If you’re lost but don’t know it, Jesus has a story for you, and a hope, and a promise.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 25 C
Text: Luke 16:1-13

Note: In many ways this sermon follows directly on last week’s sermon, “Found,” from 15 September 2019, and that sermon might be a helpful introduction to this one. – JGC

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

But what if you’re lost, but you don’t know it?

Jesus actually tells five parables about the lost being found. Today we’re continuing in the same scene from last week, even if someone centuries ago said a new chapter starts here. The same players are still here: Jesus, a group of people on the margins who are drawn to him, a group of religious leaders who are offended that Jesus welcomes those marginalized folks, and a group of Jesus’ disciples.

In response to the religious criticism, “you welcome sinners and eat with them,” Jesus told the leaders three parables, about lost, precious things. A lost sheep, a lost coin, and two lost sons. (We only heard the first two last week.) And in these parables, except for the coin, the lost ones eventually knew it. We assume the sheep realized it couldn’t get home, wherever it was lost. The brothers had to learn it. The younger brother figured it out in the muck of a pigsty. The older brother figured it out when the resentment over his life and his belief that he wasn’t loved overwhelmed him in anger.

Now, Luke says, Jesus turns to his disciples to tell a fourth parable. And unlike last week’s parables, a key problem today is that no one in this parable thinks they’re lost. And everyone is.

Listen to this, my followers, Jesus says. Listen.

In this strange story, everyone is dishonest. Everyone.

The owner is dishonest, because he knows his manager has cheated him, and all he can do is chuckle in admiration at his self-serving dishonesty? The manager’s dishonest. He squandered property he was supposed to steward, and when caught, doubled down and squandered more, hoping to entice one of his bosses’ debtors to give him a job. And those debtors are dishonest, delightedly agreeing to cheat their creditor by as much as half of what they owed.

They’re all playing by the rules of the world’s game, Jesus says. They know the rules and they play it well. Get what you can for yourself, throw ethics out the window if you have to. Don’t worry about harming others, you take care of you. Vote for politicians who pander to you rather than those who want all to do well. Ignore your neighbor’s problems because they’re not yours. That’s the game, and they think they’re winning it.

But Jesus says, they’re actually surrounded by wolves, they’re stuck in the pigsty, they’re deeply lost. They just don’t know it. The world’s game they’re supposedly winning is a game of death.

This is what Jesus turns from the leaders to tell the disciples.

It’s as if he thinks they’re the ones in trouble. The lost ones who don’t know it. He’s worried.

These followers have been with him a long time, have heard a lot about living as a child of God, a child of the light, as Jesus says today. But as his impending death looms ever closer, Jesus sees they’re still not getting the challenges of following the way of God’s reign, the way of the children of light.

I’ve told you, he says to them (as we’ve heard all summer and fall), to count the cost before following me, don’t start this project if you can’t finish. But I don’t think you’ve counted at all. I’ve told you, don’t start plowing if you’re going to look back, but your rows are like a toddler’s drawing, lines and circles everywhere. I’ve told you to stay awake for God’s coming in your life, and you’re sleeping through all this. I’ve warned you about building silos for the gain you hope to get, as if you’re in control, and your wealth will protect you, but you’re still playing that game.

You want to keep playing the world’s game and only partly follow me? he says. Fine, but this story is what that game looks like. And if you want that, then you have to trust the world to bring you to whatever eternal homes their game gets you. The fifth parable, about a rich man who ignores a poor man outside his door for years, shows that the eternal homes of the world’s game are, well, suboptimal.

But you do know the way of the children of light, he tells his disciples.

You’ve heard it all, Jesus says, and this summer and fall, so have we. Children of light go into the ditch to help those thrown aside like highway trash. Children of God go into the world declaring God’s peace on all they meet, with their lives and their words showing God’s reign has begun. Children of light, of God’s reign, live out that God’s grace overrides the law, offer healing even when some find it inappropriate or wrong. And most of all, children of light, children of God, are lost ones who are found and who then rejoice in seeking and finding all God’s lost ones, all the time.

Life as a child of light is a very different game than what these dishonest creeps in my story live, Jesus says, because it’s not a game. It’s life, and it’s joy, and it’s peace, and it’s fulfillment.

But it’s hard. And if you don’t want that, Jesus says, if you still want to keep your hand in the world’s game, you’re actually lost, in the pigsty, and the tragedy is, you don’t even know it.

