Naaman, the Syrian, was angry. He had come to Elisha the prophet, seeking to be cleansed of his leprosy. But all Elisha told him to do was to “go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored.” Naaman was apparently expecting something a little more…spiritual. He assumed that if he was going to be healed by a prophet of God, his healing would have a divine and heavenly character to it.

The medicine that Elisha prescribed, in Naaman’s mind, wasn’t good enough. “I thought he would surely come out to me and stand and call upon the name of the Lord his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper.” Not only was the method unsatisfactory, but even the means—“Could I not wash in the Abana and Pharpar rivers of Damascus, and be clean?”

Naaman’s problem was that he was looking only at the outward shell, and not recognizing that regardless of the appearance, it was still a divine work. He was not content, not satisfied with what God prescribed.

Certainly, by itself, the Jordan River water had no healing properties. It was no different than any other water, except maybe that it was a bit more muddy. When the Word and command of God came, however, it was transformed into a true healing fountain. And when Naaman finally put aside his pride, and listened to his servants, he went down and washed, according to the word of Elisha. And his flesh was restored like the flesh of a little child.

There is a little Naaman in all of us, I believe. There is a part of us that thinks that the medicine God prescribes for our sin is not up to snuff. God gives His Son on behalf of the world, and many think: what is this? A man to die for men? A cross? What kind of Savior is this? Surely if God really meant to save us from our sins and from death and hell, he would do it in a much more obvious way—a way that makes sense to human reason.

Maybe you’ve never thought like this before. But there are plenty who have. John says that Jesus “came to his own, and his own did not receive him.” There was nothing about Jesus outwardly that distinguished him from others. So many regarded him only according to the flesh, according to his outward appearance. As Isaiah prophesied: “He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.”

In the same way the Lord says to us today: “You wish to be cleansed and free of your sins, then I have the medicine. Believe on My dear Son, who was crucified and raised for you. Go and wash in the baptismal font. And you will be clean. You wish to have your sins forgiven, your soul nourished and fed, then come and eat My Supper.”

But for many this is not good enough. Throughout the history of the Church, there have been many such Naamans—not happy with the medicine that has been prescribed. Surely there is something more than this, they think. Surely God would not use such unimpressive instruments to do his works and to heal his people from their sins.

They see a pastor reading the Word, preaching, leading the liturgy, dispensing Holy Communion, administering baptism, and this is all they see. It all seems to the eye to be quite earthly, and not heavenly at all. And so they conclude that God’s Spirit must not be here. Because, if God were really here with His Spirit, then there would be more excitement. They would surely feel something more.

Then they visit their friend’s church one Sunday. The pastor doesn’t preach from the pulpit, but wanders around, and really connects with people. And he doesn’t wear those vestments like our pastor does. He’s just like us! Instead of those stuffy old hymns, they sang songs that really got them pumped up. Some people had their hands in the air and their eyes closed, and they just looked like they were in spiritual ecstacy.

And when they came home, they said, “Now that was a spiritual experience.” Never mind the fact that the pastor talked more about his own faith walk than he did about Jesus. Nevermind the fact that when it came time for Communion, the pastor said that this bread and wine symbolized the body and blood of Christ. For them, this was true Christianity.

But this is to miss the point. God has located his saving medicine in things that do not look impressive to the human eye, because He wants us to trust His Word, and not our own thoughts and experiences. Of course it does not stand to reason that a the world could be reconciled through a man and a cross, through the shedding of blood. Of course it does not stand to reason that God would bring his kingdom and grace among us through a splash of water, or a sip of wine or a bite of a wafer of bread.

But that’s just the point. God hides himself in his opposite, in things that do not appear godly, so that we might learn to see not with our eyes but with our ears, to see by faith. Naaman did not at first understand this, but after he became clean by the Word of the prophet, he did. At first he was incredulous that merely washing in the Jordan River seven times would effect something so great as to heal his leprosy.

Contrast Naaman and his unbelief with the great faith of the leper and also the Centurion in today’s Gospel. In the Gospel we heard of another leper, who came and knelt before Jesus and said, “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” While so many others regarded Jesus only according to the flesh, according to his outward appearance, this leper saw by faith a true healing fountain in the person of Christ.

