The Fifth Sunday of Easter
1 Peter 2:2–10
Life in Christ Lutheran Church, Grand Marais, MN
May 3, 2026
Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
In our country most people don’t know what it means to lack food. Sure, there are hungry people, but very few people starve to death here.
But spiritual hunger—that is everywhere.
And the problem is worse, because you can be starving and not even know it.
You can go weeks without the Word. You can neglect hearing, reading, and receiving. You can assume everything is fine.
That is what Peter is talking about.
“Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation—if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.”
This is not gentle encouragement.
This is life and death.
Newborns do not tolerate hunger. They cry out because they must be fed.
That is the picture of faith.
But we do not live like that.
We treat the Word of God as optional. We fit it in when convenient. We assume we can go without it.
And the result is exactly what you would expect: weak faith, shallow understanding, confidence grounded in ourselves instead of Christ.
The worst part is that we do not even recognize the condition.
We can be starving—and unaware of it.
And this is why neglecting the Word is so dangerous.
Because when you neglect the Word, you are not just skipping something religious—you are cutting yourself off from Christ crucified.
But Peter is not just exposing the problem.
He is pointing you to the gift.
“You have tasted that the Lord is good.”
And where have you tasted that the Lord is good?
Not in your feelings.
Not in your effort.
You have tasted it in Christ crucified.
The goodness of the Lord is not an idea. It is not a vague kindness.
It is this:
That He gave His Son to be rejected, to suffer, and to die—for you.
The One who is called the cornerstone first became the rejected stone.
The One who feeds you first gave Himself over to death.
That is what you have tasted.
And that is what the Word gives you.
Not advice.
Not information.
It gives you Christ—crucified and risen.
The same Christ who was rejected is now given to you again and again through the Word that you hear.
And that same Word—the Word that gives you Christ crucified—builds you.
“As you come to Him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious, you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house…”
Grammar matters here.
“You… are being built.”
Not: you build.
Not: you maintain.
Not: you hold things together.
You are being built.
God is the builder.
You are the stones.
And this is happening now.
Faith is not self-constructed.
The Church is not a human project.
God is building.
And what is He building on?
“Rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious.”
Do not soften that.
Jesus was not mildly dismissed.
He was rejected—condemned, cast out, crucified—thrown away by the world.
But that was not the end.
God raised Him.
And the stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.
The cross is not a detour.
It is the foundation.
And that foundation still divides.
“A stone of stumbling and a rock of offense.”
There is no neutral ground here.
Either you believe—and will not be put to shame—or you reject, and you fall.
Christ is either your foundation or your offense.
Here in our little corner of the world, we are building a church. Boards and nails, drywall and paint.
We can see it going up.
And it is very easy to think: that is the Church.
But it is not.
That building serves the Church.
You are the stones.
And what God is building here—through His Word and Sacraments—is something far greater.
Stone by stone, God is building His people on a crucified and risen Christ.
And that structure will not fail, because it rests on a foundation that has already been tested by rejection, by suffering, by death itself—and stands.
And because of that, Peter can say:
“You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession.”
This is not something you grow into.
It is not something you achieve.
It is given.
Once you were not a people.
Once you had not received mercy.
But now you are God’s people.
Now you have received mercy.
Your identity is declared through Christ.
There is no clearer place to see it than in Holy Baptism.
There you were marked as Christ’s own.
Not because you built your way in, but because He placed you there.
So yes, a building is going up.
And it is a confession.
Christ is preached here.
His Word is taught.
His Sacraments are given.
But that building will not last forever.
And that is fine, because it is not the foundation.
The real building is happening right now—as Christ speaks, as He feeds you, as He builds you into Himself.
The world rejects what God chooses.
The cornerstone was rejected—not misunderstood, but crucified—thrown away, put to death.
And that is exactly the stone God has made the foundation of everything, by raising Him from the dead.
Which means this:
Your life before God is not built on your strength, not on your faithfulness, not on how well you hold things together.
It is built on a crucified man.
The One who was rejected was rejected for you.
The death He died, He died for your sin.
The judgment He bore was yours.
And the life He now lives He gives to you.
So, you are not building your place before God.
You are being built—placed, held, secured—on a foundation that has already endured sin, death, and judgment—and stands.
That building we are putting up will be finished.
And one day it will wear out.
But what Christ is building—built on His cross and sealed in His resurrection—will not fall.
Because the stone was rejected, and God made Him the cornerstone—and in Him, so are you.
The peace of God that passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
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