Sermon - Pentecost 17 - Luke 17:1-10

 “The righteous shall live by faith.”  So writes the prophet Habbakuk, and so echoes the New Testament, really all of Holy Scripture.  The centrality of faith is unmistakable in the Christian religion.  Faith is credited to Abraham as righteousness.  Faith comes by hearing, St. Paul teaches, and hearing by the word of Christ.  All of the Old Testament saints lived not by sight, but by faith, as we are taught in Hebrews 11. 

In our Epistle reading, Paul commends young pastor Timothy for his faith, which he received through his grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice. And he encourages him to guard this faith, this good deposit, what has been entrusted to him. 

And so in our Gospel reading today, Jesus also speaks of faith, to his disciples.  They asked him to increase their faith, and he responds with a very strange statement.  Let’s consider the whole passage from Luke 17 today, and consider forgiveness, faith and duty, and how it’s all connected. 

Jesus begins with some talk of temptation and sin, sin and forgiveness. 

First, some warning!  Temptation is sure to come!  Don’t think that being a Christian makes you immune.  Don’t think that sin is no longer a problem for you as a Christian, that somehow following Jesus or being baptized gives you immediate, complete, infallible victory over sin.  Temptation still rears its head, perhaps even more for the believer.  This is also why Jesus teaches us, in the Lord’s Prayer, that we should pray God “lead us not into temptation.”  Sin is serious.  Temptation is real.  We ought to be on guard. 

But even more than for ourselves, we must consider our actions in relation to others.  Just as we ought to love our neighbor and do unto others as we’d have done to ourselves, so also we are warned against leading others into temptation, especially the “little ones”, that is, the most vulnerable, for instance, little children. 

Who doesn’t shudder at the thought that he might have led someone else into sin?  That I, through my own failing, might have caused someone weaker in faith to stumble and fall by my own sin?  The picture of a millstone tied around your neck and being cast into the sea – it's a fate as certain as death, isn’t it?  It’s what we all certainly deserve. 

And yet, it’s also a picture of what Christ has done for us.  He took the certain death upon himself.  Like Jonah was cast into the sea, and three days later emerged from the belly of the fish, so Jesus was cast into death, into the grave, into the heart of the earth, only to emerge on the third day triumphant over sin and death, and even hell. 

The same Christ who warns us about sin and temptation is the one who wins for us forgiveness.  The same Christ who warns us about the due punishment for leading little ones into sin, is the one who calls all people, and especially the little ones, to himself, calling us to faith, offering us forgiveness in his blood. 

And that forgiveness we have known prompts us to forgive others.  So that even if seven times a day our brother sins and repents, we must forgive him.  Because God has forgiven us all the more in Jesus Christ.   

Of course, that doesn’t make it easy. 

We saw a very public display of forgiveness in the last couple of weeks, as a grieving widow stood center stage and uttered these words, “[That man]...the one who took his life... That man… that young man… I forgive him."  I’m sure many who saw that were as shocked and awed as I was.  What great forgiveness!  What great faith! 

The disciples are also shocked by Jesus’ extreme demands of forgiveness (and maybe also frightened by the effects of temptations to sin).  And so they rightly prayed to him, asked him, “Lord, increase our faith!”  It’s a prayer we Christians can always echo. 

And Jesus reassures them with these strange words: “If you had faith like a grain of mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you. 

This is not to show us that our faith isn’t even that strong, or to invite us to try and show off with fancy miracles by our tiny little faith.  Rather, it is Jesus reassuring them, and us, that a little bit of faith goes a long way.  Don’t despair that your faith is small.  Rather, turn to Christ for all good things, yes, even for miracles, and he will not disappoint.   

Sin is real, and it is serious.  The consequences are grave.  But Christ’s forgiveness is real, and more powerful, more miraculous than you know.  He grants us faith, and increases our faith, so that we would trust in him and his salvation, and not our own works. 

And yet.  Faith is active.  Faith is alive, and working.  The works don’t save us, but the works are there, and they flow from that faith.   

Now Jesus moves the discussion to the idea of “duty”, with a short illustration of servants at work for their master.  They work all day in the field, or among the flock.  They come in smelly, tired, ready to eat.  But still duty calls, and they serve the master’s supper before their own.  Servants do their duty, without asking or expecting anything in return.  They do what they are given to do, called to do, expected to do. 

So, too, the Christian.  We have received all good things from our Master, health and wealth and possessions and family and even life itself.  Even more, he has shed his precious blood and died on a cross to bring us forgiveness of sins, to save us from death by millstone.  He works faith in our hearts and increases that faith by his Spirit.  

It is therefore our calling, now, to follow him, and to love our neighbor.  It is our privilege and joy to be a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord, rather than dwell in the tents of the wicked.  We are unworthy servants of the one who has served us all. 

And he continues to serve us, a blessed meal, as we gather at the altar and receive him under bread and wine.  A supper in which he strengthens our faith, and answers the prayer of the disciples.  A rich feast we in no wise deserve, but are made worthy only by faith.  For who receives this sacrament worthily?  He is truly worthy and well prepared who has faith in these words, “given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” 

So he provides, so we receive.  So he forgives, so we also forgive. So he grants and strengthens faith, so we believe in him.  

For all this, it is our duty, to thank and praise, serve and obey him. This is most certainly true.  Amen. 

Sermon - Pentecost 13 - Luke 14:25-35

We’ve been dealing with some weighty questions in these last few chapters of Luke, these last few Sundays.  Will those who are saved be few?  What is it lawful to do on the Sabbath?  Do you think Jesus has come to bring peace on earth? 

