The Samaritan inspires fear, then hope, then purpose

Posted on September 14, 2025 by Rev. Paul Rydecki

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Sermon for Trinity 13

Galatians 3:15-22 + Luke 10:23-37

The nation is still in turmoil after the martyrdom of Charlie Kirk that took place on Wednesday. We’ve seen more hatred from our neighbors than any decent person can handle seeing. And Christians have had to deal with the stark, cold reality that many, many of our neighbors, of our own countrymen, don’t merely disagree with us Christians on key societal issues. No, they would actually dance on our graves, as they’re dancing on Charlie’s even now. They are the ones who are truly consumed with hate, and with wickedness.

Now, we’re not going to dwell on this today. We’re simply going to acknowledge it, and, we’re also going to use it to illustrate one of Jesus’ points in today’s Gospel, in the parable of the Good Samaritan.

It’s an inspirational story, but what is it intended to inspire? At first glance, the parable seems like a story with a very simple moral: It’s good to show kindness to a stranger in need. That’s not wrong, it just isn’t the whole point, or even the main point. In fact, this parable is so expertly told by Jesus that it inspires three things, in this order: The Samaritan inspires fear, then hope, and then purpose.

Let’s remember how Luke sets the stage for this parable. A religious lawyer, an expert in the Law of Moses, approaches Jesus with a question. Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life? It’s a very basic, very important question. Only Luke informs us that it wasn’t an honest question; the man asked it to “test” Jesus. You see, the experts in the Law were angry with Jesus, partially because they misinterpreted His message. (This, by the way, is one reason why people hate Christians today, because the devil, through his many liars, has led them to misinterpret our message, and to ascribe to us wicked motives, even as they have done to Charlie both before and after his assassination.) The lawyers in Israel thought Jesus was disparaging Moses and the Law of Moses in His teaching. But that’s wrong. He didn’t disparage the Law. He upheld the Law, more than the experts in the Law did, as a matter of fact, as He demonstrates in the parable.

In answer to the man’s question, Jesus went straight to the Law. What is written in the Law? He asked. How do you read it? And the lawyer gave a fine summary of God’s moral Law: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself. And Jesus agreed with him. You have answered correctly. Do this, and you will live.

Now, you would think the expert in the Law would have been very pleased with an answer like that, one that agreed so perfectly with his precious Law. But he wasn’t! He was smart enough to realize that such a broad-reaching commandment, to love God with all one’s being, and to love one’s neighbor as oneself, was a tall order—something he couldn’t be sure he had lived up to. So, wanting to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” So, to answer his question, Jesus went on to tell the parable.

It’s a simple story. A man was walking from Jerusalem to Jericho and along the way he was accosted by bandits. They grabbed him, beat him and robbed him of his possessions and left him half-dead on the side of the road. Did they “love their neighbor as themselves”? Obviously not. Then along came a priest, and then a Levite—some of the most godly and good people in Israel. Each one saw the man and just kept walking. Did they “love their neighbor as themselves”? Did they do to that man what they would have wanted someone to do for them in that situation? Obviously not. But then along comes a Samaritan. And as you recall, the Jews despised the Samaritans, and the feeling was usually mutual. The Samaritans were “neighbors” of the Jews. They lived to the north of Jerusalem in Samaria. And they had some Jewish blood, mixed with Gentile blood, and they followed their own hybrid religion. Jews and Samaritans did not associate with one another. But this Samaritan saw the Jewish man lying half-dead on the side of the road and took pity on him. He went over to him, tended his wounds, hoisted the man up on his own pack animal, took him to an inn, cared for him overnight, and then left the innkeeper with instructions, and with money, to continue the man’s care until the Samaritan returned from his journey.

Now it’s time to apply it to the lawyer: “Now which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell among the thieves?” And he said, “The one who showed mercy to him.” Then Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

Go and do likewise. Do this, and you will live. To the one who thinks he can appeal to God’s Law, can appeal to his own goodness and decency as he stands before God, saying, “See, God? I’ve done everything You required,” the parable of the Good Samaritan provides a terrifying dose of reality: You are not nearly good enough to earn the eternal inheritance of the kingdom of heaven. If you think you inherit eternal life, or “get into heaven,” by doing enough good, by keeping the Law, and if keeping the Law means having a heart like the Samaritan’s heart, and producing such selfless and devoted behavior toward the person next to you who needs your help, as the Samaritan did, all the time—and if you’re honest with yourself—then the Samaritan must inspire fear within you. If “do this, and you will live” is the only path to heaven, you don’t stand a chance. No one does.

Because, again, it’s not, “Go and try your best; God will do the rest.” That’s not what Jesus says. It’s not what the Law says. It’s not “work really hard,” either. It’s “do this.” Do it. Get it done, from the heart. All the time. In the aftermath of Charlie Kirk’s assassination this week, it’s easy for us to compare ourselves with all the hate-filled people out there in the world, with the ones who make false accusations, with the ones who commit acts of violence, or who would like to see acts of violence committed against anyone who holds the same views as Charlie did. They obviously don’t fulfill the Law’s command to “do” as the Samaritan did. But the harder truth is that, neither do we. All have sinned, God declares. There is “no one who does good,” God declares. Not in the sense of “doing good enough” to be justified before God. No one. That’s why “do this” as the path to eternal life should inspire fear in all of us, lest we should ever begin to think that we have done enough, that we could ever be good enough to inherit eternal life. If the Law is the only way into heaven, then we should all be very, very afraid, because hell is the only alternative to heaven.

