St. Luke Ev. Lutheran Church of Watertown

Sermon delivered by Pastor Anthony E. Schultz

June 1, 2003 Youth Sunday/Easter 7

1 John 4:16b-21

God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God and God in him. In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the Day of Judgment, because in this world we are like him. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother.

People of God—rescued from the flaming lake of fire in hell by the innocent blood of the very Lamb of God:

My sister and her husband and my God-children Rachel and Joshua and Nathan—and their golden retriever Honey Bear live in Columbus, Ohio. My mom and dad live in Columbus, Ohio, too. We drove down there—the other day—1,000 miles round trip—for my Godchild’s High School Graduation. The graduation service was in the evening—so that afternoon we went to the Columbus Art Museum. It’s free on Thursday! That was a blessing—a little gift from Jesus. How great can the art museum be in Columbus, Ohio? I was surprised! They had a genuine Norman Rockwell. Have you ever seen a real Rockwell? It was huge—compared to the cover of Life magazine. It was the size of a refrigerator door. It was a painting of a scrawny teenager working at a place like Mullen’s—with three pretty girls all staring at him—a little puppy sitting there—staring at him—and a pudgy man sitting at the counter smiling, too. It was neat. They also had paintings by Monet—weeping willows—the branches and the leaves and the water—all so soft it was like the wind was blowing in the leaves. They had a painting by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec! They had a painting by Gaugain—Van Gogh’s friend. They had paintings by Picasso and Paul Cézanne. Lots of the paintings were of little old men—with parchment skin and wispy white hair—wearing clothes that once were very fine and fancy—but now were worn shiny and faded and threadbare. It occurred to me that the paintings in just one of the rooms I stood in were in some instances priceless—irreplaceable—very breakable. That if I had reached out—I could have touched the canvass—the scrapes of paints that had been touched by some of the greatest painters this world has ever known. And yet—what would a person be profited—if he gained the whole world—if all these paintings belonged to me—could be hung up in my home—if I didn’t know that Jesus took all my sins away? What is precious—what is priceless—what is irreplaceable—what is very breakable—is a person—a child of God. What is precious, priceless—irreplaceable? The young people who are reading God’s Word to us today. What is precious is the good news that Jesus took all our sins away so that we are heirs of the treasures of heaven. This youth Sunday God’s Word comforts us with the good news:

There Is No Fear In Love

1. We love God because He first loved us

2. We love our brother because Jesus’ love is in us.

One more morning we are concentrating on part of God’s Word from First John. It is appropriate to read from First John—because God cares about children. God cares about youth. John wrote in the second chapter of First John: “I write to you, dear children, because your sins have been forgiven on account of his (Jesus’) name. I write to you, fathers, because you have known him who is from the beginning. I write to you, young men, because you have overcome the evil one. I write to you, dear children, because you have known the Father. I write to you, fathers, because you have known him from the beginning. I write to you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God lives in you, and you have overcome the evil one.” 1 John 2:12-14 God’s Word talks a lot about fathers—their responsibilities as the spiritual head of their family. We were having supper the other day—my parents and my sister and her family and our adopted daughter and her family and we were talking about fathers. And they said—on Mother’s Day I make sermons that are hard on the fathers—saying we need to take better care of the mommies. And then comes Father’s Day and I make sermons that are hard on the fathers saying—we need to do a better job of being husbands and fathers—do a better job of being the spiritual head of our family. Showing them not so much by what we say—but by how we act—to love Jesus more and more. Then I do pre-marriage counseling and preach wedding sermons that are hard on the groom. That’s probably true. Husbands, fathers, young men—young men and young women need to be strong—the Word of God living in us—we have overcome the evil one. Temptations come—and we do not fall. I was loading up my visual aids from morning chapel on Western Avenue—to take them to Clark Street—when the load in my cardboard box shifted—and about 200 worship folders fell out of the box and spilled all over the floor. I smiled. I thought in my heart—if that’s the best the evil one can do—to try and frustrate me—try and up set me—by spreading a whole bunch of papers on the floor—if that was his best shot—then by the grace of God—I was ready. I would not get angry or say a bad word—or throw the papers even farther. I would pick them up—pack them a little bit more securely—and press on!

