Author: Wade

Acts 3:22-26

God grant us ears. God take us by them. Faith come from hearing and we live by faith. “The Lord God will raise up for you a prophet like me from your brothers. You shall listen to him in whatever he tells you.” Jesus is that Prophet. Jesus is the Word of God Himself. And what does the Father tell us at Jesus’ Transfiguration but to listen to him? Continue reading “God Grant Us Ears and Take Us by Them”

Colossians 1:15-23aa

You are holy and blameless. Hard to believe, isn’t it? We know we are anything but, and we’re right. We have done what is wrong and failed to do what is right. And that is why Christ came. That is why the very image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation, became the firstborn from the dead. He is the Head, but what is a Head without a Body? And that is where the holy and blameless things comes into the picture. For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and not only to dwell, but to reconcile us to himself by making peace by the blood of His cross. Continue reading “Wrapped up in Christ”

Haggai 2:1-9

In their weakness, God told His remnant to be strong, not because the outlook was bright in the eyes of the here-and-now, but because through eyes of faith they could see God’s work as good as done. Be strong! I don’t know what your horizon looks like now, but I do know that God says to you, “Be strong!” Why? God is with you; God is on your side. His Spirit remains in your midst, dwelling in you as His temple through faith. Will God not protect, preserve, and prosper His temple, His sanctuary? Continue reading “More Than What Could Have Been”

Zechariah 2:10-13

Zechariah was a prophet in Judah around the time the temple was being rebuilt. God’s people had suffered the destruction of all they held dear, exile, and less-than-human treatment by their enemies. All this was because of their sins, their rebellion against God’s covenant with them and His warning to them through the prophets. Now Zechariah was sent to encourage God’s people as they were reestablished in the Promised Land, as God renewed His promise of protection and peace, mercy and redemption. Israel did not build the temple overnight. It was a long promise, as God’s promise took flesh, not in a flash, but with each bang of the hammer and sling of the ax. They were in need of constant encouragement. Continue reading “God’s Expectant Temples”

Colossians 1:9-14

I used to wonder if I would be scared at Christ’s coming. I still do at times. The conclusion I have come to is: yes and no. Yes, I will probably be frightened by the great show of might that will accompany His coming with thunder and lightning and trumpets and so forth. Yes, there will be a godly fear of the knowledge that I am standing in front of God Almighty. But I think there will also be a certain familiarity involved and that it will be hard to be too scared of the One who already did so much for me in His first coming. St. Paul says, “He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”

The Father who loved us enough to send such a Son must be tender and loving. The Son who brought us such things at the cost of His very life must be kindly disposed toward us. Knowing that such a marvelous day is coming, when we will be filled with reverent fear and familial love at the same time, how can we not live as part of the family, with a holy awe and a pious vigilance? St. Paul prayed that the Colossians would do just that. I pray we will as well, walking in a manner worthy of our coming Lord, with patience and joy, power and might, flowing from a well-fed faith. Our Lord is coming. He is coming for us, His Family.

Christ will come, but as we wait, He still comes to be our strength and hope. We are “being strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy” What He asks of us He gives, which is why we can rejoice. The gospel that declares us His own, not-guilty, redeemed and forgiven, is the same gospel at work in and through us. Christ is no idle guest. No, we give thanks to our Father because He has qualified us to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. We measure up and now God, whose mercy is immeasurable, works through us, bringing forth fruit in every good work in those planted in His grace.

Luther was once supposedly asked what he would do if he knew Christ were returning tomorrow. The story goes that he replied that he’d plant a tree. Will we be afraid on the Last Day? It certainly will be an awe-full day. We need not be afraid of the One who comes for us, though. We qualify. We are delivered, redeemed, forgiven, free. As we wait, then, we can plant our trees, we can live in the confidence of His grace as He who works all things for us works through us as He sees fit.

Wade Johnston

For more content like this, check out the podcast, blog posts, and devotions at www.LetTheBirdFly.com.

For more on Advent, check out our first pass at the season or our second, most recent, pass.

For more writing by Wade, you can find his books here and more blog posts here.

Habakkuk 2:1-4

Waiting is one of the hardest things for a person to do. From little on, we hate waiting. Think of Christmas Eve, waiting to open your presents. Think of, “Are we there yet?” Think of watching the clock at work. Think of waiting for your next vacation. Think of waiting in the drive thru with a narrow window for feeding the family before the next practice, recital, or game. Think of waiting for traffic when you just want to get home and unwind. Waiting is hard, and, when we wait long enough, we start to wonder if what we are waiting for is ever going to come or if it is worth it. Yet God tells Habakkuk and us to wait and that it is worth it. “The vision waits awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.” Continue reading “And So We Wait”

Malachi 4:1-6

Malachi means “my messenger.” Malachi’s message, together with Genesis, forms the bookends of the Old Testament. Malachi’s is the last prophet’s voice we hear until John the Baptist. As the Old Testament began with a promise of a Savior to crush the serpent head, so it closes with Malachi’s promise of the Messiah to come, the Sun of Righteousness, who would bring peace between God and man and between men. For four hundred years, then, while the Word was still preached in the temple and in synagogues, the voice of the prophets fell silent. God’s people were left to wait for Elijah, as Malachi says—not Elijah the great prophet of the Old Testament himself, but a new Elijah, one who would point to the Messiah in a more direct way, yes, in person. John the Baptist, this new Elijah, would with his own finger, and not merely with his words, direct his hearers to Jesus: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” Continue reading “The Sun of Righteousness”

Luke 21:25-36 (Romans 15:4-13)

Luke and Beth were ecstatic. The doctor had just told them the news. They were pregnant. Soon, he said, they’d be able to listen to the heartbeat. Soon, he said, they’d even be able to see Junior on the ultrasound screen. Luke and Beth were ecstatic. Their first child was on the way. Luke was sure he’d be a football star. Beth was sure she’d be a ballerina.
Continue reading “Pay Attention to the Signs”

Holy Saturday can be an odd day. For many Lutherans, it seems like a break from the services of Maundy (Holy) Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday. It’s a day away from church. Thankfully, I think this is becoming less the case with the resurgence of the Easter Vigil among Lutherans. The truth is that Holy Saturday, and the Vigil, have a long, rich, and powerful history in the Christian Church.