But, as I said, the parable of the Good Samaritan inspires more than one thing, has more than one purpose. It serves very well to frighten the secure sinner and the one who relies on his works to be saved. But we should also look at it from a different angle, one that inspires hope in those who have had their hope in their own goodness rightfully ripped away from them.

If you’re looking for a helper who is as kind and merciful and compassionate as the Good Samaritan was, you won’t find one, except in one place: in Jesus, who is very much like the Good Samaritan in the parable. The Samaritan was related to the Jews, but also a foreigner. So Jesus took on human flesh and became Man, became related to all of us, even as He remains a “foreigner” to us in that He is also true God. The Samaritans were despised by the Jews. So Jesus was despised by them, too, and is still despised by most of the world. Still, that didn’t stop Him from coming to help us. As the priest and the Levite, who represent the Law, passed by, unwilling to help the miserable man, so the Law still passes us by, unwilling to help us, unwilling to save us, because we’re born in slavery to sin and death. But as the Samaritan so mercifully cared for the injured, dying man, so Jesus came to us in our sins, and in our condemnation. He gave His life on the cross for our sins. He is the true Martyr after whom every Christian martyr is named. Why would Charlie Kirk, why would anyone risk their life for Jesus? Because He knowingly gave His life for us, that we might be delivered from sin, and from death, and from the power of the devil. And then, just as the Samaritan took the dying man and carried him to an inn and placed him in the charge of the innkeeper until he returned, so the Lord Jesus has placed us in the inn of His Holy Christian Church, and charged the ministers of the Church to look after His people, tending to their spiritual wounds, forgiving the penitent in Jesus’ name, feeding them with the Word and the Sacraments of Jesus, until He returns from heaven, as He has promised, to bring us safely into His heavenly kingdom.

Do you see what hope the Good Samaritan inspires, when we see Jesus in the Samaritan’s kindness, when we see that Jesus came and fulfilled the Law of God, to love God and to love our neighbor? He fulfilled the Law by loving all people, and by doing it in our place, offering us a different path to heaven, not the path of doing enough good, but the path of believing in the Lord Jesus, who did enough good for us, so that we might be justified by faith in Him, and not by our works.

That was the hope that Charlie Kirk confessed and in which he died. That’s the hope that God holds out to all men, urging everyone to repent and to believe in the Lord Jesus, and promising the forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation to all who believe. And that gives us hope, to confront the darkness of this world, to confront those who hate us and those who wish us dead. It gives us a sure hope for this life, and for the next. It gives us hope, a sure hope, that God and His people win in the end, no matter how bleak it appears at the moment, because, as Charlie posted a few days before he was martyred, “Jesus defeated death so that you can live.”

So the parable of the Good Samaritan inspires fear, and then hope. And for those who have hope, it inspires one more thing: It inspires purpose.

“Go and do likewise,” Jesus said to the expert in the Law. Go and be like the Samaritan. Be a merciful neighbor to the person next to you who needs your help, who needs your concern, who needs your invitation to come to church, to come to know the Lord Jesus. That is the purpose that God has given to His hope-filled people in this world: to be imitators of Christ.

Of course, in order to do that, you have to know Christ. And you know Him best and most directly through the four Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. There we see Him as the compassionate Good Samaritan toward the one in need. He is the patient Teacher to those who will listen. He is the willing and even joyful Target of hatred, false accusations, and wrongdoing. He is the Good Shepherd toward His sheep who believe in Him. And He is also the Speaker of harsh truth, and, sometimes, condemnation to the liars who threaten His flock.

But, you’ll notice, He is never, during His earthly life, the Punisher of the wicked. He is never the Mocker of those who believe falsely. He is never the bitter Cynic who always sees the worst in His neighbor. He is never the Pharisee who had no heart for the lost.

So, go and do likewise. Let it be your ongoing purpose as a Christian to imitate Jesus in all things, including His compassion and care for the one in need. And you don’t have to go to the other side of the world to find him. In fact, you shouldn’t. Because your “neighbor” is literally the person “next to you” who needs your compassion and your acts of mercy. And that person doesn’t have to be a stranger lying on the side of the road. It could be your family member, or fellow church member, or someone you work with, or go to school with, or who lives down the road. Keep your eyes open for opportunities to imitate the Good Samaritan, to show mercy to the one in need, and the Lord will surely provide them, because the needs of this life are many and great.

In summary, may the Holy Spirit use this account of the Good Samaritan to inspire fear in the secure sinner and in the one who seeks to work his way into heaven. May He inspire hope, through the mercy of our Savior, Jesus Christ, in all who recognize their need for His help. And may He inspire purpose in all who have received that help, purpose in showing kindness and mercy, which will always pale in comparison to the kindness and mercy that we ourselves have received from God. Amen.

