Living Waters Lutheran Church Liverpool

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Living Waters Lutheran Church Liverpool Sharing the good news of Jesus and his friendship, with the community

21/10/2026

The Truth That Sets You Free
Reformation Sunday | John 8:31–36
Pastor Bruce Flanagan

You should be Lutheran. Not so you can feel superior to your neighbours, and not so you can congratulate yourself for having a more precise theological system than the church down the road. You should be Lutheran because only the pure Gospel recovered at the Reformation gives absolute comfort, absolute certainty, and absolute guarantee of your salvation before God the Father for the sake of the death and resurrection of Jesus. Only this truth sets you free.

Jesus said to those who had believed in Him, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free… So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:31–32, 36). The Jews answered that they had never been enslaved. They were wrong. Everyone who practises sin is a slave to sin. We are born into that slavery. We cannot free ourselves. The Son alone sets free.

Martin Luther knew this from the inside. Before the Reformation he was a monk with a terrified conscience, trying to do enough, confess enough, and cooperate enough to be certain of God’s favour. When he finally abided in the Word and heard that a person is justified by faith apart from works of the law, the truth set him free. He later insisted that the divine Word alone is the cornerstone that undergirds our constancy: “Cling to the Word… I am helpless. May God help me. It all rests in His hands.” The Reformation was not a new idea. It was a return to the Word that Jesus promised would make true disciples and set them free.

This is why we celebrate Reformation Sunday. The Lutheran distinctives are not optional extras. They are the true Gospel that comes from the Word of God. Against the teaching that Christ died only for some, Lutheran doctrine confesses that God so loved the world and desires all people to be saved. Against the teaching that you must do something, by works or by an act of the will, to complete or cooperate with salvation, Lutheran doctrine confesses that salvation is God’s pure work alone. Jesus’ death was sufficient for the sins of the whole world, and He delivers its benefits to you personally in Baptism, in the preached Word, in Absolution, and in His body and blood given for the forgiveness of sins. Because it is His work, nothing is left to chance or uncertainty.

There should be no Lutheran insomniacs lying awake wondering whether God can love or forgive them. Luther put it plainly: God did not come down from heaven to make you uncertain about predestination or to teach you to despise the Sacraments and Absolution. He instituted them to make you completely certain and to remove the disease of doubt from your heart. When the devil accuses you, the Word of forgiveness fills his mouth with the blood of Christ and silences him. You are free indeed.

This is the comfort we need in every affliction and in every ordinary day. The cross has secured your future. The means of grace deliver that future to you now. The doctrine we confess is not a badge of pride; it is a salve for the anxious conscience. Abide in this Word. Receive the gifts Christ freely gives. The truth that sets you free is the pure Gospel of Jesus Christ, and that is the reason we celebrate the Reformation.

08/10/2026

No Coat of Your Own

The parable is not a lesson in manners. A king throws a wedding for his Son. The invited do not send their regrets. They go back to the farm and the shop, and the rest seize the servants, shame them, and kill them. Then the roads are swept, bad and good together, and one man is found with no wedding garment. He has nothing to say. He is bound and thrown into the dark. "Many are called, but few are chosen." That line is meant to make you ask, Am I the one without the coat?

Do not hide in "I accepted the invitation." That is the Law wearing a smile. Set the free Son before a sinner, and the will does not reach for the feast. It reaches for the knife. And do not stop the story where the hall fills up, as if a crowd of bad and good meant everyone is saved. The king comes in. He is not gentle. "Friend, how did you get in here?" The man is speechless. So will you be, if your answer is your decision, your decency, or your years of showing up.

The wedding garment is not something you do. It is not even believing hard enough to get yourself over the line. A coat is put on. Christ is the coat. He is your cover, your bridegroom, the joyful exchange in the flesh: your sin, shame, and death become his; his life and righteousness become yours. He was put on you in Baptism. He is put on you again whenever this promise is spoken. You do not add a second coat to make his look more respectable. You wear him.

