Acts 17:16–31; John 14:15–21; The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost; May 10, 2026

The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Acts 17:16–31 & John 14:15–21

Life in Christ Lutheran Church, Grand Marais, MN
May 10, 2026

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

“Now while Paul was waiting for them at Athens, his spirit was provoked within him as he saw that the city was full of idols.”

“Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are very religious.”

“I found also an altar with this inscription: ‘To the unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you.”

“The times of ignorance God overlooked, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent…”

“…because he has fixed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed; and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.”

In Athens, Paul confronted the idols and philosophy of the day.

There were idols everywhere.
Temples everywhere.
And conversations about truth everywhere.

Would he see the same thing today?

Of course.

Just think about it.

The Athenians had statues.

We have bank accounts, politics, entertainment, comfort, identity, technology, and self.

But Martin Luther says the same thing Paul saw in Athens remains true:

“Whatever you trust in and depend upon in trouble—that is your god.”

Paul and Luther agree.

What you run to in trouble;
what you fear losing;
what you trust in distress;
what you believe will finally save you;

that is your god.

You’ve heard Acts 17 so many times that it barely touches you anymore.

You shake your heads at the Athenians and their idols while lying in your own dirty beds beside idols of your own making.

You hear about carved statues and pagan temples and think, “How foolish they were.”

Meanwhile, we trust our own idols.

We push the truth about our own idolatry onto people we call blind and foolish, all while clinging to gods we have simply made more respectable.

The Athenians bowed before stone.

We bow before screens, bank accounts, desires, entertainment, reputations, and fears.

And Luther’s words cut straight through us:

“Whatever you trust in and depend upon in trouble, that is properly your god.”

That is why Paul was provoked in Athens.

Not because idolatry is strange—but because it is normal to fallen man.

And the worst idols are often the ones we defend, excuse, and baptize with religious language while pretending we are wiser than the pagans.

Paul was not impressed by the Athenians; he would not be impressed with us.

He sees people worshipping lies.

Our town is no different.

It’s not less religious, just less honest.

People do not naturally drift toward God; they drift toward something they think they can control.

That’s what the Athenians did.

With all their advanced philosophy, all their culture, all their effort, all they could really say was:

“We don’t know.”

They created an altar to an unknown god.

It was a safety measure. They didn’t want any god to be left out.

You hear these things every day:

“I think God is…”
“For me, God means…”
“All religions are basically the same…”

It is meant to be humble.

It isn’t.

It is a confession of blindness.

Left to themselves, people—that’s you and me—do not find God.

We find everything but.

We invent a god in our own image.

“What you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you.”

Paul doesn’t start a discussion; he makes a proclamation.

He proclaims that God, the true God, is the Creator of all that exists.

He isn’t just a part of creation.

The Athenians saw gods as a part of the created world.

The God who is the Creator isn’t served by human effort.

If He created everything, He doesn’t need anything.

He doesn’t need any help.

He is the one who gives life.

And He is near to us.

He isn’t discovered by guesswork.

He can’t be reached by climbing up.

He must come down.

With these thoughts, Paul destroys the idea that you can earn a place in God’s favor by doing good things.

He doesn’t need you to do that for Him.

He destroys spirituality that is based on emotion.

God is outside of creation.

Emotion does not create God’s presence or truth.

It reacts to what God has already done.

And he destroys the pride that goes with using your mind to bring God close.

With all these pushed aside, Paul shows that you can’t build a ladder or tower to God.

He must be the one who comes down to you.

And that is exactly what He has done.

But He comes with a demand.

“God… now commands all people everywhere to repent.”

Repentance is returning to God.

It isn’t optional.

Repentance is a word we don’t really like.

It requires a change of life.

He is not one path among many paths.

He is the only path.

He commands, and we must obey.

Why?

Because now, ignorance is no longer an excuse.

After driving the Law, the command, home, Paul continues:

“He has fixed a day… by a man… and has given assurance by raising Him from the dead.”

