Saint Athanasius Lutheran Church

This episode reflects on the mystery of Jesus’ first steps, set against the violence of King Herod and the slaughter of the Holy Innocents. While Herod clung to power through fear and violence, Jesus’ life unfolded along a very different path—one of humility, sacrifice, and love, ultimately leading to the cross and resurrection. The contrast invites listeners to examine their own first reactions when threatened: self-protection or self-giving love. In Christ’s kingdom, which alone endures, life is found not in power or force, but in repentance, forgiveness, service, and hope—steps that may be clumsy at first, but are joyfully received by our gracious Father.

This message reflects on how God has always spoken to His people, first through the prophets and finally, fully, through His Son. The prophets exposed the heart of sin—not just wrongdoing, but our search for life where it cannot be found—and pointed ahead to God’s promise to restore true life. That promise is fulfilled in the birth of Jesus, the Word made flesh. The child in the manger is the heir of all things, the Creator and sustainer of the universe, now come in humility to give life to a dying world. In Christ, God reveals His glory, grace, and truth, offering forgiveness, resurrection, and a life that will not let us down.

This message centers on the great Christmas paradox: a tiny baby who is also a mighty Savior. Born not to the powerful or prominent but to humble parents and first revealed to lowly shepherds, Jesus comes exactly where we would least expect God to appear. Wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger, He looks ordinary, yet fulfills every promise as Immanuel, God with us. The sermon reminds us that God still comes to us in small, humble ways—through Word, water, bread, and wine—bringing mighty forgiveness and life. For the weary, the broken, and the overlooked, this child is born especially for you: a tiny baby who is your mighty Savior.

This message reflects on Joseph and Thomas, two men who faced profound darkness at opposite ends of Jesus’ life. Joseph’s despair at Mary’s pregnancy and Thomas’s doubt after the crucifixion were both shattered by the same gift: the light of God’s Word. In moments when reality seemed broken and hope lost, God revealed that things were not as they appeared—everything was unfolding by grace. As Advent reaches its darkest days, the sermon reminds us that true light does not come from circumstances improving, but from God’s gracious promises in Christ. That Word still scatters our darkness today, guiding us not by our instincts, but by grace, forgiveness, and the light no darkness can overcome.

In this message, I reflect on the marriage supper of the Lamb and how the Lord’s Supper prepares us for that final feast. The same Jesus who shepherds and feeds us now will not change on the Last Day—He will still be our Good Shepherd, not a stranger or a sudden judge. In Holy Communion, past, present, and future come together as we remember Christ’s saving work, receive His forgiveness and life now, and look ahead with joy to the feast to come. Because we are clothed in His righteousness and invited by grace, the Last Day is not something to fear, but the joyful culmination of a life already being prepared in Word and Sacrament.

In this message, I reflect on John the Baptist in prison and the unseen prisons that bind us today—fear, guilt, sorrow, addiction, and despair. Christmas does not free us through sentiment or celebration, but through Christ Himself, who came to dwell with us in our darkness and set prisoners truly free. John points us to Jesus, the promised One, whose coming brings not temporary happiness, but lasting joy, peace, and hope—even in suffering. Through His death and resurrection, Jesus breaks every prison stronger than iron bars, and through His Word, Baptism, forgiveness, and Supper, He continues to visit us now. This is the Advent joy we celebrate: Emmanuel, God with us, who frees us to live—even in the midst of hardship—in His unshakable freedom and life.

In this message, I reflect on John the Baptist’s call to “bear fruit in keeping with repentance,” reminding us that repentance is more than words—it is a life changed by God’s grace. Sin is not something to manage or excuse, but something Christ came to remove, at the cost of His own life. From the cut-down stump of Israel, God brought forth Jesus, the true Branch and the source of new life, who was cut down for us so we could live. Through Baptism and repentance, the Spirit continually calls us out of sin and into a new life that bears good fruit—faith, hope, love, and peace—as we are prepared for Christ’s coming, now and in glory.