So if the finger points on the last day and the charge is that you have no wedding garment, do not do what that man did. Do not stand mute, and do not point at your works. Speak. Say, "Christ." He is your coat, handed to you at the door. You are clothed. The feast is yours. You shall not be cast out.

Happy Birthday to Ros. We are praying for you.
04/10/2026

Happy Birthday to Ros. We are praying for you.

30/09/2026

This Is the Lord’s Doing

God planted a vineyard. Isaiah sings it: the beloved cleared the stones, built the watchtower, hewed the winepress, and looked for good grapes, and the vine gave wild ones. Psalm 80 remembers the same planting, a vine brought out of Egypt until it filled the land, then cries out because the boar tears it: Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved. The gift was generous. The fruit was not.

Jesus retells that song in the temple. Servants are beaten and killed. The son is thrown outside the vineyard and murdered, so the tenants might seize the inheritance. Do not hear a story about people worse than you. This is what we do when we mean to possess righteousness for ourselves. The hearers even supply the moral: miserable death for the wretches, and the vineyard handed to others who will produce. That is not the Lord’s verdict. It is ours, the old habit of deciding which group is holy enough to keep the land.

Paul once stood in that place. As to the righteousness that is in the law, blameless, and he counts it rubbish beside being found in Christ, not having a righteousness of his own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith. Jesus does not recruit better tenants. He asks whether they have read the Scripture: the stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. This is the Lord’s doing. The rejection is total. Leaders and crowd, Jew and Gentile, disciple and stranger, no one loves the cross. The law ends there, in the death of the Son.

And yet that rejected stone is made the head of the corner. Not a new law for a replacement people, but the crucified Son forgiving the very ones who killed him, and holding Jew and Gentile together by that one forgiveness. The kingdom is given to a people who bear this fruit: not the wild grapes of a righteousness you make, but faith in the Son who was cast out for you. This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes. You who have rejected him are forgiven in him. The face of God shines on you in the Beloved, and you are saved.

24/09/2026

The Son Who Said No — And Went

Ezekiel 18:1–4, 25–32 · Psalm 25:1–10 · Philippians 2:1–4, 14–18 · Matthew 21:23–32

The chief priests and elders come at Jesus with a lawyer’s question: “By what authority are you doing these things?” They assume there is only one kind of authority, the kind that comes through the proper channels, the right robes, and the law. Jesus will not play. He answers with another question: “The baptism of John, from heaven or from men?” He is pointing them to a different authority altogether. The law can pose a question and tell you what to do. It cannot give you the power to do it. The gospel does not ask you to produce credentials. It speaks a promise, and the promise does the work.

Ezekiel had already dismantled the old excuse: “The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge.” No. “The soul who sins shall die.” Each one bears his own sin. That sounds like good news until you realise what it actually means. You are not crushed by your parents’ failures. You are crushed by your own. That is why David prays in Psalm 25, “Remember not the sins of my youth.” He knows the books are now in his name. The law is accurate when it says “repent.” What the law cannot do is repent you. It can name the debt. It cannot pay it.

So Jesus tells of two sons. One says “Yes, sir” and never goes. The other says “I will not” and then goes. The first agrees with the law and remains unchanged. The second is changed — not by a better will inside himself, but from outside. That is the mind Paul commends in Philippians: not the mind that polishes its own obedience, but the mind of Christ, who emptied himself and was poured out. John came “in the way of righteousness” with a baptism that did not merely demand a new heart. It gave one. The tax collectors and prostitutes believed him because they knew they were sinners and the promise was for them. The priests heard the same word and decided they did not need it.

Here is the scandal Ezekiel could not see and the leaders would not hear: Jesus does not plead Ezekiel 18 for himself. He does not say, “I should not bear another man’s sin.” He is silent. He steps into John’s water, takes what is not his, and the Father speaks over him: “This is my beloved Son.” That word is now spoken over you. You do not have the authority to change your own heart. You do not need it. The Son who was poured out has already borne the sins of your youth and the sins of this week. The kingdom is not entered by those who said yes and did nothing. It is entered by sinners who hear the promise and know it is for them. It is for you.

