Tag Archives: Pharisee

Moved Up – Sermon on Luke 14:1-11 for the Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity

Luke 14:1-11

1 One Sabbath, when he went to dine at the house of a ruler of the Pharisees, they were watching him carefully. 2 And behold, there was a man before him who had dropsy. 3 And Jesus responded to the lawyers and Pharisees, saying, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath, or not?” 4 But they remained silent. Then he took him and healed him and sent him away. 5And he said to them, “Which of you, having a son or an ox that has fallen into a well on a Sabbath day, will not immediately pull him out?” 6 And they could not reply to these things. 

7 Now he told a parable to those who were invited, when he noticed how they chose the places of honor, saying to them, 8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest someone more distinguished than you be invited by him, 9 and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this person,’ and then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place, so that when your host comes he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at table with you. 11 For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Everyone is religious. Everyone has a belief in what is good and right and true as opposed to what is evil and wrong and false. And in the end, there aren’t hundreds of religions. There are only two. One is true. The other is false. And we can put a title on each of these religions: the true religion of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and the false religion of the law.

The true religion of the Gospel is faith in our Lord, Jesus Christ, who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life (Jn. 14:6). This true religion believes that God is merciful. It believes that we are made right with Him because of the cross. It believes God is gracious and forgives us despite our sin against His good and holy Law. The false religion of the law wrongly imagines that we have to reconcile ourselves to God by our own works and efforts. Even though the false, pagan religions of Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism, etc. – those all serve false gods instead of the true God. But they all operate in the same manner and under the same premise. And that premise boils down to this: You need to work yourself out of the messes of this world.

In this Gospel reading, it’s that false religion of the law that Jesus is attacking because that is the religion these Pharisees. They have placed the full weight of their trust in the idea that they can make themselves right with God and the world. But their religion is weaker than a house of cards.

Before we continue, one thing needs to be crystal clear. The Pharisee heresy isn’t exclusive to Pharisees. It’s a heresy that’s in all of us. It’s our default operating system because of our sinful nature. Normally, when we think about our sinful nature, we think of it as the part of us that drives and moves us toward sinful actions. And that is true, our sinful nature certainly does that. But it does more than just that. Our sinful nature also invents our own standards, morals, and commandments that are simpler than God’s standard of total, complete perfection.

This is why the Pharisees invented and added all their extra laws to God’s Commands. For example, the Pharisees took the 3rdCommandment, “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy,” and because they believed in their false religion of the law, they figured, “Let’s really get after keeping the Sabbath holy to make God happy with us.” So, they added all sorts of extra rules and regulations. They decided you could only walk 2,000 cubits (or about two-thirds of a mile) on the Sabbath because walking further than that would be considered the work of travel. In a futile effort to please God, Pharisees debated if it was ok to walk in the rain on the Sabbath because if you got rain on your clothes and went inside, that could be considered the work of delivering water. I don’t know anyone who drinks water from rain-soaked clothes. I wonder why they didn’t consider walking in rain on the Sabbath the work of doing laundry.

But they would also come up with all sorts of ways to get around their additional Sabbath laws. So, with the 2,000 cubit limitation on walking, they decided that, if you considered the whole town your home, then you could walk as far as you wanted so long as you stayed in town. They decided that if you walked in the rain on the Sabbath, you could just take off your clothes before you entered your house and leave them outside because then you weren’t delivering water. Can you imagine that? “Honey, I’m home.”

Now, we can laugh at how ridiculous this is because – it is. But we do the same sorts of things. Christ is clear that, when we get angry, it is the same as murder (Mt. 5:21-22). But rather than repent of our anger and receive God’s forgiveness, we do all sorts of mental gymnastics to try to justify our breaking of the 5th Command. But the Pharisee inside each of us also does something even worse. When our conscience still bothers us because of our sin, when it isn’t quieted by our mental justification of that sin, we recruit. We recruit and gather others around us. We tell them about whatever it was that made us angry – usually, in a way to make our anger seem right and just. We do that because we want others to confirm and affirm our sin. But it doesn’t matter if you could get the entire world to agree with you. God doesn’t care about the consensus you build, no matter how large it is. If God says it’s sinful, it’s sinful. Period. End of story.

Now, all of that was to build to this point: Dear saints, God’s view of what is right or wrong, what is good or bad, and what is holy or evil – that’s the only opinion that matters. That is what Jesus is getting at in this text – especially with the parable He tells in v. 8-11.

