Matthew 26:1–27:66; Palm Sunday / Sunday of the Passion — March 29, 2026

The King Who Comes to Die

Matthew 26:1–27:66
Palm Sunday / Sunday of the Passion — March 29, 2026
Life in Christ Lutheran Church — Grand Marais, Minnesota

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

The crowd that had gathered shouted:

Hosanna to the Son of David!

Hosanna is a Hebrew word. It means Save us now! It is a cry directed to God Himself. Save us!

And when they say Son of David, they mean something very specific. It means the promised Messiah. The true King. The One who would restore the kingdom of Israel. The One who would defeat all enemies. The One who would bring salvation.

They are not wrong.

Jesus is the King. He is the true King of the Jews. He is the Son of David. He does come to save.

And yet they misunderstand how He would save.

They expected political victory. They expected earthly power. They expected an immediate triumph over Rome.

What they did not expect was the cross.

Matthew makes Jesus’ purpose explicit:

“This took place to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet…”

Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey. This is not accidental. Jesus deliberately fulfills the Scriptures. He arranges everything according to the prophecy of Zechariah:

“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

Zechariah 9:9, ESV

He comes bringing peace.

He comes lowly.

It is a donkey, not a war horse.

Unlike the conquering kings people expected, Jesus does not come to take life. He comes to give His life.

Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a road that leads only to one place.

The same crowds that shout Hosanna will soon cry out:

Crucify Him!

But Jesus does not change course.

Nothing surprises Him. Nothing alters the plan.

What changes is the crowd.

The palm branches lead only to the cross, and Jesus walks that road willingly.

He takes the palm-strewn road to Golgotha on purpose.

St. Paul writes in Philippians:

“He humbled himself… to the point of death, even death on a cross.”

Jesus turns kingship upside down.

He does not grasp for power.

He does not defend Himself.

He does not avoid suffering.

Everything the people expected is overturned.

He empties Himself.

He humbles Himself.

He obeys the Father.

And most shocking of all:

He dies.

None of this is accidental.

Everything happens with divine purpose.

This is the plan for the salvation of the world.

And why?

Because this is how salvation is won.

This is how sin is dealt with.

This is how death is defeated.

This is how Satan is crushed.

What begins with palm branches ends with a single word:

Tetelestai.

It is finished.

Palm Sunday is the beginning of the end.

The King enters the holy city to complete His work.

And when that work is finished:

Sin is paid for.

God’s wrath is satisfied.

Salvation is accomplished.

Jesus does not come merely to attempt salvation.

He comes to finish it.

Today we join the crowd and cry out:

Hosanna! Save us now!

But unlike the crowds of Jerusalem, we know what those words truly mean.

The true King has come.

His throne is the cross.

There He takes your place.

He does not rule by earthly power.

He rules through sacrificial love.

He shows His love for you, for me, and for the whole world by willingly giving His life.

He comes to save through His death.

The week that begins with:

Hosanna!

will end with:

Tetelestai.

It is finished.

Amen.

The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Matthew 27:45–46; Lent 4 Weekday Service — March 18, 2026

The Terrible Exchange

Matthew 27:45–46
Lent 4 Weekday Service — March 18, 2026
Life in Christ Lutheran Church — Grand Marais, Minnesota

“Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’”

Matthew 27:45–46, ESV

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

Last week in Isaiah we saw something astonishing:

The Lord laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

Jesus Christ carried our sin.

We know those words well, but we often fail to stop and consider what they truly mean. All our sins were laid upon Jesus, and He suffered our death on the cross.

But that raises an important question:

If Jesus truly bears our sin, what does that mean for Him?

Matthew tells us:

“Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour.”

The sun goes dark.

Creation itself reacts to the suffering of its Savior.

This is more than sadness. Throughout Scripture, darkness is a sign of judgment. The hour of judgment has come.

And it is in that darkness that Jesus cries out:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Jesus is quoting Psalm 22.

But this is not merely a quotation. It is His real experience of abandonment.

From all eternity the Son has lived in perfect communion with the Father. But now, hanging on the cross, Jesus stands in the place of sinners.

He bears the sin of the whole world.

And because He bears sin, He must also bear sin’s consequence.

