"Forgiveness of sins flows from Christ's cross into your life" Trinity 19 2025

26. October 2025
Trinity 19
Matthew 9:1-8

Behold, they brought to Him a paralytic lying on a bed. When Jesus saw their faith, He said to the paralytic, “Son, be of good cheer; your sins are forgiven you” (Mt 9:2).

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

Jesus loves us. He really does. Not in the sentimental way people use that word, but in the real, flesh-and-blood way of His cross and resurrection. Over and over in the Holy Scriptures, we see the tender seriousness of His mercy. He doesn’t leave us to rot in our sin. He doesn’t walk past us while we suffer. He doesn’t let us sink into despair. He rescues. He forgives. He restores. That’s what we see in the Gospel today.

A man, paralyzed and helpless, is carried to Jesus. He can’t move. He can’t fix himself. He can’t even get to Jesus on his own. So his friends bring him, lay him down at Jesus’ feet, and Jesus says the one thing no one else would say: “Take heart, son. Your sins are forgiven.” And with that, He lifts him up. The man walks home clean, healed, and forgiven. That’s the word Jesus wants you to hear today. The same word. The word that sets the conscience free: “Your sins are forgiven.”

I’ve had conversations with people who call themselves “atheists,” or “agnostics,” or sometimes just “spiritual but not religious.” You probably have, too. Folks who say they don’t believe in anything they can’t see, touch, or measure. They talk about nature, reason, evidence, and progress. They say they want to be good people, to help others, to live honest lives.

If you listen long enough, there’s something underneath all that talk about freedom and reason. What most people really want is to be free — from God, from guilt, from judgment, from any authority over their lives. They want to live without anyone telling them what’s right or wrong. They can’t begin to articulate what that goodness is exactly and why they should strive for it. And I get that. The idea of a God who watches everything you do, who might condemn you—that’s terrifying. So if you can talk yourself out of His existence, that feels like freedom.

But it’s not. Because if there’s no God, then there’s no freedom either. You’re just a slave to your desires and wants. If there’s no Creator, then you’re just a collection of cells and chemical reactions behaving according to some mysterious laws of nature. The truthful atheist or agnostic will admit that you don’t have a will. You don’t make choices. The universe makes them for you. You’re just another part of the machinery. You’re not free—you’re programmed.

So the freedom people think they’re winning by throwing off heaven only leaves them chained to the earth. Emancipation from God becomes slavery to nature. And even if reason doesn’t convince you of that, death will. Death makes an honest man out of every atheist, every skeptic, every sinner. You can’t reason your way around the grave. You can’t outthink it. And when you finally see that you can’t save yourself, when you come face-to-face with the truth that your body will fail and your mind will stop—that’s when you learn what real bondage is.

We are not free people. We are bound; the only question is to whom or what? According to nature, we are bound by sin, bound by death, bound by all the false freedoms we’ve chased. But Jesus comes into that bondage and speaks the one word that actually breaks the chains: “Take heart, son. Your sins are forgiven.” And with that Word of absolution, He binds you to Himself.

That’s what this Gospel is giving us. That paralyzed man—he’s us. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t move. His body told the truth about all of us. We’re bound. We’re stuck. And like him, our suffering has a way of driving us into despair.

When things go wrong—when the diagnosis comes, when the accident happens, when someone we love suffers—we start to wonder, “What did I do? What’s God so mad about?” The conscience starts accusing, the guilt starts talking, and pretty soon you’re flat on your back, like that man on his mat, asking, “Why, Lord?” Or worse yet, we begin to doubt God, hate Him, or even naively deny He exists altogether.

And here comes Jesus—with no lecture, no conditions, no delay— “Take heart, son. Your sins are forgiven.” That’s not just a kind word. That’s a word that changes everything. That’s a word that moves you from death to life. We might think Jesus got it wrong—this man came for healing, and Jesus gave forgiveness. But that’s the point. Forgiveness is the healing. The real sickness isn’t in the legs; it’s in the heart. It’s the sin that separates us from God. And Jesus cuts straight to it. This isn’t Jesus showing off for the Pharisees or using the man as an object lesson. No, He loves him. He loves him enough to give him what matters most: peace with God.

That’s what He gives you, too. Forgiveness. The forgiveness of sins that flows from His cross into your life, here and now, through His Word and His Sacraments.

You’ve heard His absolution: “I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” That’s not the pastor’s word—that’s Christ’s Word for you. The same Jesus who spoke to the paralyzed man speaks through the mouth of His servant and releases you.

In Holy Baptism, He washed you clean. You went into those waters a sinner, you came out a saint. You were fast bound in sin and death; now you are bound to Christ, God’s own child, beloved and free. Every day, your Baptism still speaks the same word: “Take heart, your sins are forgiven.”

And at the altar, He does it again. He places His own body into your mouth, His blood upon your lips, and says, “Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” Not theory. Not symbol. Real forgiveness, given in real bread and wine, from a real Savior who still delights to say, “Take heart” or even, “Lift up your hearts!”

Forgiveness is our treasure. It’s everything. If you have this—if you know that when God looks at you, He doesn’t see your sin or your shame, but the righteousness of His Son—then you have everything. When God looks at you, He smiles. He’s not angry. He’s not disappointed. His wrath is gone. His Son took it all. That’s the Gospel. That’s what Jesus wants you to know.

That’s why He has this Church. That’s why He gathers you here week after week. So you can hear it again and again: Your sins are forgiven. It’s not a Word you can find in yourself. It has to be preached! You must be set free; you cannot free yourself. Because the world lies, the devil accuses, and your own conscience won’t shut up—but this Word stands firm. And maybe you’ve said it before: “I hope I’ll make it to heaven.” You’ve said it at the hospital bed, or when death gets close. “I hope so.”

Listen: this isn’t the world’s version of hope, the kind that means “maybe.” This is biblical hope—sure and certain. Not because you’ve been good, but because Jesus died for you. Yes, you’ve sinned. You’ve failed. You regret things. You’re ashamed. But that’s why Jesus came. Every sin, every regret, every shame—gone. Forgiven and washed away. You are baptized. You are absolved. You are fed. You belong to Him. Hear it again: “Take heart. Your sins are forgiven.”

And where there’s forgiveness of sins, there’s also life and salvation. Forgiveness means freedom. Forgiveness means resurrection. Forgiveness means death doesn’t get the last word. That’s why we say it in the Creed: “I believe in the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.” They belong together. You can’t have one without the other. So when Jesus says, “Rise, take up your mat, and go home,” He’s preaching the same word He’ll preach to you on the Last Day: “Arise.” And you will.

Until then, you live under His promise. You walk in His forgiveness. You go home today with His peace. Because this is what’s true for you: Your sins are forgiven. You are baptized. You are absolved. You are fed. You belong to Him. And when you have Jesus Christ, even without anything else at all, you are complete.

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

Rev. Christopher R. Gillespie
St. John Ev. Lutheran Church & School - Sherman Center
Random Lake, Wisconsin