This parable isn’t like any other parable that Jesus tells. In fact, it is so unique that it won’t appear in most lists of Jesus’ parables that you can find. But Luke clearly calls it a parable in v. 7, so a parable it is. I would guess that the confusion about it being a parable stems from the fact that, at face value, it’s an etiquette lesson of how to be a good guest at a wedding feast. Basically, don’t automatically sit yourself in a place of honor because the host might see someone who is more important than you. Then, the host is going to tell you to sit somewhere else and give the more important person the seat of honor. If that happens, you’ll end up sitting somewhere obscure because all the other good seats are taken. Instead, Jesus says to sit in a low, undesirable place so the host can honor you saying, “Hey, friend. You deserve better. I’m going to move you up here.”

Again, this is just good, wise advice. But this advice is also a parable because there is a deeper theological truth here. Discovering that truth hinges on one thing. In this “etiquette parable” whose opinion matters? The host’s. Only the host’s. It doesn’t matter if everyone else at the wedding feast thought you were the most important person there. If the host tells you another guest gets the seat of honor, it’s his feast. So, the other guy gets it.

Here’s the point. Don’t move yourself up. Instead, be moved up by God. In that parable, the host is God Himself. His opinion of you and your honor – that’s the only thing that matters. So, there are times where you have to tell the little Pharisee inside of you to shut up and stop trying to clamor for honor and recognition and accolades. The opinions of others (and even your own opinions), they don’t matter (1 Co. 4:3-5). And Jesus, the Son of God, clearly tells you what He finds honorable and shameful in the last verse of this reading. “Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted” (Lk. 14:11).

If you are trying to exalt yourself and be impressive by your self-chosen good works, it isn’t going to go well for you. God is going to come into the banquet hall and say to you, “No. You don’t get to sit here.” And where will that leave you? Ultimately, it’ll leave you outside and in the darkness (Mt. 22:13). Instead, sit in the lowest seat, and don’t worry if others ask, “What are you doing there? Why are you putting up with that lowly, humiliating spot?” Don’t worry about being in positions that others think are shameful. God the Host is going to come Himself and say, “Friend, why are sitting way down here? Move up higher.”

One of the things Jesus is doing with this parable is He’s giving you God’s perspective on your simple, normal, everyday callings and vocations and works. Don’t ever forget that God is the One who has put you in those vocations and given you those works. Even if they don’t look flashy or impressive to the world, they are exactly the places where God has put you and given you holy work to do. If you stop and think about it, what higher seat is there than the seat God gives you?

To understand this better, imagine two people. The first is a devout monk who has abandoned the world to live a life of holiness. He takes a vow to get up every night at 2 AM and pray for three hours. Every night, this monk deprives himself of sleep; goes into a chapel to burn incense; lies face-down on a stone floor; and earnestly prays. The second person is a mom. At 2 AM, she gets woken up by the cries of her newborn because he’s sick with a stuffed, runny nose and has a full, stinky diaper. Exhausted, she stumbles around the room. She gets her hands into the snot and poop. She cleans and comforts and feeds the child. And she spends hours to finally rock him back to sleep.

Both of them are getting up at 2 AM. Both are doing work instead of sleeping. But which one is more holy, exalted, and honorable – the monk who chose to take that vow? Or the mom who received her child from God Himself? Of course it’s the mom.

Think of Paul in today’s Epistle reading (Eph. 4:1-6). In v. 1, he wrote, “I therefore, a prisoner…” I mean how low can you get? Paul is there in prison – rats running across his feet, muck oozing down the walls, mold in the air. And Paul writes, “I a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called.” Paul recognized that, even in prison, he’s the Lord’s prisoner. It wasn’t Caesar or a king or a governor. God put him there. And if God, his loving heavenly Father, put him there, what better or more honorable place could there be?

Dear saints, the religion of the Gospel is the only thing that moves you up. You don’t need all the Pharisaical nonsense that vainly tries to get God to clap for you and give you accolades. One, it’s not going to work. And two, God has already given you important, holy works to do. Those works are pleasing to Him; those works show your love for Him by showing love for your neighbor. 

So, walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called. And you’ve been called God’s friend. God’s saints. God’s holy ones. God’s children. The work God gives you is worthy and holy. So, do that work with all your might.

Dear saints, you have the true religion which is faith that God is the One who moves you up. Not yourself. Not ever yourself. You are moved up, exalted, and honored by the holy and righteous God who calls you, “Friend.” And He calls you, “Friend,” solely because of what Christ has done on the cross for you. Amen.

The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus (Php. 4:7). Amen.

