God's Grace

What an amazing story in Luke 15.11-31. To defend his ministry practices—eating with those who are despised by the religious leaders (15.1-2)—Jesus tells a story of a father with two sons.

The first son requests his inheritance early, then he squanders it in loose living and then returns home because his stomach is empty. What should a father do with a son like that?

Restitution? You need to pay back the money you’ve wasted! Interrogation? You have a lot of explaining to do! Probation? I’ll give you two or three years and then we’ll see! The father doesn’t employ any of those reasonable options.

When he sees his youngest son traveling toward the house, he runs out to meet him. That’s significant. Elderly men did not run in that culture—it’s undignified. But this father throws all social conventions out the window. He runs and hugs his son with a passionate embrace (literally in the original language: he falls onto his neck) and then he proceeds to completely restore the son to his original standing. Robes and rings were symbols of authority. Sandals were worn only by masters in the house not slaves. No probation. No restitution. No interrogation. Just full restoration!

This story is telling us something about God. His desire for a relationship with us is greater than our sin. It’s greater than an imperfect repentance, greater than any impure motives we might have for returning to him. God delights in us. He desires us. Therefore he takes us in as we are.

But we’re not done yet. This story is about a father who has two sons. The older son is not very pleased with this entire scene. He’s mad. It’s unfair. I’ve been faithful, he says in so many words. He has a good point. He’s worked hard, he’s never left, and he’s never even received a goat to celebrate with his friends.

Notice the father’s response. The father is pleading with his oldest son to come in and join the party. You see, God’s desire for a relationship with us is greater than anything, except one thing: a willingness to consent. His love respects our freedom. The story ends with us wondering, will the older son go in and join the party? Will he participate in what God is doing? Will you? Will I? All it takes is a yes, a consecration with of our entire selves to God’s love. Peace.

Share and Share Alike

Last Sunday was a children’s sermon. After I preached it, I went home and wondered if the adults understood the radical implications of the story. In 1 Samuel 30 David and his men are on a mission to recover their families and their possessions taken by the Amalekites. Along the way about two hundred men couldn’t make it any further; they stayed by the Besor ravine guarding excess baggage. Four hundred men continued and risked limb and life to defeat the Amalekites. After their victory there is a dilemma in the text: Should the ones who fought in the battle share with those who didn’t? The victors acquired more than just their own possessions. Should they share? There were some men who said, No! Their argument flawless: These men who did not fight can have what they lost but nothing more, no profit, no booty; they did not do anything; we deserve more. It makes perfectly good sense. Those who guarded the baggage did not pay the price. Those who risked their life should receive more. That’s how the world works. But text gives us an alternative to the world. The text refers to these men as “corrupt and worthless” (30.22, NRSV). And then David demanded that everyone share in the victory: “You shall not do so, my brothers, with what the Lord has given us . . . For the share of the one who goes down into the battle shall be the same as the share of the one who stays by the baggage; they shall share alike” (30.23-24).

I believe this has huge implications for us. We often possess an attitude that says, this is mine, I’ve earned it, I’ve worked hard for it. We often argue that everyone could be where we are today, if only they had applied themselves like we have. Is that attitude Godly, I wonder. In the story, David acknowledges that God gave the victory. Such an acknowledgement changes everything. If God is truly the source of all that is, then who am I to claim ownership of anything? The story seems to suggest that since everything comes from God, we must honor God with it. I wonder what this means for us. Any thoughts?

Hard but Liberating News

Yet another difficult passage of scripture—Luke 14.25-33. I don’t know about you, but I’m growing a little weary of Luke’s gospel by now. With the last several Sundays, we have faced some difficult words in our commitment to follow the Lectionary. To make matters worse, many of the themes are repeated frequently. Before we talk about last Sunday’s text, let me comment on what all of this might mean for our community. Last year I made a commitment to follow the lectionary. Why? First, I felt led to this. Second, I don’t always trust myself to create good sermon series (though I will that again next year). So the lectionary forces me (and us) to commit to something larger than our own personal preferences. Left to ourselves, we become less than ourselves. After all it’s easy to pick the stuff we want to hear. Secondly, and related to the repetition we’ve been faced with, is another spiritual lesson—we learn through repetition. The truth of the gospel has to penetrate our hearts that are more like stone than flesh at times. We always need to be reminded that the point is not to know some information but to allow the truth to enter deep within where it can change us. So for example, if Luke keeps highlighting Jesus’ teaching on possessions (which he does), we have to assume that money and possessions are some of the things in life that can make following Christ with a purity of heart difficult if not impossible. Thus we need to lean in and listen again . . . and again . . . and again . . . and again, even if it gets a little annoying. In short, though it might be difficult, everything we’re doing right now is probably what the Good Doctor orders—we’re committing ourselves to something bigger than ourselves and we’re opening up our hearts to the difficult but liberating truths of the Gospel.

Now to last week’s sermon. After preaching it, I told my wife, I think Jesus is just fleshing out the first commandment--“You shall have no other Gods before me”—in this text. Think about it: Jesus challenges some of our most cherished ideals in Luke 14.25-33—family, self, and possessions. Let’s look at each of those in turn. First, the core identity of a disciple is not shaped by family (14.26). Jesus uses the word hate here (perhaps communicating by hyperbole). The word hate is a way to speak of commitment; it is not a psychological or emotional hatred; it can mean “to turn away from” or “detach oneself from.” With that in mind, we learn that faith and family don’t always go together. Disciples are called to be committed to Christ and his cause first, even before family. But here’s the catch: in doing so, disciples obtain the distance necessary that makes love possible. If Christ and his cause is first, a disciple then has a foundation that makes love—a true love—possible. 1 John 5.2 speaks powerfully to this issue. John states that we love the children of God by loving God and keeping his commands. Love of God and obedience is the road we must travel in order to love. The point is obvious: we have to have a core from which to give true love; we have to live in love, and then we can live out love. Christ and his cause must be first, not family.

Second, a disciple’s core identity is not to be shaped by a commitment to self (14.26). Jesus says we must hate our life; again it means to detach ourselves from, not emotionally hate. This is somewhat revolutionary. Self worship is big business in America. We’ve been advertised to for so long that we're tempted to believe everything is about us, about being happy and having our needs met. The problem is love of self and love of God don’t mix. We’re not fully human if we’re not living in response to all that God has done for us. It is in losing ourselves that we find ourselves—our true selves.

Third, a disciple’s core identity is not shaped by possessions (vs. 33). The Greek verb is in the present tense. Many take that to mean that Jesus is talking about an on-going willingness to surrender. Bottom line: disciples can’t be shaped by what they have or what they don’t have. Disciples can't be possessed with their possessions, either their lack or their abundance. Hopefully, we’re so busy learning to enjoy God and love our neighbor that we’re no longer worried about stuff.

So how can we summarize all of this? I stated yesterday that the disciple is someone who is living out the good news that Jesus is Lord. God raised this rejected one from the dead as a powerful announcement that He is King and that one day everything will be recapitulated in Him. Disciples have turned (repented) from sin and are embracing the great news that Jesus is Lord. Which means, of course, that family, money and self should not be . . . should not be Lord. I don’t know about you, but I find this to be great news, because now we are called to participate in something that’s worth living for, something bigger than ourselves, something that gives us a foundation that makes love possible—God’s kingdom, here and now as well as there and then. Peace!