Luke 13:31-35 In that very hour, some Pharisees came to him and said, “Leave, and go away from here, because Herod wants to kill you.”
32He said to them, “Go tell that fox, ‘Look, I am going to drive out demons and heal people today and tomorrow, and on the third day I will reach my goal. 33Nevertheless, I must go on my way today and tomorrow and the next day, because it cannot be that a prophet would be killed outside Jerusalem!’
34“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those sent to her! How often I have wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing! 35Look, your house is left to you desolate. I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you will say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’”
But our citizenship is in heaven. We are eagerly waiting for a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. (Philippians 3:20)
“What am I going to do with you?” If you’re a parent, you’ve said those words. And if you are a child (or you were once a child), you’ve heard those words. They are words of exasperation. Words that you say when the other words that you’ve said have not sunk in. Words that express frustration, and at the same time love.
“What am I going to do with you?” That is Jesus’ lament today. Jesus loves the city of Jerusalem. It’s where Abraham offered the sacrifice of his son, Isaac. It’s where God showed his presence to the Israelites of old. It’s King David’s royal city. It’s where Solomon built his temple. Jerusalem means “city of peace.” But it was anything but peaceful. Generations of Jerusalem inhabitants had set up idols in the house of the Lord. They had closed their hearts to God’s love. They had offered empty sacrifices. They persecuted and killed God’s prophets. And now they were only a short time away from doing the very same thing to the Son of God.
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem.” You can hear the sorrow in Jesus’ voice. He’s frustrated with his people. He’s upset because he preaches but they don’t listen. He’s irritated because he teaches but they don’t learn. He’s discouraged because he rebukes but they don’t repent. But above all, Jesus is grieving because he loves them, but they don’t love him in return.
What is he going to do with them?
They are his little fuzzy yellow chicks. He loves them despite their opposition, despite their obstinance, despite their rebellion. He wants to take them all under his protective wings and forgive them, heal them, love and protect them.
But they were not willing! How sad those words are. Chicks rejecting their protecting mother, running all around the barnyard, exposed to the dangerous predators around them … instead of safe and secure under her wings.
Have you ever seen a chicken hawk go after its prey? The old mother hen is often aware of the presence of the hawk in time to gather her chicks under her wings. With a furious fuss, she squawks till her brood is safe by her side. She fluffs out her wings and protects them with her own body. The chicken hawk dives in for the kill, but the mother hen is too big to be a target and the chicks are too safe to be seized.
Except for one. He decides to go off on his own. To escape the confines of his mother’s wings and do his own thing. And what happens? Hawk lunch. Does that mean that the mother’s wings did not offer protection? No. It means the chick forfeited what was offered and suffered the consequences.
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem.” Jesus speaks those same words of deep sadness about us. How often are we not the little fuzzy yellow chicks scurrying away from the safety of Jesus’ wings?
What is he going to do with us?
Jesus wants to save us, but so often we live like we don’t want to be saved. We overwork; we overextend; we overindulge; not realizing the danger. We allow the wisdom of the world to influence and shape us more than the wisdom of God. Our god is our belly, we glory in our shame, we revel in our filth. We yearn for earthly things at the expense of forfeiting heavenly things. We allow the Church to become more like the world instead of making the world more like the Church. We hear the Word of God and then live as if we didn’t.
I love the powerful words of our opening hymn. As we sing the hymn over the first five weeks of Lent, I want you to learn the melody so you can focus on the meaning of the words. “For what we have done and left undone we fall on your countless mercies. For sins that are known and those unknown we call on your name so holy. For envy and pride, for closing our eyes; for scorning our very neighbor. In thought, word, and deed we’ve failed you, our King, how deeply we need a Savior.”
“For hearts that are cold, for seizing control; for scorning our very maker. In thought, word, and deed we’ve failed you, our King, how deeply we need a Savior.”
How deeply we need the Lord’s mercy to call us to repentance. How deeply we need Christ’s mercy to be our merciful friend. How deeply we need the Lord’s mercy to be a mother hen to chicks who love to scatter and run.
Could it be that we are having so many problems in our lives because we have separated ourselves from the God who desires to gather us under his merciful wings? Why do you think your marriage is falling apart? I have yet to find a marriage fail where both husband and wife are humble, committed Christians, always putting God and their spouse first. Our marriages are usually struggling because one or both the marriage partners are pulling away from God.
Why is your relationship with your boyfriend, with whom you are sleeping, all messed up? Could it be because you are pretending to be married, without God’s actual blessing of marriage upon your relationship? Our relationships falter because we do the exact opposite of what God says he will bless.