Location – Sermon on Luke 18:9-14 for the Eleventh Sunday after Trinity

Luke 18:9–14

9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: 10 “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ 13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Most of you are familiar with the phrase, “The three most important factors in real estate are – location, location, location.” A house here in East Grand Forks would probably be triple the cost if you moved it to Los Angeles County. For some reason, want to live there. I’ll gladly take winter.

A similar thing could be said about sin. The three most important factors about sin are – location, location, location. To be clear, I’m not talking about where sin is committed geographically. Speaking a lie to a massive crowd of people is just as damning as lying to yourself in your own mind without ever moving your lips. By referring to sin’s location here, I’m talking about where the sin resides. Sin has a place. Either sin is on you, or sin is on Jesus, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (Jn. 1:29).

We have this wrong tendency to think of sin as something abstract and floating around somewhere. There is no sin outside of the one who is committing it. Sin starts in the heart. Jesus says, “Out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander” (Mt. 15:19). A sinner isn’t simply a person who commits sins. All people, besides Jesus, commit sin. Being a sinner means to be a person who is outside of God’s fellowship, outside the kingdom of God, someone who belongs with the demons. That is why we need Jesus to be the Savior of sinners. He changes the location of the sin. He removes it from the sinner as far as the east is from the west (Ps. 103:12).

Now, with that in mind, let’s consider the parable, which is about as straightforward as it gets. We’re told that the audience is people who are sinners with sin residing in them but still trusted in themselves and their own righteousness while treating others with contempt. Jesus also gives a clear conclusion to the parable, “Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” But to get a fuller sense of what Jesus is teaching here we need to set the picture of what is going on in the parable. The people who originally heard this would have been familiar with what goes on in the Temple, but we probably aren’t.

Two men went up into the Temple, which is God’s house (1 Kgs. 8:13, 27), and they go for a specific purpose – to pray and worship. In English, we typically think of prayer as an individual thing. Sure, we will pray the Lord’s Prayer and say grace before a meal with others. But normally we think of prayer as an individual thing and worship as a corporate, communal thing. But the people in Jesus’ day had one word for both prayer and worship. These two men go to the place of worship at the same time. What kind of service are they attending?

They would have been at the Temple for the atonement offering, which was the only service that took place every day in the Temple, and it occurred twice each day – once at dawn and again at three in the afternoon. The service would begin by the altar for sacrifice. An unblemished lamb was slaughtered, and its blood was sprinkled on the altar following a precise ritual.

This sacrifice was a reminder of how God covered the sin, nakedness, and shame of Adam and his wife by providing garments of animal skins after they fell into sin (Gen. 3:21). It showed that God would accept the death of another in place of the sinner. As the atonement lamb was sacrificed, certain prayers were offered with the sound of silver trumpets and cymbals. The people would sing a Psalm. A priest would go into the Holy Place where he would offer incense, praying that the sacrifice would be pleasing to God. Then, when the priest entered the Holy Place with that incense, the people would offer their private prayers to God.

But the Pharisee’s prayer directly contradicted everything that was happening around him in the Temple. He thanks God that he is acceptable because of who he is and who he is not, what he has not done and what he has done. His prayer in that context would be like coming here on Good Friday and praying, “God, I’m sure glad I’m not like all these sinners around me who need Jesus to die for their sins.” It’s utterly blasphemous.

But the tax collector’s prayer harmonizes with the service in at least two very specific ways. First, when the tax collector prays, “God be merciful to me, a sinner,” he isn’t using the normal word for ‘mercy.’ Many times in the Gospels, we hear people with sickness, disease, or other affliction cry to Jesus, “Have mercy” (Mt. 15:22, 20:31; Lk. 18:38-39). That’s always a good prayer to ask God for blessings you haven’t earned and the relief that you don’t deserve. But the tax collector’s prayer uses a different word. We could translate his prayer as, “God, atone me. God, reconcile me. God, make me what I should be.” That’s the first way his prayer harmonizes with the service. He is praying that the atonement that is taking place there in the Temple and the sacrifice being offered would do what God had promised it would do and remove his sin from him (Lev. 4:35).

Second, his prayer harmonizes with the service because this tax collector recognizes that he is the sinner who needs atonement. He needs to be reconciled. He needs to have his sin, his shame, his guilt removed. Again, that’s precisely what that service was pointing to. That is what the tax collector looked to, and that is why he went down to his house justified.

Now, there is a danger in this parable. We know that the really good, moral Pharisee did not go home justified, but this sinful tax collector did. The danger that can arise for us then is to think that everything about the Pharisee is bad. Be careful with that. It is good and right to not be extortioners, unjust, adulterers. It is good to fast and give tithes. That is all good stuff. There is another side to the coin of the Pharisee’s prayer. We might be tempted to pray, “God, I thank You that I am not like other men, self-righteous, pretentious, holier-than-thou types, or even like this Pharisee. I’ve given You my heart, dedicated my life to You, and made You my Lord.” Do you see what that does? It locates our eyes off of Jesus – the One who atones for our sin (1 Jn. 2:2).