But, . . .  if after hearing this story, now for the first time you realize you’re lost, trapped in the world’s game, know this, too: you will be found.

That’s the glory of Jesus’ grace, the welcome of the Triune God he comes to bring. Jesus wants his disciples to be found; today’s parable was meant to shake them up a little to see it. To come to the realization of the younger brother in the pigsty and the elder brother outside the welcome-home party. Jesus, God’s Christ, wants to find you and bring you home into God’s love.

He was a little worried you might not think you were one of the lost ones. Hence this story.

But now here’s the question arising out of your joy at being found: what’s next? In these first four parables, Jesus leaves that open. That sheep might get lost again. Maybe the woman always loses her coins or her keys. We don’t know if either brother goes on to live in contentment and peace in his father’s love. And as far as we know, today’s cheaters just keep cheating.

But now that you know God finds you, wants to bring you into the light and love of God, what’s next for you? Will you still hold back and try to stay in the world’s game, just in case? Will you go back to the pigsty or simmer in your resentment, or whatever it is that got you lost, and pretend you’re just fine?

Just remember, Jesus says, the world’s game ends in the woods with wolves, in the pigsty, in being outside the party. The world’s path ends in eternal homes that aren’t anywhere you want to spend eternity.

Or, Jesus says, you could stay in the light, even though it’s a challenging way to live, and live in God’s reign, even though it looks like a harder path than the world’s path. You could be found, and live in joy.

Before you decide, remember that Luke has more story to tell you.

It’s not just the warnings we’ve heard from Luke about how hard following God’s way is, or the joy of what children of light are like. Luke is the only evangelist to tell the Pentecost story, the only one to write a sequel. Because Luke believes what happened after Easter is also deeply important for your life today, as much as the story of Jesus that led to Easter.

That story tells of Jesus, the Son of God, filled with the Holy Spirit from conception onward, Spirit-empowered to do wondrous things, even rise from the dead. But Luke says, wait: there’s something else you should know. Pentecost means you all will be filled with the Spirit just like Jesus.

All the things Jesus did, all that God’s Spirit-filled children do, finding the lost, going into the ditches, proclaiming and living peace, all that is yours to do with the power of God’s Spirit in you. The way of light, the way of God, is your gift from God’s Spirit, so you are able to live it.

And that, Luke says, that’s the book of Acts. And that’s your life!

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

No matter how lost you are, and in what ways, God will find you.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 24 C
Text: Luke 15:1-10

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

“This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

“Sinners.” That’s all they saw.

This isn’t like saying “we’re all sinners.” These leaders saw some people as different from everyone else. These who came to hear Jesus aren’t named, identified by gender or occupation (except the tax collectors), or anything else. Whatever they’ve done, they’re publicly shamed enough in the eyes of their community that the title “sinners” is the only thing their leaders see, the only thing that matters.

But Jesus welcomes them. Eats with them. That’s his problem. If he’s supposed to be a godly teacher, showing God’s reign, if he’s supposed to be this great rabbi the crowds adore, how can he publicly welcome people whose worth is seen only as “sinners,” share a meal with them?

Well, Jesus sees them differently. He looks at these folks and sees “precious.” “Beloved.” “Children of God,” not “sinners.” Yes, he sees whatever sin it is they’ve done, that they’ve found themselves apart from God and apart from community. They’re people who are lost in one way or another.

But since Jesus sees “precious” and “beloved” when he looks at them, his only goal is to find those lost precious ones, welcome them, and, as the face of the Triune God for the world, love them back home to God, even if he has to give his life to do it.

But the leaders can’t see as Jesus sees. So he tells them stories.

Stories of precious, beloved, lost things. One sheep out of a hundred. One coin out of ten. Two beloved sons, in the familiar story from this chapter we didn’t hear today, both lost, both desperately loved.

Two stories reveal God’s love as ridiculous and foolish. No shepherd worth anything would abandon ninety-nine sheep to wolves and wilderness to seek a lost one. Cut your losses and be glad you still have ninety-nine. No father would be so generous with love to two sons, forgiving both of great things, giving all he had to both, without strings or accountability.

Jesus says open your eyes and see that God loves you with the same foolish, ridiculous, senseless love.