Jesus experiences separation.

He hangs where we should hang.

He endures the judgment we deserve.

The judgment of all humanity, across all times and places, falls upon Him.

We often call this the Great Exchange.

But in another sense, it is the Terrible Exchange.

Jesus takes our sin.

He takes our guilt.

He takes our punishment.

He takes our abandonment.

And in exchange, we receive forgiveness, peace, and reconciliation with God.

This is the deepest mystery of the cross.

And Christians can never move beyond it.

The cross is not merely one doctrine among many. It is everything.

Without the cross and Jesus suffering there, Christianity is nothing more than moral advice. Jesus becomes merely a teacher of ethics.

But good morals cannot save.

Good behavior cannot reconcile sinners to God.

Only the suffering and death of Jesus Christ can do that.

And notice something remarkable in Jesus’ cry.

Even in abandonment He still says:

“My God…”

This is not a curse.

It is trust.

Complete trust in the Father.

Jesus entrusts Himself fully to the Father’s saving plan, even through darkness, pain, nails, suffering, and death.

He endures rejection so that we never will.

And now this becomes very personal.

Last week I said:

“When you look at the cross, you should see yourself there.”

But the truth is:

You are not there.

Jesus is there for you.

He is forsaken in your place.

This is where the biblical phrase for you reaches its deepest meaning.

Jesus suffers what you should suffer and now never will.

The darkness of the cross is the very place where your salvation was won.

That is the “for you” of God.

Because Christ endured abandonment for you, God will never abandon you.

Amen.

The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Isaiah 53:4–6; Lent 3 Weekday Service — March 11, 2026

The Weight He Carried

Isaiah 53:4–6
Lent 3 Weekday Service — March 11, 2026
Life in Christ Lutheran Church — Grand Marais, Minnesota

“Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…”

Isaiah 53:4–6, ESV

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

Last week we saw how the Law exposes our hearts. Nothing is hidden when the sword of the Law cuts us to the quick. Every thought, motive, and sin is laid bare before God.

Tonight we see what God does with that exposed sin.

We often think forgiveness is simple. C. S. Lewis once wrote:

“Everyone says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive.”

When someone apologizes for an offense, we casually say, “That’s okay.” But forgiveness is never actually free. Every sin creates a debt. Someone must bear the cost.

Isaiah writes:

“Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.”

The Hebrew words here are important.

The word translated borne is נָשָׂא (nasa). It means to lift up and carry a burden. The Old Testament often uses it for carrying guilt or bearing sin.

The word translated carried is סָבַל (sabal). It means carrying a crushing load under heavy weight.

Isaiah paints a vivid picture. Jesus shoulders the crushing burden of our sin. He does not merely sympathize with sinners. He carries them.

Our sin is not light. It is crushing weight. And the cross reveals exactly what sin costs.

“He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities.”

The cross shows us the true burden of sin. Sin is not small. It cannot simply be dismissed with a quick “No problem.”

God shows us, through Jesus suffering and dying on the cross, that forgiveness requires payment. The cost of your sin and mine falls on Jesus.

Then Isaiah says something even stronger:

“The LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

The Hebrew word translated laid on is פָּגַע (pagaʿ). It carries the idea of something crashing into someone or falling violently upon them.

Isaiah is describing a dramatic collision.

At the cross, all human sin is gathered together and crashes onto Christ. Our guilt falls on Him. The punishment we deserved becomes His burden to carry.

If you are ever tempted to minimize sin—and we all are—look at the cross.

We like to compare sins. My sins seem small. Other people’s sins seem large. But whenever we minimize sin, we also minimize the cross.

When you look at Jesus suffering and dying, you see how seriously God takes sin.

And when you look at the cross, you should recognize something astonishing:

You are not the one hanging there.

Jesus is.

“Upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace.”

Jesus receives the punishment. We receive peace.

Jesus carries guilt. We receive forgiveness.

This is the very heart of the Gospel: Jesus takes what is ours, and gives us what is His.

At my other job as a school bus driver, I once failed to clean out the bus after a long trip. It was something I should have done, but I neglected it.

The next driver had to spend extra time cleaning before his route. He confronted me. I apologized.

