Category Archives: Time after Pentecost

Eternal Investment – Sermon on Matthew 25:14-30

November 19, 2017

We have some leftover business from last week. Have you been bothered about those five bridesmaids who got locked out of the party, just because they didn’t bring along an extra flask of oil? They came with their lamps, and their lamps had oil, but they didn’t bring along any extra. They thought they were prepared, but they weren’t. “Good enough” wasn’t good enough, after all. And instead of continuing to wait, even if it meant waiting in the dark, they went off looking for what they needed somewhere else. When they finally arrived, the door had been shut, and they were out of luck.

The nagging question left over from last week comes up again this week. Why isn’t “good enough” good enough? In today’s passage, Jesus tells another parable that forces us to consider this question from a different angle. Hear the Word of the Lord, from Matthew 25:14-30:

For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them;15 to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. 16 The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. 17 In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. 18 But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money. 19 After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. 20 Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.’ 21 His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ 22 And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.’ 23 His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ 24 Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; 25 so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.’26 But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? 27 Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest. 28 So take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. 29 For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. 30 As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ The Word of the Lord, Thanks be to God.

Why isn’t “good enough” good enough, as we wait for Christ to come again? What is it about following Jesus that requires more from us than we are often prepared to offer? Does the abundant life Jesus promises to us only come at extravagant cost?

From today’s parable, it would seem that’s the case. In Luke’s version of this story, each servant is given a pound, but here in Matthew, the unit of measure is a talent. One talent was worth 6000 denarii, and we already know from previous stories that a denarius was the usual daily wage for a common laborer. So, one talent was worth about 20 years of labor.

Here we have an obviously wealthy master entrusting huge sums of money to his servants, and even the least of these would have had to work for twenty years to earn as much as his master hands over to him. This is extravagance on a grand scale.

We usually think of a talent as some special ability or giftedness, and linguistic experts will tell you that the root of our word “talent” probably comes from the original Greek word we find in this parable. But they will also tell you that the meaning we give to “talent” today did not come into common usage until sometime in the 1500s. At the time Jesus told the story, everyone understood that a talent was a fortune, and five talents was an enormous amount of money, a hundred years’ worth of wages.

Why is this important to know? The traditional interpretation of the parable of the talents has focused on using our abilities while we wait for Christ’s return. Use your talents well, or you might lose them. God gave you special gifts, and you don’t want to be caught on judgment day having to explain why you failed to make the most of your talents. Because the master in our story gave to each “according to his ability,” people have made “ability” the central theme of this parable.

But if we realize that Jesus wasn’t necessarily talking about our abilities as much as the greatest treasure we can imagine, it puts a little different spin on the story. Now, instead of using our abilities as best we can, the question becomes, “how much are we willing to risk to get the greatest return on our investment in the kingdom of God?”

And before we can even ask that question, we need to know what great treasure has our master entrusted to us?

Remembering the parable of the ten bridesmaids, we might think that the great treasure entrusted to us is the faith God gives us. Some invest in their own spiritual development, and they see their faith grow. Others may try to hide their faith, and their faith shrivels away.

But then we run into the problem of the one-talent servant who is cast into outer darkness, and we are left wondering if perhaps his faith was not real faith, or if it was not deep enough. And that idea doesn’t match up with the promise that “if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.” (Matthew 17:20)

But what if the talents don’t represent faith, any more than they represent our God-given abilities? What if this great, immense treasure is something else entirely? Think, for just a moment, about what we as Christians can claim as our most precious treasure, worth more than we can possibly imagine. The Good News of Christ’s death and resurrection is the most powerful and amazing story we know! Instead of teaching us to multiply our faith, or develop our abilities – good and worthy as those things are! – perhaps this parable is here to remind us that our greatest treasure, as Christians, is the gospel itself.[1] So, what are we willing to risk to get the best return on our investment in the gospel of Jesus Christ?” What does an investment in the gospel look like?

First of all, investing in the gospel involves letting it change us. It means allowing its transforming power to work in us until our lives are fully centered on Christ. Then it means spreading that good news, so others can come to know and love Jesus as we do. Living into our faith, showing the world what a difference following Jesus makes in the way we live our lives, telling people about the ways God has transformed us – That is how the gospel multiplies and grows. Not by being buried in the ground, but by being shared. And sharing the gospel is a risky business.

Those first two servants understood the need to risk everything. They invested radically in order to double their investment. The third hid his in the ground, in order to return it risk-free to his master. And before we tell ourselves, “I would never do something like that,” we should keep in mind that the third servant was simply doing what was considered prudent at the time.

“Rabbinic law stipulated that burying was the best safeguard against theft and that when one buries entrusted money one is free from liability for it” (Boucher, 139, quoted by Alyce McKenzie.).

Two servants invest radically, and double their money. The third followed a perfectly acceptable course of action, with minimal risk. He did what would have been considered “good enough.” But it wasn’t.

Because if we are talking about the gospel, about following Jesus and being obedient to his teaching, we have to act on that teaching for it to do any good. And the reason we have to act on the gospel isn’t just because Jesus says so.

The parable teaches that the master will return, the promised kingdom is coming, and when it comes all the false values of this age will become obsolete. The gospel of mercy, peace, and forgiveness is all that will matter in the age to come. “What will stand at the end is the gospel and nothing else.”[2]

There’s something else in this parable that we need to see clearly for it to make sense. The relationship between the master and his servants determined how they responded to the trust he placed in them. The two servants who doubled their investment clearly trusted their master enough to risk losing his money. He rewards them with greater responsibility, and invites them into his joy.

The mutual trust between the master and these servants made it possible for them to invest fearlessly what had been entrusted to them. But the third servant does not see his master in such a positive light. In fact, the third servant’s conservative handling of his master’s wealth is clearly based in fear of what would happen should he lose it all.

If we think about our relationship with God in these terms, we must ask ourselves, what is our image of God, and how does that image dictate the way we act? Try it for a moment. What does God look like to you when you close your eyes? What do his hair and his face look like? His clothing? His posture? Is he smiling, or looking stern? Does he have a beard?

Those images we hold in our minds dictate the way we behave. If we see God as a stern ruler who punishes those who disobey him, we will act in fear, just as the third servant did. But if we see God as a generous and loving caregiver who wants only the best for us, we will act in confidence that he will forgive us when we do wrong. We can depend on God’s abundance being made available to us.