The middle story needs more attention. It’s very different. This woman’s desire to find the coin isn’t ridiculous or foolish; she can ill afford to lose any of what little she has. And, unlike the sheep and the sons, you can’t take a moral lesson from the coin. It didn’t get itself lost, it’s inanimate. It can’t find its way home, it’s inanimate. All it can do is be found.

Jesus says open your eyes and see that you are so vital, so important to God, God can’t afford to lose you. And you need do nothing to be found. God is looking for you under every dresser and bed, behind every couch, inside every cupboard, and won’t stop until you are found.

This is hard for the leaders to hear, maybe because they fear not being good enough themselves.

Some of God’s beloved, God’s precious ones, want to do good, feel in their bones they must be perfect, to please God. They follow the rules as best they can, and are deeply judging of others who don’t seem to care as much or try as hard. But that judgment only masks this fear: the time in the dark of night when the voices in your head say, “You messed up today, you’re not good enough. You never will be.”

If you ever feel like this, if this is where you get lost and afraid, know this: you are God’s beloved, no matter how perfect or imperfect you are. And God promises you: you will be found.

Now, some of God’s precious ones believe they’re not worthy of being loved.

These dear children of God are convinced they simply don’t have value compared to other people. Some have a deep-rooted sense of worthlessness, or a sense that no one truly loves them, that they have no significance. Others fear being seen as incompetent and then dismissed. The fear in the dark of night for these isn’t that you haven’t done perfectly, but that ultimately it doesn’t matter, since you don’t matter.

If you ever feel like this, if this is where you get lost and afraid, know this: you are God’s precious one, you matter to God, you have value and worth. And God promises you: you will be found.

Some of God’s beloved children fear they are alone, unnoticed.

This is a little like those others, but different. These dear ones feel outside everyone else, as if they don’t belong anywhere. They wonder if anyone is there who will help them when they’re lost, support them when they need it. They’re always on the outside, looking in. The fear in the dark of night for these is that if they somehow disappeared, or didn’t show up, no one would notice, no one would come looking.

If you ever feel like this, if this is where you get lost and afraid, know this: you are God’s beloved, and God sees you where you are, notices your every breath, every hair on your head; you belong to God. And God promises you: you will be found.

And some of God’s precious ones feel trapped and unfulfilled, or controlled by others, or by life itself.

These dear ones don’t feel they have choices over their life, too many things are out of control, or they’re stuck and can’t get out. Some experience others trying to control and direct them, and they have no say. The fear in the dark of night for these is that desperate sense of feeling in a trap, unable to move or decide or be free.

If you ever feel like this, if this is where you get lost and afraid, know this: you are God’s precious one, and you are free. God is your strength, and will take you by the hand and help you find the path to life. And God promises you: you will be found.

And there’s another flock of God’s beloved, who often aren’t seen.

There are those dear children of God, some in this room today, many in our world, who do not experience the world the way the majority do because in one way or another they are different. In our culture, different isn’t welcomed. Some of these are ones who have had even the Church, followers of Christ, condemn them as outside of God’s love because of who they are and who they love. And some are ones who because of the color of their skin or the gender they present to the world, whether female or another way, are treated differently and unjustly, unlike those who are white and those who present male. All these dear children have systems of oppression built up over centuries to keep them lost. Centuries of Church theology, or a broken criminal justice system, or unjust wages and benefits, or hidden barriers to where people are permitted to live, systems like these, and others, crush God’s beloved children.

Their fear isn’t just in the dark of night, it’s a daily struggle to live, to be noticed, to be treated as significant and valued and loved and worthy.

If you are one of these children, if this is where you are lost and afraid, know this: you are God’s precious one, and beloved, and God sees you and loves you. And God promises you: you will be found.

“Can you see each other as I see you?” Jesus asks.

If you can hear that you are precious and beloved, that God will tirelessly seek you and find you, pour out everything in that love, can you believe that, and find peace?

And then, and this is Jesus’ deepest hope, will you become part of God’s search team? God will find and bring home into God’s love and grace all God’s precious and beloved children. But God needs arms that can hug, hands that can hold, voices that can both comfort and advocate, hearts that can love. God needs a search team that can see children of God, not sinners, or categories. God needs people so confident they are found and loved they can’t imagine anyone not knowing that, can’t tolerate having a single beloved of God be lost. Ninety-nine percent isn’t good enough for God. God needs search teams who believe the same thing, who are willing to risk everything, just like God.