16/09/2026

Do You Begrudge His Goodness?

Jesus does not tell this parable so you can work out which labourer you are. He tells it so you will look at the Master. The kingdom of heaven is like a Chooser who keeps going out, dawn, mid-morning, noon, late afternoon, the eleventh hour, and hiring people who have produced nothing. Then He pays the last first, and pays them the same. That is not how the world works. That is how God works. From our side He is a scandalously bad Chooser, because He will not use the law to decide.

The first workers are furious. They bore the burden of the day and the scorching heat. They signed the contract. They want what they earned, and a little more because they were first. We understand them. We live by hours, fairness, and “I deserve.” In this old world there will never be equality. Different callings, different loads, different pay. God Himself will not let the law produce a level field. Demand that He choose by labour and you will always begrudge His goodness.

Paul writes from prison. Some in Philippi were sure his chains proved he had lost God’s favour. Paul says the opposite: what has happened to him has served to advance the gospel, even among the guards. Christ will be honoured in his body, whether by life or by death. Suffering is not the withdrawal of election. A man who holds the keys can sit in a cell and still give what God has given him. God’s choosing is not measured by our comfort or our work.

The only equality you will ever receive is the one God hands over apart from the law, the same gift to the last as to the first. It is not a denarius. It is the forgiveness of sins, spoken over you in the gospel, washed onto you in Baptism, placed into your mouth in the Supper. You have already been chosen. The last are first because the gift is free. Do not begrudge His goodness. It is for you.

10/09/2026

Not Seven Times

Peter thinks he is being generous. Seven times. That is mercy with a measuring tape. He is not really asking Jesus how the keys of the kingdom work. He is telling Jesus the legal limit: how often must I bear another person’s sin before I can stop? Jesus will not leave the keys under the law. “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven.” Unlimited. Repeated. Outside the count.

We have named the story badly. This is not first “the parable of the unforgiving servant.” It is Jesus freeing Peter from being a once-and-done forgiver. The king does not postpone the ten-thousand-talent debt. He cancels it. Then the man who has just been set free goes out and chokes his fellow servant over a handful of coins. That is what happens when forgiven people put the gospel back under the law. They start counting again. They demand payment. They call it justice, and they miss mercy.

The real fear is not that we will forgive too little. It is that we will forgive the wrong person, the wrong number of times, and the old world will get worse. Families know that fear. Congregations know it. Pastors know it. If the word of forgiveness is handed over without a cut-off, will people take advantage? Jesus does not pretend the risk is imaginary. He simply refuses to put a number on mercy. Mercy is not a lenient sentence. It is not extra time to pay. It is the debt itself put away, as far as the east is from the west.

How do you get a heart that can forgive like that? Not by trying harder. Not by seven decent attempts. Not by training yourself into better desires. A new heart is given only when the same word is spoken over you again and again. Your unpayable debt is cancelled. Your brother is not the only sinner in the room. Christ has already used the keys on you, not once, but repeatedly, so that you may use them on your neighbour from the heart. That is the promise: he forgives all your iniquity, and he is not finished speaking it.

03/09/2026

Who Is Greatest?

The disciples want to know where they sit on the ladder. That is how the old world works. The law ranks us, first and last, better and worse, and leaves the conscience unsure. Jesus does not answer by hoisting the lowly onto the high seats. He puts a child in the middle of them. The point is not that children are innocent under the law, or that the kingdom should be run by children. A child is the one who receives. A child believes the word that is spoken. Faith is not a power we produce. It is a gift given.