Christ calls His Church to be a waiting Body. The Church is an expectant Bride. We have all of God’s promises now, and what God promises is as good as done—so much so that He sometimes promises them in the perfect (past) tense. In many ways, when God promises like this, we might picture Him fading away like an NBA player confident of his jumper.

On Holy Saturday the disciples waited, if we can call it that. They weren’t necessarily waiting for the resurrection—at least not with any seeming conviction. They waited frightened, confused, stung, weighted with the guilt of having abandoned a Master and Friend they had thought was the Messiah. They were reeling, their world spinning. To return to sports metaphors, they were like a boxer trying to regain his footing and his senses, backpedaling drunkenly.

Holy Saturday was a dark day for the disciples. All seemed lost, three years down the drain for the apostles. The women would be brave enough to head to the tomb Easter dawn, but even they expected to find nothing more than a dead body to anoint. They still loved Jesus, but the Jesus they loved was now. He had left them. He, like all those who rested in such tombs, was a memory, which, sadly, would become foggier by the week and month and year. He had taught and done much, but that had come to an end, and terribly so, and in the most hopeless way, or so they thought.

In Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, the main character at one point is abducted by aliens who teach him that time isn’t one big connected thing, as we so often think of it. Rather, there are a bunch of events that need not be considered (or even be) in chronological order. They say it’s like looking at the Rocky Mountains. I don’t know about all that, and Kurt Vonnegut is certainly after his own thing with it, but there is something useful here for considering Holy Saturday. The aliens tell Billy, the main character, to focus on the best stuff, that each moment is but a moment, even death. And so, even when someone dies, we know he or she is also happy in another moment. Once again, I don’t know about all that, but hear me out.

We have an edge on the disciples on that first Holy Saturday, so to speak. We know the other moments. In fact, we’re even freed from chronology in a certain sense. As we mark Lent, proceed through Holy Week, take in Good Friday, and wait on Holy Saturday, we also know that there are better moments, that this Jesus who died is more than dead. This, thankfully, very thankfully, however, is no literary device. It’s also not sentimental and wishful thinking. This is gospel truth—the gospel truth.

Holy Saturday is a day of waiting, but joyful waiting. Dark as that day was for Peter and the women and all their stunned and shaken companions, we still have light. We light candles, torches, even, perhaps, if your Vigil has a bonfire. We expect. We know what’s coming—Who is coming! Jesus isn’t someone who was. Jesus is, and He is, as He died, and as He will rise, for us.

The resurrection seemed a foolish thing to most at the time it occurred. It was foolish religiously, philosophically, medically, well, in just about every way for the disciples’ contemporaries. The message of those who had seen Jesus raised, the message of the Church, of Christ crucified and risen, was a stumbling block and silliness right out of the gates. And yet, those who waited, even those who waited plagued by doubt, tongue-tied, and unable to string together coherent thoughts, didn’t wait in vain, even if they weren’t entirely sure what they were waiting for at all. Even Thomas, who got extra time to wait and wrestle, eventually was moved to make the good confession with most marvelous clarity.

Today we wait. If we are blessed to participate in the Vigil, we wait in a darkness peppered with the light, yes, of candles, but even more, with the promises of God, from first to last, and a strong invitation to relive our Baptisms, where we were buried and raised with Christ, who was buried and raised for our forgiveness and justification. Does it seem foolish, at least a little, even to those of us who know the Word well? Perhaps it does at times. We still wrestle with the flesh. Does it seem to foolish to those who don’t even know they’re waiting, or what they’re waiting for? Probably. But that message, our message, the message for them, is the message of foolishness, of Christ crucified and risen, the celebration of whose resurrection we now await. This is our hope, their hope, and the only lasting hope in a world riddled with despair. In Him, the risen Savior, God is yes, true promise, promise fulfilled, among a human race drowning in false promises, expert in peddling empty, fading hope.

It’s Holy Saturday, April’s fools! Delight in God’s foolishness. Even if you’ve been reeling, perplexed, guilt-ridden, speechless, or unable to think straight, here is your hope; here is peace, forgiveness, your song, and something to ponder and yet never quite fathom entirely, because it’s a love unknown and a fact beyond belief, though received through God-gifted faith. Kurt Vonnegut is no theologian, and Slaughterhouse-Five isn’t Scripture—far from it!—but perhaps we can indulge our foolishness a little bit today and steal a trick from the novel all the same. Let’s step outside of this moment. Let’s cheat chronology. Even though we wait—and whisper it if you don’t want to seem too foolish—let’s be April fools and rejoice, even as we wait, “Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!”

Written by Wade Johnston, co-host of the podcast.

+In the name of Jesus.+

John 19:1-42

One word. One word in the Greek language that sums it all up, tetelestai. It means “it is finished.” It is the word Jesus spoke on the cross announcing to the world, to His people, and to His devilish enemies that His mission was accomplished. One word that means everything to us weary souls. It is finished. It is paid for. Heaven is secure. Now hope can reign. One word, tetelestai. Continue reading “Good Friday: One Word”