And then he said very clearly:

“I forgive you, in the name of Jesus.”

You cannot imagine the relief those words brought.

When he spoke those words, I knew not only that I was forgiven, but that he understood what forgiveness truly means.

When the Word of God exposes our sin through the Law, we may despair. The burden feels unbearable.

But Isaiah points us to the cross.

Look there and see the price paid for your sin.

The burden is no longer yours.

It is His.

At the cross Christ carries what we never could. The full weight of the world’s sin falls upon Him.

And through His wounds,

we are healed.

Amen.

The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

John 4:5–26; The Third Sunday in Lent — March 8, 2026

Living Water for Thirsty People

John 4:5–26
The Third Sunday in Lent — March 8, 2026
Life in Christ Lutheran Church — Grand Marais, Minnesota

“Jesus said to her, ‘If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, “Give me a drink,” you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.’”

John 4:10, ESV

Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

This sinful woman has an encounter with God. She has questions. He answers them. She has no illusions about who she is: a sinful, mortal person looking for the hope of eternal life through the coming Messiah.

It begins with Jesus asking for a drink of water.

Already she knows something is different. No Jewish rabbi would speak to a woman in public, let alone ask her to draw water for him. Jesus initiates the conversation. And the conversation is about who He is.

“If you knew who was speaking to you…”

But she does not understand yet. She sees only a tired Jewish rabbi sitting beside a well. She is there carrying out a daily, menial, never-ending task. Day after day she comes to the well, just as countless others had done before her, to fill jars with water and carry them home.

Jesus turns the conversation from earthly water to spiritual thirst.

“I have living water to give you. If you drink of my water, you will never be thirsty.”

After walking to the well carrying water jars, she certainly was thirsty. But Jesus is speaking about a deeper thirst: the thirst caused by sin.

She asks, “How can you give water? You have nothing to draw with, and the well is deep.”

Jesus answers that His water does not come from Jacob’s well.

“Whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again.”

“That’s what I want,” she says. “Then I would not have to keep coming here every day.”

Jesus is about to drive the point home. He has opened her heart to listen. Now He will show her exactly who He is.

“Go, call your husband, and come here.”

Jesus knows exactly who she is and exactly what her situation is.

“I have no husband.”

“You are right. You have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband.”

Her life, her heart, her sin—all of it is an open book before Jesus. He opens the wound of her sin. He reveals the true nature of her thirst.

Now she sees more in Jesus than she did before.

“Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet.”

Jesus is drawing her in. He has revealed her thirst. Now He is about to reveal where forgiveness is found.

She continues, “I am a Samaritan.” She believes she is on the outside. So she brings up one of the great dividing lines between Jews and Samaritans: worship.

They stand near Mount Gerizim, the holy place of the Samaritans. The Jews worshiped at the temple in Jerusalem. Jesus makes both mountains secondary.

“Salvation is from the Jews.”

And later Jesus will say it even more plainly:

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

John 14:6, ESV

Jesus has laid it on the table. The woman is about to confess her faith.

“I know that Messiah is coming.”

There are two important issues with the reading as it is commonly heard.

First, the Gospel lesson often stops too early. We miss the woman’s reaction. Once she realizes who Jesus is, she cannot keep silent. She runs back into town announcing that she has found the Messiah.

Second, there is an issue with the translation.

The ESV reads:

“I who speak to you am he.”

John 4:26, ESV

Technically that is correct, but it misses something very important. A more literal rendering would be:

“I AM is the one speaking to you.”

The whole conversation has been about exactly who Jesus is.

He reveals her sin and points her to the salvation found in the Messiah. Then He speaks one of His great “I AM” statements.

The Greek is ἐγώ εἰμί — an emphatic “I AM.”

It is the language of the burning bush.

“God said to Moses, ‘I AM WHO I AM.’”

Exodus 3:14, ESV

Jesus is being explicit.

He is saying:

“I am God in the flesh. I am the Messiah. I am the One who has come to bring forgiveness.”

The woman’s reaction says everything. She leaves her water jar behind. Moments ago it seemed essential. Now it is almost meaningless compared to what she has received.

She has received living water.

She runs into town asking the central question of all Scripture:

“Is Jesus the Messiah?”