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My faithful martyr, who was killed among you

Posted on September 10, 2025 by Rev. Paul Rydecki

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Almighty and everlasting God, who have promised finally to judge this world in righteousness, we implore You, through Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior, impart the grace and help of Your Holy Spirit to all Christians as we confront the lies, the hatred, and the violence of the wicked. Comfort and care for the family of Charlie Kirk, who openly confessed You before men and was wickedly murdered today for the true things that he spoke. Cast down, by Your almighty power, all the counsels of those who hate Your people and Your Word, and who would destroy them, either by corrupt teaching, or with violent hands. Shield Your children from evil, or, if it better serves the honor of Your name, grant us to face violence and even martyrdom with a firm faith and a bold confession. In the midst of this world’s darkness, enlighten us with the light of Your Son, Jesus Christ, and comfort us by the victory He has gained for all who remain faithful unto death; who lives and reigns, with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen.

Sermon for a Christian Martyr

Revelation 2:12-13

I had prepared a different sermon for this evening, on a different text. A different service, with a different theme. But when I heard the news this afternoon that Charlie Kirk had been assassinated at a speaking event in Utah, I found that I couldn’t ignore it. Maybe it’s because it happened just a few weeks after that senseless shooting of the Christian children in Minnesota. Maybe it’s because that story from North Carolina has been receiving so much attention, the young lady who was murdered in cold blood by a repeat-offender, while the media continues to lay the blame for all this violence at the feet of Christians and conservatives. They called Charlie a hater. They called him a fascist. They called him a racist. They even claim that he incited the very violence that killed him. But the truth is very simple: They lie.

They lie about Charlie Kirk. They lie about pro-lifers. They lie about white people. They lie about those who believe what God says about marriage. They lie about those who just want to see the laws being enforced in their own country. They lie about Christians. They lie about Christ. They lie, because they are of their father, the devil, who was a liar from the beginning and the father of lies. Their lies lead to hate, and hate leads to violence. Today, hate and violence celebrated a victory.

Now, Charlie Kirk was not killed as a Christian minister, or for preaching the Gospel, as the apostles were. He was not a minister. He was not a preacher. He was just an outspoken Christian who based his views of the truth regarding many societal issues on the teachings of the Bible. Yes, he had made a business out of it. It had become his career, to go around speaking, especially at college campuses, inviting young people to think about important issues, life and death issues, and to debate them using facts instead of emotion. He chose a path, as a Christian layman, that had him confronting lies in the world, day in and day out, spreading truth and light in the world, making himself a target for those who embrace the lie, who serve Satan as their master.

In that way, he was imitating the One whom he called Lord. Jesus, the Truth itself and the true Light, came into the world, And this is the condemnation, that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For everyone practicing evil hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed. But he who does the truth comes to the light, that his deeds may be clearly seen, that they have been done in God.

In the first Lesson I chose for this evening, we hear the Apostle Paul at the end of his road, at the end of his race, being poured out like a drink offering, soon to depart this world, soon to be violently executed by a government that hated God, having been falsely accused and lied about by people who hated God, simply because he preached the truth of the Gospel of Christ: He who believes and is baptized will be saved. Whoever does not believe will be condemned. What does he say in the face of imminent death? I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing.

Paul was ready to go, because the Lord was ready for him to go. The Lord had determined that Paul had reached the end of his earthly race and was ready to give him the crown of righteousness.

And, as Paul says, God will give that crown not only to him, but also to all who have loved His appearing. That included a man named Antipas. We don’t know anything about Antipas, except for what Jesus had John write to the church in Pergamum: I know your works, and where you dwell, where Satan’s throne is. And you hold fast to My name, and did not deny My faith even in the days in which Antipas was My faithful martyr, who was killed among you, where Satan dwells. Was Antipas a Christian minister or a Christian layman? We don’t know. All we know is that the Lord Jesus called him His “faithful martyr, who was killed” among the saints in Pergamum. It doesn’t matter if he was a minister or layman. He was a faithful Christian whose life ended as a witness to the truth of Christ, in whom Antipas believed.

Notice what Jesus said about that place where Antipas was killed: where Satan’s throne is, where Satan dwells. We don’t know who, in particular, was persecuting Christians in that place. But we know that Satan was behind it, that he had a stronghold in that city. The same can be said, must be said, about our city, and about our country, and, truthfully, about the whole world. Satan dwells here. Satan has his throne here. Jesus called him the “prince of this world,” and, if his princedom was somewhat subdued for a time, it has returned in full force.

The darkness is ugly. The darkness is evil. And the darkness is everywhere. I feel it in my bones. I suspect you feel it, too. But there is a light that came into the world 2,000 years ago, a light that pierced the darkness, a light that remains within His Holy Christ Church. It’s the only light left in this world, but it still shines among us, the message of Christ crucified and risen from the dead, the message of Christ victorious over Satan and all the power of hell, the message of Christ returning as the glorious Hero to bring judgment on the earth and salvation for all who love His appearing.

I’m convinced that Charlie Kirk was among those, from everything I heard him confess about His Savior, Jesus Christ. We will rely on his confession of himself as a poor sinner, saved by grace alone through faith in Christ alone. And so we will give thanks to God for granting him the crown of righteousness at the end of his race.

