"What no doctor, no medicine, no fortune could do—Christ does with a word!" Trinity 16 2025

05. October 2025
Trinity 16
Luke 7:11-16

When the Lord saw [the widow], He had compassion on her and said to her, “Do not weep.” Then He came and touched the open coffin, and those who carried him stood still. And He said, “Young man, I say to you, arise.” So he who was dead sat up and began to speak (Lk 7:13–15).

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.

Everybody knows someone who’s sick. A friend is fighting cancer. A parent in hospice. A child with a diagnosis that doesn’t make sense. We visit them, pray for them, and hope for a miracle. Forty percent or more will get cancer, and only half are going to live. And we know, deep down, that one day it will be our turn to lay down and sleep with death. We will be the ones lying still in the bed while others stand beside us and whisper prayers. We know we won’t survive this life. But we hope it’s not today.

Death feels unnatural because it is. It is not what God intended when He formed us from the dust and breathed His Spirit into us. Death entered the world through sin. It’s the great enemy of life and joy, the shadow that creeps into every home. And no matter how modern our medicine or how advanced our technology, death still wins—at least for those outside of Christ.

That’s why our Gospel from St. Luke is such good news. Jesus walks into a small town called Nain, and a funeral procession is coming out. The widow’s only son is being carried to his grave. She’s already buried her husband, and now she walks behind the coffin of her son. There is no greater sorrow than that. The crowd follows her, mourning. But then Jesus comes near. He sees her, He has compassion, and He says, “Do not weep.” Then He touches the bier, and the bearers stand still. And Jesus says, “Young man, I say to you, arise.” And the dead man sits up and begins to speak.

In that moment, everything changes. Death is undone. The grave loses its grip. The Son of God stands face to face with the ancient enemy and commands it to let go. What no doctor, no medicine, no fortune could do—Christ does with a word.

That’s the pattern of our life, too. We live in the tension between the hospital bed and the resurrection. We fight to stay alive, and we spend fortunes trying to hold off the inevitable. Cancer is a hundred-billion-dollar industry. Pharmaceutical companies, hospitals, and clinics can't afford to end it. And since nobody wants to die, our only option is to spend the time, effort, and money. We eat the right food, take the right supplements, exercise, and pray for more time. We’ll do anything to buy another minute. Because as much as we say we believe in eternal life, we still cling to this one.

And yet, even as we fight to live, our hope is not in our strength or science, but in the One who has already defeated death. Jesus does not promise that we will never die. He promises that death will not have the last word. “I am the resurrection and the life,” He says. “Whoever believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live.”

Don't give up. Don't lose hope. Our God is strong, and the Holy Spirit is a consuming fire that will burn away all our sicknesses, diseases, and even death. And yes, the days are hard and the nights are long. But our God is a fighter, so when it's dire, the Holy Spirit burns brighter in the dark. Remember, you're baptized into Jesus Christ, and he is the Light of the world; so you're more than just a survivor stumbling around in the dark.

When your body fails, when breath grows short, and the world grows dim—Christ does not leave you. He enters that darkness with you. He stands at your bedside, and with His own crucified hands, He holds you. The same hands that touched the bier at Nain will lift you from the dust. The same voice that said “Arise” to that young man will call your name on the Last Day.

We fight to live because we were made for life. But we cannot heal ourselves. We cannot cleanse the poison that runs through this world—the sin that eats away at us, the bitterness, the fear, the pride, the secret demons we feed in the dark. They are part of the sickness of Adam’s fall. They twist our hearts and bodies until we are exhausted. And the world sells us the illusion that we can fix it—if only we have enough money, enough treatment, enough faith in ourselves. But no amount of money or medicine can purchase eternity. Remember the woman with the flow of blood for twelve years, who spent her livelihood on the doctors and pharmacists?

So God gives it as a gift. He doesn’t sell it. He doesn’t trade for it. He gives life freely in His Son. Jesus didn’t just fight death; He let it pierce Him. He entered the grave and broke it from the inside out. On the cross, He carried every sickness, every sin, every sorrow, and then He breathed His last so that death would die in Him.

When He rose, He brought with Him the promise that this life, fragile as it is, is not the end. That’s why we can face sickness and even death without despair. Because the grave is no longer a pit—it’s a doorway. For those baptized into Christ, death is only sleep, and He will wake us as easily as you wake a child from rest.

So, when you are afraid, when you don’t know what tomorrow brings, remember: you belong to the One who holds tomorrow. You have already died with Christ in your baptism, and your life is hidden with Him in God. You may lose your health, your strength, even your mind—but not your salvation. You may go down into the dust, but you will rise again because Jesus already has.

When your body is weak, God is your strength. When your faith trembles, Christ remains faithful. When your hope feels thin, the Spirit prays for you with groans too deep for words. You are not alone, and you are not abandoned.

You don’t have to pretend to be strong. You don’t have to act brave when you’re scared. God does not wait for you to prove your faith; He gives it to you. He knows what it means to be afraid of dying, to sweat blood in the garden, to cry out on the cross, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” He knows. And because He knows, He meets you in that fear—not with empty comfort, but with Himself.

So, yes, admit that you’re not well. Admit that you can’t fix yourself. Confess that you are your own worst enemy, that you’ve hurt yourself and others, that death is coming. Admit that you're haunted by all the demons you keep secret. Admit it, you're going to die. You won't survive. But don’t stop there because the confession of your weakness is the beginning.

When you are laid low, Christ raises you up. When you have nothing left to give, He gives Himself entirely to you—His body, His blood, His life, His victory. That’s what it means to live by faith: to trust that even when you are broken beyond repair, you are still held by the hands that bear the marks of the nails. Now you're ready for real life to pull you out of the hole where you lay asleep with death. Jesus fought the demons, and he won. The war was fought, and the Holy Spirit declares Jesus' victory forever. So you don't need broken wings mended in order to get to heaven, not when God comes down to you.

Death still stings, but it cannot keep you. The grave still claims the body, but not the soul. Christ has made death a servant of life, turning the enemy into the doorway through which He brings His saints home. And so, when the day comes—and it will—when your strength fails and your eyes grow dim, do not be afraid. Christ will be there, as He was at Nain, as He was at the tomb, as He is here now. And He will say to you, not as a command of judgment but as a word of promise: “I say to you, arise!”

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