You’ve felt it. These past two years have tough on people. Stress and anxiety are at high levels. We’ve all experienced disconnection and strain in our relationships. Everyone seems grumpy and on edge. This affects everyone – even called workers. There seems to be an increasing amount of our WELS teachers who have announced their resignations on our weekly call lists. Pastors have expressed burnout and depression from extra workloads, people unhappy with how things were handled during the pandemic, and members being absent from the body of Christ.
Satan is digging his talons into all of us – Christians, teachers, and pastors.
What is Jesus going to do with us?
We couldn’t blame Jesus if he gave up on us. If he allowed us to stew in our stress. To depart to our destruction. To be disciplined for our disobedience against him, our defiance against his called messengers, the disinterest by called messengers to rely on his Word and Sacraments. We couldn’t blame Jesus if he said, “Look, your house is left to you desolate. You will not see me again!”
But Jesus doesn’t do that. He desires to show mercy. He will not leave you. He will not abandon you. He knows that we, like the city of peace, want to tear him to pieces. He understands that it is our sinful human nature to be stubborn, obstinate, and unrepentant. In his patient grace he says, “How often I have wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings.” He says, “You will not see me until the time comes when you will say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’”
In other words, his wings are always hovering over us. His love is always nearby. He will never turn away a helpless fuzzy little chick once that chick realizes just how helpless and little it is. When we have finally had our fill of the devil’s lies; when we are tired of going it alone; when we are beaten up and bruised; when we are sorrowful and repentant; Jesus lifts his wings so we can scurry under. There we can hide in the shadow of his wings (Psalm 17:8). There we are safe under the shelter of his wings (Psalm 61:4). There under his wings we find our refuge and sing for joy (Psalm 91:4; 63:7).
Under the safety of his wings we can sing, “For what you have done, your life of love you perfectly lived, we praise you. Though tempted and tried, you fixed your eyes; you finished the work God gave you. And there on the tree, a King among thieves, you bled for a world’s betrayal. You loved to the end, our merciful friend; how pure and forever faithful.”
Fellow chicks, there is danger all around us. It is danger that we cannot see. It is danger that consumed Adam and Eve in Eden. It is danger that is all around us in our world, inside of us in our sinful nature, whispering in our ear with the supernatural voice of the demons. Jesus moved himself out from underneath the protective wings of his Father and exposed himself to all these dangers … in our place. He endured the wrath of God for our stubbornness and unrepentance. He allowed the people he loved to beat him, spit on him, and crucify him. He let the devil have his way with him – the prowling lion, the ancient serpent, the old evil foe.
The devil defeated Adam and the rest of humanity by laying out bait that we could not refuse. So Jesus laid out bait that the devil could not refuse – himself. How could the devil refuse killing the Son of God?! And so the one who baits us into sin, would himself be baited into his own destruction. Or as our communion liturgy says: “that he who overcome us by a tree, would in turn by a tree by overcome.”
There on the cross, the second Adam crushed the ancient serpent’s head. There the hen died protecting the young. I read a story about Ike who helped his grandfather put out the fire that burned his grandfather’s hen house to the ground. As Ike and his grandfather sorted through the wreckage, they came upon one hen lying dead near what had been the door of the hen house. Her top feathers were singed brown by the fire’s heat, her neck limp. Ike bent down to pick up the dead hen. As he did, the hen’s four chicks came scurrying out from beneath her burnt body. The chicks survived because they were insulated by the shelter of the hen’s wings.
Jesus died that we might remain living. He has insulated us from the fires of hell. But he is much greater than that dead hen, for Jesus did not stay dead. After his Sabbath rest in the grave, Jesus marched down to Hades to tear the gates off of hell and proclaim his victory to the devil, the demons and all those who had rejected him as Savior. He rose from the dead and stripped the grave of its power.
Jesus continues to come with his wings spread over you, calling, inviting, imploring you to repent and return. Quit running away from him. Stop refusing his Word. Stop rejecting his messengers. Instead, come to the Lord. Take refuge under his wings. Relieve your stress in the Absolution. Find relationships with your fellow baptized believers in Holy Baptism. Recover from your weakness in the strength given in the Lord’s Supper. It is no coincidence that before receiving Holy Communion we sing in the Sanctus: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” For in the Sacrament, we see Jesus in the flesh again and again.
My dear little fuzzy yellow chicks, wash, hear, eat, and drink. There is no danger here. There is no need to fear the foe in these sacred things. This is exactly what you need so that Jesus may heal your broken marriage; so he can put together your damaged relationships, so he can reorder your misplaced priorities, so he can encourage you through his called workers and at the same time use you to encourage his called workers. He can love you, teach your, forgive you, protect you. Repent, return, find refuge. That’s what Jesus wants to do with you. Amen.
My brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, in this way keep standing firm in the Lord, my dear friends. Amen. (Philippians 4:1)