No Debate Health Care

Health care is divine care, not Pelosi-care, Obama-care, Covenant-Health Care, Humana-Care or any other. Life and health derive from Christ. Well-being and health care are divine gifts. All nursing, guardianship, doctoring, vigilance and mothering are extensions of Jesus who tends the needs of all. Health care is a kinsman to ministry.

The leading reason we have such exceptional medical care in the United States is because God moved conscience-bound Christians to initiate hospitals, sanitariums, and rest homes as indispensable extensions of the love of Christ.

All healing in hospital rooms, care facilities, or M.A.S.H. units is God's work although He does not need these. They need Him. No person recovers from so much as the sniffles without God in Christ. Because of Christ we see a leukemia patient go cancer free. It is sheer divine marvel when victims of heart attack live robust lives years after. When the battle-scarred return home eventually to lead vigorous, fit, and productive lives it is credited only to one cause -- the attention and treatment of God.

Yes, not all are made instantly well. The crippled man by the pool of Bethesda whom Jesus "immediately made well" suffered his unbearable infirmity for thirty-eight years. But does this mean God is tardy or indifferent to have waited so long? Is God inequitable in His care?

Yes, He is - if the answer is sought statistically. To submit God to statistical analysis is to critique and judge Him. Test God's success rate, and He fails, for many die and will spend the forever of hell insisting the data was in their favor and God didn't care. The fact is, statistics are not, and never have been, in our favor. There is only one favor -- the favor Dei, the undeserved mercy of God toward all the world for Jesus' sake.

Here is an irony. The fight in Congress today is over statistics and fairness. Wealth redistribution by whatever means is regarded by some as non-discriminatory when it is, in fact, entirely discriminatory. "Universal" health care and single-payer insurance are meant to provide blanket coverage where no one is preferred and no one sick falls through the cracks. The aim is admirable, but it's ultimate bigotry is the statistics. Statistics will decide that a patient with a two percent survival rate will be left to die whereas an ailment with better statistical prospects is treated.

God has never behaved in this way with us and never should the church.

Focusing on "receptive" populations, counting numbers of conversions, measuring outcomes to determine what means and methods the church will employ (so called "church growth" principles) to improve statistics is contrary to the Gospel. Jesus instantly heals when and where He will by the power of His Word. That is the only power of the church and the only source of true and lasting healing. The potency of this medicine is Christ Himself.

Only grace in Christ is unbiased. The man at Bethesda's pool had no chance-- zero, nada, zip, none without Christ. He had no chance whatever, not even the thinnest statistical odds. And Jesus didn't give him a chance. The Gospel is not the offer of a chance or some lucky coincidence. The Gospel is Christ's announcement of healing. It is deliverance of life against all odds.

This is what the man at the Pool of Bethesda received. He was healed fully and completely. No therapy. No recovery period. No recuperation. No consideration of those decades of incapacity. No medical assessment or treatment protocol. He had been doomed. "I have no man ...." the cripple confessed. But Jesus discounted all of that. He considered no basis beyond His own compassion and gracious will. "Rise," he said, "Take up your bed and walk."

Often the first question to a physician who delivers a difficult diagnosis is "What chance do I have, Doc?" The inclination to grasp for statistics resides in our fallen nature. But the power of Christ does not rest upon nor become dashed upon statistics. Osteosarcoma of which my mother died in 1976 once had a five-year survival rate of 20%. God was not less merciful to her because today that rate has risen to 65%. Rather, Jesus Christ gave her in His body and blood the wholesome, resurrected, healthy and undying life. That KOs all statistics. Christ didn't give my mother odds. He gave her life everlasting.

Of course Christians desire all people to receive health care because it is consistent with the Gospel. But what does that mean? It means Christian ministry is undaunted by statistics and impervious to the impossible. Through Christ we know the sinful are pardoned, the sick are made well, the hopeless are revived, and even the dead are raised.

By Christ this man was made well, took up his bed, and walked. It happened on a Sabbath, and it continues to happen as our Sabbath Lord, the God in whom we found rest, supplies without ending the curative water of Baptism, the medicinal gift of Holy Communion and the unction of forgiveness in Absolution.

"Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved,"Jeremiah declared (17:14).

We were without a chance, without a prayer, without an excuse, without a claim, and without a hope, but Christ has come. He didn't beat the odds because He had zero probability of survival. Even though He was the incarnation of perfect health, he bore our griefs; he carried our sorrows; he was wounded for our transgressions; he was bruised for our iniquities. (Is. 53)

In this whole-life health care of body, soul, and spirit there is no debate.

With His stripes we are healed.

Can I Possibly Be Wrong?

Can I possibly be wrong?

If I read an article that emphasizes the Christian’s sacrificial life, love, zeal, and generosity as vitally important for the future of the church, can I possibly be wrong in thinking something is missing?

When others talk about how important it is to get people active, to discover their gifts, and to carry out their responsibilities as Christians, and until we accomplish that, the church will be ineffective, irrelevant to our times, and unsuccessful, can I possibly be wrong in feeling a lead lump in my stomach?

If I hear a glowing report about a church that is going “great guns,” increasing in every measurable way far beyond what we see in our church, and every appearance is that their people are happy, involved, mission-minded, and multiplying, and they appear to have an approach which works with people, can I possibly be wrong in not trying to adopt their methods?

If an expert sincerely and knowledgably says certain modifications have to be made to accommodate the changes we see so rapidly happening in our world, can I possibly be wrong in clinging to things which not only appear weak, dated, foolish, and ineffective, but actually are puny, old, irrational, and hopelessly contrary to the standards, ideals, and measures of success in this world?

Can I possibly be wrong?

It is a question I ask myself every day. With even a shred of honesty, I have to acknowledge that I have no end of questions to which the answer is, “You’re wrong!” Fact is, I was born wrong. The familiar nursery rhyme has applied to me from day one.

There was a crooked man who walked a crooked mile.
He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile.
He bought a crooked cat which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together in a crooked little house.

The “book” on me is not whether I can possibly be wrong, but that I am continually so. I am wide of the mark. “For there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23) My being wrong is not a possibility; it is the unavoidable.

Is there no hope then for me and the church except to work on love, zeal, and generosity? Am I to get out putty and fill in the gaping holes in my character and conduct? Am I to hope other Christians will cheer me on, tell me how I can do better, and hold up for me examples of folks who have overcome the things over which I have continually fallen?

Am I to exhort myself to get active, discover more thoroughly my gifts, and buck up to my responsibilities as a Christian? Am I to be convinced that until I accomplish this, my congregation, the church that I love will never be effective, relevant, or successful? Can I possibly once get it right and turn the lead lump in my stomach into satisfaction and composure? Can I finally do something of which to be proud?

Should I take the common and accepted advice and begin to think positively and dig until I find a workable approach to finally make ministry “click”? Must I no longer cling to what I held as a child? Is it indeed time for me to grow up, make up my mind to live victoriously, or as the Nike slogan urges -- "just do it!”

I’ve tried.

My critics (most notably myself) would say I haven’t tried enough. And they’re right.

If I promise to try harder, will that do? I’m sure there are many who are patient with me, but patience isn't what I need. It only delays the inevitable—the unavoidable, eventual failure.

Could I possibly be wrong against the Niagara which pushes me to change myself, get the church to change, and finally make something worthy because I'm not looking too good right now?

Yes, I can always be wrong.

My only hope is that God's Word and the assurance of His mercy from the cross is never amiss.

But why should anyone hold to this belief when there is nothing new about it or ground-breaking? The Gospel of Jesus' death and resurrection hasn’t been updated in two thousand years. If our world has seemed to change so much from just a hundred years ago, let alone from Bible times, can the untouched Word of God and the ancient promises it contains make any rational claim to be relevant?

Society has modernized, paradigms are overhauled, values have been given fresh interpretations. And haven’t we just celebrated the Reformation? That sounds like even five hundred years ago the church was given a tune-up.

The Reformation, however, wasn't to upgrade the Gospel but return to it. It was a homecoming, a reception once again of what the institutional church had lost as it tried to progress and grow and be effective and powerful. The Reformation found refuge in justification by grace as a gift through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. That can't be wrong.

