“Our Merciful God”

27 October 13                     “Our Merciful God”                   Luke 18:9-14

 It may have begun during my time in the Boy Scouts. There was training we were scheduled for that seemed to teach me what I did not want to learn. We were taken out into the deeper woods at Camp Strake near Conroe and left with our compass, a snack, and water and told to find our way back to camp. I am sure it was part of the requirement for a wilderness survival merit badge, or something like that. While I do not remember the details the outcome was apparently a success because here I stand.

 Next was during a weeklong hike in the San Juan Mountains in southern Colorado. Part of the experience was to be left alone away from base camp overnight. We had no compass this time and the usual food and water. We had our sleeping bag and back pack and a clear plastic tarp for rain protection. I do remember that night. It was not that I felt lost, I was just alone and it was dark and eerily quiet.

 We have all had those times of feeling lost. Even in our life in Austin, we can sense loss. Jesus must have had his moments. That end of life time in the garden, on the road to Jerusalem, and his trial, conviction, torture, crucifixion. “My God,” Jesus cried.

 From God’s word in Luke it is evident Jesus has great passion for the lost. Thank goodness, you may be thinking! Thank goodness that Jesus has passion for the lost, for I am certainly one. In the context of our sin, or in the reality of our faith life, we are there. We are lost.

 In the harsh reality of our day to day, well, loss seems to be everywhere. So we do what a good scout would do. We become prepared. We find what life has to offer that will save us from being lost, feeling lost, or losing ourselves and everything. We create securities and build our defenses against the bad times that are sure to come.

  In Jane Austin’s much beloved novel, Pride and Prejudice, the various folks in the story create securities of wealth and status and they surround themselves with an abundance to secure their security. They, of course, live with such an arrogance and sure judgment about their station in life they unknowingly limit their possibilities for really living a blessed life. They limit their possibilities to know deep love without pretense, to know marriage without manipulation, and to know happiness without false pride.

 Luke would offer that living this way as a Christian, with pride and prejudice, would limit our faith. Living without humility as a disciple of the crucified and risen Christ also limits God’ ability to bring real grace into our lives. Our pride, our prejudice limits our ability to become the people God desires us to be; doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with our God.

 We learn from Luke there is no humility in those folk who center themselves and their perceived righteous ways in “this world” sensibilities. There is no humility in their contempt for those deemed less worthy. Their pride of prejudice pretty much condemns them in God’s eyes.

 The Reverend Jay Losher rightly points out how familiar the parable is to us. Two individuals went to pray at the temple, one a Pharisee, the other, a tax collector. The Pharisee prays filled with proud self-assurance. Eyes toward heaven, he says, “God I thank you that I am not like other people; thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even this tax collector.” Knowing how God must agree with his self-assessment he then goes on telling God about how good he is.

 The tax collector is the mirror opposite in action and word. Ever looking downward, beating himself up in real emotional turmoil, he prays simply; “God, be merciful to me, a sinner. For I am lost, lost from you.”

 Jesus makes sure that we learn which of these two men goes home justified, made right with God, and who does not. It is the tax collector Jesus lifts up. It is the Pharisee Jesus ignores.

 The Pharisee looks to the past and all the good deeds he wants God to notice. The tax collector anticipates the future, a different future, where judgment brings the wrath of God for unrepentant sinners. His heart is humbled. 

The Pharisee lives with pride, disobedience, and faces lasting death. The tax collector lives with humility, obedience, and realizes the possibilities for life eternal. The Pharisee’s way to pray is actually quite dangerous. C. S. Lewis notes, “A person is never so proud as when striking an attitude of humility.”

 Martin Luther understood this point in his “Lectures on Romans.” As he explains it, there is a difference between sinners. “There are some sinners who confess that they have sinned but, they give up hope and go on sinning so that when they die they despair, and while they live, they are enslaved to the world.

 There are other sinners who confess that they sin and have sinned but they are sorry for this. They hate themselves for it. They long to be justified, make right with God and groaning, constantly pray to God for righteousness. These are the true people of God.”

 For Martin Luther, the more we think of ourselves as a saint, the more sinful in fact we are. The more we think of ourselves as a sinner, the more saintly in fact we become. There is hope for us lost sinners yet!

 The Pharisee was actually more than proud, he was prejudiced. In his book “The God Coast” Nelson Mille said about one of his characters, she “excludes any realities that upset her prejudice.” Our prejudices do indeed get us in trouble. Though we may be seldom right about our perceptions of others, we are seldom in doubt about them.

 Changing ourselves from ourselves is usually beyond ourselves. That is why we need God and God’s grace in our lives to overcome our resistance to changing ourselves. And change we must.

  As the Reverend William Malambri reminds us, God’s grace can be a tricky thing. Especially for us folks who experienced faith long ago and may have since forgotten what it is.

