the Mount of Transfiguration. But what did it mean? It doesn’t surprise us to learn that they were flabbergasted. It was a “shock and awe” experience. But they were further confused by what Jesus said as they were walking away. He commanded them not to say anything to anyone about what they had seen, “until the Son of Man had risen from the dead.”

“Risen from the dead?” What did that mean? They were familiar with instances of a dead person coming back to life on earth. They knew it had happened in the Old Testament. With their own eyes, they had seen Jesus bring dead ones back to life. Yet, this was different! This referred to Jesus rising from the dead. But it had just been powerfully proven to them that Jesus was the Son of God. To think that he would die was incomprehensible to them—until Good Friday.

Saint Peter says it wasn’t until the work of Jesus was completely over, and he had gone back to heaven, that things became clear.

Jesus was true God! That was the meaning of the transfiguration to the dazzling bright clothes and face of Jesus, and the voice from the cloud.

They learned something else. Jesus was going to die!

That was something they just could not wrap their heads around. He was only in his 30s. He wasn’t sick. They depended upon him. They expected him to rule all things just as he ruled the winds and waves. He ruled over death.

How could he die?

Why would he die?

They would learn. They would learn what his death and resurrection meant.

They would learn to put the lack of understanding aside. They would learn to simply believe what he said.

The transfiguration of Jesus means that the Son of Mary was the Messiah—Immanuel, God with us—who brings us into the fellowship with the holy God and all the armies of heaven. It means we will live forever—just like Moses and Elijah.

The transfiguration of Jesus: it means a lot to us.

They are brothers though they come from different families. By ties weaved together under conditions of stress and difficulty, a group of people can become so tightly connected that they regard each other as true brothers, even if they are not related by blood—unless one counts spilled blood.

Civilians have heard about the Band of Brothers and have been entertained by Hollywood’s depiction of it. But those who have had their lives tied to a group like this know that there is more to it than can be seen on the screen or that they can explain to their families.

This type of brotherhood (which can include women) is often formed by former strangers undergoing such trying and dangerous times that they have become dependent upon one another to succeed, or maybe even to survive. “I’ve got your six!” has become, not merely a nice phrase but a promise that will be backed up with action.

The Bible shows that there is much more to the picture.

A brother like this was born for just such a time as this. In infinite wisdom, the Lord God knew what his servants were going to run into down the path of life. He knew that the time would come when those who placed their trust in him would need a friend who would be willing to risk his own life for the sake of his endangered brother.

The Lord of life controlled when these people would be born. He enabled them to have the necessary training and skills. He saw to it that these very people would be gathered together at a specific time in history. He is the one who forms the Band of Brothers.

We think in terms of coincidence and luck. He works by design.

It‘s humbling to think that, with no input from us, we were born to a certain set of parents, and a certain family, at a certain time, in a certain place on this globe. He did the same to place others into our Band of Brothers.

The God who promised: “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” (Hebrews 13:5) was preparing to keep that promise even before we were born. He was planning to establish the group that would be there for us when adversity arose.

It fits in with a larger plan and a greater brotherhood. The Lord sent us a Brother from heaven. He brought us into the family of God. He did it by spilled blood—our Brother’s blood.

We have not seen him with our eyes, but we do have records of what our Brother has done. We have to be impressed. The Epiphany Season shows our Brother doing astounding things. Most would say, “Impossible things.” But we know better. We know his power is without end.

Not only did he walk on water and heal the sick, but he also actually raised people from the dead.

Wouldn’t that have been something to see? We might wish that we had been there when he revealed his glory.

That wish will be granted. He is coming back to pick us up for his return trip to heaven. Until then, he provides us with people who look out for us. He gives us brothers.

Our brothers, including the Son of God, are reasons for us to thank our heavenly Father. They are his gift to us.

He touched a leper, and the man was healed. He touched the eyes of one born blind, and the man was healed. A woman just touched his cloak, and she was healed. He just said the word, and the soldier’s servant was healed.

He was known as the Healer.

That’s why the crowds flocked to him early in his ministry. That’s why many of the voices called out, “Rabbi, have mercy on us!”

That’s why he had come to earth. He was the promised “sun of righteousness with healing in its wings.”

That promise would resonate with the world today. Around the globe, people are looking for healing. If they are not already sick, they fear one day they will be.

They fear one day they will die.

And of course, they will. But unless a person is seriously sick, the thought of death can be pushed off into a far corner of the mind. It does not need to be faced.