Because the Triune God came among us as a human being for one thing only: to welcome sinners and eat with them. Until no one is lost, no one is afraid in the dark, all are found and brought home into the abiding love of God that has been waiting for them for so long.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

Note: Thanks to the writers and composers of the musical Dear Evan Hansen, for the structural idea and the thought of repeating the refrain, “you will be found.”

 

The scandalous cross can only be understood relationally because its central message is about God’s redeeming love for the world in Christ.

Vicar Bristol Reading
The Feast of the Holy Cross
Texts: 1 Corinthians 1:18-24; John 3:13-17

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

When I first started the process toward ordination, my pastor gave me some advice to help me prepare for the essays I’d have to write and the interviews I’d have to do with my candidacy committee. I remember him telling me, “You’ll need to be able to say something about what the theology of the cross means in your life.” I dutifully wrote that down and filed it away mentally as something I’d need to figure out along the way. I thought I’d just spend some time thinking that one through, and then, I’d come up with a reasonable answer. Then, I’d understand what the cross means.

My approach was a little bit like that of Nicodemus in John’s Gospel. Nicodemus was really drawn to Jesus’ astonishing teachings about the radical new life that’s possible in the kingdom of God. But he couldn’t quite figure out the logistical details. So he finally mustered up the courage to approach Jesus and asked him, “I can’t quite make sense of this. How does new life actually work?” The Gospel passage we heard this evening is part of Jesus’ response to Nicodemus.

Now, if Nicodemus was looking for a logical explanation, this isn’t it. He’s trying to wrap his head around something that he needs to wrap his heart around. The new life that is possible in the Kingdom of God isn’t about analytical answers. It’s about relationship. It’s about God’s love for the world. Jesus tells Nicodemus this. He says, “God so loved the whole world that God made a way for the whole world to have life forever.” And the one standing right in front of Nicodemus is that way.

That’s not the kind of truth you can rationally understand like you understand a math equation or a financial transaction. Love is a deeper kind of truth. If you were asked to explain why you love the people you love – your children, your spouse, your friends – it might not make sense to someone else. But anyone who has ever loved or been loved knows how deeply powerful and true love can be, even when it doesn’t “make sense.” If we experience that in our human relationships, can you imagine how much more transformational the love of God can be? The new life that Jesus speaks about is the reality of being in that love. That’s where the life is – in relationship with God!

Anyone who believes in God’s great love for the world will have that eternal life, Jesus tells Nicodemus. This doesn’t mean ‘believe’ in a cognitive sense, as in something you know in your mind. This means trust, as in something you know in your soul, something you’d stake your life on. Jesus is saying, “Anyone who puts their trust in God’s great love for the world, will find life.”

And it is truly a trust-worthy love. God would give up everything for the sake of that love. Indeed, when the incarnate God lived as a human being in Jesus, God did give up everything for the sake of that love. God died for the sake of that love, a painful, humiliating death on a cross. That symbol, the cross, is a reminder of just how trustworthy God’s love is. God’s love is wide enough to hold the whole created world, faithful enough to give up everything for its beloved, powerful enough to bring life out of death. What good news!

But for those like Nicodemus who interacted with the person of Jesus, it was also surprising news. We don’t get to hear Nicodemus’ reaction to Jesus telling him that “the Son of Man must be lifted up” on the cross, but we can imagine that this was a confusing thing to hear. Impressed by Jesus’ miracles and drawn by Jesus’ message, many people expected the Christ, the Messiah, to embody a different kind of power. Surely, the savior of the world would be strong and in control. Surely the savior of the world would win, not lose. Otherwise, how would the world be saved? Even Jesus’ closest friends and disciples expressed concern and doubt as the shadow of the cross loomed nearer. Surely the savior of the world won’t be arrested and executed like a common criminal. As Jesus was hanging on the cross, dying, some were still saying, “If he is indeed Christ, the Messiah, let him save himself” (Mark 15:31). Even those who stood later in the empty tomb, who encountered the risen Christ, even they struggled to understand how God’s power was at work in the world. The self-giving love of Christ on the cross looked so unlike their expectations. God’s kingdom is not like the kingdoms of this world (John 18:26).