And, before we close tonight, I want to leave you with these encouragements: Don’t follow the godless Left into hatred. Don’t become your enemy. Instead, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you. Learn a lesson from Charlie Kirk, who engaged in, or at least did his best to engage in respectful conversation with those who still sat in darkness. Learn to speak boldly and bravely, to speak the truth with love, even if the whole world lies about you and hates you for the things you say, even if some of those servants of Satan target you for death, even if your earthly life has to end in Christian martyrdom, as Charlie’s did. Satan is mighty in this world and terribly successful. But his success is fleeting. His lies are about to be revealed. His kingdom is about to fall, not because justice will be restored on the earth as it now stands, but because the victorious Lord Jesus is about to return in judgment and tell Satan to go to hell, permanently. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory. The Lord be with you all. Amen.

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The glorious ministry of the Spirit

Posted on September 7, 2025 by Rev. Paul Rydecki

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Sermon for Trinity 12

2 Corinthians 3:4-11 + Mark 7:31-37

You heard again today of Jesus’ ministry to a deaf man, which was very much like His ministry to all kinds of people with sicknesses and ailments. He freely gave of His time and of His care. He showed kindness and compassion toward the one who was suffering. He found a way to communicate very simple truths to the deaf man, using signs that could be interpreted and understood. And, of course, He performed the actual miracle of opening the man’s closed ears and loosing his tied-up tongue. Truly the Lord Jesus did all things well during His earthly ministry.

And He still does all things well. But His earthly ministry of opening closed ears and loosing tied-up tongues has now been transformed into a ministry that He carries out indirectly instead of directly, a ministry that, while less miraculous and spectacular, is just as compassionate, just as sincere, and just as glorious. It’s still a ministry of preaching that transforms deaf ears into hearing ones, that transforms speechless tongues into bold, confessing tongues—a ministry that literally gives life to the dead, not just in one place, but throughout the world, in every place where this ministry is taking place. It’s about this ministry that the apostle Paul is speaking in today’s Epistle, which we’re going to walk through together this morning: the glorious ministry of the Spirit.

And we have such confidence toward God through Christ. What confidence is the apostle Paul talking about, and who is the “we”? The “we” is Paul and Timothy, who was with Paul as he wrote this letter. But he’s really talking about all the ministers whom Christ had sent out into the world to preach the Gospel. “We” have such confidence: confidence in what he describes in the first few verses of this chapter, in the fact that we ministers, whom God has sent to you, are enough to supply your spiritual needs. The Corinthians had started turning against Paul, listening to the lies of supposed ministers who came to them with their own letters of recommendation from somewhere, trying to persuade the Corinthian Christians to listen to them instead of Paul. They had turned the ministry into a business, marketing themselves and praising their own success, and were handling the word of God deceitfully. Did Paul need letters of recommendation in order for them to believe him? Did he need human credentials in order to be credible? Did he and Timothy need letters of recommendation from the Corinthians, so that they could convince people elsewhere that they were to be believed? No, Paul says, through Christ, who called us into this ministry, we are confident before God that we have all we need for the ministry, and that you have all you need, for salvation and for living a Christian life, in the ministry God provides through us.

Not that we are sufficient by ourselves, Paul writes, to think of anything as being from ourselves. Jesus was sufficient, Jesus was competent, Jesus was qualified as a minister all by Himself, because He was and is the sinless Son of God. And yet even Jesus, speaking humbly as a man, credited His Father in heaven with His message and with the power that accompanied it. I do nothing of Myself, he said, but as My Father taught Me, I speak these things. How much less could sinful human ministers claim sufficiency or competence for themselves, as if we had any power or ability to save anyone or to transform anyone’s life, as if we were the source of the message we preach, as if we came up with the doctrines that we teach. No, Paul says, our sufficiency, our qualifications come from God. He has made us sufficient as ministers of a New Testament.

Remember when God first chose Moses to be His prophet and minister to Israel? Moses recognized his insufficiency for that task. Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the children of Israel out of Egypt? O Lord, I am not eloquent, neither before nor since You have spoken to Your servant; but I am slow of speech and slow of tongue. Do you remember God’s reply? It goes perfectly with today’s Gospel. Who has made man’s mouth? Or who makes the mute, the deaf, the seeing, or the blind? Have not I, the LORD? Now therefore, go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall say. God made Moses sufficient. Remember how inadequate the prophet Isaiah felt as God was calling him into the ministry. Woe is me, for I am undone! Because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips. But God took away his sin and guilt, and made him sufficient. Remember what the backgrounds were of Jesus’ 12 apostles. Most of them were fishermen. Most of them were nobody’s in Israel. But Jesus took them, and trained them, and had great patience with them. And then He called them to be His witnesses to the ends of the earth. And then He empowered them with His Spirit from on high, making them sufficient and competent to carry out that momentous task.

Ministers, Paul goes on, of a New Testament, not of the letter, but of the Spirit. For the letter kills, but the Spirit makes alive. Moses was a minister of the first covenant or testament, which we now call the Old Testament, because Christ fulfilled that one and instituted a new one. That Old Testament, summarized in the Ten Commandments, was “of the letter.” It was literally written with letters on tablets made of stones. It consisted of written commandments which the children of Israel were to obey. It commanded many things; it revealed what things were good and right, and what things were bad and evil. But those letters written in stone had no power to produce obedience in anyone. Commanding someone to do something doesn’t make them able to do it. It doesn’t even make them willing to do it, except by threats and compulsion. Commanding someone to love someone, for example, doesn’t actually produce love, does it? Just as forbidding someone from eating, say, from a certain tree, doesn’t actually prevent them from eating, does it? God’s commandments define and demand love for God and love for our neighbor. But the letter can’t produce love in people who are not, by nature, loving.

