The Lutheran Hour

"So, Whom Do You Believe?"

#72-05
Presented on The Lutheran Hour on October 17, 2004
Speaker: Rev. Ken Klaus
Copyright 2025 Lutheran Hour Ministries

Text: Text: 2 Timothy 1:12b

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Today, by Jesus’ blood, the Father’s grace, and the Spirit’s power, we have a living Savior in whom we can believe.

It’s difficult for us to imagine what was in the minds of the Melanesian natives as they saw American and British engineers descend upon their islands and clear the ground for airstrips. It was World War II, and these people, almost untouched by civilization, were amazed. They were even more astonished to see that when the airstrips were completed, giant silver birds began to land – planes that came out of nowhere – planes whose bellies were bulging with every imaginable commodity.

With considerable faith and an eye for detail, the natives began to build their own airstrips. They had every confidence that when they were done, the cargo planes would bestow heaven-sent goodies upon them as well. They cut down trees, moved rocks, ripped out vegetation for their runways. The perimeters of the landing strips were marked by fires. Antennas were put up, built of bamboo. They constructed control towers composed of grass and mud. Then the islanders waited. Of course no planes came. This was a shock to them as they had, as near as they could see, done everything right. No one could question the sincerity of their belief. Still they were disappointed. They stayed disappointed until one bright individual figured out what they had done wrong. They had nobody in the control tower. “Of course, no planes will land without someone in the control tower.” So they put an individual in the control tower – gave him headphones, too, made out of coconut shells. Their work was a monument to the power of belief. But belief was not enough to make a plane land on their runway. Belief, when it is belief in a wrong thing, isn’t enough.

Most people, when they hear about the Melanesian cargo cult shake their heads in disbelief. “How,” most of them ask, “can anyone, even innocent islanders, fall for such foolishness? It ought to be obvious, even to the uncivilized eye, that complicated bits of machinery like airplanes and jeeps and tanks and guns have to be made by someone. They just don’t fall magically and mysteriously from the heavens.” Then with a smug sort of satisfied smile they say to themselves, “I’m glad I’m not that naïve or gullible.”

Really? Have you watched television lately? Have you seen the commercial for the knives that never need sharpening – the knives which can cut through a blacksmith’s anvil and still remain sharp enough to do brain surgery? Those knife commercials have been on air for a good many years now. And how is it possible that these knife sellers have managed to keep buying television time? Simple – a lot of people believe them. Of course, you know better than to believe every claim made by every snake oil salesman that comes down the pike. You know that belief, when it is belief in a wrong thing, isn’t enough.

You are sophisticated in your judgments; you are sparing with your trust. You’ve learned. When you were a baby you might have been trusting. Most babies are trusting. Dad throws Junior up in the air, and those Juniors that don’t get sick, usually laugh. You trusted Dad not to have butterfingers. You believed Mom and Dad when they answered your questions about a host of stuff. Then the day came when you asked them a question like, “What makes thunder?” and your parents said, “It’s angels bowling” or, “It’s space ships bumping into each other.” And you knew they didn’t know. Your belief system was shaken. Watching Saturday TV with a skeptical eye, you started to doubt whether the advertised toys would really do what the commercials showed them doing. You stopped believing commercials. When the neighborhood bully started to pick on you, you stopped believing that all people could be friends, even though that was what everybody wanted. In college, your learned professors helped you unlearn many of the things that you had once considered to be true. You believed in less and less. You saw videos of one President say, “I am not a crook,” and you found out he probably was. You heard another President say, “I didn’t have an inappropriate relationship with that lady,” and you found out he probably did. You believed the promises of your favorite political candidate, and had high hopes when he won the election. He won, but you felt like a loser when his promises were forgotten and he fit comfortably into the mold of the person he had replaced.

When you got a job, you believed that a hard worker was going to be rewarded for his effort. It didn’t take too long before you saw those who were callous and cold-blooded were moving up the corporate ladder far more quickly than did those who kept their nose to the grindstone, their shoulder to the wheel, and their eye on the ball. We stopped believing in almost everything.