It all turns here.

Jesus Christ raised from the dead.

All of Christianity is centered on this point.

Christianity isn’t an idea born in the mind of people.

It isn’t fleeting feelings that turn and fade.

It isn’t a system that is used to get good things out of life.

Christianity is… a man.

Crucified and raised.

There is no neutral ground here.

Jesus is either raised after His crucifixion, or He isn’t.

If it is true, it means everything.

If He isn’t, it means nothing.

The truth of Jesus divides.

People mock the idea.
It strains scientific credibility.

Some people delay.
“Not now. I’m too connected to my life the way it is.”

And some believe.

The question isn’t:

Do you like Christianity?

The real question is:

What do you do with the risen Christ?

If Jesus, crucified, dead, buried, and risen, is the only true God made known… He isn’t neutral.

If He isn’t neutral, you must ask what that means for you.

The Athenians did not know the true God.

Their danger was real.

But ours is even more so.

We confess the true God with our lips while at the same time trusting gods with our hearts.

Luther’s quote still stands:

“Whatever you trust in and depend upon in trouble, that is properly your god.”

It is quite simple to test.

Ask yourself:

What do I actually trust when fear comes?
What controls my decisions?
What devastates me when threatened?
What do I believe will finally save me?

If, like me, you have doubts about these questions when push comes to shove, Paul’s preaching can be devastating.

You can feel alone, orphaned.

But Jesus says:

“I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth…”

“I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.”

“Because I live, you also will live.”

In steps the crucified, risen Lord, Jesus.

In the Gospel for today He says:

“I will not leave you as orphans.”

The God who was unknown in Athens, and is undefinable by human effort, does so much more than reveal Himself.

He comes to you, and He stays.

He does it through the Word, proclaimed to you.

Jesus says the Spirit of truth will be in you.

The Spirit is in you.

He is not feelings.

He does not leave us to guesses.

Jesus is proclaimed, preached to you, right into your ears, right from Scripture.

That proclamation comes with promises.

The Word proclaimed creates and strengthens faith.

It isn’t vague unreliable words.

It is Christ’s own Word.

The truth proclaimed.

Jesus Christ, crucified, dead, buried, and raised, for you.

The Holy Spirit is key here.

Jesus says:

“The world cannot receive Him… but you know Him.”

The world still lives in “unknown god” mode.

It can’t do anything else.

But the church, Christ’s true church, has received the Spirit.

The world looks inward for answers; the church looks to Christ.

Jesus isn’t found by looking into yourself.

He is found on the cross and the empty tomb.

The Spirit points to Him constantly, through Word and Sacraments.

Through these concrete means, He keeps you in Christ.

There is nothing abstract here, nothing vague or unknown.

Jesus comes to you through concrete, visible, earthly things.

That is the Holy Spirit at work.

Holy Baptism is God putting His name on you with water, a visible common element.

And with that water and the working of God in the Holy Spirit, you are changed from struggling with an unknown god to being filled with the real one.

When you struggle with your doubts, when sin troubles you, when you feel too weak to go on, God sends His forgiveness to you through a spoken voice.

It is an audible, concrete thing:

“I forgive you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

There can be no more positive assurance that you are forgiven than to hear these words—Christ’s words—spoken into your ears.

That is Confession and Absolution.

And then there is the Holy Supper.

Again common, visible elements.

Bread, you eat.
Wine, you drink.

And yet, Jesus is there in His very body and blood.

In it you become a part of Him.

You are given all that He has for you.

It’s too simple!

Yes.

But the Means of Grace are meant to be that way, because we need it.

In these Jesus is delivered.

He is not unknown.

He is not far away.

He is present, visible, and available.

“Because I live, you also will live.”

And there it is, the resurrection again.

The certainty of faith.

In Athens there was uncertainty.

They put up an altar, just in case.

Our altar is a confession of certainty, a symbol of Jesus coming to us here.

And it isn’t because we have struggled and figured it out.

It is given.

It is because of Jesus.