The location of your sin matches where you look. If you look to yourself, your sin is on you. If you look to Christ, your sin is gone, defeated, eternally removed.

Let me close with an analogy: Imagine you had to cross some terrifying span. Far below at the bottom of that span are all the things you fear most – snakes, rats, lava, rough seas, or sharks. You fill in whatever is scariest. But there is a bridge that spans that gap. What would you look to for confidence in crossing that gap? You’d look to the bridge. You’d see if it was well-built, sturdy, and strong. You wouldn’t look inward to see if you have enough confidence in the bridge. And you build confidence in the bridge by looking at the bridge.

So, dear saints, where are you looking? Are you looking toward things you have done – either good works or your own humility? If so, you should have no confidence whatsoever.

Look to Jesus. His sacrifice, His blood, His death, His resurrection is enough. Looking there, you go to your house justified by God’s sure and certain declaration. Amen.

The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Falling Up – Sermon on Luke 18:9-14 for the Eleventh Sunday after Trinity

Luke 18:9-14

9 [Jesus] also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: 10 “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ 13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Some portions of Scripture are familiar and important enough that all we need to hear is the book and chapter, and our mind recalls most of the content. For example, when you hear someone mention Psalm 23, you have all the sheep and shepherd imagery that the Psalm contains. Maybe you don’t have Psalm 23 completely memorized, but you know the general content. So, I have a pop quiz for you on this last Sunday of August, what comes to mind when you hear Genesis 3? Typically known as ‘The Fall [into Sin].’

It is somewhat unfortunate. Yes, that is when mankind and all creation became infected with sin. And because of that sin, we are born under God’s judgment and condemnation. So, yes, it is a fall. But when we label it ‘the Fall,’ we can easily forget how we fell. Mankind fell by trying to go up. Now, I’m not going to suggest that we rename that chapter in our minds, but I do want you to recognize the direction of the Fall.

God told Adam and Eve to not eat of the tree, but they decided to do it anyway. The devil asked the woman, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” Eve responded mostly correctly by pointing out the big downside of eating, “If we eat from it God says we will die.” (Now, she also adds not touching the tree to God’s prohibition against eating from the tree, but that’s for another time), “God told us to not eat it or we would die.” But Satan poo-poos the downside. “You won’t die; instead, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God knowing good and evil.” The devil lies saying that the sin will only be beneficial to Adam and Eve.

The text goes on to say that the tree looked good for food, it was a delight to the eyes, and it was desired to make them wise and like God knowing good and evil. They both took and ate. They fell into sin, but they fell by trying to go upward. They rose up in pride. They exalted themselves. Believed in themselves. Trusted in themselves. They desired to rise high, up to godly and divine status. Ever since that moment, everyone who has ever been born has the same desire to exalt themselves.

Now, to the parable. Jesus tells this parable to individuals who continue in that line of thinking, they are falling up. They trusted (lit. they ‘persuaded’ or ‘convinced’ themselves) that they were righteous and treated others with contempt. That is why the two men in the parable are so different.

As the Pharisee prays, he is looking around at the lives of others – extortioners, unjust, adulterers, and tax collectors – and at his own life – his fasting and tithing. Now, all these works are, actually, good things. It is good and right to not be like the sinners that surround you, and it is good and right to do the good works that the Pharisee does. The Pharisee’s problem is not his good works. His problem is that everywhere he looks are places where he won’t find Jesus, the Righteous One, who makes sinners righteous. The Pharisee won’t find Christ by looking at his good life, and he won’t find Jesus by looking at the sins of his neighbor. All he sees is his goodness which leads him to pride. And his pride means that he goes home not justified. The Pharisee fell up. He went to the Temple of God, where God had promised to atone for sins, but the Pharisee receives no atonement.

The tax collector does go home justified. Think of all the things the tax collector could have prayed; he could have prayed, “God help me to be more like this Pharisee. Help me to live better, fast better, pray better, and tithe more.” But he doesn’t. The tax collector goes up to the Temple and sees only two things: the just demands of a holy God and his own sinfulness and depravity. He looks at himself where there is no hope and to God where the only hope lies. He sees the gap and cries out for mercy. Our translation records his prayer as, “God be merciful to me, a sinner!” This translation is weak on two points. First, it is not just ‘a sinner’; he prays, ‘the sinner.’ The only sins he sees are his own. Second, the translation of his prayer, ‘be merciful,’ falls short.