Our image of God determines how we invest in his kingdom. Either we will share lavishly, or we will hide the good news where it does no one any good. It all depends on how we view God, and how much we trust the One who entrusts us with his greatest treasure.

To be a trustworthy servant, we must be willing to trust the One who trusts us. And that trust is the key to understanding what this parable is really about. It isn’t about using the abilities we’ve been given, even though that is a worthy thing to do. It isn’t about believing that Jesus is the Son of God who came to save us from our sins, even though that belief is necessary for our salvation. Faith is more than simply believing something to be true. James 2:19 says even the demons believe in God, and they shudder. Faith is more than that.

Faith is trusting what you believe, which means becoming vulnerable, putting yourself at risk. Are we willing to invest extravagantly in the work of God’s kingdom? We have been given not only the great commandment, to love God and our neighbor, but also the great commission, to make disciples. Not just converts, but disciples who are fully devoted to a life of following Jesus Christ.

And in order to make disciples, we have to be disciples. Yesterday, those of us who attended the charge conference heard District Superintendent Fred remind us that God has one plan for reaching the world, and that plan is the church. There is no Plan B. We’re all Christ has to reach new people and heal a broken world! But we can’t make disciples if we aren’t fully devoted to being disciples. We can’t share what we don’t have. And the world desperately needs what we say we have.

It’s by what we do that people see the need to have Jesus in their lives. It’s the risks we take that show the depth of our faith. Not just belief, but trust. The master trusted his servants. Two of them trusted him back. The third one, not so much. Faith means trusting in what we believe to the point of greatest risk. That’s what Jesus did. That’s what he asks of us.

Your commitment to follow Jesus is much more than a slip of paper you can place in the offering plate this morning. It’s a promise to let Christ invade your life, take over your thinking and your doing, and completely trust him. Trust him to show up whenever you show up for worship. Trust him to use your talents, your gifts, your time and treasure to further his kingdom. Trust him to listen when you pray and trust him to be present with you when you serve. Trust him to place you in front of people who need an invitation into a life of faith, and trust him to give you the right words to offer that invitation.

So, if you haven’t filled out a commitment form yet, I encourage you to do it right now. Ask God to guide your hand as you fill in the blanks. Trust him to help you keep the promises you make, and know that God will fulfill his promise to be with you as you devote yourself to a life of faithful discipleship.

Are you willing to trust him, to risk everything in order to hear him say to you, at the end of time, “Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master?’

[1] Thomas Long, Matthew, 281-282.

[2] Long, 282.

Through Christ: What Are You Waiting For? Sermon on Matthew 25:1-13

November 12, 2017

We had an All Saints detour last week, as we flashed back to hear the familiar words of the Sermon on the Mount. Just a few verses after the Beatitudes we heard last week, Jesus teaches, ‘let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven’ (Matt 5:16). At the end of that same sermon, Jesus says, ‘Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven’ (Matt 7:21).

Today we pick up the story where we left off a couple of weeks ago, as we hear Jesus teach his disciples through a series of parables. And the first parable has a lot to say about shining our light and claiming Jesus as Lord.

As Jesus neared the end of his ministry, he wanted his disciples to be prepared for the time when he would no longer be with them. But he was also preparing them for something more. He was preparing his followers for the fulfillment of God’s promised kingdom, for “the end of the age.”

Jesus began many of his early parables with the familiar phrase, “the kingdom of God is like….” It is like a grain of mustard seed, like yeast worked through dough, it is like a lost coin or a buried treasure. Jesus was introducing the idea that the kingdom of God is present among us now, already working to transform us, and the broken world we live in.

But now, as Jesus teaches his disciples, he tells them, “the kingdom of God will be like…” As he prepares them for the future, Jesus wants his disciples to be ready for the coming of the fulfilled kingdom, whenever it might occur. This kind of preparation requires more than a quick trip to the store to stock up on necessities, or putting clean sheets on the guest bed when company is on the way. Jesus is urging his followers to prepare their hearts.

“Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps.

As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut.

Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’ Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.

It doesn’t take a lot of in-depth study to notice everything that seems to be wrong with the story. For example, there is no bride in this wedding party. And what decent bridegroom comes to his own wedding hours after it was scheduled to begin?

There’s the problem of the wise bridesmaids refusing to share their oil with the others. That doesn’t seem very gracious! And what oil merchant is going to be open for business at midnight?

Finally, there’s the problem of the bridegroom refusing to open the door to the bridesmaids who had to go find oil in the middle of the night, just because they come to the party late – this is the same guy who kept them waiting for hours, remember!

The parable is full of problems and puzzles, and trying to explain every one of them could send us down lots of different rabbit holes. So let’s stick to the basics.

This parable compares two types of believers – the wise and the foolish, or the prepared and the unprepared. We find similar comparisons throughout Matthew’s gospel, and especially in this final teaching about the End of the Age: one will be taken and another left, the sheep will be separated from the goats; the faithful steward will be rewarded, while the unfaithful one will suffer punishment. Earlier in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus described one who builds a house on rock as wise, and another who builds on sand as foolish.[1]

Jesus uses the image of bridesmaids waiting for a bridegroom, to set before us two options – wisdom or foolishness. As the bridesmaids wait in darkness, it’s hard to tell the wise from the foolish. In the dark, they all look alike! But each of us must decide which type of bridesmaid we want to imitate.[2] Because the world is watching us.

Sometimes, I think it is hard for the rest of the world to look at us Christians and tell the wise from the foolish. We may all appear to be ready for Christ’s return. We may attend church, we may serve on committees, we may be the first ones signing up to provide desserts for potluck meals. On the surface, we may all look the same, but who among us is spiritually prepared for the long wait in darkness, before Christ comes again?

Sometimes, we behave more like the foolish bridesmaids, who are short on oil. These bridesmaids have come to the feast expecting a short wait, and their preparation has been minimal. They are like believers who have limited spiritual resources, whose spiritual reserves are shallow, without any staying power. When the night gets long, and faith is tested with waiting, their lamps start to flicker.

