|
 |
 |
Thy Living Breath for All the World to Hear (Living and Clear) Text:
John 8:31-36 We don't hear the Epistle and Holy Gospel chanted or sung very often if at all. But in Luther's day this was the normal practice, and Luther himself had spent considerable time “pointing” or writing out the musical formulae for “reading” the scripture lessons.
Dr. Martin Franzmann of blessed memory (once professor at our Concordia Seminary in St. Louis and author of many Christian hymns including our processional hymn, “Thy Strong Word,” and the one on which this sermon is based, “O Kingly Love”) likened the Church's proclamation of the Gospel throughout history to a song. In his famous book, “Ha! Ha! Among the Trumpets,” [1] he wrote a Reformation Day sermon that began and ended with the words, “Theology is doxology. Theology must sing.” “At the Reformation,” he wrote, “when the Word of Christ dwelt richly in men's hearts once more, when the peace of God was allowed to rule in men once more, there followed a burst of song almost without parallel in the history of the church. Here, too, the Reformation was not a revolution. It gave up nothing of the ancient song of the church that was good and profitable, and the Church of the Reformation ever since, when it has been true to its origin, has always welcomed each good new song” [Franzmann, p. 92] .
The problem is that the church has not always been true to its origin. Hence “reformation” is not only a unique feature of the 16 th century or only of a man named Luther, but has been and is the constant struggle, even warfare, between the living and clear song of God's Word and his plan of salvation on the one hand, and, on the other, the deadly and confused, heretical sounds of the devil, the world and our sinful flesh. “Each generation of the church,” Franzmann wrote, “must try and test itself anew to see whether its song is true, to see whether its doxology is theology,” the solid, certain, sure and pure theology of God's mighty Word.
The struggle is the same throughout human history, just the names and places differ. The beautiful and pure song of God sounded forth mightily as, in the beginning, He created everything out of nothing—a mystery, to be sure. And God proclaimed it “good.” But then came the subtle and sour sound, the doubtful dissonance of the devil bent on tearing apart God's symphony. Adam and Eve hid themselves in the silence of separation from God. Suddenly God's song seemed more of a threat and death loomed. But when God spoke, revealing their transgression, He also raised a trumpet, the trumpet of the Gospel. As He made “coverings” for the couples' bodies shivering with fear, so did He promise a Savior to cover and take away their sin, to restore symphony between God and man.
The struggle is the same, just the names and places differ. The trumpet blasted light and life over the fields of Bethlehem and the angels took up the song, “Glory to God in the highest,” when the long-promised, long-awaited Savior was born. His mother sang, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior” [Luke 1:46-47 (ESV)] and trembling shepherds marveled and rejoiced. Once again, however, a fearful sound gripped the darkness seeking to silence the sound of salvation. The Old, Evil Foe meant deadly woe as he recruited the mocking and foul voices for his anti-chorus from the ranks of both the foreign occupiers with names like Herod, Caesar and Pontius Pilate, but also from among the very people entrusted with God's song through the ages, the very people Christ came to save and sing a new song. From the bloody and suddenly childless streets of Ramah-Bethlehem to a direct confrontation in the wilderness, from a headless John the Baptist to a heedless Judas, from the torn robes of Caiaphas to the silent auction of the Lord's last garment, the darkling cry, the meddling sound all but drowned that song that once made ev'ry echo ring. From the silence of an empty tomb, however, broke forth the trumpet call of victory over death and the devil. A truly new song bathed and cleansed the world with resurrection, new life, new birth. That song was given and taken up to be sung boldly, loudly and clearly by those set apart to sing it in Jerusalem and Judea and Samaria and to the uttermost parts of the earth.