That is still the question today.

Do not be fooled by all the noise around you. There are endless voices trying to redefine Jesus. Popular culture denies the truth, reshapes God into our own image, and turns salvation into self-discovery.

But the truth is much simpler.

In this account we see exactly who Jesus is.

We see His humanity: tired, thirsty, sitting beside a well.

We see His divinity: using the divine name “I AM.”

We see His mission: bringing forgiveness to sinners.

The woman’s deepest problem was not merely sexual sin. Her deepest problem was her sinful nature. And so is ours.

“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword…”

Hebrews 4:12–13, ESV

The Word exposes us. Our sin condemns us. By rights there should be no living water for us.

That is exactly why Jesus goes from Jacob’s well to the cross.

The sin laid bare by the Word—the thoughts, desires, and intentions of our hearts—is carried by Jesus.

The One who knew no sin became sin for us.

The living water He gives flows from His pierced side: blood and water poured out for the forgiveness of sins.

Forgiveness for the woman at the well.

Forgiveness for you.

The Bible, the Word of God, is an encounter with God in Jesus Christ. We bring our questions. God answers them.

Do not have illusions about who you are. You are a sinful mortal person looking for the Messiah to give eternal life.

And in His Word, Jesus gives exactly that.

He gives Himself.

His sacrifice.

His forgiveness.

His living water.

Amen.

The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Hebrews 4:12–16; Weekday Lenten Service — March 4, 2026

The Word That Cuts — And the Priest Who Covers

Hebrews 4:12–16
Weekday Lenten Service — March 4, 2026
Life in Christ Lutheran Church — Grand Marais, Minnesota

“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword…”

Hebrews 4:12–16, ESV

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

Last week in Romans 3 we heard that every mouth is stopped. The Law silences every defense. No excuses remain. Tonight, the Word goes even deeper. It does not stop with our words. It exposes our hearts.

The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword.

God’s Word does not simply give us information. It is much more than that. God’s gifts are always more than we expect or deserve.

The Law cuts to the heart of the matter. It judges the thoughts and intentions of the heart. It does not stop where we often stop. It shows us not only what we do, but why we do it.

When Hebrews says, “No creature is hidden from His sight,” it is unsettling. We hide our true selves from everyone else. We are even good at hiding from ourselves. But God’s Word, that living and active sword, cuts away our lies about ourselves.

Everything is exposed. And it does not only judge our actions; it judges our motives. It does not just judge our public sins; it judges our private ones.

All are naked and exposed to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account.

That sentence is one we would rather avoid. It strips away all our defenses. Every carefully constructed lie about ourselves is torn down. We are laid bare before the God of the universe.

When we hear what the Word says, really hear it, the cross finally makes perfect sense. Jesus wounded on the cross. Jesus bleeding on the cross. Jesus dying on the cross. There, in full color, God shows us what our sins deserve.

The cross shows us God’s seriousness over sin. It shows us what our guilt deserves. It tells the truth. Sin—our sin—is not small. It cannot be swept under the rug. It is costly. It costs blood.

But after exposing us, laying us bare, Hebrews makes a turn. The One who knows your sin better than you do is the very same One who died for you.

Since then we have a great high priest… Jesus, the Son of God.

He does not stand far away judging us. He steps into our place. He becomes man. He carries our guilt. He bears our sins to the cross.

We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses.

That is important. Jesus knows our weakness. He knows what it means to be tempted. He knows what it means to suffer. He became man for this very reason.

A god who stands far away cannot do that. At Christmas we celebrate God’s name: Immanuel, God with us. That is Jesus fully. God with us. God who knows us. God who knows our hearts. God who chooses to suffer death on the cross for us.

He had no sin of His own. He takes ours. And that High Priest now stands before the Father. He holds out His pierced hands and pleads for us: I have done this for them.

It is astonishing.

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace.

Because of Jesus, you are invited to draw near to God with confidence. Not because your heart is clean, but because the blood of Jesus Christ covers it.

God’s Word exposes our sin so that nothing is hidden. That same Word now shows us the cross. What is exposed is covered.

So we do not run away. We draw near. We come to the throne of grace, where we receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Amen.