No, we’re not naïve like those Melanesian natives; no one is going to pull the wool over our eyes. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, and we’re going to do our best to be top dog. It’s a rat race out there, and we’re going to be the fastest rat. We know the ropes, we know the rules. You can’t believe everything everybody says. In fact, you probably shouldn’t believe anything.

OK, OK. I know what you don’t believe in. Let me ask, “In what do you believe?” You’ve spent a big part of your life making sure nobody steps on your toes or takes advantage of you. But in what do you believe? Whom do you trust? I mean absolutely, completely, totally, without the slightest bit of hesitation or reservation. Do you have a friend that you can be sure will never, no matter what the circumstance or situation, sell you out to save his own hide? Do you have a special love which will remain solid, safe, and secure, in sickness and in health, in sad times and in glad; in times of riches or poverty? What do you believe in? Whom do you trust?

It was probably about 20 years ago that I heard of a writer who visited Russia; it was a few years after the Communists had come to power. He asked a very old man, “Tell me, how does living in the communist system differ from life under the Tsar?” The old man replied, “Before Communism came, we used to invite our priest out to the farm to offer a springtime blessing upon the land.” Then the old man continued, “But we no longer have to call for the priest or his blessing; we have tractors now.” He’s not alone in his feelings. Our age has seen fertilizer replace faith, potent drugs push aside prayer, leaders leverage out the Lord, and the Savior is swapped for sociologists, psychologists, psychiatrists and psychotherapists.

Whom do you trust? In what do you believe? Will you believe in technology when your car sits in the driveway and grinds away without turning over? When the lights flicker and go out? When the sump pump stops pumping in the middle of a downpour? Will you continue to trust the drugs when the doctor says, “What you have has become immune to our medicines”? Will you trust the expert who leaves you just as confused after therapy as you were before it began? In what will you believe? What, my friend, do you have left? Are you sure your job is going to be there a year from now? Are you sure your savings account will maintain its value? Are you sure the stocks you hold, the investments you’ve made, will be profitable? What is left? In whom do you trust? Remember, you don’t want to believe in the wrong thing.

A voice answers our question. It says: “I am not ashamed, because I know whom I have believed.” I know whom I have believed. Which of us can honestly say the same? Our entire generation is marked by disbelief, distrust, and doubt. We work at not believing in anybody or anything, because just about every time we do, we get let down. In spite of our pessimism, Paul says, “I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed.”

Let me introduce you to the man behind the voice. It is the Apostle Paul. He made this simple, solid statement some time around the year 64 AD. It was 30 years since Jesus of Nazareth had been nailed to the cross to take away the sins of humanity. Three decades have passed since Christ had risen from the grave. For a generation and a half, Christianity had been preached with only sporadic persecution. But in 64 AD, much of the city of Rome burned and the emperor Nero tried to lay the blame at the feet of Christians. Some of the populace believed him. Their hatred, directed against the followers of the Savior, resulted in widespread horrors. During those dark days, calling yourself a “Christian” was always dangerous and, more often than not, deadly.

During this time of persecution, Paul had been arrested and thrown into prison. There was little, if any, hope for his release. He, like many others, was destined for martyrdom. Alone, imprisoned, destined to die, Paul wrote to his young apprentice, Timothy, a letter, a sort of last will and testament. In our courtrooms, such a document is held in high regard. It is thought that an individual who is looking death in the face has no reason to lie. On the contrary, the nearness of death seems to compel people to come clean with their most honest thoughts.

I encourage you in the week ahead, to read through the four chapters of Paul’s last will and testament. We still have it. The Lord preserved this short letter, the Book of 2 Timothy, as part of His New Testament. If you do, you will come away impressed by many things that do not appear in those verses. For example, you will not hear Paul dismally, dejectedly, despondently, crossing off on the calendar his last precious days and his prized moments. You will not hear him complain about the unfairness and uncertainties of life. You will not hear him shaking his fist at the heavens and accusing God of being unfair, unreliable, and unresponsive. You will not hear Paul bargaining with the Lord, promising anything, everything, if he can just be given a little more time. Paul does not have a shopping list of things that he regrets leaving undone.

