Sermon - Pentecost 15 - Luke 16:1-15

15th Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 16:1-15

Today we come to a difficult Gospel reading.  It’s one of those challenging readings that pastors like to assign to their vicars to preach.  But somehow I dropped the ball on that.  So here we are, with Jesus telling a parable about a dishonest manager, or sometimes called the “unfaithful steward”.  

It’s a hard reading.  And it’s not just because this is a passage about money.  But that is a hard topic to cover in the church these days.  

So many preachers seem to run the way of the law when they cover what the Bible teaches about money.  And maybe that’s because the law works, at least outwardly.  If you harp on giving and harangue people to get out their checkbooks – well, many people will do that.  But we Lutherans want the gospel to be the driving force in all things – even in our giving. We want joyful givers, who give freely.  So I don’t plan on guilt-ing you into putting more into the offering plate today.

Still, so many people are oversensitive at the mere mention of money in church, and easily offended.  But we recognize that Jesus frequently addresses the topic, and so we really shouldn’t shy away from it – touchy subject that it may be.

Perhaps it is a touchy subject, in large part, because the truth hurts.  It could be that we are more materialistic than we’d like to admit.  It could be that when Jesus tells the Pharisees that no one can serve two masters - you cannot serve God and money - it could be that he’s hitting a little too close to home.  For the conscience always squeals when the Law pokes its finger in there.

But to the extent that Jesus’ hard words about money apply to each of us this morning, and I suggest that is to a great extent - let us repent.  Repent of our idolatry of the dollar.  Repent of our putting things before God and our neighbor.  Repent of our unrighteous use of wealth, our poor stewardship of his riches, and of exalting in our lives what is an abomination to God.

And find in Christ our true riches.  There’s plenty of that in this parable, too, though it’s harder to see.

Just as it was in Jesus day, so it is with us today.  The man in the parable – the dishonest manager – was worried about tomorrow.  He knew he was getting fired, and he needed to make a living.  Too weak to dig for money and too proud to beg for money, he hatches a plan to curry some favor, to make some friends, so that he can maybe get some help after his job is taken away.  So he goes around quickly writing off a bunch of debts – giving out discounts on what is owed to the Master.  Hopefully these people will remember me when I’m down on my luck.  Hopefully I’m making some friends here.

I think the other reason this text is so difficult a passage (aside from the fact that it talks about money), is that it may seem on its surface that Jesus is commending dishonesty.  Of course, he isn’t.  We don’t read scripture in a vacuum, and we know from other places that thou shalt not steal.  His point about the use of money is to use it shrewdly, wisely.  Yes, but is there something more here? 

Take a close look at the master in the story - the rich man.  There are some clues here that something just isn’t right with this master.  Sure, he’s about to fire the dishonest steward for his wasteful management.  That’s not surprising.  But even in doing so, he is merciful.  He asks for an account, but he gives the man time - time the steward uses to set himself up for the future.  The master asks for an account, but he never ends up demanding repayment (even from those who the steward gave a discount on their bill).  And strangest of all, the master commends the dishonest steward at the end of the story - even though he’s been dishonest and wasted and given away the wealth of the master!

Who would act like such a master?  Who would show such mercy, and forgive such malfeasance?  Who would show such patience, and commend even the dishonest, the wicked, the one who had stolen from him?  Our God and Father, that’s who.  On account of his Son, Jesus Christ.

For in Jesus Christ, God does things even more outrageous and surprising and nonsensical - at least to the judgment of this world.  The Father sends the Son, The Faithful Steward, if you will.  He sends him, not to demand an accounting from us, who idolize things and money and fail to worship the true God as we should.  The Father sends the Son, not to collect on our debt of sin which we surely owe, a debt deeper than we could hope to repay.  The Father sends the Son, not to threaten us to shape up or else.  No.  He sends his own son that whoever believes in him would not perish, but have eternal life.

And Jesus, for his part, is just as surprising.  He does the work that we don’t do, and can’t do - the fulfilling of the law. The righteousness of Christ is accounted to you.  All the good he did and does - you get the credit.  He’s not too weak to dig us out of our pit of sin and grave of death.  He’s not too proud to beg God’s mercy on our behalf.