He died.
He rose.
Really.
Physical.
Provable.

He comes to you here in your need.

The world still worships an unknown god.

It still guesses.
It still searches.
It still invents.

But you are not left in that darkness.

The true God has been made known to you—in the man Jesus Christ, crucified and risen.

And He does not leave you there wondering.

He comes to you.
He speaks to you.
He gives Himself to you.

“I will not leave you as orphans.”

Because He lives—you live. Amen.

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

1 Peter 2:2–10; The Fifth Sunday of Easter; May 3, 2026

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.

John 10:1–10; The Fourth Sunday of Easter; April 26, 2026

The Fourth Sunday of Easter

John 10:1–10

Life in Christ Lutheran Church, Grand Marais, MN
April 26, 2026

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

We like to think we are strong, independent, capable.

But Jesus calls us sheep.

Sheep aren’t the smartest animals in the barnyard. They follow each other, even into danger. They return to the same trouble time after time.

Did you know sheep get stuck on their backs?

It’s true.

They get on their back with their legs in the air, can’t roll over, panic, and die if not helped. Their digestive gasses build up and suffocate them. No injuries. No predator attack. Just stuck.

When it happens, they are called cast sheep.

The danger is real and fatal.

Jesus calls us sheep.

It isn’t a compliment.

A cast sheep needs someone to come and turn it over or it dies.

The reality of being a shepherd is that sheep do dumb things.

Sheep don’t need advice. They do the same dumb things over and over again. They will follow each other and anyone into danger. They wander from the flock after green grass.

They must be constantly corrected and protected… from themselves.

And Jesus calls us sheep.

Jesus knows what He’s talking about.

It’s a diagnosis.

We are sheep.

We return to the same sins. We follow the wrong voices. We can’t see our sin. And according to the Bible, you can’t fix it, the problem is permanent.

You don’t just need guidance—you need to be rescued from yourself.

“A sheep is a poor, weak animal; it cannot help itself, it cannot find pasture, it cannot defend itself.”
— Martin Luther

You are a sheep.

You cannot be your own guide out of sin.

You cannot fix your sin.

You cannot save yourself.

And Jesus gets specific.

“A stranger they will not follow…”

But we follow the world.

When the culture speaks, we follow.
When fear speaks, we follow.
When pride speaks, we follow.

Sheep don’t evaluate the truth. They recognize a voice, even the wrong voice.

They follow the wrong shepherd.

You are a sheep. You are always following a voice—and left to yourself, it won’t be Christ’s.

Jesus is the Good Shepherd.

He calls His own sheep by name.

His call is very personal.

He uses your name.

He doesn’t use force.

He uses His voice.

He calls wandering sheep.
He calls sheep that repeatedly return to the same problems.
He calls sheep that don’t listen.
He calls frustrating sheep.

Jesus knows exactly what kind of sheep you are.

He calls you anyway.

People—and you and me—are stubborn sheep.

We are not easy to shepherd.

We are wandering sheep.
We are stuck sheep.

An ordinary shepherd—Jesus calls him the hired hand—might give up.

Jesus, the Good Shepherd, doesn’t give up.

He calls you by name.

He tells you the way.

“I am the door…”

It isn’t about improvement.

The door isn’t one option among many.

He is the only door.

If Jesus isn’t your Shepherd, you are not safe.

He uses another name for false, hired-hand shepherds.

He calls them thieves.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy…”

The thief uses false teaching that sounds right.
The thief promotes self-trust.
The thief endorses false religion.

The thief takes.

The Good Shepherd gives.

Jesus doesn’t give up on you because He gives Himself for you.

“Christ is the Shepherd who gives His life for the sheep.”
— Martin Luther

How astonishing it is that a shepherd would do such a thing.

A shepherd protects the sheep. He works for the sheep. He may even risk himself.

But a shepherd will not die for the sheep.

They simply are not worth much.

Sheep can be replaced.

If a wolf comes, the hired hand runs. That only makes good sense. The shepherd’s life is worth much more than the sheep.

