Invocation
“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”
How many times have we heard those words? And yet, they testify with renewed freshness to our identity as children of God who’ve been baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus.
Wouldn’t it be something if God’s faithful would remember that every time they heard the words of the Invocation, perhaps tracing the sign of the cross as a visible reminder?
St. Paul beautifully captures the eternal significance of our baptism into Christ when he writes to the Galatians that “as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ” (Gal. 3:27).
We are clothed with his righteousness. Unlike the man in the parable of the wedding feast who had no wedding garment, when we stand before our Judge on the Last Day, we will be clothed and covered, robed in the purity of Christ.
“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Already now, in this heaven on earth we call worship, we stand with boldness before the Triune God who has claimed us and named us.
Confession and Forgiveness
We can indeed approach God with confidence. And yet, because we stand on this side of our Lord’s final return, we still have with us the devil, the world, and our sinful flesh. We have not yet faced the final judgment.
And so, with sin still working in us, the condemnation of God’s Law must still confront us, lest we have any delusions that we might have something to boast of before our mighty Judge.
Above all else, Confession and Absolution keep us honest — honest with ourselves and honest before God. The act of confession is not some work that we lay before the Father’s throne; rather, it is the simple acknowledgment that God’s Word is true and proper and that when we measure ourselves against its demands, we come up short.
God’s Word says, “You shall not give false testimony,” but truthfully, we have lied, gossiped, and slandered. And so, the Christian confesses: “Lord, Your Word is true; I have sinned.”
There are three basic ways to handle sin and guilt. One is to ignore or minimize them. We’ve all been tempted in that direction more than a few times. Isn’t that, after all, what our sinful human nature is all about?
Another way is to institutionalize them, especially the guilt part. After all, if you can keep people feeling guilty enough, you will keep them returning for more.
The third way is to give sin and guilt their proper due and then silence them. That is the way of God’s absolution. With His forgiveness, our sin is removed from us as far as the East is from the West.
Christians know that, but they also need to hear it often. We must be reminded that those familiar words, “I forgive you all your sins,” are not just some impersonal announcement. They say what they mean and accomplish what they promise. Jesus said to his disciples that the sins they forgive are forgiven (John 20:23).
The last and greatest absolution that will ever be spoken to us will be at the last judgment. In the final pages of the Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis provides a marvelous description of this event.
As each individual comes before Aslan — the lion who is Lewis’ figure for Christ — one of two things happens: either the person gazes directly into Aslan’s face and recognizes his forgiving countenance, or, upon seeing the lion’s stern demeanor, passes into his long shadow, forever to be separated from Christ.
In the Confession and Absolution, we are being readied for our appearance before Christ on the Last Day. Hidden behind those comforting words that our sins are forgiven is the invitation, “Come, you who are blessed by my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Matt. 25:34).
When our Lord speaks those words to us on the Last Day, Confession and Absolution, as we know, will cease, for we will bask in the eternal absolution of the Lamb.
Kyrie
In this world of sin and death, Christians have plenty of opportunities to join in the brief yet all-encompassing prayer of the Kyrie: “Lord, have mercy.”
We all see the results of hatred, envy, lust, and greed. Surely, the world is in need of God’s mercy. In her worship, it’s no wonder that the church pleads before God on behalf of the whole world. It’s a prayer that no one else is going to pray.
Yet, when we cry out, “Lord, have mercy,” we have confidence in our voices because we know that God is indeed merciful. He desires to relieve the suffering around us.
Our prayer may not always bring an immediate response—at least, not the response that we seek—but even then, we commend ourselves and the whole world to a merciful God.
Like the confession of sins, however, our cry for mercy will be silenced in heaven. There, we will see the results of God’s mercy, as before the throne, and in front of the Lamb will stand all the redeemed — not one worthy of the honor.
Hymn Of Praise
On the night of Jesus’ birth, the angels let loose their earth-shattering song of praise: “Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.”
On that specific occasion, their praise gave utterance to the good news that the Son of God had come in the flesh. Heaven had come down to earth! And ever since, the Church has continued to rejoice in this miracle of our salvation.
The opening words of the Gloria in Excelsis are followed by a hymn of praise to the Triune God. One can imagine the faithful singing these words in heaven: “We praise you, we bless you, we worship you, we glorify you, we give you thanks for your great glory.”
We focus on the incarnate Son of God, the only-begotten Son, the Lamb of God, and the only Son of the Father. And if that isn’t enough to name this One who is the object of our worship and praise, twice we sing, “You take away the sin of the world.”
There it is, the heart and substance of the Christian faith. In heaven, we will be gathered around the throne and the Lamb, confessing that he alone is holy and the Lord.
In recent times, the Lutheran Church in North America has made a significant contribution to its liturgy through the alternate Hymn of Praise, “This is the Feast.”