Flickering faith won’t do us much good in the final judgment, and that’s what Jesus is really teaching in this parable. This whole final sermon is about God’s judgment, which each of us must be prepared to face, because the consequences for being unprepared are severe.

The unprepared bridesmaids were shut out of the banquet, and when they tried to enter, the bridegroom told them, “I tell you the truth, I never knew you.”

This was the formula a rabbi used to dismiss a disciple, and such a dismissal could not be undone. It was final.

“God is not willing that any should perish” (2 Pet 3:9), but when Christ comes again, judgment will be certain. Whether the Lord comes sooner than we think, or his coming is delayed beyond what we expect, we must be ready.

The concern with delay was important to believers at the end of the first century, because they had expected Jesus to return within their own lifetimes. Now, the apostles were dying off, and some had begun to doubt whether Jesus would actually keep his promise to return.

More than two thousand years later, it may seem that our world has completely given up on Jesus coming again. Our culture is so caught up in satisfying personal desires, we even view our life of faith in terms of what we can get out of it, or how it will meet our needs. We’ve lost the urgency of expectation that even the first century believers struggled to maintain.

On the other hand, there are those who have tried to determine when Jesus will come again, and their predictions have all proven false (so far!), because they have missed the point of Jesus’ teaching. Jesus said, “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father” (Matthew 24:36). We do not know when it will happen; we only know we must be ready.

Verse five tells us that the bridegroom was delayed long enough for the bridesmaids to fall asleep as they waited. Do we sometimes “fall asleep” in our faithfulness to Christ? Do we find ourselves repeating meaningless prayers and barely skimming over familiar Bible passages? Do we just go through the motions of living a Christian life, without making a full commitment to discipleship?

When the bridegroom is announced at midnight, all the bridesmaids wake up and trim their lamps, preparing to join the processional. But the unprepared bridesmaids discover that they are nearly out of oil. Their supply has run low. They were not adequately prepared.

Sometimes we get a “wake up” call to pay closer attention to our own walk with God. Maybe we are suddenly faced with health issues, or a personal financial crisis catches us unawares. An unexpected death in the family reminds us of our own mortality.

Whatever the trigger may be, we suddenly realize that our spiritual reserves are too shallow to give us the strength and courage to stay faithful through difficult times. When real struggle surprises us, we need a deep and abiding faith to get us through the darkness.

If we wait until we need faith to get faith, we will be like those unprepared bridesmaids who had to go buy more oil in the middle of the night, and missed the bridegroom’s coming.
If our faith is too limited to get us through life’s trials,
how can it get us through the dark night of waiting for Christ to come again in glory?

And that wait has already been a long one. Waiting with patient endurance can be hard. David Lose writes, “Waiting for something way overdue, waiting for something you’re not sure will even come, waiting that involves active preparation when you’re not even sure what you should be preparing for. That kind of waiting is challenging.”

So, while it’s important to be prepared for judgment day by making sure our spiritual reserves are deep, while it’s important to engage in spiritual practices that will strengthen our faith, such as Bible study, prayer, and fellowship, the real question might be, “What are we waiting for?”

That’s a question Matthew’s church might have been impatiently asking. “We’ve been waiting and waiting, Jesus. When will you come again and fulfill your promise of a new kingdom? What are you waiting for?

It’s also a question we may ask God whenever things we hoped for don’t seem to materialize as quickly as we thought they would. Like the psalmist who wrote, “How long, O Lord?” we might wonder when God will act on our behalf. “I’ve been praying and praying,” we tell God, “What are you waiting for?”

The question carries with it an expectation that something should be happening that isn’t yet. “What are you waiting for” has an air of dissatisfaction tucked inside.

But notice how different that question sounds when Jesus is the one doing the asking, instead of us? How does it feel to have Jesus expecting something of us that should be happening, and isn’t yet? What are we waiting for?

Are we waiting for God to work some dramatic transformation in our church? What needs to change in us for that to happen? How can we be prepared for that kind of change? Are we willing to step forward in faith, even if it means waiting in the dark? Can we trust God enough to try some things that might fail, knowing that God can use even our worst failures for his good purpose?

What are you waiting for?

Are you waiting for someone to notice that you are hurting inside, that you have doubts about your own worthiness?

Are you waiting for someone to love you? To show you that you matter?

Are you waiting for some indication that you are on the right path, as you struggle to hear God speaking into your life?

Are you waiting for someone to trust, someone with whom you can be completely honest?

And this reminds me of the real problem with those foolish bridesmaids. It isn’t just that they forgot to bring extra oil to the party, that they came unprepared to wait as long as necessary. The real problem is that they went looking for oil somewhere else, instead of making the commitment to wait – in the dark, if necessary – so they would be present when the bridegroom arrived.

The oil in our lamps isn’t what gets us into the kingdom of God. It’s more like the spiritual toolkit we use for living in this time before eternity, than a ticket for entrance into eternity.[3] But if we let our supply of oil – our spiritual reserves – run dry, we may be tempted to seek out substitutes for those reserves that will not work. They won’t keep our lamps lit. And looking elsewhere distracts us from the hard work of waiting. It makes us forget what it is we are waiting for.

You see, what we are waiting for is Jesus. We are waiting for the King of kings and Lord of lords to heal our brokenness and bring peace to this hate-filled world. We are waiting for the Savior of the nations to bring in the reign of God. We are waiting for Christ to make all things new. We don’t know when it will be; we only know that it will be when we least expect it.

We can wait in fear, or in joyful expectation, but as we look for Christ to come again, know that Christ is waiting for us, too. He is waiting for us to prepare our hearts for that glorious reign of God to come in its fullness. He is waiting for us to commit ourselves completely to doing the work of the kingdom of God. Jesus is waiting for each of us to turn our lives over to him, and to claim him as our Lord and Savior. Jesus is waiting for us to follow him as fully devoted disciples.

What are you waiting for?
The bridegroom says, “Come!”
The Lord Jesus Christ is waiting for you.
[1] Matthew 7:24-27 (and Luke 6:47-49).

[2] Floyd Filson, A Commentary on the Gospel According to Matthew, 1960, 263.

[3] Mark Douglas, Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4, 288.

Through Christ: Whose Image? – Sermon on Matthew 22:15-22

An earlier version of this sermon was preached on October 19, 2014, and has been updated here for October 22, 2017.