Jesus says something that makes no sense:

“I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down His life for the sheep.”

That’s the absurdity of it, the backwardness of it.

It is not how the world actually works.

And even more so when you make it personal.

Remember what kind of sheep you are.

You wander off.
You repeat your sins.
You don’t learn from your mistakes.
You are frustrating.
You are not valuable.
You are not impressive.

And yet—Jesus dies for the sheep, you and me, anyway.

It is not hypothetical.

It is not poetic.

He actually dies.

See it right there on the cross.

He hangs in suffering and death, for you.

He does it anyway.

Again Luther brings it home:

“Christ is the Shepherd who gives His life for the sheep.”

Not because the sheep are worth it.

But because He, the Good Shepherd, chooses them.

He chooses you.

You don’t have value because of who you are; you have value in Christ because He died there, on the cross, for you.

The absurdity is not that sheep need a shepherd.

The absurdity is that the Shepherd dies for them.

The Shepherd, the Good Shepherd, died for you.

And the Good Shepherd, the One who died for you, is still speaking to you.

He calls you by name.

Not just once—continually.
Not in the past—right now.

It comes to you through His Word, through His voice.

In His voice, in His Word, that is where your life is.

It is not in your strength.
Not in your ability to follow.

You would naturally wander off to what you think are greener pastures.

Your life is in the voice of the Shepherd who will not stop calling you.

You are not kept because you hold onto Him.

You are kept because He does not let go of you.

Jesus, the Good Shepherd, has already died for you.

He lays down His life for you.

So listen.

Don’t listen to yourself.
Don’t trust in your sinful heart.
Don’t listen to what the world says.

Listen to Him.

The voice you hear, in Word and Sacraments, is the voice of the Shepherd.

He keeps the sheep.

His sheep.

Even a sheep like you. Amen.

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

Luke 24:13–35; The Third Sunday of Easter; April 19, 2026

The Third Sunday of Easter

Luke 24:13–35

Life in Christ Lutheran Church, Grand Marais, MN
April 19, 2026

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

Two men were walking on the road to Emmaus. They were dejected. These men were talking about all the things that they had seen in Jerusalem.

Then there was a man walking with them. They hadn’t seen him before, he was just there. He joined their conversation.

“What are you talking about?”

Cleopas, one of the men answered.

“Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?”

“What things?” the traveler asked.

They were shocked.

Cleopas continued.

“Jesus of Nazareth! He was a prophet of God. He did lots of things only God could do. The chief priests delivered him to be condemned and crucified. We had hopes that he would be the Savior of Israel. And now some women we know said they went to the tomb and didn’t find his body. Angels appeared to them and told them he had risen from the dead. Others went to the tomb and didn’t see his body.”

The stranger then said:

“You are foolish. Don’t you believe what the prophets have said? They said all this was necessary for the Christ to suffer these things and enter into his glory.”

Then he showed them from the Scriptures, point by point, how Jesus had fulfilled everything that Moses and the prophets said about him.

Jesus doesn’t give them moral advice. He doesn’t tell them to try harder to believe.

He gives them the key to the Scriptures.

The Word of Life is found in the Bible. It is about Me.

The entire Scriptures are about Jesus.

That’s how you know a church is teaching the right thing. Everything is centered on Jesus Christ crucified. Every doctrine, every sermon, every Bible class.

Churches that deviate to moral teaching or life coaching are missing the point. The church of Jesus Christ is about Jesus Christ.

Very specifically, Jesus Christ lived as a human being, taught about Himself as the center of God’s Word, healed the sick, gave sight to the blind, was crucified dead and buried, and rose again from the dead.

The disciples on the road to Emmaus had missed the point.

“We had hoped…”

When they saw Jesus dead on the cross, they thought that all He had said and done was pointless.

What they didn’t see was the resurrection.

They had heard rumors, but they didn’t believe. They were lost in Jesus death.

Jesus clears it up for them.