On the contrary, for being a man who is in jail, for a man who is soon to die, Paul is at peace. This is what he wrote: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for His appearing.” Paul is the possessor of a peace which the world cannot give. He has a peace which passes all human understanding. And where does such a peace come from? He tells us, “I know whom I have believed.”

Paul knows Someone who has not let him down. Paul knows Someone who can be trusted, even in a jail cell. Paul knows Someone who will not desert Him in his darkest moments. On the contrary, Paul knows Someone who will accompany him through the valley of the shadow of death. And because He knows such an Individual, Paul is not afraid; Paul is not ashamed. “I know whom I have believed.” Paul believed in Jesus. He believed in Jesus who was born in Bethlehem to fulfill the Father’s promise of rescue and redemption for lost humanity. Paul believed in Jesus who lived His life perfectly, fulfilling all the laws that we had broken, all the laws which can condemn us. Paul believed in Jesus who suffered the death that sinners deserve. Paul believed in Jesus who rose from the dead and thereby shows to all the world that His sacrifice, His substitution for us, has been accepted. Paul is convinced he believes the right thing. Paul believes Jesus.

Years before, Jesus had visited the gravesite of his dear friend Lazarus. In conversation with one of the dead man’s sisters, the Lord had said: “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in Me will never die.” Then Jesus asked her, “Do you believe this?” Showing tremendous faith, she replied, “Yes, Lord, I believe.” She was not disappointed for doing so. A few minutes later, Jesus called her brother out of the grave and back to life. She believed, and so did Paul. With confidence, he confesses, “I know whom I have believed.”

Now at this point in my message, the Christians are shaking their heads in agreement with what I’m saying. They know. They understand, for they have the same belief as did Paul. But not everybody hearing this message agrees. Many of you have become so embittered by life, so let down by everything in which you have ever trusted, that you are reluctant, hesitant to put your confidence in anything or anybody. You have nothing in which to believe. It’s not that you don’t want to believe, it’s just that you have been betrayed so many times that you’re afraid to entrust yourself to anyone else, even if He is the Son of God.

I understand. I really do. If I told you that there are 72 trillion, 973 billion, 248 million, 675 thousand, 219 known stars in the universe, you would probably believe me. But if I tell you that a chair has just been painted, you have to touch it to make sure. You don’t believe that part about the chair because you want proof. When it comes to Jesus, you want proof that Jesus is the Savior, the Lord of life, the Keeper of promises. You want to be sure.

How can I make you sure? What proof can I give you? The fact that hundreds saw a living Jesus after He should have been dead? Proof that people ate with Him, some touched Him, some felt His breath upon them? What proof can I give you? Let me give you this proof. It is the proof of Paul. It is the proof of millions of martyrs. It is the proof attested to by the widow and widower, the orphan and the childless parents. I give you this proof: no one has ever been sorry for being a Christian when he was on his deathbed. No one repents of being a Christian on his deathbed. Like Paul, they say, “I know whom I have believed.” If you believe nothing else, trust no one else, believe Jesus.

Believe. Years ago, in a little town there was a blind man. Having lived in that town all of his life, he had developed a pretty good sense of direction. With his cane touching sidewalk, fence, tree. and curb he could navigate pretty well. One day, at the time he normally went home, his pastor saw him headed in the other direction. When the pastor asked where he was going, he replied, “Home.” It took some doing before the pastor could convince the man that each step he took was taking him further away from his destination. Finally, the man who could not see, believed the man who could. He was turned around and walked towards home. That is what the Lutheran Hour broadcast is trying to do for you today. Believe. We have seen the Savior. We know what He can do. Call us if you need help in being turned around. We want you to see Him, too. Believe us, we want to help you head on home. Amen.

Lutheran Hour Mailbox (Questions & Answers) for October 17, 2004
Topic: Church Membership

ANNOUNCER: And now Pastor Ken Klaus responds to a listener’s question. I’m Mark Eischer. Pastor Klaus, you recently received a letter from someone who said, “My church got a new pastor, and within six months, he kicked me out. How can he do that?”

