Thanks be to God!

Good news. That’s what John the Baptist proclaims according to the Gospel of Luke. “I baptize you with water,” says John, “But one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” Then, Luke continues, “So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.”

            This Christian Gospel is a funny thing sometimes. We are people who will read something like this, or we’ll have a Gospel that ends with damnation for sinners to which we’ll respond, “The Word of the Lord! Thanks be to God!” We take a word of damnation and return it with thanks, which is very strange. It’s also strange that Luke’s proclamation about clearing the threshing floor and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire is, in fact, good news. It feels like news, for sure, but good news? Gospel? Is that what this is?

            One thing we do know is that good news looks different for us than it did for John the Baptist. After all, we have something that John didn’t—at least not yet. We have the promise not just of a Messiah who is coming but of one who was here—who is here—who came and died and rose again. We have Jesus. And that’s a pretty sweet thing to have. It’s the only reason we can respond as we do. Without Jesus, we could not read those words of judgment—those words of wheat and chaff—and respond, “Thanks be to God!” We couldn’t do it, because we would have no assurance that we weren’t the chaff, destined to damnation due to our imperfection. We know that we are both wheat and chaff, yet because we have one who threshes on our behalf, who separates us from the weight of sin and guilt we carry, even a word of judgment can be worthy of thanksgiving.

            Now, if you were listening closely to the reading you might be thinking, “Pastor, aren’t you ignoring John’s words that we are to be good people first, to give away our things and not to defraud? Isn’t that what this scripture is about?” Well, it is true, but what the scripture is about? Not really. Yes, you should be good people. Yes, you should give your coat to someone in need. Of course you should not defraud. You should definitely strive to be better. You should do your best to follow the laws given to Moses, those Ten Commandments. You should be good stewards of what you are given, period.

            But no, that’s not what it’s all about, because John’s advice—like the baptism he offers—is a this-world promise for a this-world solution. John commands that you be good because God has commanded it in order that we might live abundantly, but all of that stops in death. Moreover, our actions and our blessings are always going to be unfair; most will not get according to what they give. People who die don’t deserve it; many who suffer don’t deserve it. Some who seem like they probably do deserve it thrive all the same. John’s words are God’s command for us to have life; the obligation is for us as individuals but the reward is always plural. The promise is a promise for nations, but I don’t experience life as a nation; I experience it as Frank. You experience it the same, each through our own little point of view. And if we are suffering then it’s not that much consolation that the people around us are thriving. Our pain is not made much easier by the joy of others, even though that is precisely the promise that the law gives us.

            This is why we need Jesus—to save us corporately and individually—both the whole picture and each little one of us. In fact, Jesus came to destroy the distinction between the two. The baptism Jesus offers is not repentance; it’s not forgiveness like we do forgiveness at the beginning of each worship where we have to come back to the fount again and again to confess the new bad things we have done. No, the baptism Jesus offers is adoption into the body of Christ. And lest that makes you worried that that adoption is contingent on baptism know also that this is a means of grace—not law—and so there is no “you have to be baptized” instead it is free food, free grace, free promise; so why on earth not? After baptism, you still have your little point of view, but it pales in comparison to the view of the body of Christ and the destiny you now share. You may appear to be an individual—you may still experience life that way—but that is not your destiny. In Christ, we are truly all in this together.

            Because of this, wheat and chaff are not good people and bad people; instead wheat is the “good” creation we were called in the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, and chaff is the sin that entered the world through Adam and Eve.

            Then, only then, we can return to John’s commands, because a Christian upon discovering the promise they have through Christ, will inevitably wonder, “How then shall I live?” This was a question students recited so often in my undergrad at Augustana College that it became a kind of joke. It was drilled into us to ask the question in every facet of our liberal arts education: “How then shall I live?” Well, I suppose given the promise of salvation through Christ we could take that as an excuse to do whatever. I’m saved by grace, so whatevs. You can’t tell me to do anything. Nanner-nanner.

            But that ignores the fact that in our baptism we are now connected with one another in a deeper way than we can yet see. It means that when one suffers we all suffer. It means that where one is in need we all are in need. And it means that when another is lifted up so are we. It means that, sure, we can try to ignore the pleas of others and focus on ourselves, but then not only are we failing to help others; we are also failing to help ourselves. Selfishness is a disease that hurts the self as much as anyone. We are one body and there is no getting away from it. In Christ, selfishness makes no sense because to help others is to help the self and to help the self only is just idolatry; it’s saying that I am God, apart from the body of Christ. It does nothing for anything.

            It’s because of this body of Christ to which we belong that we can say, “Thanks be to God!” whether it is to this image of judgment in Jesus’ baptism, or if it’s the sheep and the goats, or whatever hard word you find in scripture, because all of it is predicated on a promise we can do nothing to earn and do not deserve. All of it is predicated on Christ, and because of Christ we need not fear where we stand. The word of judgment is strong and hard and terrifying because death is strong and hard and terrifying, but in Christ we are one body with one baptism that takes us through death and into life. Ultimately, this is the only thing that matters. The only thing. Not whether we do enough, but what Christ has done for us. Then, every word, whether law or gospel, is deserving of our thanks, because we know the end of the story. Baptism is just the beginning, but in Christ the ending is sure. The cross is real, but so is the empty tomb. So… thanks be to God!