 Being a Christian is not new to most of us. We certainly have not perfected it, but we have learned some of the steps. We know when to come to church, how to follow along in the bulletin, sing the familiar hymns, say the familiar prayers, and receive the familiar body and blood of Christ.

 We usually do not fret too much when we stumble and sin. We know we will confess them each Sunday and be forgiven. Perhaps we secretly co-authored James Moore’s book, “Forgive me Lord for I have sinned, but I have several really good excuses!”  Or, we reason to the conclusion, I have sinned far worse than this in the past. I know God has plenty of grace to forgive me.

 From this line of thinking our pride has cheapened God’s grace and lead us to our disobedience and ultimately to our eternal death, lost and alone.

 We cheapen God’s grace when we accept it without considering it cost Jesus everything. We undermine grace when we act, in our pride and our prejudices, as if what we have done and who we have been has earned us the grace we have.

 We lose touch with the reality of God’ grace in our pride and prejudices when we are convinced that we are good Christians! Pharisees are what we are! We are not good, we are evil and sinful and for Jesus to remind us of this he has to offer grace to people we probably never would. People we would ignore or worse, hurt with our pride and our judgment and our contempt.

 Jesus shows us the true way to God’s grace by accepting the unacceptable, by showing mercy to the merciless, by welcoming the unwelcome, by loving the unlovable.

 When Jesus does that he startles us. Wait Lord, we cry, what about me? See all the good I have done. See all the good I have been. I have great potential. Saintly perhaps!

 Oh, delusional dear ones. Jesus reaches out and justifies and sanctifies us only when we humble ourselves before him. Jesus forgives us only when we tell the truth about our lives and who we are. Only in our humility and only in our obedience will we have eternal love and life.

 For his part, Jesus loves us despite ourselves and will always forgive us, always. By his surprising grace, if we will let him, he will change us, and save us, and fill us with his faith, and continue to love us for all eternity.

 In the words of the first century Rabbi Hillel, “Keep not aloof from the congregation, and trust not in thyself until the day of thy death, and judge not thy fellow person until thou art come to their place.”

 These are the simple acts of one who is humble and forgiven and not lost. Come and be with us in congregational fellowship. These are the loving acts of one being obedient and filled with God’s grace. Not trusting ourselves alone. These are the faithful acts of one receiving mercy and finding there eternal love and life. Judging no one until we have been in their shoes.

 These are the faithful acts that will bring us to eternal love and life with our savior, Jesus Christ where we are lost and alone and afraid no more.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.  

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DON’T GIVE UP by Jill Boyd

Jill Boyd                                                                               Year C, 29^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Text: Luke: 18:1-8                                                                                                  October 20, 2013

¹ Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. ² He said, "In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. ³ In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, 'Grant me justice against my opponent.' ⁴ For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, 'Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, ⁵ yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.'" ⁶ And the Lord said, "Listen to what the unjust judge says. ⁷ And will not God grant justice to those chosen ones who cry to God day and night? Will God delay long in helping them? ⁸ I tell you, God will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?"

DON’T GIVE UP

It doesn’t take being around me for very long to realize that I have a passion for women who are older!

My childhood was peppered with interactions with great aunts, grandmothers and elderly neighbors who touched my life in meaningful ways.  Some of them were influential in my decision to go into social work, and for more than twenty years, women – most of whom were elderly widows – were the primary population with whom I worked and served.  My husband, David, used to tease me that I was a “magnet” for these women, because for whatever reason, I am drawn to them and they are drawn to me. J

Now don’t get me wrong, I also like interacting with men, and the young as well as the old, and every age in between! – but there is something about wise and older women that speaks to my heart, and I have come to understand it as part of my calling. So when I went to the Lectionary to select a passage for this sermon, I got hooked by the persistent widow and just wanted to spend some time with her!

Unfortunately, Jesus’ parable doesn’t tell us very much about her.

Aside from the fact that she is a widow, she has a grievance, and she wants that grievance rectified, we are told nothing about her or the injustice that’s been done to her.  We don’t even really know her age.  Assuming that she is old is just me projecting my own experiences onto the text, which is something they teach us in seminary not to do, but at least be aware of it when we do!

This widow could actually be a young woman whose beloved has died an untimely death and who is now in the position of having to raise her children by herself.  Perhaps what she seeks from the judge will help her provide them with food, clothing, and a roof over their head.

Or maybe she really is an older woman -- one who has lost not only her husband, but everyone else she loves and cares about in this world.  Her health and physical abilities may be declining as well, and perhaps what she seeks will help her hold on to her independence, which is one of the few things of value she still has left.

We don’t know specifics about this woman because neither Jesus nor Luke spells it out for us and none of the other gospels include this parable. But we do know from other historical sources what life was like for a widow in biblical times, and it was an extremely vulnerable existence.

Widows lacked social status and their material needs were great.  Jewish law held that when a man died, his property and possessions went to his sons or his brothers.  His widow could remain on the land with the new owner’s consent, but she was left destitute if he refused to provide for her. 