KLAUS: Why would a pastor kick somebody out of the church? You know how some pastors are – power hungry, mean-spirited, in the pocket of the influential members of the congregation. No doubt this pastor had it in for the person who wrote this letter and just wanted to make an example of him.

ANNOUNCER: Really?

KLAUS: No. But that is probably what the individual who wrote this letter is thinking. From that person’s point of view, the pastor has gone off the deep end and doesn’t have the good sense that God gave grass.

ANNOUNCER: What’s the real answer to this question?

KLAUS: I have to say, Mark, it’s real difficult for me to give the real answer. In this case, we don’t know the circumstances behind this person’s removal from the church roster. We don’t even know what kind of church this was.

ANNOUNCER: How many reasons could there be?

KLAUS: Upon truth, there’s only one reason, but many different situations. From my parish experience, I’ve had people who had moved away years before, never transferred their church membership, never joined another congregation. They thought they could just kind of keep their membership forever at their old congregation in the old time zone they were living in. That’s one reason. I have had other people who didn’t move away but never set foot inside the church. They didn’t go to Communion. They didn’t support the Lord’s work in any way. They didn’t come to hear the Word of God that strengthens our faith in Christ. I need to stop here and make note, that we’re not talking about shut-ins, sick, people in the military, those who are stationed overseas because of their job, or anybody with any other special situation. I’m talking about people who could worship, but every week they chose not to.

ANNOUNCER: So you then took it upon yourself to kick them out – and I’m kidding, of course.

KLAUS: You may be kidding, but they didn’t feel that way. Yes, sometimes they ended up having their names removed from the roster of the church, but not because I wanted that.

ANNOUNCER: But if you didn’t want it, why were they removed? Why not just let things go?

KLAUS: I’m going to try talking for a lot of pastors who have found themselves in similar circumstances. A good pastor takes very seriously the charge that has been given to him. Jesus has made him an under-shepherd of souls. He’s responsible for them. The day will come when he has to give an account of how he ministered to them. When one of his flock wanders off, he can’t ignore them. Most pastors in parishes, especially the good ones, spend considerable time and effort searching for those lost. Sometimes they are able to reach out and bring them back into the fold, but sometimes the lost sheep simply refuses to come back.

ANNOUNCER: And you can’t drag them back into the church.

KLAUS: No, you can’t do that. Eventually after a lot of work and repeated tries, a minister may find himself making a recommendation to remove an individual from the roster of the church. In doing so, he’s saying, “I don’t know if you’re saved. I don’t know about your spiritual situation. I do know you’re not listening to us. You’re being removed because we love you, and we most desperately want you back.”

ANNOUNCER: Can a person who is removed, come back to the church?

KLAUS: Absolutely. There is nothing a parish or a pastor hopes for more. It’s meant to restore the individual. That’s exactly what this is all meant to be, although it may not seem so for the individual. Mark, if you don’t mind, I’d like to try to explain this with an example.

ANNOUNCER: Please.

KLAUS: Suppose you have a married lady, a lady with children. Her husband neglects her terribly. He’s never around. Doesn’t offer any support. Maybe he runs around with other women, maybe not. But he doesn’t show up, year after year after year. He doesn’t call; he doesn’t remember the kids’ birthdays. Finally after pleas and prayers and attempts to change things, the wife decides to file for divorce. Now, who should be blamed for the marriage going down the tubes – the wife or the husband?

ANNOUNCER: More the husband, I would think.

KLAUS: So would I. The wife is only saying in a courtroom, what the husband has been saying with every day of his life. The marriage is over. But there is a difference here.

ANNOUNCER: And that would be?

KLAUS: You know, a wife may not want to see her faithless and philandering husband again, but the Church, and our Lord Jesus Christ, who died and rose to redeem sinners, would like nothing more than to have those wandering souls returned and be fully restored.

ANNOUNCER: Thank you Pastor Klaus. This has been a presentation of Lutheran Hour Ministries.