In this message, I reflect on how Advent is not only about preparing for Christmas, but about preparing for Christ’s coming now through His Word and Sacraments and His coming again on the Last Day. Scripture gives us a joyful picture of that final day, not just as judgment, but as a wedding feast between Christ and His Church. Through Baptism, we are cleansed and made His radiant Bride, clothed in His promises rather than our own faithfulness. Because of this, the Last Day becomes a day of joy, not fear. We live now in hopeful anticipation, eager for the Bridegroom’s return and longing for others to share in that same joy.

In this week’s message, we hear Paul’s urgent reminder: you know the time. Not clock time, but the spiritual moment we live in—one where Christ’s return draws nearer each day. The temptation is to hit the snooze button, to drift through life distracted, sleepy, or spiritually drowsy. But Scripture calls us to wake up, to live as people who know what hour it is. We prepare by crying out “Hosanna” as the crowds once did, receiving Christ in Word and Sacrament, and practicing for His final coming each time we gather at the altar. Paul urges us to cast off the works of darkness, repent, and put on the armor of light—living as people clothed with Christ in Baptism. Advent invites us to stay awake, to connect the manger, the cross, and Christ’s promised return. We prepare not just for Christmas Day, but for the Last Day, living out Christ’s love in service to our neighbors. So we pray: Stir up Your power, O Lord, and come—wake us, arm us with Your light, forgive us, and keep us ready for the day when the Savior of

In this week’s message, we shift from wondering what eternal life will be like to facing what life looks like as we wait for Jesus’ return. Scripture shows us a world marked by turmoil—wars, disasters, false teachers, persecution, and a creation groaning toward its end. These signs have been unfolding since Christ’s ascension and continue today. But Jesus’ surprising instruction is not to duck and cover, but to stand up and lift our heads, because these signs mean our redemption is drawing near. Like first responders trained for crisis, we gather in worship to receive strength, forgiveness, and peace, so we can go back into a troubled world with courage and hope. Christ—who faced the cross, conquered death, and promises never to forsake us—anchors us with words that will never pass away. So when we see the world shaking, we do not fear. We stay awake, stand firm, and bear witness, confident that our Savior is near and coming again to redeem His people.

In this episode, I explore why Scripture tells us so little about heaven and why our limited minds couldn’t grasp it anyway. Jesus gives us a small glimpse when He tells the Sadducees that life in the resurrection will be entirely new—no longer divided into many families, but united as one family in Christ. We recall Moses at the burning bush, meeting the eternal God who stands outside of time, and we hear Jesus affirm that the resurrection is real and that God is the God of the living. Until that day comes, Paul urges us to stand firm in truth and good works, even as the world burns with doubt and sin. Though we don’t yet understand what eternal life will be like, we know Christ will bring us there. And until then, He prepares us at His table, where heaven and earth briefly meet.

Just as we call loved ones to know they’ve arrived safely, John’s vision in Revelation shows that our loved ones in Christ have reached their true home—safe before the Lamb. They endured the tribulations of life and now rest in the victory Jesus won through His death and resurrection. But John’s vision also reminds us that not everyone is there yet. The world still needs the hope and mercy of Christ. As blessed ones, we are called to bring that hope to others—to live as lights in a world of pain, pride, and despair. Even when faith is met with rejection or ridicule, we persist, because Jesus didn’t give up on us. All Saints’ Day is a glimpse of eternity amid a dying world—a reminder that though we still journey through struggle, we do so with purpose and hope. For one day, by grace, we too will be home—safe, sound, and forever with the Lamb.

When Jesus said, “You will become free,” His listeners protested, claiming they had never been enslaved. But Jesus revealed a deeper truth — all are bound by sin. Every outburst, grudge, and selfish act exposes our captivity to our sinful nature. However hard we try, our efforts to overcome it fail, like a game of Whack-a-Mole where sin always reappears. Christ came to end that bondage. Through His cross and resurrection, He conquered sin and death, freeing us to live as God’s children. In baptism, our old selves are drowned, and we rise renewed — no longer slaves, but beloved sons and daughters. The Reformation was not rebellion, but rediscovery: that true freedom comes only through the grace of Jesus Christ, who makes us free indeed.

