John 8:31-36

Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, ‘If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.’ They answered him, ‘We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, “You will be made free”?’

Jesus answered them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there for ever. So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.

A little over 20 years ago, Rolling Stone magazine published its first list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. They did so because people were talking about the death of the album, probably in large part thanks to Napster and young teens downloading songs from limewire on the family computer and burning cd’s with random songs. Rolling Stone has updated that list a few times since the original release, most recently just last December, 2023. According to them, Blue by Joahnie Mitchel came in at three, followed by the Beach Boy’s Pet Sounds at number 2, and taking the top spot at number 1 was Marvin Gaye’s “What's Going On”.

I am not here to argue about what albums should have been on there or which one’s they got wrong, though I feel I should mention not one Indigo Girls album made the list making one of your pastor’s very sad. The list is quite arbitrary, mainly because it was simply ranked choice voting by a variety of artists, producers, and critics. I think many would argue that like beauty, good music lies in the ear of the listener. And while I agree, there are some things I think great music does to or for a person. Now I am just a pastor who played the Tuba for five years, so take this with a grain of salt, but for me Great music proclaims a truth that we experience in our lives. Through storytelling, the melody, or the art of its composition, It can tell us something that we need to know, a truth we might not have otherwise understood.

On this Reformation Sunday we focus on music and the good it does in our lives and faith, because this year we celebrate the 500th anniversary of the first Lutheran Hymnal. In 1524, Luther took four hymns he had written and four from his friend Paul Speratus to make what was called Acht-lie-der-buch, or in english the “Eight Songs Book”. It was nothing crazy to produce a hymnal, but Luther and the reformation as a whole changed the way the church engaged with music forever.

Luther wanted songs to be written with simple words, words that everyone would know, not just the highly educated. And he wanted the music to be familiar, something people might already know. So he often borrowed popular folk tunes of the day and set lyrics to them that people would understand, making it easy to sing along with.

This was revolutionary, because at the time the catholic mass was done entirely in Latin, most church goers didn’t know the music, and therefore no one but the priests sang in worship. Luther’s approach to music changed all of that. He wanted everyone to sing since that’s how people would not only understand the gospel message, but because the music was catchy and familiar, the good news of Jesus Christ would always be on one’s lips, praising God morning, noon, and night.

He wrote on multiple occasions that next to the Word of God itself, music is the greatest treasure in this world. When done right, it helps one’s heart, quiets and cheers the soul because it teaches the gospel and praises God.

That’s why Luther loved music. You see Luther suffered from terrible anxiety throughout much of his life. In his early years of being a monk, he would fall into these dark episodes of despair. He felt like God didn’t love him, like God couldn’t love him. He wasn’t good enough, he didn’t keep all the commandments like he should, and didn’t do all the things the Bible says Christians should do. He writes about this feeling in one of those hymns from that first hymn book 500 years ago, saying “life had become a living hell, so firmly sin possessed me. My own good works availed me naught, no merit they attaining; my will against God's judgment fought, no hope for me remaining.”

My guess is at one time or another, or maybe even right now, you’ve felt hopeless because you aren’t good enough: not smart enough, not fit enough, not successful enough in the eyes of the world, and certainly not good enough in the eyes of God.

You try so hard to get it right, to pray more, get less angry, be more generous, or even care about all the suffering in this world. And you may for a time, but you can never quite rid yourself of whatever it is that makes you feel like God could not and should not love you.

But then Luther read again what we heard this morning from Romans 3: “No one is justified by what they do. We are justified, we are made right with God only by God’s grace as a gift, through the work of Jesus Christ”.

Later in that same hymn, Luther shares this good news from Jesus’ perspective, “Your ransom, I myself will be; for you I strive and wrestle. For I am yours, your friend divine, and evermore you shall be mine.”

In other words, Luther remembered that it’s not what he says or does or how much money he pays the church or how many prayers he lifts up, none of that takes away his sin or puts him in the right relationship with God.

Only Jesus does that by his work on the cross, taking our sin in exchange for his grace. Only a God who loves me more than I can fathom would do such a thing. And that's something worth singing about. Now there are plenty of songs that proclaim that truth, from ancient hymns to albums on that top 500 list. Yet, recently I heard or more like we heard a new song that shares the heart of the gospel, +Mark and I, I mean.