And we aren’t. And that’s the problem. And that’s why the covenant written with letters and engraved on stones ended up killing people. It’s why Paul calls it a ministry of death, a ministry of condemnation. Because the Law didn’t only come with commands to obey. It also came with punishment for disobedience. It sentences sinners to death. And the faithful ministry of the Law preaches the sinner’s death and eternal condemnation. It doesn’t turn people into sinners, but reveals them to be sinners. It kills all hope a person has of saving himself or herself.

But that’s why a new covenant was established, because the old one was never intended to last. The Law was, as Paul describes it to the Galatians, a schoolmaster to lead people to Christ. As Paul wrote to the Romans, Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes. He gave His body up on the cross and shed His blood as the old covenant’s price of atonement for sin—not His own sin, but the sins of the world. And in doing that, He gained the right to institute the New Covenant in His blood, a covenant that doesn’t consist of commands written down with letters on stone, but a covenant of God’s promise to forgive sins to all who seek Him through His beloved Son, Jesus Christ, a covenant that, when believed, actually does produce love and works of love.

And yet it wasn’t enough for Jesus to institute the New Testament. He also had to institute the ministry of it, the preaching of it, the administration of it. Paul calls it a ministry of righteousness—not a series of commands to be obeyed in order for sinners to make themselves righteous, but the ministry of preaching Christ, the Righteous one. Not the ministry of making people righteous in themselves, but the ministry of demonstrating that righteousness had already been earned for all people by Christ, the ministry of calling sinners to repentance and faith in Christ, the ministry of applying the righteousness of Christ to penitent sinners who believe, the ministry of guiding those who are righteous by faith to love God and to their neighbor.

Now, Paul goes on, if the ministry of death (which was engraved with letters on stones) came with glory, so that the children of Israel could not look steadily at the face of Moses due to the glory of his face (which was fading away), how could the ministry of the Spirit not be more glorious? For if the ministry of condemnation was glorious, then the ministry of righteousness abounds much more in glory.

Even the Old Testament ministry that brought death was a glorious ministry. Paul refers to the shining face of Moses, as described in the book of Exodus, where Moses’ face would actually glow with a bright light after he would go into the Tent of Meeting and receive God’s Word directly from God. He would come out and speak to the people with a glowing face, but then he would put a veil on his face after he was done speaking. Why? Because the glory of his face only lasted a little while, and he didn’t want the people to see the glory gradually fading away. It would seem like the words he spoke were losing their force. So he veiled his face.

But the truth is that the ministry of Moses, along with the Old Covenant itself, was intended to fade away. It was glorious for a while, but it would eventually be replaced with something far more glorious—with the New Testament in the blood of Christ, and with the ministry that proclaims Christ crucified, not only to the nation of Israel, but to all nations, to all the world.

For even that which was once glorious is not counted as glorious in comparison with this surpassing glory. For if that which faded away was glorious, then that which lasts must be far more glorious.

Through this ministry, established by Christ, you, too, have access to Christ like the deaf man in the Gospel did. Not to approach Him for physical healing, but for spiritual healing, for guidance and strength and comfort, and, when necessary, for a strong dose of truth, and for the warnings to you need to avoid dangerous doctrines and practices, and temptations that surround you in this life. Through this ministry, established by Christ, the Spirit of God works among you and within you, to open your ears to His Word, and to keep them open, to loose your tongue to confess His name, and to keep it loose. Through this ministry, established by Christ and placed right here in your midst, Jesus makes Himself available to you, throughout your entire earthly life, until the end, when even this more glorious ministry of the Spirit will be replaced with something far more glorious still, with the direct ministry of Christ, who will live among His people visibly and tangibly, like a true shepherd dwelling among His sheep—a far better shepherd than anything you’ll experience here, and yet a shepherd who has seen fit to use the ministry of earthly shepherds to care for His precious sheep. For that, let us give thanks and praise to God the Father, through our Lord Jesus Christ, for seeing to our care until He comes back in person, through the glorious ministry of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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One righteousness by faith, another by deeds

Posted on September 3, 2025 by Rev. Paul Rydecki

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Sermon for the week of Trinity 11

2 Samuel 22:21-29 + Romans 10:4-18

In tonight’s first lesson, you heard King David saying a lot about his own righteousness. The LORD rewarded me according to my righteousness. I have kept the ways of the LORD. I did not depart from His statutes. I was blameless before Him. Therefore the LORD has repaid me according to my righteousness, according to my cleanness in His eyes.

On the other hand, you heard Paul speaking very differently in the second lesson, about a righteousness that has nothing to do with our deeds, but that is given to us by faith in the Lord Jesus.

How do we reconcile these two apparently contradictory ways of speaking? We recognize that they’re not contradictory. They’re just talking about two different things, two different kinds of righteousness. There is one kind of righteousness that we receive by faith in Jesus Christ, the kind that allows us to stand before God forgiven and saved. And there’s another kind of righteousness toward which we strive, as believers, that our dealings with men may reflect the righteousness that is ours by faith. David speaks of one, Paul speaks of the other.