We’ve completed all the coursework for Discipleship 101 and have jumped to the graduate level of learning to be fully devoted followers of Jesus Christ. Over the next few weeks, we will celebrate the vows of our baptismal covenant that call each of us to be a minister, through our prayers, our presence, our gifts, our service, and our witness.

How is God calling each of us to grow closer to God, deeper in faith, and more active in the mission and ministry of this congregation? If we really want to stay centered on Christ and offer Christ by doing everything through Christ, we will want to pay close attention to what Christ himself has to say.

Our gospel reading for today takes us back to the Temple court in Jerusalem, only a few days before Jesus will be betrayed. Jesus is still teaching about what it means to belong to the kingdom of God, a kingdom that has already broken into our world and is growing toward its fullness.

Because the kingdom of God is already present, our citizenship in that kingdom rubs up against our very real day-to-day living in a broken world. Sometimes the conflict between worldly reality and kingdom living becomes confusing and uncomfortable. Sometimes we don’t know how to reconcile our allegiance to God with our worldly obligations. Jesus was faced with this same dilemma, and in today’s reading, he shows us how to live in the world while living into the kingdom of God.

Then the Pharisees went and plotted to entrap him in what he said. So they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality. Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites? Show me the coin used for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius. Then he said to them, “Whose head is this, and whose title?” They answered, “The emperor’s.”

Then he said to them, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away. (Matthew 22:15-22)

Here’s the story so far: We’re in the Temple on Tuesday of Holy Week. Jesus has already cursed a fig tree, challenged the authority of the chief priests and elders, and told parables to anger the Pharisees – and it isn’t even noon. That’s the setting for the story.

The characters include Jesus, of course, but the rest of the cast has changed somewhat from earlier in the story. Now, instead of the Temple rulers who challenged Jesus’ authority in the last chapter, the Pharisees have sent some of their own disciples to speak with Jesus. This is the only time disciples of the Pharisees are mentioned in the entire New Testament, so that might be an important detail to hold in the back of our minds.

In addition to these disciples, the Pharisees have enlisted the help of their opponents, the Herodians. The Herodians weren’t particularly religious. They were political leaders who supported the Roman authority given to Herod over Israel. An alliance between the religious Pharisees and the political Herodians was unusual – they only worked together because of their mutual fear of Jesus and his growing influence with the people. So we have Jesus, the Pharisees’ disciples, the Herodians who have joined them in an awkward alliance, and the silent onlookers who have gathered around Jesus to hear him teach. We have the setting and the characters. It’s time to introduce the plot.

As the Pharisees go off to conspire with the Herodians, they look for a way to force Jesus to reveal himself as a rebel against Rome or a blasphemer against God. Preferably both. They decide to start with flattery, hoping to get Jesus to let down his guard, so he will walk right into their trap. They describe his impartiality to all, and his disregard for rank, encouraging him to denounce Roman authority. At the same time, they refer to his sincerity and truthfulness, encouraging him to claim a level of righteousness that belongs only to God.

The problem these religious and political leaders set before Jesus is one we face every day: To whom do we give our primary allegiance? When the law of the land seems to go against the law of God, what choice will we make? This is the problem in the story’s plot that must be resolved. They think they have set up the perfect “either/or” riddle, because whichever way Jesus answers, he’s going to offend one group or the other: he will either break Roman law or Temple law – he can’t have it both ways. They wait for Jesus to answer. They are sure they’ve got him now.

When you think about it, the world we live in today is becoming an increasingly polarized society. Everything is ‘either/or’ and if you don’t land on the same side of an issue as your neighbor, that makes you an immediate enemy. The Pharisees and the Herodians lived in a similarly polarized world. You either paid allegiance to Caesar, or to God. But Jesus says that looking at this question from a polarized perspective gets it all wrong. If we insist on ‘either/or’ we miss the point.

“Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites?” he asks. And we suddenly remember another conversation, at the very beginning of his ministry, when Jesus quotes Deuteronomy 6:16 to Satan in the wilderness:
Do not put the Lord your God to the test” (Matt 4:7).
In that conversation, Satan has invited Jesus to throw himself down from a pinnacle of the Temple, to prove that he is the Son of God. But Jesus knows better.

And now, facing the Pharisees and Herodians as they gang up on him, Jesus sees through their hypocrisy, just as he sees through ours whenever we pretend to submit to God, but hold in our hearts the desire to have our own way.

We don’t like to think of ourselves as hypocrites. We don’t like to fall into that category Craig Groeschel describes in his book, The Christian Atheist: people who claim to believe in God, but who live as if God doesn’t exist.

And those disciples of the Pharisees, who stood before Jesus, didn’t like it either. The Herodians might not have cared one way or the other, but those Pharisees considered themselves among the most faithful of all God’s people. They did not like being called hypocrites. At. All.

Let’s pause here at this point of tension in the story. Imagine you are one of those silent onlookers in this drama.

Maybe you have been following Jesus as a faithful disciple throughout his ministry. You’re one of the insiders, one of the chosen twelve. You think you know this guy, this Jesus, but you are wondering how he’s going to wriggle his way out of this one. You’ve been close enough to hear him say, “The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and on the third day he will be raised” (Matthew 17:22-23). You may be wondering if Jesus is about to be arrested, leaving you without a leader.

Or maybe you are one of the people who came to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover, and when you heard that this Jesus was preaching in the Temple courts, you went looking for him, to hear for yourself what this new rabbi was teaching. You are here simply out of curiosity.

Maybe you were laughing along with the crowd when the pompous religious leaders heard their own words used against them. You are here, not as a believer necessarily, but as a skeptic. And if this Jesus can embarrass those self-righteous religious leaders, you want to be around to see the show.

Or maybe your heart was “strangely warmed” as you listened to this man teach with an authority that could only come from God. Maybe you have been wondering, as you listened, if this could be the Messiah after all.

Whatever has brought you into this crowd, you wait to hear what Jesus will say, how he will solve this riddle the Pharisees and Herodians have put before him. Because you are certain that whatever he says will force you to decide where your allegiance lies. Whatever he says will tell you if you should put your trust in him, or if you should walk away.

And Jesus says, “Show me the money.”