He points to the words of Scripture:

“And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, [Jesus] interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.”

All the Scriptures… concerning Himself.

Jesus taught them exactly what they had hoped was true.

Jesus is the one to redeem Israel. And in fact, the whole world. His resurrection proves it.

He pointed to the multitude of passages that verified it. He pointed to the multiple passages that said He had come to forgive sins.

In other words, He taught them the meaning of Jesus Christ.

Later at the table, He was revealed to them for who He was.

“And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And he vanished from their sight.”

They saw Him for who He was.

Jesus Christ again in the flesh.

They believed He had risen. They believed He had died for their sins.

Their response is positively epic.

“Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?”

It was the Word spoken by the One who caused it to be written. The One it is all about. The One who fulfilled it all.

And their hearts burned.

It was a natural emotion created by the teaching of the truth by the Truth Himself and received by the human heart.

The emotion isn’t the thing.

It was a reaction to the coming of faith. Faith in Jesus crucified and risen. Faith created through hearing the Gospel.

People so often confuse the emotion for faith. We like the feelings, the experiences, and the spiritual highs.

Scripture doesn’t condemn these, but it does show us that these aren’t faith.

Faith is trust in Jesus to do what He says He will do—forgive sins.

Faith is looking to Jesus on the cross.

Faith is the for me of everything that Jesus did.

The turning point in this text is at the table.

Jesus’ identity was still hidden from them until He:

“took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them.”

Immediately Jesus was known to them.

He wasn’t seen in the teaching on the road.
He wasn’t seen in the emotion.
He was seen at table.

That’s a key.

At table means during the action of the meal. It emphasizes the action, not the furniture.

Jesus is seen in the breaking of bread and the fellowship of eating.

It is in Jesus breaking bread that:

“their eyes were opened.”

And then… Jesus was gone.

Why?

We see Jesus, not in His physical body, but in Word and Sacrament.

Jesus in the flesh doesn’t have the certainty of Word. Even seeing Jesus in the flesh isn’t the sure thing—we don’t see Him that way.

The Emmaus disciples saw Jesus and did not know Him; but in His Word and in the breaking of the bread, their eyes were opened—for we have a more sure word.

You don’t go looking for Jesus somewhere else.

You don’t climb up to Him.

You don’t feel your way to Him.

He comes to you.

In His Word—spoken into your ears.

In His Supper—placed into your mouth.

Not a memory.
Not a symbol.
Christ Himself.

Crucified.
Risen.
For you.

Here your eyes are opened.

Here your sins are forgiven.

Here you truly see Him.

Your eyes are opened there.

And there—whether you feel it or not—you truly see Him. Amen.

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

>1 Peter 1:3–9; The Second Sunday of Easter; April 12, 2026

The Second Sunday of Easter

1 Peter 1:3–9

Life in Christ Lutheran Church, Grand Marais, MN
April 12, 2026

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

“I tell you the truth,” Jesus said, “No one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again.”

It caused Nicodemus to scratch his head. In case you forgot Nicodemus was a Pharisee who came to Jesus one dark night to speak to him secretly.

“What do you mean ‘born again.’ I’m already old, can I be born again? Can I go back into my mother’s womb and start all over again? That doesn’t make any sense!”

Nicodemus was a wise old man, but Jesus words confused him. Jesus couldn’t really mean what he was saying.

“Listen closely,” Jesus continued, “no one can enter into the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the Spirit. You see, human beings are flesh they can only give birth to human beings. Flesh is flesh, but spirit is spirit. The Spirit can give birth to spirit.”

It is perhaps one of the strangest metaphors used in the Bible. To be born again.

When Jesus had that discussion with Nicodemus he was left scratching his head. He was an educated man, and yet he was still confused. Whatever it means to be ‘born again,’ it is apparently very important because Jesus says that you can’t have a relationship with God without it.

It is a good topic for the Easter season. After all Jesus Christ died and rose so that human beings could once again have a relationship with God. So to be born again must have something to do with that also.