Let’s start with David. He composed the song you heard from 2 Samuel on the day when the LORD had delivered him from the hand of all his enemies, and from the hand of Saul. Now, remember how David had behaved in all his dealings with Saul. Everything he did in Saul’s service was honorable and sincere, from the time he was first enlisted to play the harp for Saul’s troubled mind, to his volunteering to fight Goliath, to the many battles he fought against the Philistines in Saul’s army. As David’s popularity grew, so did Saul’s jealousy, to the point of madness. And yet, David was not guilty of any of the accusations Saul hurled at him. He had not sought to rob Saul of the people’s praises. He had not tried to kill Saul, or steal the kingdom away from him. On the contrary, on two separate occasions, while Saul was chasing David, hunting him down in order to kill him, David spared Saul’s life. David was not guilty of sedition or rebellion, not guilty of murder, not even guilty of speaking ill of Saul while Saul was trying to kill him. In all his dealings with Saul, and with his enemies, David was not guilty, blameless, not only in his own eyes, but in God’s eyes. In that context, David was righteous, and God rewarded him accordingly, delivering David from those who pursued him and causing him to prosper as king. In that context, God gave him what he deserved.

But in another context, God gave David what he most surely did not deserve: pardon, forgiveness, justification. As David wrote in Psalm 32, Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man to whom the LORD does not impute iniquity I acknowledged my sin to You, and my iniquity I have not hidden. I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,” and You forgave the iniquity of my sin. In the context of his standing before God, in the context of God’s holy law, David did what the tax collector did in Sunday’s Gospel: He confessed his sins and his unworthiness to receive anything  good from God, and yet, trusting in God’s promise to be merciful, David sought the Lord’s pardon and received it. He sought, not his own righteousness, but the Lord’s righteousness, and he found it.

That’s the righteousness Paul is talking about in Romans 10. That’s the context, the context of the sinner’s standing before God, the question of how sinners can be justified before God and accepted into His favor in the first place.

Paul starts out in Romans 10 explaining why the Jews who rejected Jesus were not justified in God’s sight, because they refused to submit to God’s righteousness, to the righteousness that He gives to all who look to Him for His promised mercy for Christ’s sake. They were like the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable that we heard on Sunday, who stands before God, holds up His law to Him, and says, “Look here, God! Look how righteous I am! Judge me by how righteous I’ve been according to the law!” No, that way doesn’t work, Paul says. They “have not submitted to the righteousness of God. For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes,” like the tax collector in Jesus’ parable who found righteousness, not in Himself, but in God; who found pardon, not by working off his own sins, but simply by looking to God for His promised mercy.

Paul goes on to explain: For Moses writes about the righteousness which is of the law, “The man who does those things shall live by them.”That’s a quote from Leviticus. In order to be declared righteous before God on the basis of the law, a man has to actually do the things the law requires. All of them. Flawless obedience to all the commandments, from the heart, all the time. If a person could do that, then he could hold up God’s law to Him and rightly say, “See? I’ve done everything You commanded. I’ve kept my end up the bargain. Now You keep Yours and declare me righteous according to the Law!” But no man, no one descended from sinful Adam and Eve, can make such a claim. If we appeal to the Law, if we appeal to our works, we will never be justified.

Now, before we consider Paul’s next words, we need to know where he’s quoting from. He adds another quote from Moses, from the end of Deuteronomy, where Moses summarizes the Law and the commandments that God had given to Israel. For this commandment which I command you today is not too mysterious for you, nor is it far off. It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who will ascend into heaven for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ Nor is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will go over the sea for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ But the word is very near you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it. See, I have set before you today life and good, death and evil, in that I command you today to love the LORD your God, to walk in His ways, and to keep His commandments, His statutes, and His judgments, that you may live and multiply. That’s how the Law speaks. It lays out the things God forbids, and the things He commands, and it says, “You don’t have to go searching for what you must do. God has spelled it all out for you. Now do it, keep the Law, and you will live!” That’s the righteousness of the Law—which no one has ever achieved.

But the Gospel speaks differently than the Law did. The Gospel says, “You don’t have to go searching for what you must do. God has spelled it all out for you: Believe in what God has done and promises to do for you!” So Paul takes Moses’ own words about the “simplicity” of law-righteousness and re-explains them in the context of faith-righteousness. But the righteousness of faith speaks in this way, “Do not say in your heart, ‘Who will ascend into heaven?’ ” (that is, to bring Christ down from above) or, “ ‘Who will descend into the abyss?’ ” (that is, to bring Christ up from the dead). But what does it say? “The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart.” (that is, the word of faith which we preach): that if you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.

Believing in the Lord Jesus, crucified and risen from the dead to be your Savior—that’s what leads to righteousness, what leads to justification. The “confessing Him with your mouth” part goes hand in hand with the “believing in your heart” part. It isn’t a “second thing you have to do” to be saved, in addition to believing. Again, it’s like the tax collector who went to the temple. He didn’t just sit at home believing God would be merciful to Him if he sought God’s mercy in the temple. No, since he believed, He actually went to the temple and sought it. Or, it’s like the ten lepers who believed that Jesus would have mercy on them if they asked Him for it. They believed, and so they went to Him and asked.