He, Jesus, dies the death we deserve, in our place, for our sake – and rewrites our account with God in our favor.  He accomplishes his mission by paying the debts we owe - not with gold or silver, but with his holy precious blood, and his innocent suffering and death. He takes what you have - only debt - and writes you far more than a 10% discount.  He gives you freely of his grace, all the riches of heaven.  And a promise of eternity in his presence, in the bejeweled heavenly Jerusalem, with gates of pearl and streets of gold.

Does that sound like a lot to promise?  Of course it is, but he who is faithful with little is faithful with much.  And he who did not spare his own Son, but gave him for us all - how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?

So, the upshot, the so-what:  Jesus kind of chides us here – “I wish you, my people, were as wise with your wealth for righteous purposes as the children of this generation are shrewd in dealing with their own kind, for their own unrighteous purposes.”  In other words, how much more, ought we, who know Christ’s love, use his gifts for good?

So what does it mean to use our unrighteous wealth shrewdly?  What does it mean, sons of light, to deal shrewdly with our own, and make friends for ourselves with wealth so that when it fails, we are welcomed into eternal dwellings?

There are many good purposes for the money God calls you to manage and steward.  Feeding your family, clothing your children, putting gas in the car.  We pray that God would give us daily bread, and we receive it with thanksgiving.  We are also called to share with those who have less, and to be generous and hospitable.

But the wisest use of unrighteous wealth by the sons of light means remembering what is most important of all – the kingdom of God, and the message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  And it means prioritizing the work of the Gospel as we manage the gifts he gives.  For it is only by the Gospel that we can make friends for eternity – as others come to know our forgiving Master.  So as we support this good work, and debts are forgiven in Christ – we can do so with joy – the same joy in heaven over one sinner who repents.

So maybe this parable isn’t so tough after all.  Let it serve us a periodic reminder to repent of our love of money.  Let it point us to Christ, for whose sake our debt of sin is forgiven.  And may this story remind us to be good and wise stewards of his gifts – earthly and heavenly – and use them not for selfish gain but always in gratefulness and love for neighbor.

Sermon - Pentecost 13 - Luke 14:25-35

Luke 14:25-35

Great crowds accompanied Jesus, and he turned to them and said a bunch of sappy and fluffy stuff about mom and apple pie.  He told them they can live their best life now, be who they want to me, and should follow their heart and be true to themselves.  He said, “everything’s gonna be ok.  Don’t you worry now.  Do what you want.  Make sure there’s no negativity in your life.  Don’t stress yourself out.  Life’s too short. Live for today. You do you.”

No of course he said none of those things.  Nor did he say any other spiritual Pablum that scratches the itching ears of the crowds.  Nor does he say today what people want to hear, either to fit their political agenda, to cater to their self-righteousness or confirm their own sinful self-centeredness. 

What we hear from Jesus today is kind of tough.  He teaches us that being a disciple of his is hard.  It’s serious business.  It’s not to be taken lightly.  It comes with crosses.  It has a cost.  It means renouncing all things.  And who wants to hear such a message?

Friends, the Christian faith is no walk in the park.  Ask the martyrs who died violent bloody deaths for the confession of Christ’s name – when all they had to do was say a simple word denying Christ, and all the pain would stop. 

Ask the confessors of Augsburg, princes who knew they were taking their life in their hands, and even knelt down bowing their heads – saying, you may behead us now, emperor, but we will not compromise our confession of Christ.

Take the Christians today in Muslim countries who face violence and even death at the hands of their very own families if it is discovered they have become a believer in Jesus. 

No, the faith is not easy.  It can seem so, in our peaceful, air-conditioned church with pew cushions and friendly fellow worshippers.  It can seem the easy life when you are surrounded by Christians at work and at school, but not all of us are.  And while we do still enjoy great freedom to practice our faith in this country – those who are paying attention know that is not a situation guaranteed to stay the same. We hear about a post-Christian world, and a de-churched society.

This is Jesus speaking to the great crowds that are following him in their wrong-headed ideas of who Jesus is and what he came to do.  They want a certain kind of Jesus.  A Jesus who lets them have their cake and eat it too.  A Jesus who lets them have their idols, and call themselves Christians, too.

And that’s what all these things are – idols.  The first idol he addresses is family.  Yes, even one of the greatest gifts God gives – the family – can be made an idol.  I think about this when I realize that people turn away from the church because it’s just too difficult to hold to the Bible’s teachings about sin when your loved ones are caught in sin.  Or maybe you, yourself, are caught up – moved in with a man or woman who’s not your spouse – and it’s just too grating to go to church and hear, “Thou shalt not commit adultery” and “the marriage bed must be kept pure”. 