And here it is in our text this morning:

According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope.

New birth, born again, what exactly does it mean?

Well, let’s start by taking a closer look at the text.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!

Peter opens this section with a statement of praise to God. He’s using God’s name as that statement of praise. He begins here with what might be called a doxology—that is, praise to God for what He has done for us.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him all creatures here below,
Praise Him above ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Just like the song he’s saying let’s praise God because of who He is and what He has done.

According to his great mercy, he has caused us…

God the Father of Jesus Christ is acting as our Father, too. He gives us good gifts, just as any good father would do. He is a Father that cares for us and gives to us what we need.

Here, Peter says, He gives us:

Born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading.

Well, there it is: being born again.

The new birth that Jesus talked about to Nicodemus.
The new birth that is necessary for anyone to see the kingdom of God.
The new birth that is a birth through the Spirit of God.

So the text says that this new birth comes about through the resurrection of Jesus. This new birth has everything to do with Easter. It has everything to do with what Jesus has done for us.

Notice how the text says that it was given to us. It’s a gift. New birth is something that we don’t have much to do with.

How many of you had something to do with your first birth? How many of you chose to be born, when and where you were born?

So in the same way we have as much to do with our ‘new birth’ as we did with our ‘old birth.’ Nothing.

It comes to us because of God. The same with our new birth. It comes to us through the work of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus says that the Spirit must give birth to spirit. He is talking about faith in the work of God through Jesus Christ. Faith that is the gift of the Holy Spirit.

So we still haven’t answered the question yet. We know where it comes from, but we don’t know exactly what it is.

But before we answer that question let’s ask another:

Do we really need to be born again?

Well… many people feel that life is a dead end.

Modern life with all its gadgets and distractions (as many of you might know I’m a gadget guy!), with all its entertainment and pleasures, can feel quite pointless and without purpose. It’s easy to feel like a hamster on a wheel running for all your worth, to get nowhere.

There doesn’t seem to be time to do anything well. It’s easy to look back to the “good old days” and feel that life in the past had much more purpose.

Many people feel that life has lost its footing. Even here along the North Shore, you can see it. This has always been a resort town—but it doesn’t feel as quaint as it once did. The pace is different, the crowds are different, and the sense of a quiet, familiar place has faded.

You hear it all the time: “I remember when…”

And there’s truth in that—things have changed. But the problem isn’t that things have changed—the problem is what we start trusting when they do.

When that happens, life starts to feel empty, like we’re clinging to the past instead of living in what is real and lasting. That’s when life becomes a dead end—not because everything around us has changed, but because we’ve lost hold of the One who gives life its meaning.

When people feel that way, often it isn’t that they have lost a sense of meaning in life, the real problem is that they have lost the meaning of life. That is to be in a relationship with God, the creator of the heavens and the earth.

Sometimes we get that way especially in the church. We forget why we are here. We forget why the church exists.

The church is here for this morning.

Here is where our relationship with God is fully expressed. The church is here to receive from God the gifts that He loves to give.

Through Word and water, bread and wine we receive what we need for life to have meaning.

Whenever we lose sight of God at work in our lives in this way we cannot understand life’s ultimate purpose.

When we receive these wonderful gifts from God, we turn around and share them with the rest of the world. Without that, we can’t see the purpose for our existence.

We focus on ourselves and our lives and all that we have to do. We are cut off from the One that makes life worth living.

We are self-centered, living only for me.

That’s when life feels like a dead end because it is a dead end.

This is sin and sin brings only death. And we are mired in sin up to our eyeballs. Not other people’s sin, but our own.

We need God’s forgiveness; we need to be born again. Without it we are lost.

All of this—this new birth, this living hope—comes from one place: the cross of Jesus Christ.

There your sin was not ignored, not excused, but judged. There it was nailed to His body. There the wrath of God was poured out—not on you, but on Him.

And when He said, “It is finished,” He meant your sin, your guilt, your death—finished.

That is what is given to you in Baptism.