Drawing directly from the description of heaven in the Revelation to St. John, our voices are joined to that heavenly throng as we sing with them:
“Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” (Rev. 5:12)
Sermon
Frequently, we conclude the reading of Holy Scripture with the phrase, “This is the Word of the Lord!” More than just a “word" from God, this is his revelation in which he makes known to us his will, most specifically, his merciful will that desires our salvation.
Ultimately, this Word points us to the Word, the incarnate Son of God. He is God's final and complete revelation to us, the mirror of the Father's heart.
That is the point that the writer to the Hebrews makes in the opening verses of his epistle: “In many and various ways God spoke to his people of old by the prophets, but now in these last days, he has spoken to us by his Son” (Heb. 1:1-2a).
Only through him — God's only Son — can we know the Father's favor and grace.
The sermon brings the Word of God to bear on the lives of the hearers. It is the equivalent of sitting at Jesus's feet. But it's more than mere instruction.
Through the sermon, God speaks to us with his two-edged sword of condemnation and promise, Law and Gospel. The subject of the sermon is both God and us.
Through the sermon, we better understand ourselves, especially our need for God's forgiveness. But we also come face to face with God's mercy and love.
Week after week, God's faithful hear the voice of their Good Shepherd, preparing them, in a sense, for that final day when Jesus calls them to their eternal reward.
Creed
During his earthly ministry, Jesus asked his disciples the hard question, “Who do you say that I am?” He wasn't asking for the opinions of the crowds; he wanted a confession of faith.
In reality, this confession is no different from the confession of sins. In both, we acknowledge that what God has said is true. When we confess our sins, we acknowledge the truth that God speaks about us—that we are sinners. When we confess the faith of the church in the creed, our confession speaks about God—who he is and what he has done.
In every age, the same question is asked of the church: Who do you say that I am? As we open our mouths and begin, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty ...” we confess a profound truth that has passed over the lips of Christians in every generation.
This confession of the Triune God is the property of no single individual but of the whole church, including the entire company of heaven. More than a few saints and martyrs put their lives on the line as they defended the truths that we confess in the creeds.
Think of Athanasius, that faithful fourth-century pastor and confessor who was exiled numerous times for his defense of the truth against the false teachers of his day. Or Luther, who stood firm against the combined might of the Roman Church and the Holy Roman Empire.
In our day, faithful Christians risk their lives—and sometimes die—to confess these truths.
In the Revelation to St. John, we find confession in heaven. Just listen to the snippets of the grand confession that swirls around God's throne:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come! (4:8b)
Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things, and by your will, they existed and were created (4:11).
Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth (5:9-10).
In the same way, as we stand on holy ground where Jesus comes in his Word and Sacraments, we join that noble company of saints and martyrs, confessing these holy truths concerning the Triune God.
Offertory
“What shall I render to the Lord?” Truth is, we have nothing to render him. We brought nothing into this world and will take nothing with us when we depart.
As Jesus so poignantly tells us, our treasures are already stored up for us in heaven (Matt. 6:19-21). There is, however, an offering that we make, both now in our worship and one day in heaven. It is the sacrifice of thanksgiving, as we call on the name of the Lord (Ps. 116:17).
In the Apology to the Augsburg Confession (Article 24), this eucharistic sacrifice is carefully distinguished from Christ's propitiatory sacrifice. The sacrifice for sins belongs to him alone.
Whenever we try to grab that honor for ourselves, we come up short — very short. But when we recognize our rightful place — that we are on the receiving end of God's merciful goodness — then the sacrifice of thanksgiving cannot help but pour forth from our lips as we give our thanks to the One who gave everything for us.
Giving our first fruits, whether money or possessions, time or talents, is also a part of this sacrifice of thanksgiving. Our mouths cannot remain separated from the rest of our bodies. If the thanksgiving is flowing from our lips, then it will also find expression in the giving of our very selves for the sake of Christ and the neighbor.
Sanctus
If any part of the service has been recognized as providing a glimpse of heaven, it's the Sanctus: “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabbath, heaven and earth are full of your glory.”
This is the eternal song of the angels who hover over the throne of God in the vision of heaven that was given to Isaiah (Is. 6:1-4). Such was the splendor of their song that the very foundations of the temple's threshold trembled at the sound.
At first glance, these words appear out of place at this point in the service. Nevertheless, nothing in the world compares with the miracle of Jesus' bodily presence to feed his people.
In this meal, God breaks into our world to give us life. No wonder our repeated cry is “Hosanna in the highest,” for what is more needed in this dying world than the Lord's salvation?
The second half of the Sanctus contains a statement as bold as the first. Here, we have our own little Palm Sunday. Just as the crowds cried out to Jesus as he entered Jerusalem, so do we declare, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord” (Mt. 21:9; Ps. 118:26).
Heaven continues to break into our world as Jesus, our humble king, enters our midst in the Lord's name. This confession in the Sanctus of Jesus' real presence is so significant that Luther proposed moving the Sanctus after the Words of Institution to highlight the reality of the words we sing.