So it is with us. For example, if the Gospel convinces you that God truly offers the forgiveness of sins, for Christ’s sake, through Holy Baptism, then you will go to be baptized. That’s your “confession.” And, having been baptized, if you continue to believe, then you’ll continue to go to the ministry Christ has established and confess both your sins and your faith in Christ for forgiveness on a regular basis, to call upon Him continually. For “whoever calls on the name of the LORD shall be saved.”

In the rest of these verses from Romans 10, Paul walks through the steps that lead up to a person being able to “call on the name of the Lord” in order to be saved. It starts with the sending of a minister to preach the Gospel of Christ. The sending produces preaching. The preaching produces believing hearts. And believing hearts lead to believers calling upon the name of the Lord for the salvation He promises through Christ. Not that everyone who hears believes. Most of the Jews didn’t. Most Gentiles don’t, either. But the only way for a person to believe is to hear, so that the powerful Holy Spirit may work through what is preached to turn unbelievers into believers.

And then, as believers are justified—declared righteous—by faith, we are immediately guided to that other kind of righteousness, the kind that David showed in his interactions with Saul. We’re instructed to be honorable men and women, to do good in the world and not evil, to speak true and kind words, without deceit and without malice. This kind of righteousness will not be perfect in this life, but it must have a beginning, and a continual growth.

But even after pursuing such righteous, saintly lives in the world, we dare not approach God to boast about how well we’ve done. No, we’ll approach Him, instead, as the tax collector approached Him, in humility, seeking His promised pardon for Christ’s sake. And, as David approached Him, with glory and praise to Him alone for doing such good works in us and through us, and for granting us the promised rewards, in this life, and in the next. Amen.

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Only one way to be justified

Posted on August 31, 2025 by Rev. Paul Rydecki

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Sermon for Trinity 11

1 Corinthians 15:1-10 + Luke 18:9-14

2+2=? 5? 3? 10? No, 2+2 always equals 4, and only 4. In mathematics, as in many areas of life, there are many ways to get something wrong, but only one way to get something right.

So it is, too, in the article of doctrine called “justification.” There are many ways to get it wrong, and only one way to get it right. In today’s Gospel, the only text in the whole New Testament where Jesus Himself uses the term “justify” in the context of the sinner’s justification, Jesus uses a parable to highlight two ways of approaching God, one that works, and one that doesn’t. But, as we’ll see in a moment, the way that doesn’t work, the “Pharisee’s way,” actually has many variations to it—and none of them work—while the way that works, the “tax collector’s way,” remains simple and unique.

In the New Testament, many groups of people are described as enemies of God, but no group is depicted as the villain as much as the Pharisees. There’s a reason for that. The Pharisees were, at that time, the most powerful, the most respected, the most revered leaders of the church. And they weren’t interested in the one way to be justified before God that Jesus was preaching. They had their own way, a different way, and were promoting it within the Church of God. And that was a real danger to the people of Israel, because if a pagan prophet had come to Israel and told them to worship one of the Greek or Roman gods, they would have all told him to take a hike. But when the leaders of the Church are the ones leading the people away from God, their preaching ends up leading many astray. And so, once again, Jesus shows the people that the way of the Pharisees was the wrong way.

He spoke this parable to certain people who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and who despised others. Why were they convinced that they were righteous? Because, like the Pharisee in the parable, they hadn’t committed the “big bad sins,” like adultery, like extortion, or murder. And because they did the “big good deeds,” like tithing and fasting. And so, when they compared themselves with the worst of the worst, like that tax collector over there, they came out looking pretty good. They thought of themselves as basically good people, righteous people.

And the more righteous they saw themselves as being, the more they despised the people who weren’t as good as they were. At the same time, the more righteous they saw themselves as being, the less they felt they needed from God. In fact, as I’m sure you noticed, the Pharisee in Jesus parable, who is representative of such people, didn’t ask God for a single thing in his prayer in the temple. He didn’t go to the temple to receive anything from God, but to boast to God about how good he was, and, surely, to feel even better about himself because he did the good work of going to the temple and praying in the first place. Yes, he had a lot to be proud of before God. So he thought.

The tax collector in the parable represented a very different group of people. He was unquestionably guilty of some of those big bad sins, like extortion, using his position as an agent of the Roman government to force his fellow Israelites to pay more taxes than they actually owed, and then pocketing the difference. Oh, the tax collectors were scoundrels, and were despised by the decent citizens of Israel.

But this particular scoundrel wasn’t proud of his sins. On the contrary, he had come to recognize how bad he was, how lost he was. And so he went to the temple, not to boast before God, not to pretend he was sinless, but to confess his sins before God in repentance, and to beg God for mercy. O God, be merciful to me, a sinner. He knew he was unrighteous, and loathed himself for it, and was sorry for it, and looked to God to graciously provide him with the righteousness that he lacked.         

The result? I tell you, this man, Jesus says, the tax collector, went down to his house justified rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but whoever humbles himself will be exalted. The tax collector went home justified. Forgiven. Pardoned, declared righteous and innocent by God, the Judge. The other man, the Pharisee, wasn’t justified. Wasn’t forgiven. Remained guilty before God, the Judge. This parable ought to silence all those who insist that God forgives everyone, or has already forgiven everyone. Well, that’s contrary to what Jesus says here in this text, isn’t it?

