What Would You Be Willing To Die For?

Text: John 10:11-16

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

What would you be willing to die for? Yes, what would you be willing to die for?

That’s a very heavy question, isn’t it? But today, it’s a question we should think through.

Would you be willing to die for your job? Not really. We might say we give our lives to our work, but not literally. Your job might be important. It might even help people. But to die for it? Most of us would draw the line there.

Would you be willing to die for a stranger? Probably not. You don’t know them. You haven’t shared life with them. There’s no relationship. It would seem foolish by the world’s standards to give your life for a stranger.

Would you be willing to die for your parents? Maybe. It depends on the relationship. Some might say yes. Others might struggle. It’s complicated.

Would you be willing to die for your country? Maybe. Some of you have served. You know the cost. You understand duty and honor. But even that resolve can waver under pressure.

Would you be willing to die for a friend? Maybe. There are friendships forged in fire and tears. You quite possibly would give your life for a friend — a gut reaction. 

Would you be willing to die for your spouse? Yes. You share your life. That kind of bond moves us toward self-sacrifice.

Would you be willing to die for your children? Absolutely. No hesitation. Every parent knows this instinct.

Would you be willing to die for St. Paul’s Lutheran Church? If we are talking about the building, the structure, the memories tied up in these walls — probably not. As meaningful as these things are, they are not eternal. Buildings can be replaced. Memories can be cherished without being clung to. We treasure this place, but we wouldn't die for the structure.

But how about this: would you be willing to die for the Confession of the Faith, for the doctrine of the Evangelical Lutheran Church?  Please don’t confuse this with the ELCA.  I am not talking about that church, but our Evangelical Lutheran Confession. Now that is a harder question still. And yet, it is exactly what our Confirmation students will say today. When asked, 

“Do you intend to continue steadfast in this confession and Church and to suffer all, even death, rather than fall away from it?”

They will answer, 

“Yes, with the help of God.”

This is no small thing. These young Christians are pledging their lives. They are saying, 

“This Lutheran doctrine, this faith, is worth more than life itself.” 

And they’re right.

Because while there may be hesitation, debate, or second thoughts when it comes to dying for even the most precious earthly relationships, when it comes to the truth of God’s Word—the faith once delivered to the saints, the doctrine that delivers Christ crucified and risen—there is no question. No wavering. No debate. That is a no-brainer. Of course, we should suffer all, even death, rather than fall away from it. This is the one thing we must hold fast to, no matter the cost.

You see, to be a member of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church is to confess that you would rather die than deny Christ and His Word. Keep in mind that this is not radical. This is normal Christianity. If you think this sounds radical, it is because you are couched in comfort. You see, for large portions of Christians throughout Church history, being a Christian meant suffering—real, bodily, social, and financial suffering. There was a cost to being a Christian. The early Christians faced lions and Roman swords. Today, our brothers and sisters in Christ around the globe suffer simply for bearing the name of Jesus. During the sixteenth-century Reformation, our Lutheran Forefathers stood before Emperor Charles V and presented the Augsburg Confession. They were not just submitting a document for discussion; they were standing firm on the pure Gospel, the Lutheran faith, under the real possibility of persecution and even execution. They were risking everything for the truth of God’s Word as rightly confessed in the Lutheran Church. Their words were clear, their stance was bold: 

"Here we stand." 

Their confession wasn’t a political gesture. Their confession wasn’t a confession of ease.  But their confession was a matter of truth.  They were willing to suffer all, even death, rather than compromise the doctrine drawn from Scripture.

And yet, what about you and me? What about our generation of Lutherans?

Let us speak plainly. Many people in our Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod are not only unwilling to die for our Lutheran Confession, but they are already surrendering it. Not under duress or threat of violence, but willingly, for the sake of comfort, convenience, and acceptance by a world that despises the truth.

You see, the temptation is strong to soften our bold confession, to hide our Lutheran distinctiveness, to cozy up to the language and values of a pagan culture. The temptation is to trade in the solid, uncompromising truth for relevance, for influence, for an easier life. We are tempted to be silent when we should speak, to blend in when we should stand out, to tolerate error when we should confess boldly.

I am not trying to be rude or confrontational. Instead, I am trying to demonstrate that this Christian faith is about being faithful. It’s about recognizing that when the Good Shepherd lays down His life for the sheep, He does so with a truth that is worth dying for—a truth that sets us free.

So, yes, we should be willing to die for this Christian confession. This is not radical; it is only radical for those couched in comfort.  

But let’s be honest: are we willing to die? Would we be willing to die?

Here is where the Law hits us hard. In our hearts, we know the answer isn’t always yes. We waver. We falter. We fear. We cling to comfort. We duck and cover. Like Peter in the courtyard, we can say one thing with boldness and do the opposite when the fire gets hot.

But why? Why should we be willing to suffer all, even death, for this Lutheran Confession? Why is this faith so worth clinging to?  Why will the confirmands stand at this altar and say that they will continue steadfast in this confession and Church and to suffer all, even death, rather than fall away from it?

The answer begins not with us, but with Christ. To understand the worth of our confession, we must first consider the One in whom it is founded—the Good Shepherd.

Ponder this for a moment: what was Jesus willing to die for?

Dear friends, your Jesus was not a hired hand. You see, hired hands see the wolves coming and flee because the sheep are not theirs. Sheep aren’t worth the risk. Hired hands are not invested. And so they clock out and run.

But Jesus is not like that. He says, 

"I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down His life for the sheep."

You heard that correctly!  Jesus was willing to die for you. Not because you are righteous, or strong, or lovable, or deserving—but precisely because you are not. He died for you with all your doubts, compromises, and fears. He died for you with your pride, your moral failures, and your stumbling words. He died for you, whose confessions have faltered, for those who have chosen comfort over courage, for those who have walked away, and those barely holding on. He died for the apathetic, the anxious, the angry. For the self-righteous and the self-condemned. For the tired parents, the broken spouses, the secret addicts, the stubborn rebels, and the silent sufferers. He died for the sheep who bite, wander, and run off cliffs. He died for you.

Yes, dear friends, this is the heart of it. The Son of God did not flinch. He did not count the cost and walk away. He did not hedge His bets. He did not run from the cross. He marched to it. He embraced it. He bled for you. He died for you and He rose for you.

That’s the kind of Shepherd you have. Not one who leaves when the wolves circle, but one who puts Himself between you and death. One who takes the blow. One who lies down in the grave so that you might live.

Today, while we ponder whether we would die for this or that, know this, Jesus did not hesitate. He went to the cross, willingly, deliberately, out of love. And in so doing, He claimed you as His own. The Shepherd became the Lamb. The Son of God took our place.

[And so, dear confirmands – Jamison, Connor, Patton, and Reagan, you do not stand alone when you make your vow today.] You are not left to your own courage. You do not keep the faith by the strength of your will. You keep the good confession because the Good Shepherd keeps you.

Baptized Saints, Christ feeds you with His Word. He nourishes you with His Body and Blood. He speaks into your ears the promise that your sins are forgiven. He holds you fast when your grip weakens. Therefore, today, we can all be ready to die for this Lutheran faith – the Christian faith. Not because we are naturally brave or fearless, but because Christ has died and risen for us. He has made us His own. His death and resurrection hold us firm. His faithfulness works in us a faith that endures, even unto death.

In the name of Jesus. Amen