Maybe your children have left the faith, and it grieves you.  But rather than wrestle with that grief in godliness and prayer, you turn to some false but somehow mildly comforting lies about how they’re “good people anyway”. 

Oh, you go to a church that teaches the Bible, and says that Jesus is the only way to heaven?  Well you must hate non-believers, then, we are told.  This is the kind of sword that Jesus talks about, dividing families. The faith is not easy.

He compares it to an ill-planned construction project, or an ill-conceived military engagement.  The person who wants to follow Christ but doesn’t consider the cost.  They become a laughingstock.  The object of ridicule.  Don’t be such a fool, Jesus implies.

At the end of the passage he calls us to renounce all that we have, if you want to be his disciple.  Worldly wealth and the comforts of life are always dangerous temptations to idolatry.  If I had to choose between all this and Christ, I must choose Christ!  Renounce it all.  Have no other gods before him.

But he’s not done tearing away our idols yet.  He says you have to hate even your own life!  This doesn’t mean go out and commit suicide.  It means that compared to Christ, even your own life is nothing.  It is worthless. It is to be despised.  If you had to choose between faithfulness to Christ and certain death – then you better choose death, if you want to call yourself a disciple of Jesus.  This is difficult talk.  But Jesus is deadly serious.

And it’s not even just death – it’s death by cross.  Bear your own cross, or you cannot be my disciple.  It would be one thing if I could die in my sleep.  Just never wake up.  Or at least something quick.  Something where I don’t have to suffer.  But Jesus is calling us to exactly that.  A cross means suffering.  That’s what it’s designed to do.  To drag death out, make it painful and long. 

And Jesus knows all about crosses.  And good for us that he does.  For apart from his cross we would be lost.  We would be unable to be disciples.  We could never give up our idols.  We would be left to our own very poor and inadequate devices.  My friends, we’ve heard a lot of law here so far – and this text is heavy with it.  But now let’s consider the cross.

Jesus knew the cost of his calling.  He considered before-hand, and likely every step of the way, where it would take him.  From at least the time in which he emerged from his baptismal waters, through his 40 days of fasting and temptation, in the towns and villages of Judea and Samaria.  And as he set his face toward Jerusalem.  Jesus always knew it would be a cross, for him. 

The cross.  The Son of God and Son of Man suspended between heaven and earth - the wrath of God poured out upon him.  The cup of punishment drunk to the very dregs.  Jesus knew it would be physical suffering, but also the spiritual reality of being forsaken by God.  Becoming sin itself- the object of God’s eternal wrath.  You and I can’t comprehend it.  But Jesus bore it for us all.

He gave up his family and friends – who either deserted him or watched helplessly as he hung there. 

He hated his own life.  Laying it down freely to accomplish his goal of redeeming the world.

He had no possessions.  Nowhere to lay his head, but at the end even his garments were divided among the soldiers, so in naked shame he would die.

And though all who saw him mocked him, the blood and water from his side laid the foundation of the church.  And this king – the king of the Jews - though his enemies surrounded him in far greater numbers, he won peace with God by his surrender even to death.  Peace, for you and me.

He gave all that he had – to purchase and win us as a people for himself.  To make us his disciples, his children, his friends. 

In the sense of justification – the Christian faith is easy.  It comes to us freely as a gift of God, a gift won by Christ at his cross.  But it cost him everything, and this, dear Christians we ought to consider – and never forget.

But in the sense of putting that faith into practice – yes, it is hard.  Yes it means little crosses for all who would follow Christ and his cross.  It means sacrifice and suffering, the hatred of the world, maybe even of your family, and eventually perhaps even hating your life.  Losing your life in this world. 

Ah, but the reward in heaven is far greater.  For Christ is risen from the dead, and if we share in his sufferings, we also share in his comfort.  If we share in his death, and are buried with him in baptism, then we also share in his life, and are raised – now already – and then, one day, even bodily. 

And such is the cost of discipleship – it costs everything, for Jesus and for you.  It means a cross, for Jesus and for you.  And yet it also brings vindication, for Jesus – raised again on the 3^rd day and ascended to eternal glory.  And for you – raised in baptism, raised on the last day, and enthroned with him in glory everlasting.  What in this life is worth anything compared to that?

Paul does the spiritual math this way, and he gets it exactly right: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”

God grant it to us all.  In Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.