“Trust but verify.” President Reagan made the phrase famous, but Jacob lived it long before him—trusting God, yet still hedging his bets. As Jacob prepared to meet his brother Esau, fear led him to rely on his own strength instead of God’s promises. That night, God met him in a wrestling match—not to destroy him, but to teach him to trust completely. Like Jacob, we often wrestle with doubt, wanting to believe yet still trying to stay in control. But God has already fought—and won—the real battle for us in Jesus. At the cross, the Son of God wrestled with sin and death and rose victorious. So now, we don’t need to “verify” God’s faithfulness; the empty tomb is proof enough. Whatever fears we face, He still meets us where we are, blesses us, and holds us fast. The victory is His—and by faith, it’s ours too.

Life often leads us down paths we never planned—ventures whose endings we cannot see. That’s true for churches, for families, and for each of us. Yet through every change, setback, or unknown, God’s hand still leads and His love still supports. From Naomi’s famine and exile, to the lepers healed by Jesus, to Paul’s imprisonment for the Gospel, God worked good through what seemed hopeless. The same Lord is at work in our own uncertainty—feeding us in famine, healing us in sin, and guiding us through every peril by grace. So we pray with faith and courage: not knowing where we go, but trusting the One whose hand leads us and whose love never fails.

Today, we’re looking at the prophet Habakkuk—a man who saw a world filled with violence, injustice, and corruption, much like our own. Habakkuk cried out to God, asking why He seemed silent. God answered—but not as expected. He would use the ruthless Babylonians to discipline His people, proving that even through chaos, His purposes stand. The lesson? “The righteous shall live by faith.” Faith that trusts when nothing makes sense. Jesus echoes this in today’s Gospel, calling us not just to confront sin but to forgive—again and again. It sounds impossible, yet the power doesn’t come from us but from Christ, who bore our sin and conquered it on the cross. The same God who once used Babylon for His purpose now uses His people—you and me—to bring His mercy into a broken world. Forgiveness isn’t weakness; it’s divine strength. The righteous live by faith—faith in the One who died, rose, and now lives through us.

This week, I’m reflecting on the “war in heaven” — that mysterious battle between Michael and his angels and the dragon and his own. We may not understand how angels fight, but we know the outcome: the good prevailed. Yet the defeated enemy now rages on earth, turning his attacks toward us, using not swords but words — sowing doubt, twisting truth, and tempting us with his favorite word: “but.” Still, we are not defenseless. God’s Word and the blood of the Lamb are our weapons; His Word cuts through deception, and His Sacraments heal and strengthen us for the fight. Though we may not see the struggle, it is real — and the victory is already won. Our names are written in heaven, not by our strength, but by Christ’s blood, shed on the cross. The angels fought in heaven, but Jesus won the greater war — for us.

When Jesus said, “Go and learn what this means: I desire mercy, not sacrifice,” it wasn’t a rebuke just for the Pharisees—it’s a call for us, too. God doesn’t delight in rituals for their own sake, but in mercy that mirrors His own heart. Jesus came to bring that mercy to sinners, to touch the broken and bear their sin—even when it killed Him. On the cross, He became both the perfect sacrifice and the perfect mercy. And He still comes to us today—to forgive, heal, and invite us to His table, where mercy flows freely. Then, like Matthew the tax collector, we’re sent out to share that same mercy with a world that needs it.

The world measures funerals by size and fame, but Jesus does not. Whether in a stadium or a small chapel, He sees the same need—sinners in need of forgiveness and life. That is what He gave Reinhardt in Baptism, in His Word, and in His Supper: the promise that though he died, he is not dead but alive in Christ. Like the paralyzed man Jesus healed, Reinhardt will rise, not to temporary strength, but to everlasting life when Christ returns. And that same promise is ours. Our worth is not in the world’s opinion but in the Savior who died and rose for us, who says even now: “Take heart, your sins are forgiven.”

This week’s tragedies remind us how deeply sin has scarred our world and our own hearts. Violence, hatred, and death are not exceptions but the fruit of our fallen humanity. That is why we need the holy cross. At the cross, Jesus took all sin, guilt, and hatred upon Himself, died in our place, and rose victorious to give us life. There, what looked like defeat became victory, turning death into life and despair into hope. Through Word, Baptism, Absolution, and the Lord’s Supper, the cross finds us and gives us forgiveness, strength, and new life in Christ. So in a world bent on destruction, we turn not left or right but to the cross, where we see God’s love and victory—and from there, we live in His peace, courage, and hope.