"You can’t pour the new life of Christ into the old self" Wednesday of Trinity 19 2025

29. October 2025

Wednesday of Trinity 19

Luke 5:33–39

Then He spoke a parable to them: “No one puts a piece from a new garment on an old one; otherwise the new makes a tear, and also the piece that was taken out of the new does not match the old. And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; or else the new wine will burst the wineskins and be spilled, and the wineskins will be ruined. But new wine must be put into new wineskins, and both are preserved. And no one, having drunk old wine, immediately desires new; for he says, ‘The old is better’ ” (Lk 5:36–39).

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.

They said to Him, “The disciples of John fast often and offer prayers, and so do the disciples of the Pharisees, but Yours eat and drink.” They don’t like that Jesus is enjoying Himself. They don’t like that He’s not following their rules. They don’t like that He’s not playing along with the religious crowd. Because religion—man-made religion—always has rules. It has schedules and structures and expectations. It has the right way to look, the right way to act, and the right kind of people to sit next to.

But Jesus doesn’t fit any of that. He comes eating and drinking. He comes laughing with sinners and touching the unclean. He comes tearing up the old scorecards. He’s not trying to reform the system. He’s not patching holes in old garments or pouring new wine into old bottles. He’s doing something new—something that can’t be contained by what came before.

And that’s the problem. The old can’t handle the new. We like the old. The old feels safe. We understand it. We can control it. The old gives us a sense of power and order. It tells us who’s in and who’s out, who’s clean and who’s unclean, who’s holy and who’s not. The old lets us feel righteous without actually being forgiven. The old lets us look the part without surrendering the heart.

But Jesus doesn’t come to make us look righteous. He comes to make us new. And the new life He brings can’t be stuffed into the old wineskin of self-righteousness. That’s why the Pharisees couldn’t stand Him. Their religion was working for them. Their fasting, their praying, their rituals—they made sense. They made them feel holy. And then Jesus shows up and sits down with tax collectors and prostitutes and sinners. He eats with them. Drinks with them. Forgives them. And that offends everyone who still believes holiness can be earned.

But that’s what Jesus does. He offends the old. He breaks the old. He bursts the old wineskins. Because the old isn’t just outdated—it’s dead. That’s what sin does. It kills everything it touches. It turns faith into pride, love into possession, and religion into performance. It convinces us that if we just tried harder, prayed longer, gave more, sinned less, we could finally make God happy with us.

But you can’t patch the old with a little grace. You can’t pour the new life of Christ into the old self that wants to run the show. The old self has to die. The old wineskin has to burst. That’s what happens in Baptism. The old Adam is drowned. The new man rises. That’s what happens in Absolution. The old guilt is forgiven. The new life begins again. That’s what happens in the Supper. The old hunger is met with new wine—Christ’s own Blood poured out for you, filling you with His forgiveness and His life.

Jesus doesn’t come to manage the old. He comes to replace it. And yet, we keep trying to make it work. We still cling to the old wineskin of self-sufficiency. We still think that with enough effort, with the right words, with the right behavior, we can make the new wine fit. We keep trying to make Jesus fit into our old lives instead of letting Him give us new ones.

But He won’t fit. He won’t play that game. He’s not an accessory to our old religion. He’s the end of it. The Gospel doesn’t patch holes; it tears down walls. It doesn’t decorate the old life; it replaces it with resurrection. And when that happens—when Jesus breaks the old—it feels like loss. It feels like pain. Because the old self doesn’t die quietly. It clings. It fights. It wants to survive. It still whispers that it knows better. It still insists that the old was good.

But Jesus isn’t trying to take something from you. He’s giving you something better. When He breaks you, it’s not to destroy you—it’s to fill you. When He empties you, it’s to pour Himself in. That’s what happens every time He speaks His Word. Every time you hear His promise. Every time you kneel and receive His Body and Blood. The old is passing away. The new is being poured in.

And that’s why the disciples of Jesus eat and drink. That’s why they feast instead of fast. Because the Bridegroom is with them. Because God has come down. Because the time for mourning is over and the time for mercy has come.

That doesn’t mean we never fast. There will be days for that too—days of longing, days of waiting, days of grief. The Bridegroom will be taken away. The world will mock and threaten and hate. The cross will still weigh heavy. But even in the fasting, there’s hope. Even in the waiting, there’s faith. Because we know how the story ends.

The Bridegroom returns. The feast begins again. That’s what the Christian life really is—a rhythm of fasting and feasting, of dying and rising, of old breaking and new being poured out. We don’t cling to the old because it’s familiar. We don’t run from the new because it’s uncomfortable. We let the Word of Christ do its work. We let Him break what needs breaking and heal what needs healing. We let Him tell the truth about us, and then we let Him forgive us.

Because He will. Every time. He’s the new wine that never runs out. He’s the feast that never ends. He’s the Bridegroom who never leaves His bride. And so, you don’t have to hold the bottle together. You don’t have to make the old wineskin stretch one more time. You don’t have to keep pretending that your old life can hold the life of Christ. Let it go. Let it die. Let it burst.

Because the new wine is better. Because the forgiveness of sins is better. Because Jesus is better. He’s not interested in patching your old life. He’s making all things new—starting with you. So come. Eat and drink. The Bridegroom is here. The feast has begun. The old has passed away. The new has come.

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