THE SEVENTH SUNDAY OF EASTER
Year A
June 1, 2014
Acts 1:6-14
1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11
John 17:1-11
Pastor David Tryggestad
Concordia Evangelical
Lutheran Church
Duluth, Minnesota
Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may
exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you.
Discipline yourselves, keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil
prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your
faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters in all the world are
undergoing the same kinds of suffering. And after you have suffered for a
little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in
Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. To him be
the power forever and ever. Amen. (1 Peter 5:6-11)
“Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around .
. .”
“Pastor, what is the Lutheran understanding of the devil?”
It was another one of those good yet hard questions. Every
Wednesday at Sandwich & Scripture, it seems, there are good and hard
questions.
“Pastor, what is the Lutheran understanding of the devil?”
Pastor David Bard of First
United Methodist
Church, the “Coppertop Church,”
wrote a commentary published in today’s Budgeteer
News, entitled “Life Hurts.” He refers to a number of recent stories in
papers and magazines: a 19-year-old girl from Duluth who died earlier this year
from heroin; the national epidemic of the abuse of prescription drugs, up 300
percent over the past decade; the former Minnesota Gopher quarterback with a
brilliant future who had been drinking at a bar, though he was underage, and
now faces prison time for an assault; a TIME
magazine feature article, “The Crisis in Higher Education,” about rape on
college and university campuses.
“Pastor, what is the Lutheran understanding of the devil?”
Actress Patty Duke has been in Duluth for five days. Part of her itinerary
was an evening talking about her personal struggle with bipolar disorder, sometimes
known as manic-depression. The Lake Superior Ballroom was set up with 500
chairs and they were all taken. After Ms. Duke’s testimonial, many people stood
up to talk about their own struggles with the demon of mental illness. Many
tears where shed.
“Pastor, what is the Lutheran understanding of the devil?”
Our local Duluth News
Tribune is preparing for Father’s Day in two weeks. The paper is inviting
men to respond to two questions: “What is the best advice your father ever gave
you?” and “What is the worst advice?”
I’ve been thinking a lot about those questions. My father
was a typical Scandinavian farmer and factory worker in his young years—he said
very little. If I were to respond to those questions, I might say to the first
question about the best advice, that my father often says to us “kids”—there
are five of us—that he wishes he had been more open about sharing his faith
with us when we were growing up. As if trying to make up for lost ground, we
never get together as a family without making a big circle in the dining room,
holding hands, and Dad launching forth into a long prayer of gratitude for all
the blessings God has bestowed upon all of us. He also prays for health and
protection. Special prayers are said for those who are ill or struggling. The
prayer goes on and on; meanwhile the food is getting cold, and my step-mother
is beginning to send signals, which Dad either is oblivious to or he ignores.
Dad is almost always weeping by the end of his prayer. None of us dares to
interrupt—he is talking to his Lord as if he is standing before him. It is as
if we are transported to holy ground, or rather that the floor on which we are
standing has become holy.
In our Gospel for today, our Lord was with his disciples
gathered around a table. It was the night before his arrest. Judas had already
left to betray him. Jesus had washed the disciples’ feet, even the feet of
Judas; he had celebrated what has come to be known as the Last Supper—the
Lord’s Supper—with them, even with Judas. After Judas’ departure into the dark
night, Jesus prayed for his disciples. It is an intimate prayer, the intimacy
of Son to Father who abide one in the other. Jesus prays for his disciples
gathered around the table, that they would be protected and that they would be
one.
Jesus prays, “And now I am no longer in the world, but they
are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your
name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one” (John
17:11).
It was night. Judas had gone out. Jesus prays for his
disciples, that they would be protected and that they would be one.
“Pastor, what is the Lutheran understanding of the devil?”
We have been in 1 Peter as our Second Lesson through these
seven Sundays of Easter. Peter writes his letter to Christians suffering
persecution for the faith. These Christians had evidently not heard of the
so-called “Prosperity Gospel,” whereby followers of Jesus would have an easy
life and financial prosperity. Rather, they faced persecution, even death, for their
convictions. Peter himself knew persecution; he paid the ultimate sacrifice in
being crucified upside down.
“Pastor, what is the Lutheran understanding of the devil?”
Like a roaring lion
your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist
him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters in
all the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering.
“Pastor, what is the Lutheran understanding of the devil?”
Yesterday afternoon at the care center I stood in a circle with
friends and relatives around a middle-aged woman who is approaching death. Her
lunch tray was there, but she is not able to eat or drink; she is no longer
able to swallow. We held hands and prayed. The prayer was intimate and intense.
We prayed to our Lord as if he were standing there in our midst. There were
tears.
“Pastor, what is the Lutheran understanding of the devil?”
Our First Lesson from Acts reports the strange story of
Jesus’ Ascension into heaven forty days after the Resurrection. As Jesus was
speaking to his disciples, reassuring them that they would not be left on their
own, but that the Holy Spirit would come to them, he was lifted up, “and a
cloud took him out of their sight” (Acts 1:9b).
So much of life seems like a cloud separates us from seeing
Jesus in our midst. A cloud seems often to hang over our heads and we can’t
think straight. A cloud of unknowing and doubt causes us to question whether or
not we can trust Jesus’ promises.
“Pastor, what is the Lutheran understanding of the devil?”
Yesterday, after I left the woman who is dying, I drove down
the hill toward downtown. The Lake was
engulfed in a thick and deep fog. Only the tops of the tallest buildings poked
through. I could see only the top of the Lift Bridge.
I knew the Lake was there, but I couldn’t see
it through the fog. Or I might say, I couldn’t see it through the fog, but I
knew the Lake was there. Does it make a
difference how we say it?
I know our Lord is there, even when a cloud takes him out of
my sight. My father knows his Lord is there. The Apostle Peter knew his Lord
was there. Patty Duke knows that God is there. The dying woman’s family knows
their Lord is there. Jesus knew the One he called Father was there.
We sing the lovely and beautiful hymn, “Alleluia! Sing to
Jesus” (Evangelical Lutheran Worship 392). Part of the lyrics
sing:
Though the cloud from sight received him
when the forty days were o’er,
shall our hearts forget his promise:
“I am with you evermore”?
Thanks be to God!
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