Words of Institution
Among many Christians, Jesus's words, which we often refer to as the Words of Institution, are nothing more than an historical report: this is what Jesus did and said, period.
However, we have been blessed to know that these words mean much more. They do what they say.
According to Christ's command, we celebrate the Lord's Supper not as a mere meal of remembrance but as a Sacrament by which Jesus himself comes to us. We don't transport ourselves back in time; rather, he comes to us and brings heaven down to earth for our benefit.
Of course, we won't receive the Lord's Supper in heaven. We will have Jesus — the Bread of heaven — in all his fullness. But for now, as we wait for his return, he establishes his beachhead in our sin-infested world, coming as our defender and deliverer, offering his own body and blood as the medicine of immortality.
Here, we find strength for the journey as Christ dwells in us, and we are in him. The more we partake of this sacred food, the greater our desire becomes to be with Christ forever.
In the words of Thomas Aquinas' great eucharistic hymn:
O Christ, whom now beneath a veil we see:
May what we thirst for soon our portion be:
To gaze on Thee unveiled, and see Thy face,
The vision of Thy glory and Thy grace.
Agnus Dei
Turning again to the Revelation to St. John, at one point, John sees a scroll in the right hand of the One who was sitting on the throne. A “strong angel” challenges, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?”
Then, the Lamb comes into view between the throne and the elders. Undoubtedly, the most significant feature in John's description of this Lamb is that it is a lamb who appears to have been slain.
When we sing the Agnus Dei, “Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world, have mercy on us,” we are preaching and praying simultaneously. After all, it was with these very words that John the Baptizer pointed his disciples to Jesus (John 1:29, 36).
As we prepare to feast on the Lamb of our salvation, we proclaim him who gave his life for us. Here is the Lamb of God! Yet we also pray to him, who is now present in his body and blood.
We pray for mercy, mercy from the One who showed the true depths of mercy and compassion as he was silently led to slaughter, dying like a lamb shorn of all its honor.
Returning to the apostle John's vision of heaven, we hear his description of the saints in white robes.
“Who are they?” John is asked. The answer: “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb” (Rev. 7:13-14).
This is the blood of our redemption; the propitiatory sacrifice foreshadowed at the first Passover when the blood of the year-old lambs was sprinkled on the doorpost as a sign that blood had already been shed in that house.
In his Easter hymn, Martin Luther applies that incident to us, thus revealing our standing before the Father:
See, his blood now marks our door;
Faith points to it;
Death passes o'er,
And Satan cannot harm us.
(Lutheran Service Book, 458)
So it is at every celebration of the Lord's Supper. The blood of the Lamb is poured out for our drinking and his flesh for our eating. God's mercy is shown, and his peace rests on us.
Distribution
Yet, by our common confession of the truth, we are one in Christ. As Christ gives himself to us in this holy meal, he strengthens that unity and bids us to love one another deeply and abidingly. How can it be any other way, as we are sent from the table with the blessing to depart in peace?
Nunc Dimittis
Another Lutheran contribution to the church's liturgy is using the Nunc Dimittis as the post-communion canticle: “Lord, now let Your servant depart in peace.”
So, what could be better than holding the infant Jesus in our arms? How about eating and drinking his body and blood given for the forgiveness of our sins? This truly is heaven on earth because we have Jesus and all his benefits here.
Benediction
“The Lord bless you and keep you.”
Recall the words of Jesus in the parable of the sheep and the goats: “Come, you who my father blesses, inherit the kingdom.”
The blessing that God speaks to us in the Benediction prepares us for that final summons. Throughout the Divine Service, God forms us in his likeness as he establishes a more profound and lasting faith toward him and a persistent and steadfast love for one another.
“The Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you.”
In their reports of Jesus' Transfiguration, the evangelists tell us that Jesus shone more brightly than the sun, prompting Peter to say, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.”
In heaven, we will have the same response because it will be perfect to be in the presence of the Light of the world.
We see only dimly for the moment, but then we will see face to face. Still, it is good to be here even now, in this heaven on earth that we call worship, for God has already showered us with his grace.
“The Lord lift his countenance on you and give you peace.”
Christians are truly blessed because God does not hide his face from us. In all other religions, there is doubt about their gods' attitudes toward them.
How can it be otherwise, given that their gods create their imaginations? But ours is the creator of heaven and earth.
To be sure, he is a stern judge who holds the sinner accountable. But in the person of his only Son, we see our Father's true nature, his fatherly heart of love. He lifts the countenance toward us in his holy Word and Sacraments as he reveals his mercy and grace.
There is peace where the Lord blesses and makes his face shine and lifts his gracious countenance on us. Not the peace of this world, but peace between God and his faithful people.
We know that peace because even now, we have Jesus and all his benefits in Word and Sacraments. And in heaven, we will rest in his eternal peace.