Thousands of years later, people still look at Christ and expect a different kind of power. Too often, we expect life made easy, pain taken away, problems triumphantly solved. We can lose sight of where the real power is, where the real life is. It’s found in the relationship of love that God has for the world. It’s found in the way of the cross. That’s the scandal of the cross: it disrupts all our expectations and definitions. Power in surrender. Victory through sacrifice. Life from death. The scandalous cross keeps us from ever getting too comfortable with our own intellectual understanding of God’s way. It will always keep surprising and confounding us.

You have to be some kind of fool to be able to trust in such a mysterious, paradoxical kind of power. Or at least that’s how Paul puts it: “The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” In other words, if you look at the cross from the outside, it looks like nonsense, but if you experience it from inside God’s love, you can see its salvation. You never totally “make sense” of God’s love in Christ; you trust it. You never really wrap your head around it, but you give your heart to it. You let it transform you, and you live out that sacrificial love in your own life.

To remind ourselves of this, we have hung that scandalous symbol in the central place of this holy space of worship. We bow to it in reverence. Because we are foolish enough to put our hope in it. Because we know that it is not a symbol of death but a symbol of life. Because we know that the most powerful force in the world is not dominance but self-emptying love. The kind of love Christ showed on that cross. That’s the kind of love could save the world. Indeed it already has, it still does, and it always will.

Amen.

Carrying the cross means committing to follow the way of Christ, recognizing that doing so will transform our lives and relationships.

Vicar Bristol Reading
The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 23 C
Texts: Philemon; Luke 14:25-33

Siblings in Christ, grace to you, and peace, in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Have you ever been told that a physical or mental illness was “your cross to bear”? Or maybe it was a particular pain you were struggling with; an obligation that overwhelmed you; an injustice you’d experienced… Maybe you’ve been told that one of these things was “your cross to bear.”

Sometimes Christians talk this way about Jesus’ command to “carry the cross,” this idea that faithful people will accept trials and burdens passively and piously because “we all have our own crosses to bear.” Sometimes it even goes as far as to present suffering as necessary and spiritually redemptive.

But the God we know through Jesus’ words and actions in scripture focused on healing and alleviating people’s suffering,
not demanding it. Jesus provided for people’s needs, and protected the most vulnerable, even when it was scandalous or dangerous for him to do so. Even from the cross, Jesus speaks mercy and forgiveness. If we trust that Jesus, the incarnate word, reveals God’s heart, we can trust that God doesn’t desire for us to suffer. But God is with us when we suffer.

So what does it mean to carry the cross? Jesus gives this command a number of times across the Gospels,[1] and every time he connects it to discipleship, saying “Take up your cross and follow me.”

If we want to know what it looks like to carry the cross, it looks like Jesus. Not just Jesus’ suffering and death, but Jesus’ life. Jesus gives these teachings about taking up the cross long before he himself is executed on a cross. So the example he is calling disciples to follow also includes his life and ministry. To carry the cross, we need to practice the same hospitality, generosity, and compassion that we see in the life Jesus. We, too, need to provide for others’ needs, protect the vulnerable, speak forgiveness. To carry the cross, we need to live like Jesus… even when it’s challenging.

And it does get challenging. The Gospel is good news, but it isn’t easy news.

If we commit to following the way of Jesus, things will have to change. Not just on the inside, in our hearts, but on the outside, in our lifestyles and our relationships.

In the Gospel passage we heard this morning, Jesus adds some drastic language to the call to carry the cross. Worried that the crowds drawn by his popularity won’t take seriously the difficulties of discipleship, he says, “If you want to follow me, you have to hate your own family, your own life!” Whew! That’s a tough bar to clear! We know, of course, that Jesus doesn’t advocate hating complete strangers, let alone close family. But he wants to be sure that people get the message that living in the way of Christ will change their lives. It will shift even their most intimate relationships in unanticipated ways.

This is a lesson Philemon learned the hard way. His situation, which we encounter through one of Paul’s letters, is an example of how living according to the Gospel can challenge the status quo. Philemon is a Christian in the early church, and Paul is writing to him on behalf of Onesimus, who has also become a Christian. Onesimus is in serious debt to Philemon, but Paul urges Philemon to let it go. He should accept Onesimus back into his household – not as a debtor enslaved to a master, but as an equal, a sibling in Christ. Within the social structures of their day, Philemon had a right to demand reparation from Onesimus! But their shared commitment to Christ has changed their relationship to one another. Paul reminds Philemon: This is what you signed up for when you became a Christ-follower! Your life has to change! The world may think retaliation and punishment are fair, but the Gospel demands a different standard. For those who carry the cross, relationships are defined by love, not revenge; forgiveness, not resentment; and mutual respect, not coercion.