But St. Peter talked about being “born again into a living hope.”

A living hope is a hope that makes a difference in a life. It’s a living hope, not a dead end. It’s new life, born again, not an old life with no future.

St. Paul describes it too, in his letter to a pastor named Titus. He describes us pretty well when he describes our sinful nature.

For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures...

Paul too talks about rebirth, being born again.

Did you hear how he describes it?

God saved us through the washing of rebirth that he poured out on us through Jesus Christ!

There are other words that we have heard recently:

Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?

There it is again.

New life.

It’s talking about dying and being born again. Dying with Jesus Christ. That’s what Baptism is all about.

We are connected to Jesus death. In fact, we die with Him on the cross.

There is no other way to put away sin.

You know that if you’ve ever tried to be perfect.

We excuse ourselves by saying, “I’m only human.” Well, that’s exactly the problem. Humans cannot be perfect as long as they are alive.

But Baptism takes care of that.

We die with Jesus.

He takes our sinful human nature, and nails it to the cross. He takes our sick, sinful hearts and pierces them with the Roman spear. He buries our sin-sick bodies, dead and buried in the grave.

That’s what Baptism does.

Not because I say so, but because God says so in His Word.

We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death.

Our sin is done away with and we rise to new life.

A life marked by the joy of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

A new life that has hope, living hope.

A new life that has meaning and purpose because we have forgiveness of sin through the death of Jesus.

Our relationship with God is restored.

It is our inheritance.

Born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading.

That is the living hope that we have been baptized into.

Even though we have been born again, there is still trouble while we live on this old corrupted planet.

Even though our hope is living, our living is filled with all kinds of trials.

It should be expected.

Many of you have experienced exactly what Peter is talking about here. Suffering grief and pain of many kinds, hospitalization, tragic accidents, cancer, and death. And even trouble from your own bad decisions.

But these, Peter says, also have purpose.

If your new birth gives your life purpose, then the troubles in your life must have purpose too.

They come, says Peter, to increase your faith. They come so that you can see the new life you have in Jesus even more clearly.

Trials make us see our faith in Jesus as a gift and nothing we can do for ourselves.

When you can’t depend on yourself, you have to depend on Jesus.

When you know you will fail, you turn to the One who gave His life for you, because what He gives you is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, and is kept in heaven for you.

It’s a new life that you’ve been given, new life full of joy and hope.

How do you know it’s yours? How do you know that you’ve been born again?

It’s a gift from the Father, a gift to you, not because you deserve it, or because you chose Him, but because He chose you when He poured out on you new life and a new birth.

He did it when He said to you:

“I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

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

1 Corinthians 15:1–11; The Festival of the Resurrection; April 5, 2026

The Festival of the Resurrection

1 Corinthians 15:1–11

Life in Christ Lutheran Church, Grand Marais, MN
April 5, 2026

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

P: Christos Anisti, Christ is risen!
C: He is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Paul says,

I delivered to you… what I also received

The Truth. The Christian church teaches the truth. It isn’t Paul’s ideas, or a made-up theology. It wasn’t invented by the church. Paul says he delivers what he received. All of Christianity hinges on that idea. The Resurrection of Jesus is the truth.

You are not saved by what you invent—you are saved by what was delivered to you. Through the Word that is preached. The Word that strikes your ears. The Word passed down from generation to generation.

Paul makes it very clear. He proclaims the simple Gospel. Christ Jesus died for our sins. He hung upon the cross. He was buried in a tomb. He was as dead as could be. On the third day he rose again to life. It is simple, clear and unmistakable.

If it is true, it means everything for you and me.

And it is true.

It is not advice or inspiration. These are simple irrefutable facts. People have gone out to disprove them and come back believing the truth. We know that we are sinners. We know the consequences of our sin. Your sin requires death. Jesus died and rose again.

There is no separating Good Friday, Jesus death on the cross, from Easter. Jesus’ resurrection is proof of everything he did. All his preaching, all his miracles, all his actions, all his claims about himself.