“If you are willing, you can make me clean.” There is no doubt or uncertainty in this leper’s words. His prayer is not like so many of ours, full of doubts and uncertain words. The leper knew by faith that Christ was willing to help him. And his faith was rewarded. Christ says “I am willing.” “Be clean.”

Unlike Naaman, there was no complaining on the part of the leper about the method. You don’t hear the leper saying, “Look, you’re supposed to be some great healer. Isn’t there something more? Is that all you’re going to do is say, ‘Be clean’ and that’s it?” The leper is not concerned about how it is done, only that it is done. So also should our faith cling not to the outward appearance, but to the Word and what it promises.

And then we come to the Centurion, a Roman soldier, another commander like Naaman. He too comes to Jesus, and calls on him for help. “Lord, my servant is lying paralyzed at home, suffering terribly.” He too must have heard of the works of the Christ. And so he implores Jesus on behalf of his servant.

What is interesting about this scenario though is that Jesus offers to come to his house and heal him, but the centurion says no. “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed.” Only say the word? Again, contrast this response with that of Naaman the Syrian. Words were not enough for Naaman.

But the centurion understands the power and authority of words. “For I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” So he, better than anyone, understands that Jesus need only speak a word, and his servant would be healed.

It goes without saying Christ’s word carries not merely human authority, but divine authority. He says: “Let there be light,” and there is light. He tells the wind and the waves to be still, and they obey. He says: “Be cleansed,” and lepers are cleansed. He tells Lazarus to come out of the tomb, and he rises from the dead. He speaks His Word to a boy in a coffin, says, “Get up” and he comes to life again.

When Christ opens His mouth and speaks, things happen. His Word, spoken or written, is powerful, and it does the very thing that it promises. That’s why Paul today in the Epistle says that the Gospel is the “power of God for salvation to everyone who believes.” This little word “power” comes from the same word that we get our word “dynamite” from. The Gospel is God’s dynamite, his power, his authority for all who believe.

Because in it, the righteousness of God is revealed. In it Christ is revealed, along with his forgiving mercy, his life, his salvation. This Gospel can convert a stony, unbelieving heart like Paul’s, as well as a gentile heart like the leper or the centurion. It can forgive even the darkest and ugliest of our sins.

Christ praised the faith of this centurion. Here a Roman Soldier had greater faith than anyone in Israel, he says. A Gentile believes, and believers doubt. Those who ought to know better do not see that this man is indeed God in the flesh.

And so does Christ commend us, when we hold to his Word, when we hold his Sacraments in high regard, despite their humble appearance. “Great is your faith,” says Christ when you confess your unworthiness in his presence, and trust his saving words. For Christ is indeed willing and able to hear and answer your prayers.

In faith, then, let us say with the centurion: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, indeed, even the roof of my mouth, but only speak the Word and my soul shall be healed.”

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Weekly Communion is one. We also brought back the Chalice onto the altar (it was kept in the sacristy in case they ran out of individual glasses). In fact, now we have a new Chalice and Ciborium thanks to some generous donations to the church for these things. We have changed how Communion is prepared and cleaned up–now it is usually consumed by myself and some elders after the service, instead of mixed back in with the unconsecrated (This by the way was done after a couple of “altar-guild workshops” that I held); a large wooden Crucifix now stands on the altar where there was no cross before; the Confirmands are questioned publicly before Confirmation; we have added processional torches, and I have boy acolytes and torch-bearers and crucifers when we have processions. Last Easter we tried out Gospel processions. I chant a lot more than the previous pastor did. And (GASP) I often (not always) hold my hands palm to palm like they do in the ‘Cath’lic Church.’ I’m sure there are more that I could think of if I thought long enough about it.

Admittedly, during these past two years, there have been people that have not been entirely comfortable with these changes. Yet, there have been people that are completely supportive. My elders supported the idea of offering Communion weekly, after about seven or so months of teaching Bible class on the Doctrine and Practice of the Lord’s Supper. Several people have thanked me for the opportunity to receive Communion weekly. But always there have been a few, a handful maybe, or maybe more, that have silently (at least as far as I am concerned) borne these changes, but not being in favor of them.