As Philemon learned, the Gospel life can involve letting go of things we might prefer to keep: things like status, power, comfort, wealth.

Discipleship can be costly. But it’s not about losing just for the sake of loss. It’s about losing for the sake of love, as Jesus did.

Jesus went all the way to losing his life for the sake of love. And, in doing so, modeled sacrificial love for us. When we choose to follow the way of Jesus, we choose to follow that way. Our “cross to bear” is the burden of love – for ourselves and for one another. That burden is not light. We have to let go of some things in order that we might carry it. We may think we know what we’ll have to lose. But, like Philemon, we will find that the Gospel continually changes our lives in ways that will surprise us and challenge us. That’s the hard work of discipleship that Jesus warned about. When we agree to follow Christ, we will be continually transformed, like clay in the Potter’s hands.

But we can trust that the Potter is making us into something new, something good.

The change might feel painful, but it’s the kind of pain that leads to growth, not the kind of pain that wears us down or destroys us. Bearing the cross of Christ-like love is a way of life.

Every time you make the sign of the cross on your body, remind yourself that you are marked with the cross from your baptism, and your baptismal calling is to carry the cross. Which means your baptismal calling is to live your life with the radical love we see in Jesus. And when that burden feels heavy, remember that it is also life-giving. And the life it brings is stronger than anything: stronger than suffering, stronger even than death. We share in the cross of Christ, yes, but we also share in the resurrection of Christ.[2] And thanks be to God for that! Amen.

[1] Mark 8:34; Matthew 10:38, 16:24; Luke 9:23, 14:27.
[2] Philippians 3:10-11.

The path of Christ is having God give you the humility of Christ – not a false humility, not self-abuse, but true joy in seeing all, and yourself, as the image of God.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 22 C
Texts: Luke 14:1, 7-14; Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16; Jeremiah 2:4-13

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Be careful, very careful, with this Gospel reading.

Once again, Jesus is speaking of life in the reign of God, something we’ve heard all summer. But today’s Gospel is as tricky as any we’ve had. There are side paths that are easy to stumble into, paths which lead away from the path of Christ, if you’re not paying attention.

Jesus doesn’t intentionally set a trap here. In fact, he’s very consistent with the flow we’ve heard from him for months.

The problem is human nature. The particular thing he’s talking about, humility, cuts really close to a nerve in how we live, and makes it hard to hear and follow. Judging by the common way people usually talk about these verses and live them out, most of us have gotten lost on these side paths.

So listen carefully. Keep an eye on Jesus’ lead as closely as you ever have.

Now, our problems with social order and class are a little different from this story.

We don’t have a strict social and class order that’s reflected in how people are seated at the table, but we do have deep problems with social order and class. We’re very familiar with judging and with jockeying for position.

But when Jesus says take the lowest seat, and let others go before you, or, those who humble themselves shall be exalted and those who exalt themselves shall be humbled, we seem to consistently miss the point and take the side paths.

The first is the path of false humility and expectation of reward, one of the main Christian responses to this. Let others go first and pretend you’re humble. But inwardly, we hope someone notices, hope to be invited forward, to be commended. We can even be ridiculously proud of how humble we are. This isn’t a path of humility, it’s a path of pride and deceit. Please hear this clearly: do not leave worship today believing humility means Jesus wants you to pretend to be lower than others, hoping to be commended, resenting when you’re not. Nothing is further from the truth.

The other side path of Christian response is the path of self-devaluing. To hear Jesus saying you have no value, your gifts are of no account, you’re worthless. Everyone is better than you, you deserve no attention. This response has been drilled into the faithful for centuries, particularly by the powerful onto the marginalized and the powerless. This isn’t a path of humility, it’s a path of self-hate, of self-abuse. Please hear this clearly: do not leave worship today believing Jesus says being humble means you have no value, you aren’t worthy of a seat at the table. Nothing is further from the truth.

To find truth, we need to overturn our understanding of the word “deserve.”

So, some believers think they deserve more praise, more attention, are more important, but act as if they’re not because they think it’s how the game is played. The truth is, it may look nice to let someone go ahead of you, but if inwardly you think you deserve more attention, you’ve missed the whole point.