He said he would die and rise again. His claims are made true in the Resurrection. The resurrection stands as proof that he accomplished all that he became human to do.

Christ did not almost die.
He did not spiritually rise.
He actually did both.

And Paul emphasizes the truth of it. He called on the Corinthian church to seek out the truth. There were plenty of witnesses. Cephas, the Twelve, 500, James, all the apostles, Paul, himself.

What happened to Jesus, his preaching, his death, burial and resurrection, were public event. Verifiable and proclaimed. Our faith stands strong on events in history. They are not just ideas in your heart.

While we want faith to be private and unprovable, subjective; God anchors your salvation outside of you, in real history, real happening, a real person, a real death, a real resurrection.

The Gospel is not something you discover—it is something delivered to you. Given through the proclamation of Jesus Christ.

And the resurrection of Jesus Christ is not just victory—it is mercy for real sinners.

Paul points to himself.

I am the least… unworthy…

He names his sin plainly: persecutor of the Church.

Then he sets the contrast of God’s grace.

By the grace of God I am what I am.

What he is saying is that if the Gospel reaches the persecutor of the church, it reaches you. God’s grace is that no one is too far gone. No sin outruns the risen Christ.

Paul makes it clear and simple.

By this Gospel you are saved.

You are saved by this Gospel. This Gospel. The accounts of Jesus preaching, death, burial and resurrection.

Whether then it was I or they, so we preach and so you believed.

Your salvation does not rest on your faith—it rests on Christ’s resurrection. You have salvation when you have faith in that resurrection, your sins forgiven, trust in Jesus.

The resurrection is not optional. It is the beating heart of the whole thing. It is the line between life and death. All of Christianity hinges on this fact.

If Jesus Christ is not raised, you are still in your sins and lost.

But he has risen from death.

And because of that you are made right with God.

Christ is risen—and that means your sin is forgiven and your death is finished. Amen.

P: Christos Anisti, Christ is risen!
C: He is risen indeed, Alleluia!

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

Devotion – Beneath the Cross - April 3, 2026

Devotion – Beneath the Cross

John 19:30

It is finished.

The words fall from His lips… barely carried on His breath… spoken from a body that is already giving way to death. Those who stood there heard it, but what could it mean? Nothing about this moment looked finished. The cross still stood. The nails still held Him. The blood still ran. The darkness pressed in. This did not look like the end of anything—except Him.

They had seen too much to expect this.

They had seen Him speak, and demons fled. They had seen Him touch the sick, and bodies were restored. They had watched Him command creation itself. They had heard Him speak of life… of the kingdom… of victory. And now His voice was fading. The strength that once shook the world was gone. His head lowered. His body slackened. And death took Him.

It is finished.

If you had been there, you would not hear triumph. You would hear loss. Another life ended. Another man swallowed by death. Because that is what death does—it swallows everything. Every grave says the same thing. Every funeral preaches the same sermon. This is where it ends. This is what waits for you.

And now it has taken Him too.

The hands that blessed are still. The eyes that showed mercy are closed. The voice that called the dead to life is silent. He does not move. He does not speak. He does not breathe.

And yet…

He does not say, “I am finished.”

He says, “It is finished.”

Something else has ended here.

Not just His life—but the burden that was never His to begin with. The sin that clings to you. The guilt that follows you. The weight you cannot shake. Every failure. Every hidden thought. Every word you wish you could take back. Every moment you know you have fallen short.

All of it is there.

Laid on Him. Carried by Him. Paid for in His blood.

And when He speaks those words, He means them.

Finished.

Not waiting for more. Not needing your help. Not depending on your effort.

Finished.

The sin is answered.
The debt is paid.
The work is done.

For you.

It does not look like victory. It looks like death. Because this is how God works—hidden under suffering, buried in weakness, accomplished through the cross.

And so you stand there… beneath Him… with nothing to bring, nothing to fix, nothing to offer.

Only this remains.

It is finished.

For you.