According to Preus, and maybe even Luther and Paul to some extent, I am guilty of committing some pastoral practice “sins.” I have not forced anything. I made it quite clear to the congregation that no one is being forced to receive Communion, but it is a free gift, etc. But one could, perhaps, argue that I did not have concern for the “weak” in faith, the immature, and that as a result I am dividing the congregation, not waiting for everyone to be on board with these changes and comfortable with them before doing it. My question though is, “Who are the weak?” Are “the weak” only those who don’t get the reasons for the changes, or who dislike the changes? Are “the weak” only those who want things to stay the way they have been for the last 30 years?

What about those who want to receive the Lord’s Body and Blood every week? If we were to take this away from them, would that not be unloving? Would that not be scandalous to their faith? They love the Sacrament precisely because they are weak. Should they yield for the sake of those whose “weakness” in faith causes them not to want the sacrament available every week? And what about the children of the Church? Are they not also “the weak?” They do not have the hang-ups with Communion and Catholic customs that many of the older members have. They will grow up with these things and will not see them as “changes.” They will see it as completely normal. Should we not also have regard for the children? Are we only to base our practice and changes on those in the congregation that oppose them or do not understand them completely?

I think I have to disagree a little with Preus on this. I agree with him in that we shouldn’t go and ram-rodding changes in without teaching about them. And, to be honest, I should perhaps have been a little more patient in bringing some of these things into the church. It is, in general, a good thing to build a broad consensus before doing so many “new” things. Perhaps one could argue that I should have focused on one thing, and stuck to that, and left everything else alone. Perhaps I will live to regret this.

But again, just how much consensus must one build before making changes? If Luther had waited until every single “weak” member of the church was on board with serving Communion in both kinds, then he probably would never have done it. Should I feel guilty for having done these things? Should I now turn by back on those who are loving the opportunity to receive the Lord’s body and blood every week, because they know they are “weak” and in need of God’s sustenance? I have toyed with the idea of offering an early, non-Communion service (Matins or Morning Prayer) before Bible class, and there have been several who have responded positively to this idea. I have also toyed with the idea of actually allowing people to be dismissed after the Prayer of the Church, if they do not wish to remain for the Communion.

I just think that this whole “weaker brother” argument can be looked at from several angles, not just one. Who are the weak?

I often wonder to myself, what if this person had grown up from childhood in a church that did not have a set liturgy every Sunday? What if she had grown up in a church where the words and the format of the Service were different from week to week? When her senses and mind fail her, what will sustain her spirit?

It is often said, and rightly so, that “variety is the spice of life.” But it is equally true that “repetition is the mother of learning.” One of the benefits I have seen over and over again of having a standard form of liturgy in the Church is that it provides for Church members a “pattern of sound words” (2 Tim. 1:13) to which they can return when they are in times of crisis, depression, or at death’s door.

There are benefits for children too. More than once during my years as a pastor, I have heard children that cannot otherwise read singing along heartily with the liturgy because they have heard those familiar words and melodies over and over again. What happens when we take this away from them?

Sometimes I fear that efforts to make worship more informal or spontaneous, though well meant, fail to take into account the entire lifespan of the believer. As a pastor, I am called to care for the souls entrusted to me—from cradle to grave. I try to take this into consideration when planning Services. One of the best ways that I have found to keep people rooted in God’s Word and connected to Christ, whether they are 5 or 95, is through the time-tested words and prayers of the liturgy.

Of course we do not want to hold onto traditions merely for the sake of tradition or out of some sense of nostalgia. Liturgical traditions ought to be kept because they serve to keep the Gospel front and center, and because they teach us about Christ. Rites and ceremonies certainly do not exist for their own sake, but because they help to provide a reverent and orderly format within which the gifts of Christ in Word and Sacrament are given and received. This is pleasing to God (1 Cor. 14:40; Heb. 12:28). They also preserve those assembled from the constantly changing whims and personalities of men.