Some believers feel they deserve no praise, they’re worth nothing, deserve being sent to the bottom. This also may look humble, but if inwardly you think you have no value, you’ve also missed the point.

Instead, Jesus is describing an entirely new upside-down world order. Everyone deserves love, everyone deserves praise. From chapter one of Genesis to now God has tried to tell you that all are created in God’s own image. Are worthy of the love of the Triune God who made all things.

Jockeying for position isn’t the problem. Believing there is such a thing as position, that there are people who rank higher, are more important, that’s the problem. Jesus calls for a complete transformation of the heart’s values. Seeing everyone as precious in God’s eyes, including yourself, including the ones who are outside your empathy, those you look down on. Having the mutual love for all Hebrews talks about today, and welcoming strangers not because they might be angels, but because they are the image of God.

Jesus told a parable to show this reversal. But they already had the only parable they needed.

The eternal Word of the Triune God, one with the Father and the Spirit from before creation itself, was at this dinner. The One whom all creation should honor and adore and kneel before watched other people scramble for the important seats.

Jesus is the parable. The One who created billions of galaxies, worthy of all honor and praise, did not, as Paul reminds you in Philippians 2, cling to divinity, but this Son, the Word, humbled himself and took on human flesh, and by this said, “You are beloved, and precious, and worthy.”

That’s Jesus’ vision of God’s reign. It removes any distinction between people. If the God of all time deigns to become a human being, then simply being a human being made in God’s image is glory and honor enough for anyone. For each and every one.

Why have social order and class when we can look at each other in equal joy, recognizing God’s face in each other’s faces?

But going from where we are to living this vision can’t be done in an instant.

That’s where we get lost. There’s no switch to flip that we suddenly know in our hearts we’re all equal, or instantly care for the people whom we don’t care for, or think better of the people we disdain. We can’t suddenly see as Jesus sees, love as Jesus loves, live as Jesus lived. It takes God time to shape us.

So today Jesus names just the first steps toward this reality. Think of what he’s saying this way:

When you were a child and you hurt someone, your parents likely told you to say you were sorry. But if you’re like most children, you might not have truly felt it. There might have been a touch of sullenness and reluctance to your “sorry.”

But one day, the goal is you’d become a person who genuinely felt sorry when you hurt someone, who said, “Can you please forgive me?” Not sullenly, not because you were told to, but because that’s how you viewed the world and all people. Because you loved this person.

Likewise, Jesus says humility’s first steps are: “take the lower seat. Be humble. Don’t put yourself above others.”

But this isn’t the end of the path, the goal of Christian life. These instructions aren’t full life in God’s reign. They’re just the first baby steps of following Christ’s path of humility, a path that leads to the cross.

Sadly, the Church is and has been full of adults of all ages who live frozen at these baby steps. Who never let the Spirit transform their heart and eyes to feel and see as Jesus does. Who are forever children when it comes to this truth of God’s reign. So they – we – toddle off on the side paths of immature humility that only lead to death and pain and sadness. Remaining at the basic level of Christ’s humility for one’s whole life is unhealthy, even deadly, because is shows a dry, empty heart. It’s rejecting God’s fountain of living water, Jeremiah says today, and building yourself a cracked cistern that holds no water.

It’s time to start growing up. To move to solid food, real nourishment, and a deeper understanding of the life in Christ.

Once you leave today’s baby steps and take full, grown strides down Christ’s path, you’ll find the true glory of God’s reign.

It’s a chaotic joy of a table that has enough seats for everyone, and everyone’s getting up and switching seats, sharing food and laughter, telling stories, embracing tears, rejoicing in good news. A reign of God with no hierarchies, no privilege, no rankings, where all look at each other with glad and shining faces, recognizing the image of God in the other because all see it in themselves, too.

That’s what Jesus was hoping to get started at that dinner party, a path that opens up to such chaos and delight and wonder.

To see this in your life, you’re going to want to pray today’s prayer of the day often: Give me, O God, the humility of your Son. Make this joyful reality, this new heart, these new eyes, mine always. Because God delights to give that to you.

And if this is what God models in Christ, and what God wants to make happen in you, and in all God’s children, why on earth or in heaven would you want anything less?

In the name of Jesus.  Amen