Until—until there is no escaping the fact that it will happen. Until the day comes that God needs to be faced. And that day will come: “’Surely the day is coming; it will burn like a furnace. All the arrogant and every evildoer will be stubble, and that day that is coming will set them on fire’ says the LORD Almighty” (Malachi 4:1).

That sounds like a death sentence. Who could say they have never been arrogant or never did evil?

Who is free from sin? What can we do with a soul that is infected with sin? Is it not rightly called the leprosy of sin?

The picture is of a person who is caught in the darkness of a sin-infected world. In the blackness of hopelessness, a bright light breaks through. It is as brilliant as the rising sun with its dazzling rays. It brings healing.

But not to everyone. Only to certain ones. “But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings.”

Today we call those who revere his name “Christians.”

For them, fear is replaced by joy. Hope floods over dread. The feeling can be wonderful: “And you will go out and leap like calves released from the stall.”

Those who have seen calves run and jump when the gate is opened—they understand the bursting of unrestricted joy.

We never fully realize just how sick we are. A burst of pain can warn us of a heart condition. An episode of confusion may be a sign of a mental condition. A pang of conscience might be the call of guilt.

Only our Creator can see what is happening deep down inside of us. Only the eyes of the Divine can peer into souls. Only God knows how desperately we need healing.

Only the Lord can heal us.

And he does.

We sing:
“Jesus, your blood and righteousness
My beauty are, my glorious dress:
Mid flaming worlds in these arrayed,
With joy shall I lift up my head.” (Christian Worship 376:1)

One visit to a Warrior Transition Unit (WTU) is enough to show that rehabilitation for the wounded is not easy. Sweating brows, quivering muscles, and strained faces reveal the degree of effort being made. It pains us to see this. But there are worse sights.

Some cases never make it to the WTU. The label over their names would be: “Permanently Paralyzed.” When a loved one asks the doctor, “Will my brother ever walk again?” the sad answer comes back: “Impossible.”

It was this sad realization that caused four friends to bring a paralyzed man to Jesus. When they couldn’t get into the house because of the crowd, they opened a hole in the roof and lowered him in with ropes tied to his mat.

What impressed Jesus was the faith that these friends had in him. What grieved Jesus was the burden of sin the paralyzed man carried. He promptly lifted that burden by announcing to him, “Your sins are forgiven!”

Some people in the house challenged these words. “Impossible!”, they thought. “Only God can forgive sins.” If Jesus could forgive sins, he would have to be God. In their minds, this was impossible.

Human eyes cannot detect the burden of sin being lifted from a heart. But they can see paralyzed muscles become strong. No therapy, no conditioning: those muscles simply grew strong as soon as the words of Jesus were out of his mouth. The man got up. He picked up his mat. And he walked home!

Unbelievable? No one in that house could deny it. We hear: “This amazed everyone and they praised God, saying, ‘We have never seen anything like this!’” (Mark 2:12b)

The greatest miracle remained unseen. Humans had to take Jesus’ word for it: the man walked home without his sin! Strong legs are a great blessing, but only in this life.

A soul absolved of sin is a blessing for all eternity—no matter how physically weak a person might be here on earth. Good health is a blessing God grants to some of us. A clean soul is what God demands from all of us. Jesus showed the people in Capernaum that he could grant what God demands. He was, and is, the Son of God.

We tend to determine need by what we see and feel. We tend to think, “seeing is believing.” Sometimes we feel hopeless and think our situation impossible.

If that was true before, a pandemic has caused many more to feel this way now. Maybe, at times we even felt this way.

Jesus shows that he can provide what we really need—and that for him, the impossible is so easy.

Those who have pulled guard duty know the body can get weary, and the night can get long. Mothers who have sat in the darkness by the bedside of their sick child know this, too. So did the disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane on that dark night.

When watchers get weary, their eyesight blurs, their hearing fades, and vigilance slips away. Of what help is a sleeping watcher? In times of war, some who fell asleep at their post were shot.

We are God’s replacements for the watchmen of old. The Old Testament prophets have been released from duty and transferred to heaven. The same for those who served in the ranks of the early New Testament church. Generations of those who were called to duty in service to the King of kings have come and gone.

We are the ones left. We stand on the front line of the battle for souls. We don’t know if replacements will ever fill our slots. We might have to hold the field until the final trumpet sounds.