Notice that Jesus does not happen to have a denarius in his own pocket. But he’s pretty sure one of his challengers will have brought such a coin into the Temple. And he’s right; they hand him a denarius immediately, not even realizing they have exposed their own blasphemy, by bringing a Roman coin, bearing a Roman inscription that calls Caesar “divine,” into the Temple where God alone is to be worshiped as holy.

But Jesus does not call attention to this. He turns the coin over in his hand and asks a question any child could answer. “Whose image is this, and whose inscription is on this coin?” And with this seemingly simple question, Jesus raises the stakes even higher.

You see, this wasn’t just any coin, but a coin required for paying a tax to the Romans. And it wasn’t just any tax. First century Jews had to pay their share of taxes, just as we do. But the tax that required payment with a denarius was the Imperial tribute, or “census” tax that had been instituted about the time of Jesus’ birth. It was the tax Jews paid to support the Roman occupation of Israel. The Jews had to pay one denarius a year to finance their own oppression.

I have to imagine it was the Herodians, those Jews who supported the Roman occupation, who answered first. “The emperor’s,” they said. Jesus doesn’t blink. “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”

You can almost hear the wind going out of their sails, can’t you? The Pharisees and Herodians are amazed. There is nothing more they can say, so they turn and walk away. Those who are gathered around Jesus are left to ponder what this all means. At first, it seems as if he has foiled his opponents once again with a “both/and” answer to their “either/or” question.

But an unspoken question hangs in the air: If the image stamped on a coin determines whose it is, what has God’s image stamped on it? The Herodians and the Pharisees may have already left, but a deeper truth begins to dawn on the rest of us as we remember the story of Creation from Genesis:

So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:27).

You belong to God, for you were made in God’s image. Whether male or female, God created you to bear his own divine likeness. Your purpose, your calling, is to bear that image into the world as a constant reminder that God’s kingdom has a higher claim on each of us than this broken world of ours has.

Some have used this passage to defend the separation of church and state. That isn’t what Jesus is talking about. Some insist that this is another one of Christ’s lessons on the proper place of money in our lives. It isn’t. This lesson isn’t even really about money at all.

It’s about recognizing the image of God when we see it in one another, and calling attention to that image as a reminder that God is very present, even when we feel the most oppressed or threatened by the world around us. When Jesus says, “Give to God the things that are God’s,” he’s reminding us that all we are and all we have belongs to the one who created us, the one who loves us more than we can ever imagine.

At another time in Jewish history, another oppressive regime ruled over the nation of Israel. The prophet Isaiah described the love of God to people who had given up all hope, who were certain that God had abandoned them forever. We read in Isaiah 49:15-16,

Can a woman forget her nursing child,
    or show no compassion for the child of her womb?
Even these may forget,
    yet I will not forget you.
See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands;
    your walls are continually before me.

Not only do you bear the image of God, you have been inscribed on the palms of God’s hands. Not only are you inscribed on the Creator’s hands, but also on the hands of Christ, those hands that bear the marks of death on a cross for our sakes.

Sometimes the image we bear may be difficult to recognize. It may be distorted by the world’s inscriptions on our lives – what we wear or drive or eat, how we live and whose opinions we value. But under all those inscriptions is a deeper mark. It is the mark of the cross, drawn on us at our baptism, on Ash Wednesday, and at the time of our death. It is the mark that says, “You belong to the God who formed you, who loves you, who will not let you go.”

This is why we say, here at First UMC New Ulm, that we are centered on Christ, and that we offer Christ, doing all things through Christ. We bear the image of Christ to the world around us, and how we bear that image determines how willing others may be to receive the good news that Jesus died for their sins and wants to give them eternal life.

This is our primary identity: we are the beloved children of God. That identity is the filter through which we make all our decisions. It is the standard against which we must measure all our choices. Give to the emperor what belongs to the emperor. But give to God the things that are God’s.

Since we are in the middle of a discipleship drive, you may think I’m asking you to reflect God’s image by increasing your pledge or your commitment to service or worship attendance or prayer. Since we are in the middle of nominating season, you may think I’m asking you to reflect God’s image by agreeing to serve in a leadership position. As much as I would love to see your deepening faith expressed in all these ways, I’m not asking any of those things.

I’m simply asking you to remember that you are the image of God shining out into the world, and the people you encounter every day, whether you like them or not, whether you approve of their actions or political opinions or theological beliefs – they also bear the image of God to you. Look for it. Recognize it. Know that someone is looking to you, often when you least expect it, to find that image and see it as a reminder that God has each of us marked on the palms of his hands.

Our identity as beloved children of God, bearing God’s own image, shapes our behavior and our thinking. It urges us to become the people Christ calls us to be, centered on Christ, offering Christ, doing all things through Christ, to the glory of God the Father. ###

 

Discipleship 101: Pressing On -Sermon on Philippians 3:4b-16

October 8, 2017

In his letter to the church at Philippi, Paul describes a life of discipleship. He tells us in no uncertain terms what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ. But he begins by telling us what a disciple is not, and he uses his own life as an example. Paul writes:

If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless. Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.
For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.
Let those of us then who are mature be of the same mind; and if you think differently about anything, this too God will reveal to you. Only let us hold fast to what we have attained
. -Philippians 3:4b-16

“I regard everything as loss
because of the surpassing value
of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” (v.8)

Paul was a Jew’s Jew. He belonged to the most elite and religious sect within Judaism. In this letter to the church in Philippi, Paul addresses a growing concern among the  churches. The big question then was, “do you have to become a Jew in order to become a Christian?” As more and more non-Jewish believers joined the church, this question became a point of deep discord, and the division it caused threatened the order of this new movement. Members were more focused on their disagreement over circumcision than on following Jesus.