Throughout the Gospels, many people call to Jesus, “Lord, have mercy,” or in Greek, “Kyrie eleison.” They ask Jesus to do exactly what He has come to do, to be their Lord who has mercy. It’s a good prayer. But what the tax collector in this parable prays is something similar but importantly different. The tax collector prays to God (lit.), “Be propitiated to me, the sinner.”

To propitiate means to make an atoning sacrifice. And the tax collector prays that God would be made to be, that God would become the atoning sacrifice for him. In the Greek translation of the Old Testament, this word was also used for the mercy seat on the ark of the covenant. The place where the high priest would sprinkle the blood on the Day of Atonement and where God promised to meet with His people (Ex. 25:22; Lev. 16) was called by the same word. Jesus is that place where God makes the atoning sacrifice. 1 John 2:2 says, “[Jesus] is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world.” Jesus is your Great High Priest who makes the propitiating sacrifice of Himself. 

Now, our problem is that we flip the parable upside down. We easily swap the Pharisees’ prayer with our own version, “God, I thank You that I am not like other men, self-righteous, pretentious, holier-than-thou types, or even like this Pharisee. I don’t take so much pride in my good works.” But when you do that, you are literally being the Pharisee. Repent.

The Pharisee’s problem was not his fasting or tithing, it isn’t even that he was glad that he wasn’t like the “really bad” sinners. His problem was that he trusted in those things and does not trust that Jesus will forgive him and be the propitiation for his sins. 

In the end, it is the tax collector who leaves the Temple with God having become the propitiation for his sins, so he goes down to his house justified. And that is an important point to keep in mind.

The tax collector goes home declared by God to be holy and just no matter how despicable he was. He goes home a changed man. He now goes down to his house to live out a holy life. God could have forgiven and propitiated him and swept him immediately up into heaven like Jesus did with the thief on the cross. But God doesn’t. And God hasn’t done that for you – not yet anyway. The tax collector goes home justified and that makes a difference for him, his family, his neighbors, and for the entire world. 

By God’s grace freely given through Jesus, the tax collector is exalted; he is lifted up. What Jesus says in Matthew 5 about Christians being the light of the world is fitting here. You aren’t the light of the world because you do all the good works of the Pharisee in this parable. Instead, you are forgiven and justified by Jesus who is the light of the world. That forgiveness and mercy joins you to Jesus who is the light of the world. Through the work of the Holy Spirit, you are given the gift of faith and enlightened. The Holy Spirit then places you on a lampstand so that you, the justified, give light to the whole house (Mt. 5:14-16).

Since the Fall, our thoughts have been upward, but God’s thoughts have been downward.  We sinners keep reaching for the heights, but Jesus has come down into the depths to raise you up and seat you with Him in the heavenly places (Col. 3:1-3).

Dear saints, don’t fall up. Don’t exalt your good works as though you are better than others. And don’t exalt your sinfulness as though you are better than the self-righteous because that isn’t humility either. Both of those are falling up. Instead, be exalted down. The most exalted you can be is to be one of the sinners for whom Jesus has come and given His life as a propitiation, an atoning sacrifice. And, dear saints, Christ has done this, and He has done this for you. Amen.

The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Humbled – Sermon on Luke 14:1-11 for the Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity

Luke 14:1-11

1 One Sabbath, when [Jesus] went to dine at the house of a ruler of the Pharisees, they were watching him carefully. 

2 And behold, there was a man before him who had dropsy. 3 And Jesus responded to the lawyers and Pharisees, saying, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath, or not?” 4 But they remained silent. Then he took him and healed him and sent him away. 5 And he said to them, “Which of you, having a son or an ox that has fallen into a well on a Sabbath day, will not immediately pull him out?” 6 And they could not reply to these things. 

7 Now he told a parable to those who were invited, when he noticed how they chose the places of honor, saying to them, 8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest someone more distinguished than you be invited by him, 9 and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this person,’ and then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place, so that when your host comes he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at table with you. 11 For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Jesus eats with all sorts of people. He eats at His friends’ house with Mary, Martha, and Lazarus (Lk. 10:38-42). He eats at His disciples’ houses. He eats in Peter’s house and Peter’s mother-in-law serves Him (Lk. 4:38-39). Jesus calls Matthew the tax collector to be His disciple and eats with him and other sinners. And you remember that the reason Jesus tells the parable of the Lost Sheep, Lost Coin, and Prodigal Son is the Pharisees accusing Jesus of welcoming and eating with sinners (Lk. 15:1-2).