The disciples in Gethsemane were told, “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation.” They were going to experience things on that night that could shake their faith. We note that not only did Peter deny knowing Jesus, but all the rest except for John deserted him.

They should have stayed alert. They should have kept their eyes on their Savior. They stood at a dangerous time.

So, do we.

The Christmas story tells us of the Son of God’s arrival as a fellow human. It marked the beginning of a mission that rescued us. There is little chance that we will not notice the approach of the anniversary of that event. Too many people want us to buy things in celebration of it.

Nor do we need wait for the arrival of Jesus into our lives of faith. It’s happening now through the inspired Word and sacraments.

Advent reminds us that Jesus said he would physically return. That’s what we are to watch for. He commands, “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come” (Matthew 24:42).

We might learn from the sight that shocked Pearl Harbor on a sunny Sunday morning years ago. They had been warned that an attack might come. They just didn’t think it would happen then. December 6, 1941 was a normal day. December 7 was not.

The Day of Infamy dawned. Death rained from the sky.

They should have kept watch.

So should we as we wait for the dawn of the day of judgment.

But not in fear do we watch. We know Jesus will bring us life eternal, not death and misery. Until then, he supports us with power from on high.

The prophet reminds us: “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak” (Isaiah 40:29).

We will keep watching until the Jesus tells us, “You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary” (Revelation 2:3).

We will not grow weary with waiting and watching.

There was a popular book a number of years ago that carried the title, “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” In a summary of the book, the first point made was: “Begin with praise and honest appreciation.”

With due deference to the Almighty, God must not have read that book.

When humans check to see what their Creator has written about them, they find no praise and little appreciation. The rules of etiquette and salesmanship seem to have been thrown out the window before the first words of Genesis were uttered. By the end of Revelation, they had not returned.

It seems to some that the Bible was written to insult the human race. Even its accounts of the heroes of faith carry the stains of shame and failings.

The poet captures the message that humans want to broadcast when he writes of a stone statute bearing these words on its pedestal: “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair!”

But the statue of mighty Ozymandias is broken, half-buried in the lone and level sands. The boast of human might rings hollow.

“Surely the people are grass.”

Honest observation will show us how fleeting and frail is our power and glory. But only the Bible explains why that happens.

“The grass withers and the flowers fall because the breath of the Lord blows on them.”

We would compare ourselves to stone and steel. The strongest and brightest among us can do things most of us cannot. We, naturally, look to them for hope and help. The statement has recently been made by one of our leaders, “I believe in science.”

Science is a good thing. But it is no more than the accumulation of human thought. Even at its best, it is as fleeting and frail as the people who come up with the thought.

“Surely the people are grass.”

“The grass withers and the flowers fall because the breath of the Lord blows on them.”

The Lord God does not fear the displeasure of humans. They live for such a short time. The most impressive of them shrivel up and fade. They have no choice. They have no chance.

The One who breathed into Adam the breath of life blows out the flame of life just as easily.

We need to face who we are and what we are: “Surely the people are grass.”

The truth needs to be pounded into us. But we need to not only hear the truth, but the whole truth. So, we are told again, “The grass withers and the flowers fall …” We have heard that before. Now we need to hear the rest: “but the word of our God stands forever.”

Like it or not, the Bible will stand forever. That’s good news because the Bible brings good news. In it, we are told, “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.”

And why should we be comforted? “Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and proclaim to her … that her sin has been paid for” (Isaiah 40:1,2).

What does that mean for me? The psalmist shouts out my answer: “I will not die but live, and will proclaim what the LORD has done” (Psalm 118:17).

This blade of grass will live forever. I have God’s forever word on it.

So, do you.

To better understand the end of time, it may help to consider its beginning. After all, the One who started it will end it.

We have lived our lives with mountains, oceans, and stars in place. It’s hard to imagine them not being there. They impact our lives. They brush off our feeble attempts to control them. We have learned we are at their mercy if they threaten us.

Their size and power may impress us, but we do not seem to impress them. They threaten us with earthquakes, hurricanes, and radiation as if we do not exist.

But the One who made them and controls them, he knows about us.

He has taken the time to tell us what he thinks about us. What he says is worrisome before it becomes wonderful.

We began as nothing at a time when this universe was nothing. When he started what now is, we were not in it. We could not be. We would not have wanted to be.

Out of nothing came something: a creation. It started without form, without light, but with God upon the waters.