Why wasn’t the Pharisee forgiven or “justified”? Didn’t he work hard to lead a decent life? Yes, he did! He worked harder than most, in fact. His life was clean, by a superficial reading of the Ten Commandments. But, as Jesus revealed on other occasions, the typical Pharisee also ignored other commandments, like showing mercy, like approaching God in humility, and having genuine love toward his neighbor. The Pharisees brought all the required sacrifices, but as God says, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” Their heart wasn’t in their obedience, and the Judge knew it. Only complete obedience to God that flows from genuine love and mercy could ever earn the Judge’s acquittal. But the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable didn’t even seek God’s acquittal. He trusted in himself, that he was righteous.

Now, in our modern setting, Pharisaism is still very, very common. But it takes a few different forms, none of which lead to justification, pardon, or forgiveness. We’ll mention a few different forms of it here.

Pharisee #1 is very much like the Pharisee at the time of Jesus. He lives an outwardly good and decent life. He goes to church regularly. He gives good offerings. He trusts that he’s done enough good to get into heaven, and most people would look at him and agree. The last thing he wants is to share eternal life with those bad people out there who haven’t worked as hard as he has. “I’m not perfect,” he says, “but I’m about as close as a person can get.” “What do you want from Me?” God asks. “I want You to look at how well I’ve done, how hard I’ve tried,” Pharisee #1 replies. But with such an attitude, Pharisee #1 will not go down to his house justified.

Pharisee #2 also thinks he has done a pretty good job at keeping God’s commandments…as he has redefined them according to his own personal beliefs. He honors his father and his mother and those in authority over him; he just doesn’t think a nation’s government has any right to manage its own borders. He doesn’t “murder,” he just supports a woman’s right to kill her unborn child. He doesn’t “commit adultery,” he just believes that men should be able to marry men, and women women, and “sex outside of marriage isn’t technically adultery,” and so on. In fact, Pharisee #2 pats himself on the back for being so tolerant, for being so “loving” toward other people (even as he despises those people who aren’t as tolerant as he is). “I’m not perfect,” he says, “but I’m a pretty good person, a lot better than those intolerant Bible-thumpers.” “What do you want from Me?” God asks. “I want You to look at how well I’ve done,” Pharisee #2 replies. But with such an attitude, Pharisee #2 will not go down to his house justified.

Pharisee #3 is the demanding kind. He expects and demands a place in heaven, just because he exists. He’s so righteous in his own eyes, it doesn’t matter what he does, or how he lives. He just knows that, if God is a good God, then He couldn’t possibly send a person like him to hell. “What do you want from Me?” God asks. “I want a place in heaven, just because. No, I won’t repent of my sins. Why should I?” With such an attitude, Pharisee #3 will also not go down to his house justified.

Pharisee #4 looks a little different. He doesn’t boast about much. No, he admits he’s a poor sinner. But he’s pretty proud of one thing: He boasts about his faith, about his decision to make Jesus his Lord and Savior. He puts his confidence in that decision he made. “I’m a miserable wretch,” he says, “but I’ve got this one thing going for me. *I* am a believer.” “What do you want from Me?” God asks. “I want You to look at how well I’ve done, in making Jesus my Lord and Savior,” Pharisee #3 replies. But with such an attitude, even Pharisee #4 will not go down to his house justified. Only the tax collector will.

Well, what is this path toward justification and forgiveness that the tax collector found? What is the way that actually works? The tax collector viewed himself in the mirror of God’s holy Law and found himself wanting, lacking the righteousness that he needed to stand before God. He looked at his sins and lamented them. He went to the temple, not to brag, not to offer excuses, not to justify himself. No, he went for one reason alone: because he knew that, while God is a righteous God, a just God, a jealous God who punishes sin, the same God had also promised to be merciful to all who came to Him for mercy in His temple. So the tax collector went to the place where God had promised to be merciful, and looked to God for mercy. “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

In other words, the tax collector put his faith in God, and in God’s promise to be merciful to all who looked to Him for mercy in His temple. He didn’t “put his faith in his faith.” He didn’t hold up his faith as something that made him worthy before God. He certainly didn’t hold up any of his works. But he did believe, he did have faith in God’s promise. He did approach God, seeking the promised mercy, and trusting that it would there for him, as promised. He went down to his house justified.

This is what faith is, what faith does. And that’s why faith justifies. Because it looks to God for the mercy He has promised. And that mercy was purchased for us, made available to us, at great cost—at the cost of the blood of Christ, who, as Paul said in today’s Epistle, died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and was buried, and rose again the third day, so that we don’t have to redeem ourselves, so that we don’t have to purchase or earn God’s pardon. Jesus earned it for us. And when we “go to God’s temple,” which is Christ, within His Christian Church, and when we seek God’s mercy for Christ’s sake—when we seek His absolution, His pardon, His justification that He offers through holy Baptism, through the Lord’s Supper, through the mouths of His ministers, He gives it. He pronounces it, every time. “I forgive you,” He says. “I pardon you,” through all these means of grace.

“What do you want from Me?” God asks. There’s only one right answer to that question, only one answer that will spare you from hell and bring you safely into heaven: “I want the mercy You have promised to poor sinners for Christ’s sake. Nothing more, and nothing less.” If that’s your answer, if that’s what you seek from God, then know for certain that you, like the tax collector, will go down to your house justified. And if you’re justified in this life, then you will also participate in the life that is to come. Amen.

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