St. Paul wrote that all things were lawful for him, but not all things were helpful (1 Cor. 6:12). This is helpful to keep in mind when speaking of worship. There is much freedom through Christ, even freedom in matters of public worship. Still, not everything is necessarily helpful or beneficial. As a 36 year old “Gen-X’er,” I can say that I am thankful to have been brought up in a church that taught me the words and forms of the traditional liturgy. With joy do I hand down these things to my children and to the sheep entrusted to me by Christ.

If I were a tel-evangelist, I might begin my New year’s Eve sermon by telling you how prosperous 2012 will be for you if you just have enough faith. Because, you know, that all of your problems, all of your financial woes, all of your health issues are directly related to the amount of faith you have. So, if you have lots and lots of faith, then your pocket book will be full this year, you’ll be worry free, things will go well for you, and your health will be better than ever.

That, my friends in Christ, is what we call “The Prosperity Gospel.” Have enough faith, and all will be well. And, the opposite is true too. If you lack faith, then it is only right that you should be poor, sad, and lonely. Yes, if I were a televangelist, I might also begin by telling you to take a leap of faith, and donate to the Church, since the Bible says that God will bless a cheerful giver. And I’d do it all with a big smile on my face, the model and paragon of worry-free living.

If only it were that simple. It’s true that those who trust in the Lord will be better equipped to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And we all know that there will be challenges. Faith doesn’t remove crosses and trials. But it does help one to endure them when they come. But it is a lie to say that everything will be great, and you’ll be perfectly happy if you just have enough faith. Scripture makes no such promises.

Jesus did say, however, that the student is not above his teacher. The servant is not above his master. If Christ suffered in the flesh, do we expect to get by unscathed by the world? If Christ was put to death, do we expect to avoid suffering and death? So Scripture does not say that if you are a Christian, if you just have enough faith, you will avoid all this. It does say, however, that such things cannot separate one from the love of Christ.

Hear again these words of the apostle in Romans 8: “If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword…No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”

Paul doesn’t say that everything will go well for you. Who knows? Maybe your business will crumble. Maybe you’ll lose your job. Maybe a dear family member will die. It could happen. But Paul says none of this can change the fact that God loved us, and gave His Son into death for us. No, in fact, we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. Notice though that it is through Him who loved us. We dare not think that we can gain the victory or conquer such things on our own, or by our own will power. It is through or by means of him who loved us.

Paul goes on to say, “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Nothing, says the apostle can separate us from God’s love in Jesus.

We might add to that list poor health, family problems, low income, a lost job, and the list could go on and on. Even our sins do not separate us from God’s love, for “Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died.”

Though our lives will change every day, week, and month—though trials will come, there is one thing that does not change—and that is the love of God. That is one thing that we never need be uncertain of. We have as a seal of that love our baptism. We have as a constant pledge and token of that love in Christ the holy Sacrament. Every time we remember our baptism, every time we come to the Lord’s Table, that love of God is sealed for us and made known to us until the end of time.

What can separate us from that love is unrepentance. That is the one thing that can make us have a terrible, terrible year. It makes no Christian sense to seek God’s blessing and forgiveness without at the same time seeking his help in turning from our sins. It makes no sense to come to the Sacrament by which Christ’s forgiveness is given and sealed to us, only to leave the Lord’s Table with no intention of amending one’s sinful life.

Our sins will not separate us from God’s love, provided that we repent, provided that we continually seek out his mercy in Jesus. For Paul says in another place: “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” None. Zip. No condemnation. If you fall into sin, and repent, trusting in Christ’s forgiveness, you are not condemned. Your sins are forgiven. You are free.

But where there is no repentance, then neither is there forgiveness. An unrepentant heart is one that refuses to acknowledge one’s sin, desires not the forgiveness of sins, and has no intention of amending one’s sinful life. This is the dangerous pit that every Christian needs to avoid. Sometimes we tend to think of repentance only in terms of those “really big sins,” like adultery or murder, and we think that it matters not if we continue in the “small sins” like my irritableness, or my anger, or my impatience without repentance.