Before time was, before creation was, before mankind was, God was. If all that exists now would cease to exist, he would still be.

So, would we!

The reality is that we will exist forever—either with the Lord God or without him.

To exist apart from him is the punishment assigned to fallen angels. The same punishment awaits all those who leave earthly life joined in spirit with them.

That is the worrisome part.

We understand those who rebel against the Maker of heaven and earth. We were born among them. We were born one of them. What’s worse, we still find ourselves carrying out acts of rebellion at times. The common name for that rebellion is sin.

We are sinners.

When time ends, we could find ourselves locked forever in what Jesus called, “outer darkness” where there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth (Matthew 8:12).

We then might wish we had never been born, or that the world had never been created.

But we have been born—and reborn—while in this creation.

The wonder is, the miracle is, that if all this creation were now destroyed, the children of God will be forever with him. They became his children when the Holy Spirit created faith in their hearts. For many, that happened when they were baptized as a baby. For some, like the thief on the cross, it took place a half-step before death.

At some time, it happened to us. Our faith in him testifies that we are his children.

That is the wonderful part.

The purpose of creation is to allow the Creator to be glorified and his people to share in his bliss and glory.

When we look back to the beginning of time, we see God. When we look forward to the end of time, we see God.

The banner that is strung across the band of time from start to finish carries the words, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10).

He makes sense of it all. He is in control of it all. He is Jesus. He tells us, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End “(Revelation 22:13).

With him, we need fear neither the beginning nor the end of anything. Nor need we ever fear the beginning of the end of everything.

Sometimes the Bible brings a message that is chilling. This is one of those times.

We might dismiss the warning, if it had not come from the lips of the one who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

We might think the words are not meant for us, if we were living in less troubling times. Instead, we find ourselves staring at what Jesus was describing.

To wax is the old word for to grow. To wane is the old word for to diminish. So, we understand that wickedness will greatly increase. We might, then, expect to hear that love will wane, will decrease.

Instead, Jesus said that love will grow cold. That paints a more chilling picture. It reminds us of a body that once was warm with life and now is growing cold with death.

It shows the cause and effect of the troubling times in which we live.

We have seen iniquity abounding, have we not? Sin has been woven into human lives for generations before us. History shows us the pictures of troubled times past. Evil has waxed and waned over time. But isn’t it true that few doubt that today it is growing?

Few would deny that love is lessening—not when we see the crime reports, the child abuse statistics, and listen to the political talk.

We live at a time when love is waxing cold.

The disciples had asked Jesus, “What will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?”

He told them. He blended a picture of the end of the nation of Israel, brought about by the Romans, into a description of the end of the world, brought about by Jesus. If we see the end of Israel was horrendous, we should know the end of the world will be worse: “The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken” (v. 29).

Could it be that we are living in the troubling times just before this happens? Are the hands of the clock for the world’s existence about to reach midnight?

They might be.

But the message was not given to prompt us to speculate exactly when the world will end. It was relayed so that we might better understand the times we are living in. The warning is to prepare us for what will happen.

The end will come. Our earthly life will end either when our eyes close in death or when they see Jesus returning on the clouds of glory.

That is not all bad. It is no reason to be sad. Jesus prepares us for a happy ending. He added the words: “But he that shall endure to the end, the same shall be saved.”

The words, “The end is coming!” are welcome words. Comforting words. Even, exciting words—for the followers of Jesus.

Saint Luke quotes the Savior as saying about the end times, “When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near” (Luke 21:25).

This is not a time for fear or despair. These are the types of days Jesus spoke of. We can be confident that our redemption is drawing close. We have seen the signs.

We have seen love waxing cold.

Then, isn’t it time for us to stand up for Jesus, just as the famous hymn bids us? After all, we are soldiers of the cross.

Are we not?

The phrase “the new normal” carries scary overtones. It tells the wounded warrior, “From now on, you will live with only one arm.” It tells the new widow, “The rest of your life will be without him.” Presently, we wonder if one day it will tell us, “You will always need a mask.”

We don’t like that new normal. We want the old normal back.

We aren’t the first ones to feel that way.

Imagine what it was like for Adam and Eve to wake up in a sin-cursed universe. Weeds were part of the new normal. So were arguments. So was death.

Even, so was murder. Their first-born killed his own brother.

Their joy of living was forever marred by sin and shame. In this new normal, so is ours.

Well actually, “forever” is not the right word. It may seem forever. It may last for the rest of our life on earth. But, in the end, the changed life will itself be changed. This time it will be forever.

