Mark 13:33–37

December 24 2012 Christmas Eve Sermon

³³Be on guard, keep awake. For you do not know when the time will come. ³⁴It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his servants in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to stay awake. ³⁵Therefore stay awake— for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or in the morning— ³⁶lest he come suddenly and find you asleep. ³⁷And what I say to you I say to all: Stay awake."

Sermon

When you go to a movie it seems like some people just cannot keep their mouth shut. Before the actors open their mouths, they speak aloud their next lines. Before the camera does its job, they describe the next scene. Worst of all, they predict the conclusion of the story well in advance of the movie's ending. It's a bad habit.

I'm not sure if this is an uncanny ability or if it's just due to predictable scripts. Regardless, so often they think they know what's about to happen and just can't keep it to themselves. They have that feeling that

Something Is About to Happen

I.

Here we are on Christmas Eve. There's a feeling in the air that "Something is about to happen". It's the theme of our parable from Mark 13 about the soon-coming master of the house. It's the theme of the Early Christian Church. One could say that the Early Church lived on tiptoes. St. Mark tell us, "Be on guard, keep awake. For you do not know when the time will come" (v 33).

Tonight we are standing on tiptoes, eyes focused on the horizon, the words of the Early Church were strained: "The kingdom of God is at hand, the night is far gone, this present age is passing away, come, Lord Jesus, come." Every word, deed, and prayer seemed to be shaped by Jesus' second coming, Judgment Day, and the end of the world.

We, at times, live on tiptoes anticipating the future. We all know the energy an anticipated future can give to life in the present. Consider all the presents, cards, decorations, programs (and sermons!) that must be prepared before Christmas arrives. And here we are on the eve of Christmas. Consider an engaged couple and their wedding preparations or expectant parents who assemble a crib and paint the nursery. We also know the sense of disappointment when the hoped-for future doesn't come or it comes and goes without significance. Consider when Christmas comes and goes and things didn't work out as planned, when wedding plans don't work out, when the baby doesn't arrive.

When things do not work out as we anticipate, we ask, "Is something about to happen?" At times we wonder, Is Jesus ever coming again? Are my efforts in this life making any lasting difference for the future? Is something about to happen? Is my future secure? Is the world around me right when it pronounces, "There is nothing certain but death and taxes"?

The Early Church must have also wondered. Mark writes, "Be on guard, keep awake. For you do not know when the time will come. . . . Stay awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or in the morning" (vv 33, 35).

Surely these early believers were not immune to a loss of faith in the coming of the kingdom of God. Surely they were not immune to a loss of faith in God's care in the face of their uncertain future. The days wore on. They were persecuted for their faith. The memories of the risen Jesus were fading. He had not returned as he had promised. They sang, "Come, Lord Jesus, come," but angry Roman soldiers came instead. They sang, "This world is passing away," but the evil world seemed to get worse and worse.

People cannot stand on their tiptoes forever.

The early believers could join us today in confessing that we do not have the strength within ourselves to stand on tiptoes, to be sure of our future, to fix our hope firmly in God. We are sinners whose faith falters. Our future seems too slippery. Our hands are not strong enough to hold on to God's promises.

But in our text from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus has good news for us. This good news is cross-shaped good news. The source of our hope and strength is not our faith. It is not our ability to stand on tiptoes. The source of our hope is an act of God in history. It is an accomplished act and an accomplished fact. What we are speaking of is Jesus' death on the cross for our sins and his glorious resurrection from the grave.

We have wonderful news to believe and to share:

Something has happened.

In the parable of our text, Jesus said, "You do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or in the morning" (v 35). Mark uses these words of Jesus to structure the rest of his Gospel account. He does this to give his first hearers and to give us a cross-shaped hope.

See how Mark does it: Jesus says that the Lord may come at evening—and in the very next chapter, chapter 14, we read, "And when it was evening, he came with the twelve" to the upper room (14:17). Jesus is at table with his disciples. Taking bread and wine in his hands, he tells them that this is the same body and blood that will soon be broken and shed on a cross for the sins of the world.

In the parable, we are told that the Lord may come at late night—and Mark soon records how late that night Jesus goes to the Garden of Gethsemane to prepare for his appointment with a cross the next day; his disciples have had too much day already (14:40–42).

In the parable, we are told that the Lord may come at cockcrow—and in the next chapter Mark describes the event of Peter denying Jesus the third time as the cock crows and Jesus' date with the cross draws ever nearer (14:66–72).

In the parable, we are told the Lord may come in the morning—and Mark records that "as soon as it was morning" (15:1), Jesus is bound by Roman soldiers and led to trial and the cross.

What has Mark heard in Jesus' parable of the soon-returning master of the house? He has heard and proclaims to us that everything uncertain in our future is anchored in the certainty of the cross. The cross tells us what is our true and lasting hope: the Lord Jesus crucified and risen for me! This same message comes to us again and again in the hymns we sing. Consider these beautiful words:

In the cross of Christ I glory,
Tow'ring o'er the wrecks of time. . . .

When the woes of life o'er take me,

Hopes deceive, and fears annoy,

Never shall the cross forsake me;

Lo, it glows with peace and joy. (LSB 427:1–2)

Nothing in my hand I bring;

Simply to Thy cross I cling. (LSB 761:3)

In the face of anything the world throws our way, there is the cross.

In the face of marching, angry Roman soldiers, my only true and lasting hope is this: Jesus crucified and risen for me. In the face of an evil world getting worse: Jesus crucified and risen for me. In the face of broken engagements, empty cribs, family heartaches: Jesus crucified and risen for me. In the face of "ends that never seem to meet," work that never seems to cease, health that is not improving: Jesus crucified and risen for me. In the face of my standing before a holy and almighty God with all my sins: Jesus crucified and risen for me.

And—in the beautiful face of Jesus on the cross, I see an absolute assurance of God's undying love for me and his loving plan for my future. In this beautiful face of Jesus I read and trust the words God spoke through the prophet Jeremiah: "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope" (Jer 29:11).

Something is about to happen!

Every moment of the day is alive with the promise of Jesus' return. Each tick-tick-tick of the clock brings us closer to God's new day, his kingdom come, the return of "the master of the house" (v 35) for his Church.

In the Church like nowhere else, we realize that something is about to happen. St. Mark proclaims: "What I say to you I say to all: Stay awake" (v 37).

Every time we recite in the Apostles' Creed, "He will come to judge the living and the dead," God assures us that the frail human justice based on an earthly legal system is not all the justice life holds. Come, Lord Jesus!

Every time a baby is baptized, God reminds us of his fatherly love and mercy that seeks us out and sustains us until his kingdom comes. Come, Lord Jesus!

Every time we hear Jesus' words, "Take, eat . . . take, drink," God gives to us (as says the Communion liturgy) a foretaste of the feast to come. Come, Lord Jesus!

Every time Christian people speak a word of forgiveness in Jesus' name in a situation of hurt or bitterness, we are speaking in a future tense, using a language all creation will one day learn. Come, Lord Jesus!

Yes, it's Christmas Eve—something has and is indeed happening as we live now, under the cross. And—something is about to happen. Come, Lord Jesus, come.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.