In August, we went to an Avett Brothers concert together at Gainbridge Fieldhouse. A few weeks before the show, I reached out to a stranger selling her tickets on Facebook only to then check the family calendar and realize we were booked. On the day of the concert, the woman reached back out and said I could have the tickets, no cost, completely free. We canceled our plans, but couldn’t find a sitter so short notice, so Katelyn graciously agreed to stay behind with Clive if I could get someone to go. And I know of no one who likes concerts more than Pastor Mark Havel.

So we went and about halfway through, Scott and Seth, took the stage with nothing but an acoustic guitar and their voices. And they sang a new song. Each verse juxtaposes the many ways we go through life, whether we speak up or are silent, if we are willing or we are done. If we’re courageous or cowards. All the verses go through a series of these conditions, but each one ends with proclaiming the truth “we are loved”.

And the chorus goes, “Every stitch and seam, every wish and dream, even in tragedy, there lies divinity. Even as hope seems lost, it may be found again. I have felt alone, but I have never been.” Their voices filled the fieldhouse and in that moment, I believed them. It was as if they were telling me again for the first time, the heart of the gospel, that no matter what you do in this life, it does not earn you grace. You are loved, and nothing in this life can take that away from you.

As the song came to a close, I turned to Mark and said “don’t even think about it, I'm using that in a sermon first!”

On this reformation Sunday, I invite you to sing, not just today but everyday. To lift your voice, your instrument, and praise God through the gift of music. Find a song, whether it’s 500 years old or brand new, whether it’s on the top 500 albums or not, find a song that proclaims the truth of the gospel, that no matter what, we are loved.

And then sing that song every day over and over again, thanking God for the gift of grace and music. Amen.

Romans 6:1-11

“What then are we to say? Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin go on living in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore, we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. “

Once upon a time, all humanity was trapped under the power of Sin. And by Sin, I mean a literal cosmic power that governs the entire world. This is Sin with a capital S. Sin is the chief power among the principalities and powers, and it has one goal: to work its way into our very bodies, making it impossible for us to live according to God’s ways.

Later in his letter to the Romans, Paul describes the predicament like this: I am of the flesh, sold into slavery under sin. I do not understand my own actions. … I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. … When I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand (Romans 7:14-21).

This is a problem. The power of Sin is so all-encompassing that we cannot break free from it by our own strength. Now, thankfully, there is a solution to this problem. Paul explains, “Whoever has died is freed from sin.” Easy, right? Not so much. Thanks to Sin’s buddy, Death, when humans die, they stay dead. Whatever freedom we might find on the other side of death is not a freedom we could live into. And so this was the story Sin was writing for the world. Humans live, they struggle, and they die. The end.

But then, a child was born. That child grew up, became a man, and lived – just like all of us – in a world under the power of Sin. He lived a life so full that if its fullness were written down, “the world itself could not contain the books that would be written” (John 21:24). In the end, his life was too much for a world where Sin reigns supreme. And so Sin did what it always does; it snuffed out life. It marshaled the full strength of the Roman imperial regime and put this man to death. But he did not stay dead. And remember: “Whoever has died is freed from sin.”

Christ’s resurrection changed everything. It made a way where there was no way. And Christ is the way. Through Christ, it became possible for us weak and finite humans to become recipients of eternal life – the kind of life that Sin could never conquer. But there’s still just one problem. Christ is risen – but we are not. We have not died. Sin and death still have dominion over us.

So how do we tap into what Christ has done for us? Do we just wait until we die and hope for the best? No, Paul says. We don’t have to wait at all. Freedom from Sin is not simply waiting for us on the other side of death; freedom is present to us right now. We can die right now, even while we are living. All we need is a little water.

As best we can tell, the earliest Christian communities practiced baptism by immersion – that is, your entire body would be submerged underwater, and then you would come back up. Going underneath the water and then coming back up was meant to physically reenact Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection.

But Paul does not view baptism as mere theater. He believes that when we are baptized, we are actually uniting with Christ, mystically participating in his death and resurrection through the power of the Holy Spirit. We really do die with Christ, and we really will rise again with Christ.