A scary thought?

It can be. Those who see no light at the end of the tunnel of life have reason to be frightened. A voice inside of them will say, “This is not going to end well.”

No matter how much money, no matter how much power and glory, old age finally, if not tragedy beforehand, will wipe all that away.

Nothing will be left except a frail body that can no longer cling to life. “Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”

The new normal that our first parents brought about is streaked with sin and destined for judgment. Moses had it right: “All our days pass away under your wrath; we finish our years with a moan” (Psalm 90:9).

But there is more to the story.

Those who fear, love, and trust in God actually have something exciting to look forward to. The one sitting on the throne has announced: “I am making everything new!”

A new normal that is wonderful awaits us. This one will last forever and ever—and beyond.

No more changes. No more need to improvise, adapt, and overcome. We will find that we have already overcome because our Savior has overcome sin, death, and the devil.

The old order of death and loss is being replaced by a new order. The Savior God declares: “For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:22).

We cannot imagine what that new life will be like. We can only take the best that this life offers—the best moments of peace, the best expressions of love, and the best times of joy—and multiply them by infinity.

The Bible describes it this way: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

That’s something to look forward to, not something to fear.

We want that new normal.

By nature, the human race has a problem with its creator and master. The one who carries the name, LORD, declares that he is better than us. He is more powerful (actually all-powerful), and he is more decent (actually all-holy).

The human race may be willing to grant him that. But we are quick to challenge the claim that the Lord God is omniscient, all-wise—and we are not.

He has the nerve to tell haughty humans: “You’re not so smart!”

That hurts.

We pride ourselves on what we know. We have invented complex machines. We have sent people to the moon. We are people of science. We know things.

But compared to God, we don’t know much.

We make the mistake of thinking that he thinks like we do. If the ant thinks we think like he does, he is making that same mistake. Ants are not in the same league with us.

We are not in the same league with God.

God does not think like us, nor does he act like us. We excuse sin. Sometimes, even defend it.

He does not.

He says there is only one God, yet three Persons. And we say, “One plus one plus one does not make one. We know better than that.”

Yet it is true. He is the triune God—even if we are not smart enough to understand that.

We try to measure him by our mental yardsticks. When our ruler is not long enough to reach a certain point, we say there cannot be anything beyond that.

“So, God must be wrong.” Or we take the safer approach and say, “He never really said that.”

But he says, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.”

He does mean this. Our inability to comprehend should not surprise us. He is God. We are not.

“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

Our level of modern scientific knowledge allows us to understand that the distances referenced here are much greater than was realized even a century ago.

The heavens are higher than what we can see with our eyes—even higher than what our telescopes can measure. We have sent probes into space that have now traveled for decades at fantastic speeds—and they still have not reached the limit of what the Bible calls the heavens.

If we ask, “How much higher are God’s thoughts and ways than ours?” The answer is: “Compare it to how far the celestial bodies are beyond earth.”

That comparison is not merely to put us in our place. It is there to reassure us of our salvation. It verifies that the Word of God is able to deliver to our souls the gift of life eternal.

As the rain and snow come down from the clouds to bring forth seed for the sower and bread for the eater, God says, “So is my word that goes out from my mouth; it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it” (v.11).

And what is his purpose? That we might hear about and believe in the Son of God who died so that we might live with him beyond the stars.

We recall the words: “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding” (Proverbs 9:19).

Now, that’s smart.

Even a Sunday School child can tell us what was nailed to the cross on Golgotha. The hand would shoot up and the voice would call out: “Jesus!” And, of course, the child would be right.

The mental picture of Jesus being nailed to the cross has been reinforced by countless illustrations. We could give the details from memory.

But there is more.

By inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the apostle Paul paints another picture of Golgotha on Good Friday. In this scene, Jesus is no longer hanging on the cross. Something else is nailed to the wood. It looks like writing. What could it be?

It is the written code of the Law that God had delivered to Israel so many years ago on Mount Sinai.

That Law is finished.

But wasn’t that God’s Law? Was it not holy? Was it not to be obeyed? Was something wrong with it?

No, it was perfect. But now it is canceled.

It was canceled because it has been fulfilled. It pointed ahead to a Savior.

Old Testament people could not keep that Law. None ever did. Nor could we. It only condemned. It only damned. It became a curse.

God did not change his mind about the level of holiness he demanded. He did not lower the passing grade for sanctification.