That is why the word we speak to little ones matters more than we like to admit. Give them the promise of Christ and you give them life. Give them a twisted law dressed up as freedom, or the shrug that says they can decide later what to believe, and you despise them. Jesus will not have it. Better a millstone than to cause one of these little ones who believe in him to stumble. Their angels always see the Father’s face. That means favour. God is turned towards them. Baptism is not our offering to God. It is God giving faith and forgiveness to those who cannot yet speak for themselves.

Then comes the lost sheep. We usually hear “astray” as breaking the rules. Jesus is after something deeper. The lamb has wandered from the promise itself. Even an ordinary shepherd in this dying world will leave the ninety-nine to find the one. How much more the Son of Man, who came to save the lost. He does not wait for the sheep to find its own way home. He goes out. He speaks. That speaking is the loosing key, the gospel, given to the church. The binding key is real too, and it is not to be used lightly: it shuts the mouth of those who lie to the little ones. But the main use of the keys is to find the one who has gone astray and set them free.

So do not come this Sunday asking where you rank. You are not the greatest by effort. You are the little one to whom the promise is spoken. You are the sheep the Shepherd will not leave on the mountain. Where two or three gather in his name, that is, where his promise is actually said, he is among them. He has bound your sin and loosed you. He has put his name on you in baptism. He still comes for the lost. That word is for you.

26/08/2026

Jesus drops a bombshell.

From this moment he begins to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem, suffer many things, be killed, and on the third day be raised. Peter, fresh from his Spirit-given confession, takes him aside and rebukes him: “Far be it from you, Lord!” It is not just Peter speaking. Satan himself is using Peter’s mouth to try and talk the Messiah out of the cross. Jesus turns and answers with the binding key: “Get behind me, Satan.”

We so easily make the same mistake. We hear “take up your cross” and start manufacturing our own. We turn self-denial into a spiritual diet plan, a private struggle against desires, a monkish effort to prove we are serious. That is a fake cross. Jesus is not calling us to limit food, sleep or comfort so that we can feel worthy. He is linking himself to Isaiah 53. The suffering he announces is the taking on of the world’s iniquity. The law will find him clothed in our sin and kill him. That is the real cross.

To deny yourself, then, is not to manage your appetites. It is to disown the old self that still expects an inheritance by the law, status, reward, a place of honour in some restored kingdom. To take up the cross is to be put to death with him. This happens in baptism. Your old Adam is not improved or given a second chance; he is drowned. The only thing you feel is the dying. The new life is already given, though you do not yet see or feel it.

Yet the story does not end in death. The risen Lord comes to his frightened disciples with the first word of the new kingdom: “Peace be with you.” He comes with his preachers, with the promise of forgiveness spoken over you. You are not left trying to save your life. In Christ it has already been lost and found. The Son of Man has come. Your conscience is free.

19/08/2026

Not by Flesh and Blood

Jesus takes his disciples into pagan Caesarea Philippi and asks the only question that finally matters: “Who do you say that I am?” The crowds have their answers, John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, another prophet. Safe, religious, familiar. Peter speaks what flesh and blood cannot produce: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” It is not a decision he makes. It is a gift the Father places on his lips.

Jesus does not congratulate Peter on getting the title right. He blesses him. A blessing is the opposite of the curse the law lays on us when we fail. “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you.” Left to ourselves we only ever want a Messiah who will rule by the law, the strong, just, successful king we think we need. Jesus will not be that king. The moment Peter tries to put him back under the law, the blessing turns to rebuke.

On this rock, this confession given from heaven, Christ builds his church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. Then he gives the keys: whatever you bind on earth is bound in heaven; whatever you loose is loosed. The church is not Peter’s person, nor a chain of bishops, nor our decisions for Jesus. The church is the place where the word of absolution is spoken. That is the office that makes the church.

Hear it now. Your sins are forgiven. The Father has given you the same confession and placed the same keys in your hands, as parents, spouses, neighbours, workers. Use them. Speak the word that frees. The power is in that word, not in us, and the gates of hell shall not prevail.

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82 Flowerdale Road
Liverpool, NSW
2170

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