​A recent dispute among the churches of the Missouri Synod made me dive back into the wisdom of our Lutheran Fathers as articulated in the Formula of Concord, one of the confessional documents to which we have promised to adhere in this congregation and throughout the Synod. The dispute was over whether the Sacrament of the Altar can be administered virtually or remotely. You may have heard of churches that do “online communion.” The practice became popular during the heart of the COVID lockdowns when pastors were frustrated with not being able to commune their congregations.
 
Presumably, they were under tighter restrictions than what we had here in New Mexico. Here in Roswell we gathered as small groups to receive the Sacrament. Of course, this was not ideal since the whole congregation should weekly gather around Word and Sacrament as the Scriptures teach (Exodus 20:8; Acts 2:42; Heb. 10:25), but I don’t think anyone went without the Sacrament who desired it. Once the restrictions ended, we gladly resumed the practice of communing at the same time on Sunday. On the other hand, other pastors thought it best to try something different and new.

Not all governments are the same. Some governments are better at preserving justice and rewarding virtue. Corrupt governments reward vice and punish those who do good. Some governments preserve a greater share of liberty and freedom for its citizens. Other governments are jealous of power and become repressive and restrictive. Governments sometimes come to power legitimately, using the laws and institutions that ensure fairness and oversight. But history is full of examples of governments coming to power by brute force or deceit.

​No matter the government, weather it be good or evil, St. Paul’s divinely inspired instructions are clear: 

The language of “at the same time righteous and sinner” has become an often-repeated axiom in American Lutheran Theology, and for good reason. It answers the demand from many protestant churches that a Christian be able to prove his Christian status to himself and others by steadily increasing holiness and works. A person’s ‘back-sliding’ evidences the insincerity of his previous commitments to Christ. Perhaps his conversation wasn’t genuine. A grieved conscience could wonder if he didn’t possess the Holy Spirit as he previously assumed. So, according to the holiness protestants,* either a person has begun in righteousness and is ever improving and increasing in holiness or a person’s sins betray unescaped captivity to the devil.
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Recently I had the opportunity to attend the annual Rocky Mountain District Pastors Conference in Denver where Dr. Masaki of the Fort Wayne Seminary convincingly argued that the axiom “simul iustus et peccator” is a central element of Luther’s theological writings and how it continues to benefit the church today.
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“For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O Children of Jacob, are not consumed.”
—Malachi 3:6
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Things change. Sometimes this is good. Wisdom is earned with age and experience. It can’t be downloaded straight into our brains. In the same way, we teach the young people to put off childish things to prepare for the responsibilities of adulthood. Anthony Esolen in his recent book, Nostalgia, calls this “organic change” or changes that unwrap and unveil the full potential of one of God’s creatures. It’s change that delights in a baby taking her first steps, for instance. But when change attacks God’s gifts of life, like the institutions of the family and church, it is evil. This is change that tears down creation, despises God’s work of redemption, and stains God’s work of sanctifying our souls.
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St. Paul says that we do not grieve “as others do who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13). Our Lord lives. Death and grave, our old enemies that used to devour everything, have been put under his feet (1 Cor. 15:25). The nature of our hope and what we can say about our Christian friends and family who have died in the faith is the subject of this brief article. There are three passages that I want you to know and with which I want you to become familiar. Knowing them will help you think and speak about death as a Christian. You won’t have to utter the same empty platitudes about “going to a better place.” You’ll be able to speak an articulate hope founded on the Scriptures and made real by Jesus’ victory over the grave.
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