We aren’t surprised that Jesus would eat with His friends and disciples. We do that too. And as Christians, we are comfortable with the fact that Jesus eats with sinners. But we might find it surprising that Jesus would even eat with Pharisees. The Pharisees were our Lord’s enemies. From the beginning of His ministry, the Pharisees were butting heads with Jesus (Lk. 5:21; Jn. 5:18).

Think of the person in your class or at work that you most regularly butt heads with – no matter what you just can’t seem to get along. He takes everything you say and turns it into an accusation against you, so you’re always on your toes, always analyzing everything word out of your mouth. Being around a guy like that is exhausting. Now, if that person invited you over for dinner, you’re going to decline. (Unless they tell you that they are going to be serving dry-aged Wagyu steaks. Then, you probably go, you just don’t stay for dessert.) But as difficult as the person you are imagining is, he probably isn’t trying to find some way to get you the death sentence. That’s exactly what the Pharisees wanted for Jesus, but our Lord still repeatedly ate with the Pharisees.

Once, Jesus went to Simon the Pharisee’s house where He was anointed by the sinful woman who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears (Lk. 7:36-50). Another time, Jesus was invited to eat at a Pharisee’s house and didn’t wash His hands the way the Sabbath traditions requires (Lk. 11:37-54). When Luke finishes recording that meal, he notes that the scribes and Pharisees were lying in wait for Him, to catch Him in something He might say.

Now here, in our text, an important Pharisee has invited Jesus to his house for a Sabbath dinner. And, what d’ya know? Jesus goes. 

Now, we have to imagine this scene of everyone arriving for the fancy dinner. Luke here gives us enough details to sketch this out, but they are interspersed in the account. So, let’s bring them together into one picture. Jesus arrives at this ruling Pharisee’s swanky house. As the guests arrive, they might give a nod or a handshake to their friends, but each of them is more interested in positioning themselves to get the best seats. They are cutting in front of each other to get as close as possible to the head of the table. I don’t know how a Pharisee would save a seat – maybe he’d drink half of whatever was in the cup or lick the silverware. Who knows? But they are all claiming their spots and making sure their position is secure and no one else takes it from them. Then, their gaze turns towards Jesus.

When Jesus arrived, He wasn’t concerned with sitting in the high, prominent spots. So, we can assume that there was only one spot left at the table – the lowest. Jesus finds His place, and the eyes of all the Pharisees are on Him. If you were there and watching Jesus approach His seat, you wouldn’t notice the fine dining couch or the fancy china. The only thing that would catch your attention was this man.

Luke, the doctor, tells us that the man before Jesus has ‘dropsy.’ The term does appears in medical literature about 300 years before Jesus by a guy named Hippocrates (from whom, we get the Hippocratic oath). The word is actually two words mushed together – “water” and “appearance.” In other words, the guy was swollen, grossly bloated. It is not stretching the text at all to assume the Pharisees brought this man in so they could accuse Jesus of breaking the 3rd Commandment, “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.”

Now, the Pharisees had lengthy discussions on what was and what wasn’t permitted on the Sabbath. They wrote all sorts of rules that defined what you could and couldn’t do on the day of rest. It went so far as to define where you could spit. Every other day of the week, you could spit wherever you wanted, but on the day of rest, you could only spit on rocks because spitting on soil might be watering a plant and considered work. Also in their discussions, they considered how much help you could give to a person who was sick or injured. For example, if someone had a cut you could apply a bandage to keep the wound from getting worse, but you couldn’t apply the bandage in a way that would help the person get better because that would be considered work.

These Pharisees are all closely watching as Jesus sees this man, ballooned up with disease. But Jesus turns the tables. Notice, they don’t ask Jesus a question, but He responds to the situation asking, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath or not?” The Pharisees don’t say a word. Jesus heals the man. His swelling is gone. His features return to normal, and Jesus sends him away. Then, Jesus exposes the Pharisees’ hypocrisy. “Which of you, having a son or an ox that has fallen into a well on a Sabbath day, will not immediately pull him out?”After this question, the Pharisees aren’t just silent. They aren’t able to answer. With two pointed questions, Jesus humbles the Pharisees into deafening silence.

Then, our Lord throws the knock-out punch. They had been watching Jesus carefully as He approached the table, but He had been watching them too. They had been scrambling, shoving, jolting, and jockeying for the best places. It’s interesting: for all the discussion and debate the Pharisees had on what was and wasn’t considered work on the Sabbath, they didn’t debate about contending for prominent positions in their regulations. And Jesus echoes what we had in the first two verses of our Old Testament lesson (Pro. 25:6-14). Basically, if you put yourself forward as being important, you’re likely going to be humbled, and it’s going to be a public spectacle. Instead, be humble, and wait for your host to exalt you.