In every case the answer is surprising.  In every case, Jesus points us away from ourselves, our own righteousness, our own good works, and toward something greater, something better, namely, himself, and faith in him. 

Today, the question might be posed, “what does it cost, in order to follow Christ?”   

Some might say, “well, it means you have to go to church once a week for about an hour.” 

Others might say, “you have to be a good person, you know, follow the rules, more or less.” 

Still others might say, “All of the above, and don’t forget to contribute your 10% offering.” 

But as nice as all those things would be, they’re not enough.  The cost of discipleship is far greater:  Hating your family.  Hating your own life.  Taking up your own cross.   

Jesus can’t put a finer point on it than this:  “any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.” 

Or in other words, what does it cost to follow Jesus?  Everything. 

This is, admittedly, a hard sell. 

Now, don’t get Jesus wrong.  He says “hate your family” but he’s using strong language to make a point.  He must come first, even before your family.  Even before your own life.  He, true man but also true God, must be your God.  He must be your one and only savior.  Compared to everything and everyone else, even to the good and the best things of life – family, even life itself – he exceeds them all.  And he says this, for your good. 

For no one can be saved from sin by putting his family first.  No one can be free from death by loving and clinging to life.  No one can expect eternal salvation in any other way, by any other means, than by Jesus himself, the narrow door.  So, if you would be his disciple, be his disciple!  Trust him.  Listen to him.  Follow him.  He will be your Savior and you will be saved. 

But it won’t always be easy.  It will cost you.  It will come with crosses. But for the Christian, the person who truly follows Christ, we endure such crosses with faith and trust. 

Following Christ may bring hardship, up close and personal, even from within the bounds of your own family.  Loved ones may not understand, may not agree, may not accept the ways of Christ and of his church.  They might expect you to compromise and follow worldly ways.  And if you don’t, they may call you unloving, see you as backward, consider you too religious.  They may mock you, try to shame you, or simply disdain you quietly.  But carry on, dear Christian, and follow Jesus. 

The world may persecute you even to the point of death, as indeed the world has done to so many Christians over the centuries.  But we hold in high esteem those who were faithful under fire, faithful even to death, who hated their own lives for the sake of Christ, and the confession of his name.  These holy martyrs will certainly not lose their reward. 

But consider the cost.  Count the cost, Jesus says, because if you go into this Christian faith unawares, it could be a disaster.   You might find yourself worse off than if you’d never believed.  If the going gets tough, and you make a shipwreck of your faith, if persecution comes and the hatred of the world, or even your family comes, and it causes you to forsake Christ, then you have suffered and are without Christ anyway.   

Jesus uses two examples to warn us here:  The man building a tower and the king going to war.  Both must consider the cost of their endeavor, and go into it with eyes wide open.  Both must know what to expect.  If the tower construction begins and the money runs out, then the half-built tower will stand as a testament to the man’s foolishness.  Better not to have even started.  If the king were to go to war with half the forces of his opponent, and lose in bloody and costly fashion, he will be remembered for it in the annals of history.  Better to make peace with the stronger army, and fast. 

Consider the cost of being a Christian.  And when you come to the clear-eyed realization that what it costs is... everything... and that you can’t pay it... when you despair of yourself, then that’s right where you ought to be.  For only Jesus can pay the cost for you, and he does. 

First:  the absolute cost – the absolute and perfect demands of righteousness that we can never meet.  Consider the futility of trying to be free from sin, or have a righteousness that exceeds the Pharisees.  Consider the impossibility of loving God with all your heart, strength, soul and mind, or of even loving your neighbor as yourself.  Try going 1 day without sin, one hour, let alone a whole lifetime.  And yet God calls us to be perfect as he is perfect.  He warns us that breaking one law brings guilt for breaking all of it.  He drives us to despair of our own powers to save ourselves.  The cost is just too high.  We can’t pay it.  We never could. 

But Christ can, and Christ has.  His perfect life – lived under the law – lived in our place –  is counted to us as righteousness.  He did love God with all his heart.  He always loved the neighbor as himself, and even more.  He obeyed his Father’s will in all things, perfectly humble, perfectly kind.  He was like us in every way – yet without sin.  And his righteous life covers us like a white robe, blankets us in perfect righteousness.  Only he could pay the price, and thank God he did. 

And he pays it, also, by his blood.  You see, he can call us to take up our cross and follow him, because he went before us with his own cross.  He took our sins there, our guilt all the awful punishment we deserved.  He paid it.  He said, “charge it to me!” and God did.  So that’s the absolute cost – Christ paid it.  By his perfect life, and substitutionary death.  It’s all said and done. 

But there’s still a cost, in this life, this side of heaven.  As we said, being a Christian isn’t easy, but it’s worth it.  It may cost you goods, fame, child or wife.  Trouble and persecution, sacrificial living, cross-bearing of all manner may come.  And yet the kingdom ours remaineth, if we are disciples of Christ.  

Disciples of Christ learn, sometimes even through suffering, that the troubles of this life are not worth the glory that is to be revealed.  That the temporary hardships of life in a fallen world are hard, but they are not worth comparing to the abundant, perfect, glorious and eternal life that is ours in Christ, when we feast with him in kingdom to come. 

So stand firm, faithful to him.  Retain your distinctiveness, your saltiness, and do not be conformed to this world.  Follow Christ, come what may, even through hardship and trouble, even if it comes from your own family, for he has paid the cost, done it all.  Renounce all that you have, and receive all that he gives to you... and that.. Is everything.