But make no mistake—these too need to be confessed and forgiven. Luther said in regard to baptism that every day is a day of contrition and repentance for the Christian. Of all the resolutions and promises we make to ourselves and to God when we begin a new year, this ought to be at the top—that we daily repent of our sins, and trust anew in God’s mercy.

Second on the list should be that instead of fretting and worrying about things that we have no control over, instead of trying to live our lives as if everything depended on us, we commend all things into the hands of God. For the Psalmist has said, “Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”

How then does the Christian proceed into the coming year? With fear and trepidation? With guilt and shame of past sins? Trusting in himself? No. He does so as one who is covered by the righteousness of Christ’s blood. He does so as one who is freed from the guilt and condemnation of sin, free from bondage to the devil, free from the fear of death. He does so in faith, not the kind of faith that thinks nothing bad will happen, but the kind of faith that clings to God and trusts His promises in spite of trials and crosses, indeed—in the midst of them.

In faith we look forward to what God has in store for us, but we also look back to what God has already done for us. Tonight it is also fitting that we give thanks to the Lord for his constant and loving protection in every time of need, and for every unseen blessing. Most of us are unaware of the constant danger that we are in. Much of it we cannot see. We cannot see the cursed devil hounding us, and threatening us. Nor can we see the holy angels protecting us.

One cannot imagine what would happen if God would, for one minute, withdraw his protecting hand from us. Life is fragile, and the only people who may have some sense of this fragility are those who have fought in a war. But you know it too. You feel it in your own bodies. You see it in the suffering of your neighbors and loved ones. Thanks be to our Creator for His ongoing care and preservation of our bodies and souls.

I’m no televangelist, so I can’t promise you that the coming year is going to be prosperous for you if you just have enough faith. I can only say what Scripture has said, and promise what Scripture promises. God’s Word promises that He will be your help and your shield. It promises grace and every blessing to those who believe. It promises that nothing can separate you from His love which is in Christ Jesus.

Trials will come in 2012. We can be certain of that. There will be good times too, and for that we shall bless the Lord as well. Who knows what kind of natural disasters there will be, who will win the presidential election, or what the economy will do. No one but the Lord. Be certain of this, dear Christians: God’s love in Jesus is for you. It is for you in 2012 as it was for you in every year past. God bless you with his grace and Spirit. Amen.

The one who lacks awareness of sin also, therefore, lacks a hunger for the forgiveness of sins. Here is the true Pharisee–a good person, but one who takes little joy in the medicine of the Gospel because he is not aware of anything against himself. He believes in Jesus. Even trusts in him. He looks for the return of Christ, confesses the resurrection of the dead, believes that baptism saves, that the body and blood of the Lord are received in the Lord’s Supper, and is otherwise an orthodox believer.

And yet there is that lack of a true hunger and thirst for a righteousness that he does not have. Peter Kreeft thinks that God allows people to fall into sin, or at least to experience anfechtung, temptation, and other trials in order that they might not fall into the even more serious sin of spiritual pride. I am inclined to agree with him on this. It’s not that God wants us to sin, nor does he himself tempt us. But He did allow Paul to suffer from a “thorn” and a “minion of Satan” to keep him from becoming “too elated.”

I don’t know if other pastors have felt this way, but one of the greatest temptations that we pastors face is spiritual pride, perhaps more so than others. We are handlers of holy things, peddlers of divine mysteries. We call others to repentance, we extol the saving benefits of the Sacrament, and yet when we give ourselves the saving medicine, do we do so with a keen awareness of our own need?

Not that we should ever give in to temptation, or be thankful for sin, but maybe we can be a little bit thankful to the Lord when He allows us to experience such things, for they keep us humble before Him, and always desiring of the medicine that we give to others. They are reminders that we too “always need the medicine,” that we too are dying sinners, who have not yet completely put off the old nature. To us, as well as his servant Paul, the Lord says: “My grace is sufficient for you.”

What that person is essentially saying is this: “I don’t care that God has given the Church men to proclaim His Word and forgiveness of sins in His Name, nor do I care that God wants me to seek His Word from those whom He has given.” It is really to say, “I don’t want his forgiveness, nor do I want to hear His Word.”