Now, of course, this is some solid, practical advice. Any motivational speaker could take what Jesus says here and teach a helpful lesson: Don’t strut around blowing smoke about how important you are. Instead, go about your business quietly, and your recognition will come in due time. But this isn’t a self-help seminar, and I’m not a motivational speaker.

Instead, notice what happened at this meal. Jesus, who was by far the most important person there, ended up in the lowest seat. And even though no one changed positions, Christ elevated His place back the peanut gallery to be the prominent place, and those who were at the head of the table end up in the bleachers.

Dear saints, as our Epistle lesson (Eph 4:1-6) said, “Walk in a manner worthy of your calling.” Humble. Gentle. Patient. Bearing with one another in love. Paul will say a similar thing in Php. 2:5-11, “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” But Jesus didn’t remain humbled and lowly in death. The text goes on, “Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

Dear saints, this humbled mind is yours. You, Christian, are saved by God’s grace. Live that out. You were sinful and low, but Christ has invited you, by the cleansing of His blood, to sit at His table. He has given you the seat of honor next to Him. Through His death and resurrection, you have been raised with Him. Your life is even now hidden with Christ in God. And the day is coming when Christ who is your life appears, you also will appear with Him in glory (Col. 3:1-4). Christ will call to you, “Friend, move up higher.” And you, and all believers, will be honored in the presence of all creation. Amen.

The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

The Eyes of Prayer – Sermon on Luke 18:9-14 for the Eleventh Sunday after Trinity

Listen here.

Luke 18:9-14

9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: Luke 18_9-14 - Pharisee and Tax Collector10 “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ 13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

When we pray, we are taught to fold our hands, bow our heads, and close our eyes. Even though this isn’t commanded anywhere in Scripture, it is a good idea for a few reasons. One, it helps keep you from being distracted by, looking at, or fiddling with the stuff around you. Two, it focuses your attention on what you are praying. And three, it is a unique posture to place your body in which makes it a special or holy posture. You don’t typically fold your hands unless you are either praying or getting arrested. (I like to watch clips from the show Live PD, and I find it hilarious how often police officers from all over the country will tell the criminal with bags of drugs, an illegal gun, and two felony warrants, “Place your hands behind your back and interlock your fingers like you’re praying at church.”) Anyway…

I titled this sermon “The Eyes of Prayer” not to make the point that you should close your eyes when you pray – even though, again, it is a good practice. Instead, I hope this sermon encourages you to look only two places when you pray – one is your unworthiness and the other is God’s great mercy toward you.

Just like two weeks ago with the parable of the unjust steward and the merciful master, getting some context for this parable is helpful. Luke 18 opens with the parable of the persistent widow. She keeps crying out to the unrighteous judge asking for justice. The unrighteous judge finally gives her justice but only so she won’t beat him down with her constant asking (v. 2-5). The introduction to that parable says that Jesus, “told them a parable to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart” (v. 1). Jesus teaches what the parable means (v. 6-8) by basically saying that if an unrighteous person will grant justice when he is continually asked, how much more will God, who is just, grant justice when His elect, beloved children cry out to Him. In fact, God will answer their cries quickly.

Now, as we turn to this parable which follows that one, we see how quickly and mercifully God answers the prayers of His elect.

A Pharisee and a tax collector go up to the Temple to pray. The Pharisee assumes a posture that we would recognize as prayer. He stands off by himself. He is likely looking up in thankfulness to God, but his eyes are also scanning the other worshipers in the Temple, and those eyes look down on the sinners who are there.

Now, we need to be careful about our animosity toward the Pharisee because he is simply doing what you and I do all the time. Remember, Jesus repeatedly warns against becoming like the Pharisees (Mt. 16:6-12; Mk. 8:15; Lk. 12:1), and Jesus wouldn’t give these warnings unless it is actually easy to become like them. Why is it easy? Why are we in danger of becoming like Pharisees?

When we look at the sins of our neighbor, much of what we see confirms that our good behavior is beneficial to us which too often leads us to pride. The stuff that God calls us to do in the Ten Commandments is really good stuff, and your life is much better if you live according to them. Think about it. When people commit adultery, do their lives get worse or better? Of course, they get worse. When people steal, they are more likely have their things stolen. If you deal drugs, your odds of getting shot, robbed, or thrown in prison are much higher.