So Paul sets out, in this letter, to remind the Christians in Philippi that adhering to strict Jewish laws means nothing. And he ought to know, because he himself had lived like that. The kind of life that was bound up in rules was “rubbish” – a nicer word than the one Paul actually uses, by the way. The only thing that has any value is “knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”

Paul is willing to give up everything that was important to him before, “… in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith in Christ, …” (vv 8b-9)

Knowing Christ, gaining Christ, … this is what matters. Not how many times we pray each day, or how many chapters of the Bible we read, or how much we put in the offering plate, as good as all those things are. Knowing Christ, in order that I may gain Christ. This is the goal toward which we run as followers of Jesus. “I want to know Christ,” Paul writes again, “and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings, by becoming like him in his death.” (v 10)

Whoa, Paul. Hang on there a minute. Knowing Jesus, that’s all well and good. I like that part about the power of his resurrection. But what’s this stuff about sharing in his sufferings and becoming like him in his death? Do you remember the passage from last week, back in chapter two, that included the ancient hymn to Christ? Here’s a refresher:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross. – Philippians 2:5-8

Sharing in Christ’s sufferings, becoming like him in his death – this is how we gain Christ, how we come to really know him. Christ emptied himself, humbled himself, and became obedient, even to the point of death on a cross.

On Friday, I was invited by the bishop to attend a workshop on discipleship and evangelism. In his message during the opening worship, Bishop Ough described his own experience of coming to know Christ. He had grown up attending church, and his parents were faithful Christians, but it was not until he was a teenager that he gave his life to Christ. Bishop Ough told us that he could sum up that experience in one word: surrender.

This is what Paul is talking about when he says, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection, and the sharing of his sufferings, by becoming like him in his death.” Becoming like Jesus in his death means giving our all to obeying God, no matter what it costs us. A life of following Jesus is a life of surrender.

Even a super-Christian like Paul has a long way to go when it comes to complete surrender. “Not that I have already attained the goal …” he writes, “but I press on to make it my own…” And why? What motivates Paul to this kind of surrender?

Because Jesus has made me his own.

It might sound like Paul is describing his own effort, his own striving to become like Christ. But the truth is that Paul is “pressing on” – or leaning into the realization that he belongs to Jesus.

Several times each week, people come into my office to tell me about the particular struggles they are experiencing. When I ask if I can pray for them, they almost always respond with eagerness. As I pray, I ask God to remind them that they are God’s own beloved children. I can’t tell you how many times people respond to this simple prayer with sobs. No one has ever told them before that they are God’s beloved children.

They have never experienced what Paul is describing here, what we who claim to follow Jesus should also know: Jesus has made us his own. That’s a truth worth leaning into. That’s a reality worthy of our complete surrender.

The next sentence Paul writes is full of prepositional phrases that drive deep into this truth:
I press on
toward the goal
for the prize
of the heavenly call
of God
in Christ Jesus. – Philippians 3:14  

This is what discipleship means, friends. It is answering the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus with full surrender. Pressing on toward this goal yields a prize, and that prize is God calling us in Christ Jesus. You see, it isn’t what we do that makes us good disciples – it’s what Jesus did. All our effort, all our striving to be righteous and live according to the “good Christian” rules, is just like Paul’s former life as a Pharisee – it’s rubbish.

If you want to be a follower of Jesus Christ, answer the call God extends to you. Press on toward the goal of knowing Christ – not just knowing about Christ, but developing a personal relationship with Jesus. And as that relationship grows, the evidence of your maturing faith will be seen in the way you live your life.

Paul writes, “Let those of us then who are mature be of the same mind; and if you think differently about anything, this too God will reveal to you. Only let us hold fast to what we have attained.” (vv15-16) Paul brings us back to unity of thinking, having the same mind as Christ Jesus, as he encourages us to hang onto the level of maturity we have reached in our faith.

Discipleship is not what we do, it’s who we follow. All the marks of a mature follower of Jesus are evidence of following, not the means by which we follow. In his book, From Membership to Discipleship, Phil Maynard identifies five areas of discipleship that contribute to this picture:

  • A life of worship
  • A life of hospitality
  • A life open to Jesus (spiritual practices)
  • A life obedient to Jesus
  • A life of service
  • A life of Generosity

But we don’t necessarily arrive at full maturity in all of these areas at the same moment. If you were to plot your spiritual development the same way a pediatrician tracks a growing child’s physical development, you would notice that you grow faster in some areas, and others take longer.

But let me emphasize that each of these areas of discipleship do not come about by our own effort or design. Our efforts to become more hospitable or more generous can’t be sustained for any length of time by our trying. They aren’t the means to become better followers of Jesus. They are the evidence of a whole-hearted surrender to Christ.

This is going to sound counter-intuitive, but …

  • If you want to become more generous, you don’t doing by giving more – you do it by knowing Christ more intimately.
  • If you want to improve your worship life, you don’t do it by singing louder or lifting your hands higher – you do it by surrendering your life to Jesus.
  • If you want to experience a life of more effective spiritual practices, such as prayer and Bible study and fasting, you don’t do it by scheduling more prayer time or signing up for another Bible study group or skipping more meals. You do it by drawing near to the heart of God in Christ Jesus, and centering your life in him.
  • If you want to engage in more meaningful service, you don’t do it by signing up for every serving opportunity that shows up on the bulletin board. You do it by diving deeper into your relationship with Christ, and letting him guide you into a more profound awareness of how he wants you to use your gifts.
  • If you want to be more obedient to Christ, you do it by listening more closely for his direction, and leaning into a life of full surrender to his will.

And as you devote yourself completely to following Jesus, you will find yourself growing in faith, developing into a mature and robust way of living that reflects Christ more and more in your worship, your hospitality, your service, your spiritual practice, your obedience, and your generosity.

Next week, you will receive a letter inviting you into a commitment to become more Christ-like in the coming year. It will ask you to consider growing in your faith through the promises that we make in the baptismal covenant. These are promises to offer our prayers, our presence, our gifts, our service, and our witness.

There will be some very concrete suggestions for fulfilling your commitment to develop a more mature faith – things like committing to attending worship a specific number of times each month, engaging in a specific number of serving opportunities during the year, and inviting a specific number of people to join you in worship or service.

The numbers you write into the blanks won’t make you a better Christian. They aren’t the means for you to grow in your own discipleship, and they aren’t the goal of your walk with Christ. They represent a promise you make every time we renew our baptismal vows. It’s a promise to press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly calling of God in Christ Jesus. It’s a promise to grow into a mature follower of Jesus. It’s a promise to want to know Christ, who has made you his own. Let it be so.

Discipleship 101: This is Jesus – Sermon on Philippians 2:1-13

October 1, 2017

Note: The gospel lesson for this Sunday is Matthew 21:23-32, and should be read immediately before this sermon.