I can be frail and flawed. I am frail and flawed. But the Gospel of Christ can never be. Therefore, if it is through the Gospel alone; if the core and character of the church is Christ alone; if the unchangeable truth of salvation through the cross is the beginning and end of our preaching and our practice, then we can never be wrong.

The sober question should be asked, “Can I be wrong?” The Law (including rules, standards, examples, warnings, advice, codes, judgments, paradigms, prescriptions, models, formulas, regulations, tactics, and methods) will always tell me I am. Oh, may such thing then never, ever, ever supercede the Gospel which declares us right and righteous before God.

It is Christ’s sacrificial life, love, and grace which are vital for the future of the church. Confession of Him cannot go wrong.

Whether the world judges God's means of grace to be effective, relevant, successful, or not is beside the point. By Word and Sacrament we receive Christ, and He is never wrong. Even when He appeared weak, dated, foolish, and ineffective; even when He died without followers in apparent shameful failure clinging to the will of His Father, Jesus was never wrong.

Here then is my hope and yours.

Christ. Christ. Christ.

To believe Him and rely on His everlasting mercy can never be wrong.

"The Other is Gold"

Perhaps it is more or less true that pastors have many friends but not as many outside the congregation because work and contact are most often with the families, children, and individuals of the parish. For example, pastors obviously don't interact with the business world as frequently as those who work in it. It's a little more difficult to “get out of town” or develop familiarity with a wider circle in the same way you do.

I say that with no regret because the wonderful members of congregations I’ve gotten to know over the years are deeply appreciated for their friendship, warmth, and trust.

But there is something very special about someone who is a friend, not because of you being their pastor, but simply for the sake of friendship alone.

I mention here two friends of mine, both of whom, coincidentally, I met at convalescent homes, and both of whom are women.

Betty Poellet and I met many years ago at Stratford Pines. Occasionally I would lead chapel services on Sunday afternoons for some of the seniors there. Most all were in wheelchairs. Most all had ailments of old age among which included falling asleep. But back in the early 90s, one lady would walk across from the apartments to join those devotionals. After two or three such occasions, we struck up a conversation. Betty, now in her 90s, lives in an apartment in Frankenmuth, and every week for the last several years she has written me a note. In our day of diminishing personal correspondence by mail, her weekly card is the only hand written letter I ever get. She tells me about the chapel services they have there, about her favorite crafts, what she may have had for dinner, and a word or two about her family.

Sometimes when I am in Frankenmuth, and I'm not pressed for time, I stop and see Betty. She tells me it means so much to her, but she doesn't know how much it means to me. We really don't have a whole lot in common. She usually favors me with some small ceramic she has made to add to the others. We make small talk. But the friendship is precious. You see, she doesn't give criticism or advice. She just gives herself which I have come to realize is the best definition of a friend.

Jesus gave himself, and none of us has a better friend.

The other lady is Clare List. Some old-timers from around here probably know her. She is a member of Zion, Bay City, actually. But like Betty, I got to know Claire when taking a turn leading Sunday afternoon worship services at the Carriage House on Midland Road. Claire is a dear person, always appreciative, eminently considerate and faithful. Earlier this year, Claire’s husband, Fred, after many years suffering from Alzheimers disease, passed away.

He lived a dozen years or more at the Carriage House, and not a day went by that Claire was not there at his side. She was also the one responsible for the establishment of consistent worship occasions for residents there who can't get to church. Claire would ask pastors if they would come and lead a service.

Today, her age and circumstance make it difficult to be away from the small apartment where she now makes her home. I sometimes stop and see her. She is a reminder to me of what the loyalty and love of Christ in someone effects. She always acts so appreciative, but I know it is more for myself that I visit, because most of us have too few of such friends who take us as we are, dismiss any idea that there could be faults in us, and are simply glad to call us their friend.

Jesus is like that. He regards us as faultless because He has imputed his righteous to us. He said in John 15, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends…. I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you … “

When someone befriends you in the manner of Christ, that is a true fortune of greater worth than gold. Or as the timeless lyric says, "Make new friends but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold."