Posts Tagged 'discipleship'

Forgiveness

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A Quality of Discipleship – Forgiveness

Scripture Reading:  Matthew 18:21 – 35

 Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?  (Matthew 18:33 | TNIV)

 

Introduction.  As we continue our series on the Qualities of Discipleship, we come to today to the fourth quality:  Forgiveness.  Discipleship is transformation into the likeness of the Lord Jesus Christ.  One of the most distinctive marks of a genuine disciple is the quality of forgiveness.  In our culture of offense and grievance, forgiveness is a radical testimony to the Gospel.

The magnitude of the debt, Matthew 18:23 – 25.

“Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. [24] As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand bags of gold was brought to him. [25] Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt.”  (Matthew 18:23 – 25 | TNIV)

In this parable, the king represents God, and he is settling accounts.  One servant owes “10,000 bags of gold” – in Greek, 10,000 talents.  A talent equaled about 20 years’ wages for a day laborer.  So, 10,000 talents represents roughly 200,000 years of wages – an unpayable sun, deliberately hyperbolic and completely beyond human ability.  This pictures the magnitude of our debt to God.  Our sins – every thought, word, and deep that falls short of His glory – have created a debt we can never repay.  We may minimize our sins, but the Bible presents them as an infinite offense against an infinite God.  This was something David understood.  Look down at Psalm 51:4 –

For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me. [4] Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight; so you are right in your verdict and justified when you judge.  (Psalm 51:3, 4 | TNIV)

Understand this:  Our rebellion is cosmic treason against the Lawgiver.

The consequences are severe:  The master orders that the man, his wife, his children, and all he had be sold.  This reflects the just judgment of God.  Paul tells us in Romans 6:23 that “the wages of sin is death.”  Eternal payment is what we deserve.  No partial payment is possible.  No good works, religious activity, or self-reformation can settle the account.  As the hymn writer wrote:

Could my tears forever flow, could my zeal no respite know, these for sin could not atone; Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Have you truly reckoned with the magnitude of your debt?  In our self-justifying age, we compare ourselves to others.  Bu the standard is the thrice-holy God.  When the prophet Isaiah saw the Lord high and lifted up, he cried:

“Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.”  (Isaiah 6:5 | TNIV)

The first step in true discipleship is recognizing that we are bankrupt debtors with no means to pay.  Until we grasp the enormity of our sin, we will never appreciate the wonder of forgiveness or be motivated to extend it to others.

God initiates the settlement.  One day every person will give an account.  Now, for the believer, that accounting was settled at the Cross.  For those outside Christ, the debt remains unpaid.

The forgiveness of the debt, Matthew 18:26, 27.

“The servant fell on his knees before him. ‘Be patient with me,’ he begged, ‘and I will pay back everything.’ [27] The servant’s master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go.’”  (Matthew 18:26, 27 | TNIV)

The scene changes dramatically.  The servant falls on his knees and begs for patience, promising to repay everything.  His plea is not for cancellation but simply for more time.  He still thinks he can work it off.  That is the natural human response to Holy Spirit conviction:  “I’ll do better.  Give me another chance.”  But the debt is too great.  No amount of patience would ever enable repayment.

But, the master takes pity – from the Greek splanchnizomai, meaning moved with the deepest compassion.  He “canceled the debt” and let him go.  He wiped the slate clean completely and freely.

This  is a breathtaking picture of the Gospel.  God the Father, moved with compassion, has canceled our unpayable debt through the atoning work of His Son.  Colossians 2:13, 14 declares:

When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your sinful nature, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, [14] having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it away, nailing it to the cross.  (Colossians 2:13, 14 | TNIV)

The Cross is where our debt was paid – not by us, but by the perfect Servant who bore the full weight of our sin.

I want you to notice something astounding – the freeness of this forgiveness.  The servant didn’t earn it.  It was pure grace.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— [9] not by works, so that no one can boast.  (Ephesians 2:8, 9 | TNIV)

The king cancels the whole debt.  That’s full forgiveness; complete release.  This is the heart of the Christian message:  Forgiveness of sins is available to all who come to Christ in repentance and faith.

For the disciple this isn’t just past tense.  We live daily in the reality of forgiven debt.

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.  (1 John 1:9 | TNIV)

The magnitude of the debt magnifies the magnitude of the mercy.

Have you experienced this cancellation?  If you’ve fallen on your knees before the King and received the free forgiveness that is in Christ alone, then you know the joy being set free from the power and penalty of sin.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus…  (Romans 8:1 | TNIV)

 That’s the second great truth:  The debt has been forgiven – completely, compassionately, and permanently for all who trust in the Savior.

The terms of forgiveness, Matthew 18:28 – 34.

“But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred silver coins. He grabbed him and began to choke him. ‘Pay back what you owe me!’ he demanded. [29] “His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.’ [30] “But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt. [31] When the other servants saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and went and told their master everything that had happened. [32] “Then the master called the servant in. ‘You wicked servant,’ he said, ‘I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. [33] Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?’ [34] In anger his master handed him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.  (Matthew 18:28 – 34 | TNIV)

The parable doesn’t end happily.  There’s a devastating turn.  The forgiven servant finds a fellow servant who owes him 100 denarii – or about three months wages.  That’s not an insignificant sum, but pretty trivial compared to the 10,000 talents!  Yet this man who has just received infinite mercy grabs this fellow, chokes him, and demands payment.  The response is refusal.  No pity, no mercy is extended.  The man throws him into prison.

This is the heart of the warning.  The terms of forgiveness are clear:  Those who have been forgiven must forgive much.

Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?  (Matthew 18:33 | TNIV)

The servant received mercy; he was obligated to show it.

Jesus teaches that forgiveness is not a one-time transaction we receive and then ignore in our relationships.  It is a quality of discipleship that must characterize our entire lives.  The unmerciful servant reveals that he never truly appropriated the master’s forgiveness.  His heart remained hard.  True reception of God’s grace produces a gracious spirit.  Listen to what Jesus taught in Matthew 6:14, 15 –

For if you forgive others when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. [15] But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.  (Matthew 6:14, 15 | TNIV)

An unforgiving heart is incompatible with a forgiven heart.

Verse 35 drives home the point:

“This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive a brother or sister from your heart.”  (Matthew 18:35 | TNIV)

Forgiveness must be “from your heart” – an inward release of the debt, a choice to no longer hold an offense against another person, empowered by the Spirit.

What does this mean practically for disciples today?  First, we must regularly examine our hearts for unforgiveness.  Is there someone you’re choking – emotionally, relationally, spiritually?  A parent who failed you?  A church member who gossiped?  An enemy who wronged you?  The debt they owe you, however large it feels, in a hundred denarii compared to the 10,000 talents God has forgiven you.  To withhold forgiveness is to deny the Gospel we claim to believe.

Second, forgiveness doesn’t mean denying the reality of the sin or forgoing justice where appropriate.  But it does mean releasing the personal right to revenge, bitterness, and the demand for repayment.  Remember what Paul wrote:

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.  (Ephesians 4:32 | TNIV)

Third, this quality of discipleship is essential for the health of the church.  Matthew 18 is all about community life.  Unforgiveness destroys fellowship, grieves the Spirit, and destroys our witness.  A forgiving church is a powerful testimony that the Gospel changes people.

Lastly, remember that forgiveness is not always instantaneous or easy.  It’s sometimes a process, a repeated choice, especially in cases of deep wounding.  But it is always possible through the power of the Holy Spirit who sheds abroad the love of God in our hearts (Romans 5:5).  We forgive not because the other person deserves it, but because we have been forgiven infinitely more.

Conclusion.  The quality of forgiveness is  not an optional mark of true discipleship.  The magnitude of our debt should drive us to our knees in repentance.  The forgiveness of that debt should fill us with gratitude and joy.  And the terms of that forgiveness should compel us to extend the same mercy to others – from the heart.

As we close today, search your heart.  Is there a debt you are still holding on to?  In light of the Cross, will you cancel it and choose the path of the merciful?  The same King who canceled your canceled your debt will give you the ability to cancel the debts of others.  May we be known for radical, Christ-like forgiveness that points the world to the Savior.

Neighborliness

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A Quality of Discipleship – Neighborliness

 Luke 10:25 – 27.

 

Introduction.  The parable of the Good Samaritan is one of the most famous stories Jesus ever told.  It has inspired the building of hospitals, orphanages, homes for the infirmed, and has raised more money for them and similar organizations than any others ever written.  Yet its familiarity can dull its sharp edge.  Jesus told this story not merely to warm our hearts but to search them, to challenge our assumptions about who counts as a neighbor, ad to call us to a radical obedience that crosses every barrier we prefer to maintain.

The context: A lawyer’s test and the desire to justify himself.

The encounter begins when an expert in the law – an educated scribed trained in the Torah – stands up to test Jesus.  This probably sounded like a good idea to the scribe, but it’s never a good idea to test the Lord like this.  His questions sound so spiritual:  “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”  Luke doesn’t tell us that the motive behind this test was really to expose our Lord as unorthodox or to draw Him into a debate.

Jesus responds with a question of His own:  “What is written in the Law?  How do you read it?”  The lawyer responds correctly, citing the Shema from Deuteronomy 6:5 –

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.  (Deuteronomy 6:5 | TNIV)

 And then joins it to the command of Leviticus 19:18 –

” ‘Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.’”  (Leviticus 19:18 | TNIV)

That was truly an impressive answer, and Jesus acknowledges it.  This expert in the law knew the right words.  He could quote the greatest commandments with precision.  But knowing the right words and living them are not the same thing.  Sensing the gap, the lawyer asks a clever follow-up question designed to limit his responsibility:  “And who is my neighbor?”

This is the pivotal moment.  He is not seeking deeper insight; he is seeking to justify himself.  He wants Jesus to define the boundaries of “neighbor” so that his obligation to love remains manageable.  It may have been that he was hoping for a definition limited to fellow Jews who kept the Law, members of his own religious circle, or at least those ho were not obvious sinners.  If the circle is drawn tightly enough, obedience becomes feasible and he can feel good about himself.

But Jesus doesn’t play games.  He refuses to define “neighbor” as a restricted category.  Instead the Lord tells a story that redefines what it means to BE a neighbor – whoever the person in need may be.

A dangerous road and an anonymous victim.

Jesus, the master story teller, sets the scene on a real and dangerous road:  The 17 mile-descent from Jerusalem to Jericho, dropping nearly 3,000 feet through rocky, desolate terrain filled with caves and hiding places.  It was notorious for robberies.  Travelers who could traveled in groups for safety.  This man, however, was alone.

In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead.”  (Luke 10:30 | TNIV)

Notice how Jesus describes him:  Simply “a man.”  He was a man with no name, no nationality, no religion, no moral record.  He is Everyman in his vulnerability – stripped of his dignity and protection, beaten into helplessness, left half dead.  In that condition, he is also ritually unclean.  Anyone who touches him, especially if he dies in the process, becomes defiled and unable to perform religious duties until purified.  This man is the ultimate inconvenient, burdensome person.

Enter the religious professionals.

A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. [32] So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.  (Luke 10:31, 32 | TNIV)

These are not cartoon villains.  They are highly respected leaders.  The priest had likely been serving in the Temple in Jerusalem.  The Levite assisted in worship as a musician, attendant, or guard.  They both knew the Scriptures well.  They both taught the Law.  They represented the people before God.

And yet, when they saw the half-dead man, they crossed to the other side of the road and walked on by.  The text doesn’t speculate on their motives, but reasonable inferences include fear for their own safety (if the robbers were hiding), concern for ritual purity (contact with blood or a corpse would defile the for Temple service), the pressure of religious duties that made stopping inconvenient, or simply the human tendency to look away from suffering that would cost us something.

Their failure was not active cruelty.  It was the quieter, more respectable sin of omission.  They saw a clear need and chose not to get involved.  They kept their robes clean and their schedules intact, but they failed the test of love that their precious Law itself required.

Enter the Samaritan who showed what neighborliness really looks like.

But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.  (Luke 10:33 | TNIV)

Here is the great shock of the parable.  A Samaritan of all people.  For Jesus’ Jewish listeners, this was almost a contradiction.  Samaritans were viewed as half-breeds and heretics.  Centuries earlier, after the Assyrian conquest of Israel, intermarriage took place, and they had established their own worship center of Mount Gerizim rather than acknowledging Jerusalem.  Consequently, Jews and Samaritans both avoided each other like the plague.  In the very recent context of Luke 9:51 – 56, the disciples had wanted to call down fire from heaven on a Samaritan village that rejected Jesus.  No one in the audience would have expected the hero of a story about mercy to be a Samaritan.

Yet, this is the man who sees and acts.  “He took pity on him.”  The Greek verb comes from the word for bowels or inner parts.  It describes a deep, visceral, gut-level compassion – the same strong word used of Jesus when He saw the crowds or the needy widow of Nain.  This isn’t mild sympathy from a safe distance.  It’s a movement of the whole person that refuses to let him walk away.

What follows in one of the most detailed pictures of practical, costly mercy in all of Scripture.  The Samaritan doesn’t just feel compassion; he pours himself out.

  • He went to him.  He didn’t shout instructions from across the road or throw money at him.   He approached the place of danger and got close to the suffering.
  • He bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine.  Oil to soothe and protect the wounds, wine to cleanse as an antiseptic – the best first-aid measures available.  He used his own limited resources on stranger from a hostile people.
  • He put the man on his own donkey.  Now the Samaritan is walking while the injured man rides.  He gives up his own comfort and means of transportation.
  • He brought him to an inn and took care of him.  He didn’t drop the man off at the door and leave.  He stayed through the night, personally nursing him back from the edge of death.

The next day, the Samaritan took out two denarii – roughly two days’ wages for a common laborer – and gave them to the innkeeper with clear instructions.

‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’  (Luke 10:35b | TNIV)

He makes an open-ended financial commitment and promises to return to settle accounts.  He takes personal responsibility for the man’s full recovery with no guarantee that the innkeeper will be honest or that the man will survive.

This is neighborliness in action:  Personal, sacrificial, practical, ongoing, and extended without regard to whether the recipient could ever repay or even belonged to the “right” group.

The quality of neighborliness redefined.

 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”  (Luke 10:36 | TNIV)

It’s a natural question Jesus asks the lawyer, and the lawyer answered honestly, but he can’t bring himself to say the word “Samaritan.”

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.” Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”  (Luke 10:37 | TNIV)

In a single sentence, Jesus has transformed the entire conversation.  The lawyer wanted to know the bare minimum – who counts as my neighbor so I know whom I am required to love.  Jesus answers by showing what love looks like when it’s real and alive.  Neighborliness is not a label we place on certain approved people; it’s a way of life we choose to live toward anyone in need.  It’s not defined by identity or worthiness of the other person but by the response of the one who sees suffering and refuses to pass by on the other side.

This quality is essential to true discipleship for several reasons.

First, neighborliness fulfills the law of love that the lawyer himself quoted.  The apostle Paul later wrote this in Galatians 5:14 –

For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  (Galatians 5:14 | TNIV)

James calls it “the royal law.”  And John says that that if we know a brother or sister is in need but don’t do anything to help them, then the love of God can’t be in us.  We can’t claim to love the God we can’t see while refusing to love the brother or sister we can see who is in distress.

Second, neighborliness crosses every barrier the world considers decisive.  The Samaritan helped a Jew despite centuries of hostility and despite the fact that Jews generally despised Samaritans.  In our own context, genuine neighborliness may require us to s how mercy to some one we don’t like, someone from a different political party, a different economic class, a different racial or ethnic background, or someone whose lifestyle or choices we find offensive.  It doesn’t require us to approve of sin or to compromise Biblical truth.  It does require us to refuse to let those differences become an excuse for indifference or contempt.

Third, neighborliness is costly.  The priest and the Levite counted the cost – possible danger, possible defilement, possible disruption of their plans and reputation – and decided it was too high.  The Samaritan counted the same cost and paid it gladly. Real mercy will sometimes cost us time we don’t have, money we could spend on other things, emotional energy, or even our standing with certain people.  When we help “the wrong person,” some may criticize us.  Jesus never promised that following Him would be convenient or popular.

Fourth, neighborliness flows from the Gospel we have received.  We must be honest with ourselves:  Left to our own fallen nature, we are far more like the priest and the Levite than the Samaritan.  We have all passed by on the other side at times – out of fear, busyness, prejudice, or simple selfishness.  The glorious news is that Jesus is the true and Good Samaritan.  When we were spiritual beaten down by sin, stripped of righteousness, and left half-dead, He didn’t pass us by.  He came to us.  He bound up our wounds at the infinite cost of His own blood.  He carried us when we couldn’t walk.  He paid the full price for our healing and continues to care for us as our Great High Priest and Shepherd.  Because we have received such undeserved and costly mercy, the Spirit of Christ now lives in us and produces the fruit of mercy toward others.  We love because He first loved us.

Conclusion.  Neighborliness stands as a culminating and essential mark of those who follow Jesus.  It really is just basic obedience to the command of the Lord.  May the Holy Spirit open our eyes to see the half dead people God places in our path this week.  May He soften our hearts to feel their pain with something of the gut-level compassion that moved the Samaritan and that moved our Savior to many in need.  May He strengthen our hands to bind up wounds, our feet to walk the extra mile, and our resources to meet real needs without partiality.  And may He give us the courage to do it even when it is inconvenient, costly, or unpopular.

For when we live this way, we are not just being nice people or good citizens.  We are showing the world what Jesus looks like.  We are proving the kingdom of God has come near.  And we are demonstrating that we truly are disciples of the One who did not pass us by when we were in desperate need but came to us at a great cost.

Sympathy – A Quality of Discipleship

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QUALITIES OF DISCIPLESHIP

Sympathy

Luke 16:19 – 31.

Introduction.  We are continuing our series on the qualities that mark true disciples of Christ.  We’ve considered other Christlike  traits that the Holy Spirit produces in those who belong to Jesus.  Today we come to that is often overlooked yet absolutely essential:  Sympathy.  That’s not the best word to describe this trait.  Others might use empathy, which also isn’t the best word.  It’s the quality of caring and concern for the well-being of others.

Biblically, sympathy is the ability to suffer with another person, to enter into their pain, to be moved in the depths of our being by their need, and to respond with appropriate concern and action.  It’s never detached pity or occasional charity.  It’s a heart quality that reflects the very heart of Christ, who was “moved with compassion” when He saw hurting people.  Without the right kind of sympathy, our profession of faith remains cold and incomplete.  With it, we show that the love of Christ is truly at work in us.

The Lord Jesus gives us a powerful parable to drive home this truth.  It’s a story told in two clear scenes.  In the first scene we see life on earth and the complete absence of sympathy in one man’s heart.  In the second scene the curtain is pulled back and we see the eternal consequences of a life lived without sympathy.  This parable is one of the most solemn warnings in the Bible about the realities of heaven and hell, the finality of death, and the absolute necessity of possessing and showing genuine concern for the needs of others while we still have time.

Scene 1 – Luke 16:19 – 21.

 “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. [20] At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores [21] and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.”  (Luke 16:19 – 21 | TNIV)

Jesus begins with a striking contrast.  Purple was the color of royalty and extreme wealth; the dye alone cost a fortune.  Fine linen was the softest, most expensive fabric available.  That phrase, “lived in luxury every day” means he feasted sumptuously day after day.  So, this wasn’t a man who enjoyed the good things in life once in a while.  This was his settled lifestyle – comfort, pleasure, status, and abundance without interruption.

At the very gate of this man’s property lay “a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table.  Even the dogs came and licked his sores (vs 20, 21).  Lazarus is the only named character in any of our Lord’s many parables.   “Lazarus” means “God helps” or “whom God helps.”  It’s a  name of faith and dependence.  He is helpless.  He has been “laid” at the gate, unable to walk on his own.  His body is covered with painful, open sores.  He’s starving, reduced to carving the scraps that fell from the rich man’s daily feasts.  In a final touch of irony, the dogs – animals considered unclean in Jewish culture – showed more instinctive care for his wounds than the rich man ever did.

Every single day the rich man passed by that gate.  Every single day he enjoyed his feasts while Lazarus suffered in plain sight.   The gate was not a barrier; it was a daily opportunity for mercy.  Yet there is no record of one kind word, one coin, one invitation, or one act of relief.  The rich man had everything this world could give, and he gave nothing to the man whose only hope was at his doorstep.

Then comes verse 22:

“The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried.”  (Luke 16:22 | TNIV)

Death levels both men, as it levels all.  Lazarus receives no elaborate funeral, but the angels themselves carry his soul to “Abraham’s side,” the place of highest honor and comfort among the righteous dead, a picture of paradise and intimate fellowship with the patriarchs.  The rich man receives a grand burial, probably a very public affair, but what happens after the funeral is what matters forever.

Don’t misunderstand this parable.  Jesus is not teaching that all rich people go to hell and all poor people go to heaven.  Abraham himself was very wealthy.  The issue isn’t the size of the bank account but the condition of the heart.  The rich man had daily evidence of human need right at his gate, daily access to the Word of God that commands love for neighbor, and daily means to make a difference – yet he lived as though the suffering man didn’t exist.  His lack of sympathy revealed a heart untouched by the grace of God.

The question this parable forces upon us is simple but searching.  Are we showing the right kind of sympathy, or have we grown so comfortable in our “luxury every day” that we have developed a quiet hardness of heart?

True discipleship requires sympathy because sympathy was at the very center of Jesus’ life and ministry.  He touched lepers no one else would touch.  He stopped for blind beggars everyone walked past.  He wept with grieving sisters.  He fed hungry crowds.  The apostle John later wrote this:

If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?  (1 John 3:17 | TNIV)

Sympathy is not optional evidence of the new life; it is the necessary evidence.

Scene 2 – Luke 16:23 – 31.

Our second scene opens in the unseen realm.

In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side.  (Luke 16:23 | TNIV)

The rich man is now in conscious torment.  He’s not sleeping, not annihilated, not in some neutral waiting room.  He is suffering and he is aware.  He looks up and sees the very man he ignored now resting in the intimate comfort at Abraham’s side.

Then comes a heartbreaking cry:

‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’   (Luke 16:24 | TNIV)

Notice what the man asks for – pity, sympathy – the very quality he never gave.  He wants Lazarus, the man whose sores he never bandaged and whose hunger he never satisfied, to perform even the smallest act of mercy:  A drop of water on the tip of a finger.  In hell, the rich man finally discovers the value of mercy.  But, of course, it’s too late.

Abraham’s reply is both tender and terrifying:

“But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony.”  (Luke 16:25 | TNIV)

The positions have been eternally reversed.  Then comes the dreadful statement of verse 26:

And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’  (Luke 16:26 | TNIV)

A great chasm – fixed, permanent, and impassable.  No wealth can bridge it. No religious heritage can bridge it.  No second chances exist after death.  There is no development of sympathy in the grave.  There is no crossing over from torment to comfort after death.  The time to show concern for others – to live right – the time to repent, the time to believe the Word of God is now, in this life.  This is one of the clearest teachings in Scripture on the finality of death and the reality of eternal conscious torment for those who reject God and live only for themselves.

Still the rich man pleads:

“He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, [28] for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’  (Luke 16:27, 28 | TNIV)

 Suddenly, like a miracle, he cares about others!  He doesn’t want his brothers to experience what he is experiencing.  In torment he becomes an evangelist of sorts, but it’s too late for him to act.

Abraham’s answer cuts to the heart of the matter:

“Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’  (Luke 16:29 | TNIV)

In other words, they already posses the Scriptures – the sufficient revelation of God’s character, God’s commands to love the neighbor, and God’s warnings of judgment and mercy.  The rich man protests that some spectacular sign would convince them:

” ‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’  (Luke 16:30 | TNIV)

 Abraham’s final, devastating reply is one of the most solemn statements in the Bible:

“He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ ”  (Luke 16:31 | TNIV)

The problem was never lack of evidence.  The problem was a heart unwilling to listen to the Word of God already given.  Even the greatest miracle can’t penetrate a heart hardened against Scripture.  We know Jesus rose from the dead, and still many refuse to believe.  The issue remains the same today.

The necessity of sympathy for every disciple.

This curious parable is a mirror held up to every professing Christian.  The rich man likely considered himself blessed, religious, and secure.  He had Abraham as his father in heritage, wealth as his daily experience, and no apparent crisis of faith.  Yet his lack of sympathy for the man at his gate revealed a heart that had never truly been transformed by the grace of God.

For us as disciples of Christ, sympathy isn’t a nice addition to the Christian life; it’s a necessary quality of it.  It flows from the new heart the Spirit gives.   It’s evidence that we have passed from death to life.  It is the practical outworking of the command to love our neighbor as ourselves.

So, let’s examine ourselves honestly.  It there someone God has placed at our “gate” whose suffering we have grown accustomed to ignoring?  Have we come so insulated by our comforts that the daily needs around us no longer move us?  Sympathy begins in the heart, but it must move  to the hands and feet.  It looks like noticing the lonely person after the service and taking time to listen.  It looks like practical help for a family in crisis.  It looks like generous giving that actually costs us something.  It looks like the Gospel with urgency, because the greatest need of every Lazarus is not only physical relief but eternal salvation.

Remember the urgency.  The chasm is fixed after death.  There will be no opportunity to develop sympathy or to repent once we have passed from this life.  Today is the day for people to listen to Moses and the prophets and to the risen Christ.  Today is the day to show mercy.  Today is the day to make sure our faith is the kind that works itself out in love.

A Quality of Discipleship: Humility

Don’t forget, if you want to listen to this teaching, click the player at the end.

QUALITIES OF DISCIPLESHIP

 A Quality of Discipleship – Humility

Scripture Reading:  Luke 18:9 – 14.

Text:  Luke 18:14.

 “I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”  (Luke 18:14 | TNIV)

Introduction.  Today we begin a new sermon series called “The Qualities of Discipleship.”  As those who have been called by grace to follow Jesus, we want to grown in the character traits that marked our Lord Himself.  Over the coming weeks we will examine qualities like humility, faithfulness, meekness, perseverance, and love – truth Jesus often taught through parables so that listeners with ears to hear might understand.

I want to begin with humility because it’s the foundation upon which every other Christian virtue rests.  Without humility we can’t receive grace, did you know that?

But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble and oppressed.”  (James 4:6 | TNIV)

 Without humility we will never take up the cross daily and follow Christ (Luke 9:23).   And how about this:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  (Matthew 5:3 | TNIV)

That’s right!  According to Jesus Himself, we will never see ourselves rightly or see Christ as our all-sufficient Savior.  The poor in spirit – the humble – are the ones who will be blessed.  And Jesus gave a stark warning:

For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.  (Matthew 23:12 | TNIV)

The parable before us today is one of the sharpest illustrations of this truth in all the Bible.  It’s addressed to some specific people:

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable…  (Luke 18:9 | TNIV)

In other words, it’s a mirror held up to every religious heart, including our own.  So, let’s walk through this parable together, following the outline the Lord Himself has provided.

The prayer of the Pharisee.

 “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. [11] The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. [12] I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’”  (Luke 18:10 – 12 | TNIV)

 

A Pharisee and a tax collector went into the Temple to pray.  We are told that the Pharisee “stood by himself” to pray.  That phrase, “by himself” is really “with himself” is telling.  The Greek suggests that his prayer never truly left the circle of his own self-regard.  He wasn’t speaking to God so much as congratulating himself in God’s presence.

Just look at the content of his “prayer.”  He actually thanked God that he, a religious man, wasn’t like other men who he described as “robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector.”  Not only that, he told God that he “fasted twice a week and gives a tenth of all he gets.”

Notice what he does NOT say.  He offers not confession of sin.  He asks for nothing.  He expresses no dependence upon God’s mercy.  His prayer is simply a catalog of negatives and positives that all revolve around himself.

I suppose, depending on your attitude, you could thank God that you aren’t some kind of nefarious sinner, but we know this Pharisee had the wrong attitude.  He actually looked around and adds the stinging comparison:  He’s glad he isn’t like this tax collector.  The very presence of the despised tax collector becomes an occasion for the Pharisee to feel superior.  He doesn’t pray FOR the tax collector; he prays ABOUT him in order to build himself up.

His positive claims are equally absurd.  He claimed to fast twice a week, which was probably true.  Of course, the Law required only one fast per year, on the Day of Atonement.   So this guy had added voluntary fasts of Mondays and Thursdays.  He also claimed that he gave tithes of all he possessed.  Again, the Law required tithes on certain produce; the Pharisee extended tithing to even the smallest garden herbs.  In other words, the Pharisee wasn’t a hypocrite in the sense of doing nothing; he was a man of rigorous external evidence of his own righteousness rather than as grateful response to God’s grace.

This is the prayer of spiritual pride.  It measures righteousness by comparison with others and by religious performance.  It’s the prayer of a man who believes he has earned God’s favor and therefore has no need to ask for it.  Tragically, this kind of prayer still echoes in many hearts today – perhaps even in hours when we silently thank God we aren’t like “those people” on the other side of the political aisle, or in the other church, or living in obvious sin.

The prayer of the tax collector.

Now, contrast the posture and the petition of the tax collector.

 “But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’”  (Luke 18:13 | TNIV)

 Literally everything about this man’s approach is the opposite of the Pharisee.

He stands off at a distance.  While the Pharisee apparently took a prominent place, the tax collector remained at the very edge of the outer court, painfully aware that he had no right to draw near.  The Temple was the place where God’s presence dwelt; this man felt the distance sin had created.

He wouldn’t even look up to heaven, Jesus said.  Downcast eyes are the body language of shame and reverence.  He couldn’t look toward the holy place because he knew his sin had disqualified him.

Furthermore, he beat his breast.  This wasn’t a single polite tap; the imperfect tense of the Greek suggests repeated, vigorous striking – the ancient gesture of deep contrition and mourning over sin.  The heart is the seat of thought and will; he’s beating upon the very source of his corruption.

And then comes the prayer – only seven short words in the Greek:  “God be merciful to be a sinner.”  The word translated “be merciful” is “hilaskomai.”  It doesn’t just mean “be kind” or “overlook my faults.”  It means “be propitiated,” “make atonement for me,” “let Your wrath be turned away through sacrifice.”  This tax collector isn’t asking for a general feeling of mercy; he is begging God to provide a covering for his sin, that the holy God would be satisfied on his behalf.  He stood in the Temple where sacrifices were offered daily, and he cried out for the reality those sacrifices to be applied to himself.

He called himself “a sinner” – literally “the sinner.”  He wasn’t a sinner like everybody else, but THE sinner, the one whose sin is foremost in his own eyes.  There is no comparison with anybody else, only honest acknowledge before God.

This is the prayer of a man who has run out of excuses, comparisons, and religious credentials.  He brought nothing but his sin and casts himself entirely upon the mercy of God.

Why the condemnation of the Pharisee?

 

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”  (Luke 18:14 | TNIV)

Our Lord’s verdict is shocking to religious ears.  The Pharisee, for all his fasting and tithing, left the Temple unjustified.  Why?

First, he “exalted himself,” or anther way to put it is “he trusted himself.”  The parable is told specifically to those who were trusting in themselves; in their own ability to be righteous.  Self-trust is the opposite of saving faith.  Saving faith looks away for self and to Christ.  The Pharisee’s righteousness was a righteousness of his own making, and therefore it could never satisfy the holy God.

Since they did not know the righteousness of God and sought to establish their own, they did not submit to God’s righteousness.  (Romans 10:3 | TNIV)

 What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ [9] and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith.  (Philippians 3:8, 9 | TNIV)

Second, he exalted himself through comparison.  He measured his righteousness by the failures of others.  But God doesn’t grade of a curve.  The standard is His own perfect holiness, not the moral mediocrity of the culture around us.  When we compare ourselves among ourselves, we aren’t wise, according to 2 Corinthians 10:12 –

We do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some who commend themselves. When they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are not wise.  (2 Corinthians 10:12 | TNIV)

The Pharisee’s prayer reveals a heart that despises others – the very attitude the parable’s introduction condemns.

Third, he offered no confession or plea for mercy.  Biblical prayer always includes confession because we are sinners.  The Pharisee had nothing to confess, in his own estimation.  He therefore had no need for the atoning mercy the tax collector sought.  A religion without repentance is a religion without Christ.

Fourth, his religion was external only.  He could list all kinds of religious activities, but he couldn’t produce a broken and contrite heart.

You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. [17] My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.  (Psalm 51:16, 17 | TNIV)

Jesus later pronounced woes upon the scribes and Pharisees precisely because they cleaned the outside of the cup while the inside remained full of extortion and excess.  The Pharisee in the parable is a living embodiment of that indictment.

Because he exalted himself, he was abased.  He went home unjustified – still in his sins, still under wrath, still blind to his desperate need.

Why the commendation of the tax collector?

By contrast, the tax collector went home justified.  Justification is the great Pauline word for God’s legal declaration that a sinner is righteous on the basis of Christ’s work received by faith.  This man left the Temple declared righteous by God Himself.  Why?

First, he humbled himself.  He came with no claims, no comparisons, no credentials.  He took the lowest place – the only place a sinner can rightly take before a holy God.  This man was truly poor in spirit, and the kingdom became his.

Second, he repented genuinely.  His posture, his gesture, his words all cried out, “I have sinned against heaven and before You.”  Repentance isn’t merely feeling sorry; it’s agreeing with God about our sin and turning from it.  The tax collector didn’t defend himself because he couldn’t, nor did he minimize his guilt.  He beat his breast and called himself the sinner.

Third, he placed his hope entirely in God’s mercy.  He didn’t say, “God, be impressed with my fasting.”  He said, “God, be propitiated toward me.”  He looked for an atoning sacrifice outside himself.  In that cry we hear the heartbeat of the Gospel.  Later on, the apostle Paul would write these words:

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, [24] and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. [25] God presented Christ as a sacrifice of atonement, through the shedding of his blood—to be received by faith.  (Romans 3:23 – 25a | TNIV)

The tax collector’s prayer actually anticipates the cross.  He was justified, not because he was better than the Pharisee, but because he believed God would provide  the mercy he could never earn.

Fourth, he depended entirely on grace.  This tax collector brought no works, no merits, no religious resume.  He brought only his sin and the empty hands of faith.  And God filled those empty hands with the righteousness of another.

This is why Jesus said the tax collector went home justified.  Not because tax collectors are inherently more virtuous than Pharisees, but because humility and repentance and faith are the only posture in which a sinner can receive the gift of justification.

Conclusion.  This simple parable isn’t in the Bible so that we can congratulate ourselves that we aren’t like that Pharisee.  That would be to repeat his very sin!  The parable is given so that we might see ourselves in both men and flee to the mercy of God.

This week, we should all examine our own prayer life.  When you get down to pray, do you begin with a silent inventory of how you are better than others?  Or do you begin with the tax collector’s cry, “Lord, be merciful to me, the sinner.”  The difference isn’t just emotional tone; it’s the difference between self-justification and Gospel-justification.

True discipleship begins right here.  The first quality of a disciple is humility – the willingness to take the lowest place, to confess sin honestly, to receive grace gladly, and to serve others gladly.  The One who told this parable is the same One who “made himself of no reputation, and took upon himself the form of a servant” (Philippians 2:7 | KJV).  Jesus humbled Himself even to the death of the cross so that proud Pharisees and broken tax collectors alike might be justified by faith in His blood.

As we move further into this series, let humility be the soil in which every other quality grows.  Without it we will never learn from the Word, never confess to one another, never serve without seeking recognition, never endure trials without complaining.  With it, we will find that those who humble themselves will be exalted – exalted not by own achievement, but by the grace of the God who lifts up the humble and casts down the proud.

 

 

 

 

 


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