Imagine the frustration those priests and elders must have felt! This Jesus was always catching them in their own words, making them look foolish in the eyes of the people. They liked the respect shown to them in the streets and the markets. They loved being the ones in authority. And here was this unschooled carpenter, teaching right under their noses, sounding like he knew God more intimately than any human possibly could.

We just heard Jesus describe two sons, who are each given the same direction to go work in their father’s vineyard, and the connection between authority and obedience becomes clear. One says he will go, and doesn’t, while the other refuses, but then changes his mind, and does what he was told to do. “Which did the will of his Father?” Jesus asks. The answer is obvious. The one who went to work, even after he said he would not.

What prompted Jesus to tell this parable? The Temple leaders gathered around Jesus hadn’t been able to answer the question he had asked them about John the Baptist’s authority. They got into an argument among themselves trying to come up with an answer that would appease the crowd and uphold their own honor, but that wasn’t possible. So they said, “we don’t know.”

What they meant was, “We aren’t willing to commit. We don’t want to look bad in front of the people.” So Jesus uses this parable to teach that appearances can be deceiving. It isn’t what we say, it’s what we do that shows our commitment to faith. It isn’t our lip service God wants; it’s our repentance. It isn’t our fancy words; it’s our obedience that matters to God.

Here’s how obedience and authority are connected. There is a difference between power – having the strength of will or muscle to accomplish something – and authority – being authorized to act by one who holds the actual power, the “author.” But sometimes, authority comes from a different direction. Instead of being handed down from above, it gets “handed up” from below, from people who submit themselves to another’s authority by their obedience.

Like the two sons in Jesus’ parable, it’s what we do, not just what we say, that matters. How often do we fail to commit, for fear of being ridiculed? Or maybe we just aren’t sure that Jesus is the Way the truth and the Life. We waffle, and instead of confessing that Jesus is Lord, we bear a different kind of testimony. By our silence, we tell the world that we aren’t so sure Jesus is worth committing our lives to.

But even more important than what we do and say, is our focus on the One we follow. Our identity lies in Christ Jesus, and we respond to his authority with our obedience. In Paul’s letter to the Philippians, he quotes an early hymn of the church that describes Christ’s authority perfectly.

If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, 2make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. 3Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. 4Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.  Continue reading

Discipleship 101: Forgiving Like Jesus – Sermon on Matthew 18:21-35

I don’t think any of us come to worship God in this place with the idea of becoming less like Jesus as our goal. We’re all in it to become more like Jesus. Sometimes, it’s hard, though, isn’t it? Sometimes we’d like Jesus to let us off the hook a little bit, tell us what we are doing is good enough, pat us on the head and let us get on with being a little less like him. Right?

But it never seems to work that way. Jesus always calls us gently toward greater perfection. Christ sets the barre high for us, as his followers. Jesus doesn’t let us off the hook, because we’re all he’s got. Christ depends on us, as he reaches into this troubled, broken world of ours, to show people what it means to follow him into the Kingdom of God. We matter. And what we do, how we treat one another, matters. How else will people who are in pain, who need God, see the difference that following Christ can make in their lives? How else will they know that they matter to God?

In today’s passage, we pick up the conversation between Jesus and his disciples from the point where we left off last week. Jesus has been teaching us how to live in the Kingdom of God, and he has urged us to be reconciled to those who have wronged us.

Last week, we learned a process for resolving conflict between two believers, and in the UMC we call that process the Rule of Christ. It outlines a series of steps for confronting a brother or sister in disagreement. We must first examine our own contribution to the problem, then go directly to the one who has hurt us and tell that person what is wrong. If they don’t listen, or won’t be reconciled to us, then we must bring in another believer to act as mediator or advocate, and if the other party still will not listen, we are to call upon the resources of the whole church. Once we’ve tried everything, and there is still no resolution, we are to treat the other person as a Gentile and a tax collector – in other words, as an outsider.

While many traditions interpret this to mean we are to exclude, or shun, the person, a look at the way Jesus himself treated Gentiles and tax collectors may indicate that what we are really supposed to do is work even more diligently at finding ways to live in community with the offender, offering the same invitation to discipleship that we would offer any other outsider we would win to Christ.

The “three strikes and you’re out” that Jesus gives – go directly to the offender, then take one or two witnesses, then take it to the church, if all else fails, treat the offender as an outsider – line up nicely with the common practice of first century Jews. It was understood that three pardons were enough – a fourth offense did not need to be forgiven. If I forgave you three times, and you wronged me again, I could hold a grudge and still claim to be righteous.

As the disciples listened to Jesus teach about conflict resolution, they may have interpreted his words in this way. But Peter knew better. He knew that with Jesus, it was never that simple. With Jesus, the old order of things was never good enough. So, to clarify things, he asked a question, hoping that – for once – he had guessed the right answer in advance.

Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.

“For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.” – Matthew 18:21-35

Peter thought that surely, if the standard was forgiving up to three times, seven ought to be more than enough to satisfy Jesus. Seven was a perfect number, after all. When Jesus says, “Not seven. Seventy-seven” or maybe even “seventy times seven,” depending on how you read it, he’s asking Peter to go deeper in his understanding of forgiveness. And Jesus invites us to go deeper, too.

You see, the issue isn’t a number at all. And Jesus makes this clear in the parable he tells to explain his point. Here we have a king and his slave. The slave owes the king an enormous amount of money. It’s possible he became a slave in order to pay off a debt he owed to someone else. We don’t know, and how he came to be a slave, or came to owe the king so much money doesn’t really matter in this story.

The important thing is that this debt is so huge, he will never be able to pay it. A talent was equal to about 130 pounds of silver, or about 15 years of wages for a laborer. At 10,000 times that amount, it would take the slave 150,000 years of work to pay off the debt. Impossible.

Yet, when the slave begged for more time, the king had pity on him, and not only withdrew the sentence, but actually forgave the entire fortune the slave owed. The king showed mercy.

But what does the slave do after receiving such generosity from his master? On his way out of the king’s presence, he runs into a fellow slave who owes him the equivalent of 100 days of wages. Not 150,000 years, but 100 days. A manageable sum. A realistic debt.