God’s Word says, “God is love!” To celebrate my Godchild’s graduation we went to the Columbus Zoo. We went by the enclosure where they keep the cougar—the mountain lion. This mountain lion was all sprawled out—so that the sunshine was on his tummy—resting there the way big housecats sun themselves in a bay window by African violets. I thought to myself—pretty boring—this big cat just sleeping there…when this big cat rolls over and looks—and aims his ears—and his eyes glaze over. And his body begins to collapse like a pop up camper collapsing. And you look where this big cat is looking—and there is this little chipmunk—eating something—right there in this mountain lion enclosure. And suddenly this cougar is moving. You can’t hear those huge pads on his feet—his shoulders way above his face close to the ground—as silently he starts gliding toward the unsuspecting chipmunk. Get away—little chipmunk—get away! That’s how the devil attacks us. He tempts us to sin again and again and again and again. He gets us—and we don’t even see him coming. How dangerous—how eternally horrible is that? God is love means God forgives us for the countless times the devil gets us. And God is love means God makes us strong—to run through the little opening—away from the paws and the claws and the teeth of the lion who wants to devour us. God is love means we are forgiven. Jesus paid with his life—that we might be forgiven.

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. It must be a terrible thing to live in fear! Did you see the guy on the news—the Iraqi who has spent the last 20 years—living in a room carved out of stone under his parents’ home. The room he had carved for himself was just one yard wide—and two yards long. You had to slide this floor stone out of the way—and slide yourself down into this painfully narrow space. There he would walk back and forth—in the little light that one smoky lantern would make. There he stayed—day in and day out—day after day—all alone—frightened that someone—anyone would realize he was hiding there—drag him off to prison or torture and execution. Can you imagine living like that? The saddest part is—if that man who hid in that little stone prison doesn’t know that Jesus washed away all his sins—that twenty year imprisonment in a creamy stone cell will be nothing—absolutely nothing—compared to the forever horrors of hell! I cannot imagine what it would be like to be so afraid for so long. But when you know that Jesus loves you—the fear that tries to infect our hearts is driven out. It goes away—more and more—as we find rest and comfort in the unchanging love of Jesus!

If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. We went by the gorillas at the Columbus Zoo. They have a whole bunch of silverback gorillas. The daddies have these massive shoulders—these huge arms—this massive silver back. They have foreheads that are furrowed with these deep wrinkles. They have dark eyes that twinkle—and these nimble black fingers. The sign says—the gorillas may pound on the glass—you may not! In one of the huge enclosures they have a little baby gorilla—very small—very breakable. He was sleeping in the lap of this very nice lady. His head was wresting on her thigh. She rubbed his little head—his hairy little arms. She sort of scratched his back with her fingernails—then she groomed him—like she was picking little pieces of grass and saw dust from his fur. She’d pick and pick and pick—and then smooth it. And we all said—what a wonderful job that would be. To hold a little gorilla and comfort them and hold them and raise them. You know who needs your love—your patience—your gentle touch—or your gentle words? Your brother! Your little sister! I slept the other night—in the same bed I slept in when I was little. My brother would sleep in the bed beside me. My brother liked the window open a bunch—fresh air. I need fresh air he said. Otherwise I’m stifled! My brother would push his sheet and his blanket loose—pull them free at the bottom of the bed. Otherwise he felt too confined—pinned in—stifled! Everybody has these little things. Being home with my family I was reminded this weekend again—how everybody sneezes and coughs differently. There would be one sneeze. That was my dad. A little cough—a little clearing of the throat—that was my mom. Two quick sneezes—that would be my little sister. I didn’t have to go and look. I was right. These little differences—the devil says—are reasons to be irritated and frustrated—to say something not so much clever as hurtful and unkind. If we cannot and do not and will not get along with our brother whom we can see—then we dasn’t claim to love God. We can’t. We haven’t even seen him. Love for Jesus means we love each other all the time—no matter what!

God is love. We stopped at a McDonalds the other day—on the way home from Ohio. There was a young person working there—who looked kind of sad. She kind of looked up—and she kind of looked down again. I looked a little more closely at her—and noticed—realized that part of her face was badly burned. Oh, that’s sad, I thought. So I kind of looked down, too. And that’s when I saw how she was working very quickly with one hand—and then with that same hand—she would kind of cover up her other hand. Her hand wasn’t just right—but not far past her hand—you could see that her arm was much smaller—again terribly scarred—so that it was much smaller than her other arm—as if almost half of it has melted. When you see that—it makes your heart hurt. It makes your chest hurt not just with pity—but with this painful frustration that wants to do something to make it better—knowing there isn’t anything you can do to make it better. In a moment I thought—I wonder how it was for her in school. I wonder if people in her school tease her and make fun of her. Children—they say—can be cruel. And so can big people—be thoughtless and hurtful and unkind. God is love. That means God loves this person who has this painful trouble in her life. God loves her and cares about her and cares for her. And because Jesus loves her so much—there must be some reason—some good that comes from that hurt. And because Jesus loves her—there will come a time—when Jesus will make her whole. Not just mending her cheek and her chin and her arm—but mending our hearts and our souls so that we will never ever know hurt of pain again. God loves us so much because God is love. Amen!