Instead, he satisfied every last piece of all the details of the deadly Law. He did it in the life of one Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus could do that because he was born holy. He was the Son of God.

Lying, stealing, envy, lust? Never happened. Idolatry, rebellion, murder? Never happened. Not in thought. Not in word. Not in deed.

That was the life of Jesus. But it was not an easy life. He groaned. He wept. He bled. He died.

And he won.

We have seen football players spike the ball after a touchdown. It serves as a testimony to their success. The goal has been scored.

Through the eyes of God, we can see Jesus slam the nails into the decree of our death and damnation. It may have looked like his bruised and bloody body was defeated as it was lowered from the cross. But his Father knew better. The Holy Spirit was not dismayed.

Satanic hordes may have jeered in celebration. But that was short-lived. By the dawn of Easter, the report spread through the dungeons of hell.

Jesus lives! Those who follow him will live also. Will live with him forever.

The news must have been numbing to the spirits in prison. More so, when Jesus made his victory lap down there before he showed himself alive on earth. We still confess, “He descended into hell.” Not to suffer. On Easter, he entered into the stronghold of Satan to demonstrate that he had won. The battle was over.

He won. We win.

Does that mean we can now ignore God’s commands? Of course not! We strive to do his will out of love for him. But failure does not condemn those who hold to Jesus as their Savior.

About that attempt of Jesus to win my salvation?

He nailed it!

Desertion is dangerous. It puts others at risk. If it happens during a battle, the deserter may be shot.

Yet, desertions occur not only during military battles. A father may desert his family. A Christian might desert his faith.

The main causes of desertion appear to be fear and love. We quickly think of the soldier who is afraid of losing his life—so he decides to desert his post.

A fellow by the name of Demas is mentioned in the Bible because he deserted out of love—love for this world.

Demas the deserter is not as well-known as Judas the traitor. But the lesson we learn from him is just as important.

He was in the company of Saint Luke the two other times the Bible mentions him. More importantly, he was with Saint Paul when the apostle was imprisoned in Rome.

Paul was about to be sentenced to death for preaching about Jesus. In this second letter to his former student, he begs Timothy to hurry to his side. As far as we know, Timothy did so and remained with the apostle until his execution.

By that time, Demas was long gone.

We might assume he was afraid he would also be arrested since he was associated with Paul. But we are told it wasn’t fear that drove him away. It was love that drew him away.

“Do your best to come to me quickly, for Demas, because he loved this world, has deserted me…”

We remember the warning Jesus gave as he explained the parable of the sower and the seed: “The one who received the seed that fell among the thorns is the man who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke it, making it unfruitful” (Matthew 13:22).

There is much in this sinful world that attracts us. It offers acceptance, applause, excitement, fun, and wealth.

It is difficult to not love such things.

Demas gave in to that. What the world offered meant more to him than what faithfulness to God offered.

After all, who would want to hang out with someone on death row? What could that get him? What fun was that? What would he lose if he left?

His place in the brotherhood of believers? His peace with God? His place in heaven?

Maybe.

We don’t know what happened to Demas. We hope that, like a Peter, he returned to faithful service in his Savior’s kingdom.

We hope that he remembered Jesus was once deserted by his heavenly Father so that a Demas might not be left to a fate worse than death.

Demas should have stayed in Rome. He should have followed the motto: “No one left behind.”

He should have stayed in the band of believers.

As should we.

Roman jailers were soldiers with a special MOS. It was a safe assignment—unless your prisoner escaped. A jailer who lost a prisoner lost his life.

Knowing this adds clarity and urgency to the situation at Philippi.

When Paul and Silas drove a demon out of a slave girl who had been telling the future, her owners lost a source of money. Angered, they dragged the apostles before the court with the charge, “These men are Jews, and are throwing our city into an uproar by advocating customs unlawful for us Romans to accept or practice” (Acts 16:20,21).

A mob gathered to demand action. The court ordered the apostles to be stripped, beaten, then thrown into jail with feet chained in stocks. The jailer made certain they could not escape.

Imagine his fright when a midnight earthquake threw the cell doors open and unlocked the chains. Fright turned to despair. He drew his sword to kill himself.

A shout stopped him: “Don’t harm yourself! We are all here!” That came from Paul, his prisoner.

The jailer recognized all this was the work of God. He begged for life: “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” He received a simple answer: “Believe in the Lord Jesus…”

It wasn’t a command. It was an invitation.