As a result, what is true for Christ becomes true for us. Remember: “Whoever has died is freed from sin.” Even though we live in a world governed by Sin, we are no longer governed by it. It no longer has the authority to write our story. That authority belongs to the risen Christ, who invites all who die with him to walk in newness of life. This is the story Paul tells in Romans.

Why tell this story? After all, the idea of Sin with a capital S feels like a relic of a bygone era. Invisible cosmic powers controlling our lives? inhabiting our bodies? Seems a bit outlandish. And yet, this is exactly how the world works. Paul did not know us, but the story he tells is about us. Our lives are – in so many ways – defined by forces beyond our control. Patriarchy. Capitalism. Racism. The list goes on and on.

These sinful, death-dealing powers are doing exactly what Paul says Sin does; working their way into our bodies, making it impossible for us to live according to God’s ways. Patriarchy constrains our concepts of gender and sexuality. Capitalism tells us our worth is determined by what we produce. Racism decides for us which bodies are worth protecting and prevents us from living in solidarity with one another.

No one is immune to these powers. They are constantly pushing and pulling us toward alienation and disintegration. And whether we blame “the system” or sin with a capital S, I am convinced that what Paul says is true: We can will what is right, but we cannot do it. … When we want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. But there is good news, friends. God cares enough about our living that God is not content to leave us as mere victims to the powers of this world.

In Christ, God has made a way for us to walk in newness of life. Even in the midst of a world where Sin still reigns, freedom is possible. Justice is possible. Life is possible. We just need to die.

Baptism is indeed the sacramental means of our death. Through the waters of baptism, we die with Christ and through the power of the Spirit are set free from the reign of Sin.

But in v. 12, right after Paul celebrates what baptism does for us, he says this: Therefore, do not let sin exercise dominion in your mortal bodies, to make you obey their passions. No longer present your members to sin as instruments of wickedness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and present your members to God as instruments of righteousness. For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace.

Thanks to our baptism, Sin no longer reigns over us. It no longer defines us. But it can still affect us, influence us, even control us. Baptism is not merely a sacramental death. It is not merely a means of grace. It is an invitation to become instruments of righteousness, to actively resist the work of Sin in our bodies and in the world around us. It is an initiation into death as a way of life.

We die to all of the ways Sin tries to exercise its power within us. We die to our need for control; our fear of vulnerability; our reluctance to rest. We die to patriarchy’s scripts for gender and sexuality; to the productivity mindset that defines life under capitalism; to the internalized racism which distorts our social and political imaginations. As we live out these deaths, we become – in the words of the theologian Brian Bantum – “burning bushes and tongues of fire, bodies set ablaze with the Spirit.” (Redeeming Mulatto, pg. 163) We become beacons of the coming kingdom of God, a world where Sin has lost its power and Death has lost its sting.

Thankfully, we do not have to do this work alone. As Jesus told his disciples in John 17, God has sent God’s Spirit to be with us and to guide us into truth and life (John 17:4-15). God is literally with us, each and every day, as we die to ourselves. Indeed, it is God’s Spirit at work within us who transforms these deaths into life for us and for the world. And the Spirit is not all that God gives us. God also gives us one another, the body of Christ. And when that body is composed of people who are following Christ into death, it is like single, quiet notes combining into a resounding symphony of abundant life.

God even gives us creation, where life is sustained by death and decay. Through creation, God reminds us that death is beautiful, holy, and – most of all – necessary. This is hard work. It is a lifetime’s worth of work. But it is work sustained by God’s free gift of grace. And this means that it is work which is not too much for us. The late German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “When Christ calls a [person], he calls [them] to come and die.”

Today, friends, Christ is calling to us from the waters of our baptism. Can you hear him? He is calling us to join him, to take up our cross and follow him (Luke 9:23). He is calling us to leave behind the reign of sin and present ourselves to God as members of righteousness. He is calling us to a life of resisting the sinful, death-dealing forces at work in the world and in ourselves. He is calling us to die.

May we embrace the call to death. And in the dying, may we find life, and life everlasting.

Amen.

"We Are Loved"

Dying, We Live