Still, the struggle is the same. Just the names and places differ. In the name of the mighty Apostle Saint Peter came others who sang their own songs, alien sounds that had almost drowned the ancient, true, and constant melody of the Gospel of Christ, devilish songs sung by men drunk with their own works and glories. Then God tapped the shoulder of a young man studying law named Martin Luther. Oh, it was more than a gentle tap. More like the blow that once blinded a man named Saul on a road to Damascus, it was only through the “sturm und drang” of wrestling with the Righteous Judge of his soul that Luther awakened to the righteous Savior of his soul by grace through faith in Christ alone and not by human works or merit. He sang the new song before kings and was not put to shame (Ps. 119:46). The Gospel trumpet of God was rediscovered, the trumpet none could silence or mistake, played with living breath for all the world to hear, Living and clear. The true disciples, continuing in the Word of Christ alone, discovered again the Truth and became free, and sang the grand battle hymn, “A mighty fortress is our God.”
Now, the struggle is the same. Just the names and places differ. Like a golden oldie the same old song gets repackaged and replayed and few there be that recognize the cracking backup voice all eager to devour us. It starts all over again with the same doubtful refrain, “Did God really say…?” From the radical reformers to the Prussian Union, from those who would alter the Augsburg Confession to make it more “American” to those who would trash the historic liturgy, from the purveyors of positive thinking to the false ecumenism of the unionists and synergists and non-denominationalists, from “Promise Keepers” to “Forty Days of Purpose” it seems each section of the orchestra and each musician is playing only the notes that seem right in their own eyes and there is no more symphony. And here we are, left with only the prayer: “Take up again, oh, take The trumpet none can silence or mistake, And blow once more for us and all the world to hear, Living and clear.”
That trumpet, though ignored, is not lost. It is still playing the same melody of old, “if you abide in my Word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” As Martin Franzmann said, it is a spiritual song, wrought by the Holy Spirit, moved by him, inspired by him, coming from him. It “breathes the air of eternity” and always has “a scent of heaven about it.” It sings against “self-asserting” and “sentimental self-contemplating individualism.” It is the Biblical song, the song of the catechism and the confessions, the heavenly liturgy in concert with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven because it is God's song: God's creative, redemptive, sanctifying love song of the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit.
So sing it. Let us sing. The first stanza of the ever-new spiritual song tells of love personified, pointing us to God's promises all wrapped up in Jesus Christ. For apart from Him there is no truth, no salvation, no deliverance, no freedom. “O kingly Love, that faithfully Didst keep thine ancient promises, Didst bid the bidden come to thee, The people thou didst choose to bless.” God, in his love, has sought you out and made you his own saying, “The feast is ready. Come to the feast!”
The second stanza of our new song draws us to the sacrament of the altar. For here is our connection, the conduit that brings all the benefits of the cross of Christ forward through time that, by his true body and blood given us Christians to eat and drink we might taste and see that the Lord is good. “O lavish Love, that didst prepare A table bounteous as thy heart, That men might leave their puny care And taste and see how good thou art.” This “foretaste of the feast to come” is the feast of salvation already. “The feast is ready. Come to the feast!”
The third stanza of our new song then gets us caught up in God's action and mission. “O seeking Love, thy hurrying feet Go searching still to urge and call The bad and good on ev'ry street To fill thy boundless banquet hall.” We sing theology and doxology publicly before the world. It is the doctrine, the clear notes of the teaching and word of Christ that alone has the power to draw others as we have been drawn to the wells of salvation. “As it is written, ‘What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him'—these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit” [1 Cor. 2:9-10 (ESV)]. These things which we have heard “we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ” [1 John 1:3 (ESV). So we sing to the world, “The feast is ready. Come to the feast!”
Over and over again the praise of God is sung for raising up the mighty trumpet of His Word at the time of the Reformation, and throughout history, whenever man's foolish babble threatens to drown God's message of grace. Today, no less than in a fallen Eden, in a dark Gethsemane, in a misguided Wittenberg, Rome, Geneva or St. Louis, in whatever are the dark and doubtful and confusing corners of your life, we are summoned to take up again the trumpet of promise, of resurrection, of grace and peace, of a living and clear, uncluttered Gospel and, set free from sin, death and the devil, to sing boldly the song of eternal life, the song of the feast of victory. “The feast is ready. Come to the feast!” [1] ©1966 Concordia Publishing House, St. Louis, MO ___________________
| |