Some folks think the Bible is only all about commands. “Thou shalt! Thou shalt not!”

Some believe the message is: “If you want to get on God’s good side, do what he says!” Such people feel they will then be rewarded—not with a ribbon or a medal, but with blessings during earthly life and a placed reserved for them in heaven.

It’s an empty hope. They don’t realize that none of us can pass divine inspection. Our best attempts fall far short of the perfection that Command demands.

The best that we can do? We hear what that’s worth: “All our righteous acts are like filthy rags. We all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away” (Isaiah 64:6).

The Bible seems to spell out our death sentence. So why would someone sing, “Jesus loves me, this I know for the Bible tells me so”?

We sing it because it is true.

The Bible carries the lightning strikes of God’s Law. But it also brings the soft breeze of his gospel. He does not want to punish us. Listen: “Say to them, ‘As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn! Turn from your evil ways! Why will you die, O house of Israel?’” (Ezekiel 33:11)

But how can shriveled leaves do anything? How can they turn to God?

God makes that possible. He promised, “I will pour out my Spirit on all people” (Acts 2:17).

He did.

The Holy Spirit infuses life into shriveled lives. He points to Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God. He announces that Jesus obeyed the Law of God perfectly. Perfect obedience was then credited to our account. He was punished in our place. We are declared innocent.

The Holy Spirit creates the power for us to believe it. We call it saving faith.

Like that Roman soldier, we face death without it. Like that soldier, we are offered life.

“Believe in the Lord Jesus!”

It’s not an order.

It is a life-saving invitation.

Sometimes the angels must be dumbfounded at what humans say and do. Sometimes they must shake their heads at our dangerous foolishness.

The plea, “Oh come, oh come, Immanuel” rose from the voices of God’s people, the Israelites, for millennia of Old Testament time. He finally came. He was standing before them. He had come to rescue them. And what was their response?

They pleaded with him to leave.

In our mind’s eye, we can picture the attending angels saying, “What?” Why in heaven would these people want Jesus to be nowhere in their life?

The answer is not found in heaven. It comes from the pit of darkness. But to those people, it must have seemed like a good answer. We want to know why.

Jesus had spent the night crossing the Sea of Galilee, where he rebuked wind and waves to still a storm. Upon reaching the shore, a frightening scene unfolded. A man came running to him from out of the tombs. He was a wild man. Not even chains could hold him. Day and night, he would cry out and cut himself with stones.

We might have thought he was crazy. He wasn’t. He was possessed by a herd of demons.

Confronted by Jesus, the demons begged him to not send them away. “Send us among the pigs!” they pleaded. A herd of them was nearby.

He did. And the 2,000 pigs rushed down a steep bank into the lake and were drowned.

The pig keepers told the townspeople and those people rushed out to see what had happened. They found Jesus sitting down with the scary man, who was now dressed and in his right mind.

This frightened them. Thus, “Then the people began to plead with Jesus to leave their region.”

We wonder what they were afraid of. Did they fear Jesus would use his supernatural power against them? But couldn’t they see how he had used it to deliver this suffering person from hellish power?

Were they afraid Jesus would cause them to lose money? After all, the loss of thousands of pigs must have hurt someone’s pocketbook. Were other herds of pigs at risk if Jesus stayed?

We must ask why those pigs were there in the first place. Weren’t swine declared off-limits to God’s Old Testament people? From Mount Sinai didn’t God command them, “The pig is also unclean; although it has a split hoof, it does not chew the cud. You are not to eat their meat or touch their carcasses” (Deuteronomy 14:8).

So why were these people pig farmers? Did they like the taste of the meat? Did they like the taste of the money?

We don’t know. What we can be certain of is that they did not like Jesus being with them.

It makes us think of times when we might not want Jesus present in our lives. Might that be the times when we know we are planning to do something he would not approve of? Could it be the times when we are angry with him because he did not allow us to have something we desperately wanted—or the times when he did not prevent something we hated?

The victim of the devilish torment had a different reaction. He pleaded for permission to go with Jesus. He knew the wonder of divine deliverance.

We are like him, are we not? Don’t we know the wonder of being rescued from the powers of darkness? Do we not know the blessings that Jesus has brought us? Do we not plead with him to stay with us always?

To ever tell Jesus to get out of our lives would not just dumbfound angels. It would just be plain dumb for us to do.

Wouldn’t it?