The question is not, “Do I have to go to a priest/pastor to get forgiveness?” The real question is, if God has appointed this man to be His spokesman, his preacher and teacher, and a steward of his gift of forgiveness, then why wouldn’t I go to him to hear it and receive it?

1. O Christ, the Father’s Voice and His eternal Word, / What Thou wouldst still declare must needs on earth be heard; / And though we see Thee not, we yet may hear Thy speech, / For with Thy voice Thy doctors teach.

2. On Zion’s towers they watch, lest heresy draw near / To breach its walls of faith and bring corruption drear; / With guardians like these the Church abides secure, / For thus forewarned she can endure.

3. O Christ, eternal Truth, in Thee do we rejoice, / Though now our outward ears may not perceive Thy voice; / Still in Thy doctors’ speech Thy teachings we discern, / And thus of Thee our spirits learn. Amen.

From “Common of Doctors,” Brotherhood Prayer Book: Second Revised Edition
www.emmanuelpress.us; www.llpb.us

It happened with many of the Jews. They were the invited guests, the ones that God had initially called to the wedding of His Son. Like the servants in the Parable, the prophets went to them and told them that the feast was ready, that it was time for their Savior to come. And see how many disbelieved! They mistreated the prophets and even killed them. And yet, they belonged in an outward sense to the true Church. They offered the right sacrifices; they went to the synagogue, but, as the King says in the Parable, they were not worthy.

Then came John the Baptist, and the disciples, and Jesus Himself. All of them ignored by the majority of the so-called invited guests. “They paid no attention and went off, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his servants, treated them shamefully, and killed them.”

These were not people outside of the visible fellowship of the Church, dear friends. These were people like you—people who were recognized by their friends and neighbors as the people of God! The point of all this is this—do not assume that just because you are a Christian in name that your name is written in the book of Life.

At the end of the day, what matters is where your faith is. If you are sorry for your sins, and trust in the merits of Christ, then you have the proper attire. Are you serious about ridding yourself of sin, or how to become righteous and attain salvation? Then you have the wedding garment of salvation. You are worthy guests at the Lord’s Table, where we have here a foretaste of the wedding feast to come. You are covered by the righteousness of Christ, and you are justified in God’s sight through faith in Christ’s suffering, death, and resurrection.

We have seen, of late, some wonderful bravado by people who are incensed about this idiotic move by the MNS District Board of Directors. It is good to see voices raised in protest by seminary professors. But will it accomplish anything? Will it actually mean a change of course? Doubtfully.

I suppose that this is the way of the cross. We are called to suffer injustice as Christians, even by other Christians. And this we do, and we do it gladly. So, there is a part of me that says, “Why are you so surprised? Did you think it would be any different?”

But the other part of me is the part that gets frustrated with our Synod for her lack of action. Call me impatient, but the fact is, and this is part of the reason that people grow cynical in the Confessional camp I think, we see over and over in Scripture, especially the OT, God’s demand for justice–mis’pat–and we see a colossal lack of justice when it comes to these things in our church body.

So that is my prayer tonight–that all of the talk about right doctrine and pure practice in our Synod will not just be so much talk, but that we might actually exercise the Office of the Keys the way it is supposed to be exercised in the Church. God bless!

Maybe the reason for our boredom is that we are a bit like Jacob, who woke up from his slumber only to confess, “Surely the Lord was in this place, but I did not know it!” Surely the Lord is in this place, doing what he has always done, healing our souls with the forgiveness of sins, feeding us with his precious body and blood, strengthening our faith, but our hearts are foolish and slow to believe this.

And so we yawn. We get bored. We say that the solution is more variety, or more pizzazz, when the real solution is repentance and faith. God is no less present among us here than he was in the place where Jacob lay, or when the Lord Jesus walked the earth, healing and forgiving sins. God grant us eyes to see it! God grant us hearts to believe it! For then we too may say with Jacob: “How awesome is this place!” not because of its style of music, but because “this is the house of God and the gate of heaven.”