“An Eternal Reward”
Original sermon given July 2, 2023, written and delivered by Pastor Jeffrey Leininger at First Saint Paul’s Lutheran Church
Watch the sermon live. (Due to the stormy weather, the internet was down and the entire service was not recorded.)
“An Eternal Reward”
Matthew 10:40-42
Matthew 10:40-42
40 “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. 41 Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous, 42 and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.
In the name of the Living God and the Risen Christ. Amen.
Who’s your favorite bad guy? I’ve got several top candidates, but I’m always drawn to Shakespeare’s greatest evil character, Macbeth. You’ll remember him from High School English class as the Scottish Thane who gets pulled into wickedness through the incantations and prophecies of the three “wyrd sisters”, or witches (bubble, bubble, toil and trouble… Remember?). Lady Macbeth, his conniving spouse, spurs him along as he murders his friend and kinsman, King Duncan; takes his throne; and then more lies and bloodshed follow as Macbeth attempts to cover his crimes and secure his reign and lineage.
Not a shining example of Christian virtue. And just because he’s my favorite doesn’t mean that I’m endorsing any of his actions, just to be clear! Nor his wife’s, either. But he’s a great bad guy character, because, despite the grotesque and graphic evil, there are honest moments where we find ourselves hidden in him; and because, from his soliloquies arise poignant perceptions of the human condition.
One such moment comes at the end of Macbeth, act 5, scene 5. The little world he built on bloodshed, madness and lies crumbles around him. The English arrive to defeat him and save the day (hurrah, the English!—wait, can I say that on Independence Day weekend!?). They join with the good Scottish forces to overthrow the Tyrant and restore all that was cast down. As his reign crumbles, so does his household and family: he’s told that Lady Macbeth has died. And then comes the poignant moment, which I think makes him a “great” bad guy. With the battle drums banging and the cannon smoke swirling around him, He compares the course of our brief life to that of a player’s on the stage. You probably know the quote:
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing (Act 5, Scene 5).
“Signifying nothing,” says the great bad-guy, Macbeth.
But before you dismiss his insights as the tirades of a tyrant, consider also the wisdom of a “great good-guy”, Solomon, from the Bible:
“Yet, when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun.” (Eccl. 2:11).
Two different kings, one good, one bad; two different rises to power, one godly, the other ungodly; two different lives, one lived wisely, the other foolishly; and yet the same insight about our brief strut across life’s stage: nothing, meaningless, empty.
Isn’t it the case, that we’re all striving for meaning, fullness, purpose? We all want our lives to matter, for words spoken and actions taken to not fade away as quickly as the house lights dim and the crowd goes home after the show. Whether you consider yourself more like Macbeth than Solomon, or perhaps somewhere in-between, I know you’ve asked yourself this question: what does it ultimately matter?
It’s a short, rather obscure reading from Matthew 10, the gospel for this week. And I admit that I’ve never preached it before. But as I studied it on the green line, and prayed about it walking for a coffee in Old Town, the Spirit struck me with this insight: all things said and done in Christ’s name have eternal significance. They ultimately matter. The words we share as his mouth-pieces; the works we do as his body here on earth, are unlike anything else we say or do. They don’t dim with the house lights or fade away like a soliloquy echoing in the rafters of an old theatre. Rather, Christ’s words and work spoken and done through us, for the sake of the kingdom, in service to the gospel grow brighter in the light of eternity and swell with the singing of the heavenly chorus.
Our Lord, Jesus, means this truth to comfort the twelve as they head out on their mission:
Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me…. and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward. (Matt.10:40, 42)
“As you go,” Jesus in essence tells them, “I’m going to send those to support you, welcome you, receive you. And their receiving of you, is receiving me, is receiving my father. And even the littlest thing done in my name, for my kingdom, has eternal significance—they shall never lose this reward.”
Now, it’s important to remember that Christ is not saying, here, that by speaking God’s words or doing good deeds for the kingdom, that we somehow can earn our salvation or repair our standing before God. This morning’s Epistle makes it clear that we were slaves to sin, and that the wages of sin is death. (Romans 6). We would be lost forever if somehow we thought we could make-up for our sin by doing good works. (Like, you know, you’ve been really bad so go into church work to make up for it.!)
No! Rather, as St. Paul makes it clear, in baptism we have been buried with Christ. His death on the cross pays the debt of our sin; his perfect, righteous life clothes us before the father; his glorious resurrection means we are justified—declared right before God. And there is nothing we can do to add or subtract from that which Christ has already accomplished.
But because of Christ’s work, the new creature daily arises and goes forth to love God and serve the neighbor, as Martin Luther put it. This new work we do in his name and for his kingdom, is unlike anything else we say or do. It lasts forever. It has eternity as it’s “sell by” date. It’s a reward that can’t be taken from us. The smallest thing done for the kingdom, like giving but a cup of cold water to one of these little ones, is greater than the greatest deeds of good kings or bad kings. The littlest word of love, or grace, or forgiveness spoken in Christ’s name outlasts the greatest soliloquies of our greatest playwrights. The things we say and do as his disciples and for his kingdom, no matter how successful they might be or how the world might regard them, Jesus himself promises that they are seen by him and have eternity woven into them.
It’s a reminder about what ultimately matters, what’s of the most significance, isn’t it? It’s a calling to a higher purpose in the smallest things. It’s a template for time spent on this life’s brief stage. Love in his name. Forgive as you’ve been forgiven. Work as if the Spirit is moving through you. Share the word. Do every little thing as if it has the weight of the ages behind it. Live this fleeting life with eternal significance, for Christ lives in you.
What we do in his name matters; and it matters that we do it in his name.
Come soon Lord Jesus. Amen.