The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Romans 4:1–8, 13–17; The Second Sunday in Lent – March 1, 2026

Nothing in My Hand I Bring

Romans 4:1–8, 13–17
The Second Sunday in Lent – March 1, 2026
Life in Christ Lutheran Church, Grand Marais, MN

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

You know how the world works. You have to struggle to earn a living. Paychecks don’t fall out of the sky. You can’t sit around the house expecting a roasted chicken to fly into your mouth. (Paraphrase of Martin Luther) Your earthly future depends on your work. Performance generally meets with approval. If you don’t work for yourself, you may dread performance reviews. If you do well, you will get a raise, if not… you may lose your job. That’s the way the world works.

We understand how that works. It is in our nature.

“By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

That’s the judgment of God over Adam’s sin. It carries over to us. We know what it means.

The problem is that when dealing with God, we assume that spiritual things work the same way. If we try harder, God will bless us. If we live better, God will approve of us. If my faith is strong enough, God will not put us through hard times. God will accept me, because I have earned it.

Romans 4 dismantles all that thinking. Paul makes it clear.

“To the one who works, his wages are not counted as a gift but as his due.” (v.4)

He is talking about good works. If you do good things, you earn it, you deserve it and you claim it as your due. That is a closed fist approach to God. I have improved. I tried to curb my sin. Because I work hard, I deserve a blessing.

But Paul follows up v. 4 with v. 5.

God justifies the ungodly.

It is shocking. God justifies the sinful. He doesn’t account for good works for blessing. He doesn’t bless the improved, the religious, or even the sincere.

God’s law doesn’t reward effort. It exposes sin. Our best efforts still come from sinful hearts. That’s the issue. Sinful hearts produce sinful works. The sin can’t be filtered out of the good stuff. If salvation is dependent on good works, they must be perfect. If salvation is dependent on performance, you are already lost.

When Paul writes, his point is devastating. That’s because we expect God to work within our experience. Paul says he simply doesn’t work that way. He says, look at Abraham.

“Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness.”

Faith, believing God, is not a work, a contribution, or some kind of spiritual achievement. Believe, the Greek word is πιστεύω — to rely completely on what God promises, even when nothing else supports it. Faith has an object. Faith without an object is useless. Abraham believed God.

In other words, faith is an open hand. It receives from God. Promises are received and believed, because God is faithful. This is saving faith.

According to Paul’s words: when faith is present, righteousness is counted, sin is not counted, and forgiveness is given.

On his death bed Martin Luther scrawled these words on a scrap of paper:

“We are beggars. This is true.”

It was found after his death. We are beggars. A beggar receives without claim, without merit, with an open hand.

Paul continues.

“That is why it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed.”

He answers the question about why God’s way is different. If salvation were based on works or merit, no one would qualify. According to God’s law you must be perfect. We know this is true, but we don’t really want to believe it. If everything depended on your actions, there would be no certainty, because your actions, in the spiritual world are inconsistent.

But, Paul says, because salvation depends on faith, it rests entirely on grace. Because God is faithful, his grace is sure. Salvation is a guarantee. Your salvation is secure because it does not rest on your performance. It rests on God’s promise.

“The God who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.”

As we step forward in Lent, we look forward to celebrating Jesus’ resurrection. Paul uses resurrection language. God gives life to the dead. He is speaking about your resurrection and mine. God’s ultimate promise.

Paul quotes David.

“Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven.”

How is it then that God counts faith as righteousness? How is it that He doesn’t count sin? It is because of Jesus on the cross. God counted sin to Christ there. In His suffering, bleeding, dying, and being forsaken by the Father, He has taken our sin.

This is the great exchange. Our sin goes onto Jesus. His righteousness comes to us through faith. God has created the situation. Faith grasps hold of it. Faith is the empty hand that says, “God did that for me.”

Now that empty hand holds forgiveness, righteousness, and eternal life.

There are two ways to stand before God: a closed fist or an open hand. The empty hand says, “Give me what You promised.” Faith isn’t strong believing. It is simply:

“Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to the cross I cling.”

God does not ask you to bring something to Him. He asks you to come empty — so He can fill your hands with Christ.

Amen.

The peace of God that passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.