The reality is that God didn’t just come up with a set of ten arbitrary rules. Instead, the Ten Commandments are written into the fabric of God’s creation. When you go against the natural laws of God and creation, it isn’t going to go well for you or for those around you.

And just a little side note here: Christians, we need to stand firm on the truths of the Commandments – especially that it is good to live in obedience to them. It is not loving to condone or promote people’s sins. When there is sin, we should speak of it as sin. We need to show how it hurts the individual committing that sin and how it harms those around the person committing that sin. But when you do that, the world is likely going to throw Jesus’ words in your face about the speck in your neighbor’s eye and log in your own eye (Mt. 7:3-5). But don’t let them take those verses out of context. Remember, Jesus wants to remove both the log in your eye and the speck in your neighbor’s eye by His mercy through the Gospel that Jesus has won through His death and resurrection. In other words, when you point out someone’s sin, always do it in a way that points them to the freedom from sin and forgiveness of sin that comes only through Jesus. Amen?

So, back to the Pharisee and his eyes of prayer. He is looking around at his life and the lives of others. The problem is that everywhere the Pharisee looks are places where he can’t find Jesus. The Pharisee won’t find Christ by looking at his good life, and he won’t find Jesus by looking at the sins of his neighbor. All he sees is his goodness which leads him to pride and going home not justified.

pharisee-tax-collectorThe tax collector’s eyes of prayer are much different. He doesn’t look to heaven, and he doesn’t look at the sinners around him. He stands far off from the others, likely with his face to the floor, tears flowing down his cheeks, and beating his chest. He looks two places – at himself where there is no hope and to God where the only hope lies.

The tax collector’s eyes of prayer are eyes of faith. Incredible faith! Our translation records his prayer as, “God be merciful to me, a sinner!” This is weak on two points. First, it is not just ‘a sinner’; he says, ‘thesinner.’ His eyes don’t notice anyone else’s sins – only his own. Second, the translation of his prayer, ‘be merciful,’ falls short here.

Throughout the Gospels, many people call to Jesus, “Lord, have mercy,” or in Greek, “Kyrie eleison,” which is why we sing the Kyrie after the Confession of Sin. The ten lepers call out, “Kyrie eleison” (Lk. 17:13). Two blind men early in Jesus ministry and blind Bartimeaus just before Palm Sunday cry out to Jesus, “Kyrie eleison” (Mt. 9:27; Mk. 10:47). The Canaanite woman cries out to Jesus, “Kyrie eleison,” on behalf of her demon possessed daughter (Mt. 15:22). All of those are excellent prayers. They are asking Jesus to do exactly what He has come to do. But what the tax collector in this parable prays is something similar but importantly different. The tax collector prays to God (lit.), “Be propitiated to me, the sinner.”

The noun ‘propitiation’ and the verb ‘propitiate’ have never been commonly used in English, but it is an extremely important word and concept. To propitiate means to make an atoning sacrifice. And the tax collector prays that God would be made the atoning sacrifice for him. In the Greek translation of the Old Testament, this word was also used for the mercy seat on the ark of the covenant. The place where the high priest would sprinkle the blood on the Day of Atonement and where God promised to meet with His people (Ex. 25:22; Lev. 16) was called by the same word.

Jesus is that place where God makes the atoning sacrifice. 1 John 2:2 says, “[Jesus] is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world.” Jesus is your Great High Priest who makes the propitiating sacrifice of Himself. Hebrews 2:17 says, “[Christ] had to be made like His brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.”

When the tax collector prays, “God, be propitiated to me, the sinner,” he is praying that God would be reconciled to him by the blood of Jesus. And that is why the tax collector, who is the far greater sinner, goes home justified rather than the well-behaved Pharisee. He looks to God in faith and asks God to be exactly who God has promised to be – a merciful, forgiving God.

Hear again what we sang before the sermon:

Trinity 11 Luke 18_9-14 - Pharisee and Tax CollectorWhen in the hour of deepest need
we know not where to look for aid;
when days and nights of anxious thought
no help or counsel yet have brought.

Then is our comfort – this alone –
that we may meet before Your throne.
To you, O faithful God, we cry
for rescue in our misery.

Dear saints, may your eyes of prayer be focused on God’s infinite mercy toward you despite your unworthiness. Know that God is always more ready to hear your prayers than you are to pray. God always gives more and better than you desire or deserve. He pours down His abundant mercy upon you. He forgives you of all the sins – every last one of those sins – that prick your conscience. He does all of this because of what Jesus has done for you. Christ has propitiated and reconciled you to God.

May our eyes of prayer be on our unworthiness and, even better, on God’s faithfulness and mercy to us because of what Christ has done. Amen.

The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.