You would think that the first slave would be feeling generous, having just received a very sweet deal from his master, but instead, he grabs his fellow slave by the throat and demands payment. The second slave falls into the very same posture of humility, and uses the very same words the first slave used to beg for a little more time. But this time there is no mercy. There is no pity. There is no generosity.

And the other slaves see how wrong this is. Even without benefit of Facebook or Twitter, the word gets back to the king that this slave he forgave will not forgive. The king is furious, and rightly so. Not only is this behavior wrong, it reflects badly on the king for one of his own slaves to behave so badly. It makes the king appear weak when he shows mercy to a scoundrel who apparently doesn’t get the concept of ‘paying it forward.’

So the king rescinds the original pardon, and the first slave suffers the consequences of his own lack of mercy to another. If he won’t forgive another, the king won’t forgive him.

I wonder why that slave would not show mercy, don’t you? Maybe he was just greedy. Now that his own debt was gone, any money he could force out of another would be free and clear cash in hand – he didn’t have to ‘borrow from Peter to pay Paul anymore.’

Or maybe he was so used to a cycle of violence and coercion that threatening the other slave was just force of habit for him. Whatever the reason, the slave who had been forgiven had not been transformed by the grace shown to him. The change in his circumstances did not bring about a change in his behavior, or his outlook on life. He suffered the consequences of his actions, and was thrown into prison.

And Jesus says, “This is what will happen to you if you don’t forgive from your heart.”

It isn’t the numbers that matter; it’s what we hold in our hearts that really counts. Seven or seventy-seven or seven times seventy doesn’t matter. 150,000 years of wages or 100 days of wages doesn’t matter. What matters is the stuff that goes on in the depths of our hearts.

If we accept the forgiveness that God offers us through his Son’s death and resurrection, we become new people. We are changed. And if we are changed, our behavior changes. The way we look at life changes. The way we treat other people changes. Our capacity to forgive others changes. There is no room for holding grudges in a heart that has been touched by God’s unmerited favor.

This does not mean that we should allow others to abuse us or take advantage of us. Theologian David Lose writes, “If someone is repeatedly unkind or hurtful, let alone mean-spirited or violent, we may very well want to put some distance between us. But even that decision doesn’t completely define … our … relationship with the other person, only how we conduct that relationship. We may continue to love a child or sibling or friend who is abusive, but we don’t have to put up with the abusive behavior. Indeed, the most loving and forgiving thing to do may very well be to stop putting up with the behavior.”[1]

Remember that this passage belongs to the one we heard last week about confronting one who has wronged us. Confrontation without forgiveness only serves to make a conflict worse, but confrontation is necessary in order for forgiveness to bring reconciliation and healing.

The point of Jesus’ parable isn’t to get us to increase our forgiveness quota. It’s to get us to stop counting altogether. Because forgiveness is part of love, and love can’t be counted. If Peter had asked Jesus “How many times should I love my neighbor?” we would think the question ridiculous. Love can’t be counted.

Neither can forgiveness, because forgiveness is really a decision to accept what you can’t change in the past, so that the past no longer has power over you. When you cannot forgive, the past puts you in prison. Forgiveness is the freedom to let go of the past, and walk into the future.

And isn’t that good news? Isn’t it worth sharing the good news that forgiveness, like God’s love, is without limits? The only thing God can’t forgive is an unwillingness to be forgiven, and it isn’t because God refuses to offer forgiveness, but because we have to be willing to accept the offer for it to go into effect. And when we accept Christ’s offer of forgiveness, it changes us into people who offer forgiveness to others.

Just like those servants who ratted out the ungrateful slave, others will spread the word, but this time, the news will be that we care, that we aren’t here to judge others, but to share God’s saving love with them. Instead of pointing out our wrongs, people will be talking about how forgiveness is in our DNA, and how it has changed our lives.

That’s how we reach others for Christ. Christ transforms us by his grace. We respond to that grace by offering grace. We answer God’s forgiveness by forgiving the people who have wronged us. And the word gets around.

Christ sets the barre high for us. Jesus doesn’t let us off the hook, because we’re all he’s got. Christ depends on us, as he reaches into this troubled, broken world of ours, to show people what it means to follow him into the Kingdom of God. We matter. And what we do, how we treat one another, matters. How else will people who are in pain, who need God, see the difference that following Christ can make in their lives? How else will they know that they matter to God? As disciples of Jesus Christ, we want to live like Jesus and love like Jesus. This means forgiving like Jesus.

It’s part of Discipleship 101, a basic course on learning to follow Christ. This life-long devotion to discipleship begins in love. God loves us so much he gave his own Son, so that by believing in him, we might have eternal life. Receiving that love and entering into a loving relationship with God forms the core of Christian discipleship. But it doesn’t end there.

Following Jesus means that we become something new. We become connected to Christ as members of his Body, the church, and we live out this life-changing faith in community with other believers. Loving God, loving each other, we sometimes mess up. We sometimes hurt each other. That’s why these first few weeks of Discipleship 101 have focused on reconciliation and forgiveness within the Body of Christ. It’s the starting point for growing deeper in faith and furthering Christ’s mission.

In the weeks to come, we will dig into the spiritual practices that help us become more obedient to Christ, and we will examine how that obedience makes us into mature Christians. We’ll look at worship and generosity as evidence of maturity. All of these elements of discipleship have no meaning, unless they are grounded in love. And this kind of Christ-centered love is bathed in forgiveness. Friends, believe the good news: In Jesus Christ, your sins are forgiven. So go, and do likewise[2], in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

[1] http://www.davidlose.net/2014/09/pentecost-14-a/

[2] Luke 10:37

Discipleship 101: Dealing with Conflict – Sermon on Matthew 18:15-20

September 10, 2017
Watch a video of this sermon here.

School is in session and we are learning together how to become fully devoted followers of Jesus Christ. This is Discipleship 101. Last week, we identified a disciple as someone who lives like Jesus, loves like Jesus, and makes more disciples like Jesus did. We discovered how using our various gifts to build up the Body of Christ is really an act of love. Following Jesus means loving like Jesus.

But what happens when a brother or sister hurts us, or we have a sharp disagreement with someone? How do we maintain the lines of communication that can promote healing and unity within Christ’s kingdom here on earth? Continue reading