The widow in our parable has suffered an injustice, and knowing what we know about Jewish law, it’s safe to assume that it probably relates to property or money from which she is being denied access.  She seeks to have the injustice corrected, but to add to her troubles, she has no one to help her in her quest. That’s one of the things that bothers me about this scenario.  Doesn’t anyone notice her situation? Isn’t there someone who cares about her? It appears that she is on her own and that she has no one to advocate for her.

But that doesn’t stop her from pursuing justice for herself.  Time and time again, she approaches the unjust judge -- a man whose character is revealed to neither fear God nor respect other people. That poor woman!  This is not a man in whose hands I’d want to place my well-being -- he’s a wicked magistrate who abuses his power and position without a second thought about how God wants him to live or what is right for a fellow human being.

The unjust judge initially denies the widow’s request for justice, yet still, she persists.  Her conviction for what she believes she is entitled does not waiver -- she never gives up.  Her courage and persistence are admirable, and I suspect many of us would like to have more of these traits at times. I know I would…

The judge eventually gives in to the woman’s request, not because it is the ethical and just thing to do, but because he is thinking of his own best interests. He agrees to resolve her conflict because he wants her to stop bothering him!  That actually bothers me, but that’s a whole other issue for another sermon on another day!  Our focus today is on what the widow has to teach us, for she demonstrates that even when we are at our most vulnerable, our faith and our faithfulness matters.

It seems to me this is a primary point of the parable. Luke even tells us that in the opening line when he says it’s about the need to pray always and not lose heart. But what is the connection? Why prayer and not losing hope? Why not trust? Or “hang in there?” Why not believe?

I think that it’s because prayer is one thing we can do that directly impacts the endurance of our heart. We can see this in Jesus’ life. It’s one of the things he’s been teaching his disciples throughout their journey from Galilee to Jerusalem.

While healing and eating and socializing with all manner of people, he has been telling and showing them what it takes to live as faithful disciples. While confronting the Pharisees about their interpretations of the law, Jesus has been teaching a new way of understanding and a different way of life.  He has been teaching about the importance of prayer and how to pray -- while at the same time modeling a prayer life that takes place in both solitude and community.

Jesus knows the importance of prayer, especially in difficult times. He knows what he and his disciples will face when they arrive in Jerusalem. He will be arrested and crucified, and they will flee to hide in grief and fear. The disciples will not always act in faithful ways, yet Jesus will remain in prayer with God through it all. He will rise again from the dead, and his disciples will be amazed; and he will ascend to the heavens, leaving them to live faithful lives until he comes again.

Jesus knows their wait for his return will be long. He knows they will have trials and that they will become discouraged.  He prepares them as best he can, and he encourages them not to lose heart.  Jesus knows how devastating that can be…

            This is something that is poignantly illustrated in a movie I watched recently: To Kill a Mockingbird. You know, the 1962 classic starring Gregory Peck?

It’s the story of a southern lawyer named Atticus Finch, who agrees to defend Tom Robinson -- a black man accused of raping a young white woman. The time is the Great Depression, and the place is rural Alabama.

Tom is innocent, but because of racial inequalities and tensions of the time, there is no way his high-profile trial with an all white jury is going to be a fair one.

Atticus nevertheless takes the case, and he provides a compassionate and compelling defense that exposes the truth that the victim and her father are lying about Tom. The jury still finds him guilty. Atticus assures him this was not an unexpected verdict and that he will get to work right away on an appeal, but Tom loses heart. While the marshals are transporting him back to the jail, he attempts to escape and is shot and killed.

When Atticus hears the news, he is devastated.  “The last thing I told him,” he mourns, “was not to lose heart -- I’d ask for an appeal -- we had such a good chance -- we had more than a good chance… the last thing I told Tom was not to lose heart…”

            Tom Robinson had a family who loved him, and the black community supported him in his struggles.  Atticus believed in and cared for him and wanted to pursue justice on his behalf.  Tom wasn’t alone, he had people advocating for his life and for justice; but unlike the widow in our parable, Tom lost heart, and when he did, he lost his life.

There are many tragic aspects of this story, but this is one of the greatest, for when he lost heart, there were consequences, not only for him, but for those who loved him as well.

            Like the Tom and the persistent widow, we live in a world where justice doesn’t always prevail. We hear of incidents of it in the news and we experience it in our daily lives, and it saddens and angers and wears us down at times.

And while there are differences in their stories and outcomes, the widow and Tom both illustrate what Jesus teaches: our faith and our persistence are closely connected -- our faith and our persistence matter. They keep us connected to our source of hope and life, and they affirm our relationship with the one in whom we place our trust.

            Like Tom and the widow, we too live in an unjust world: a world in which our government leaders squabble like children in a sandbox; a world in which a neighboring county boasts the highest percentage of executions in the country – some of whom have been later proven innocent. We drive on highways full of speeding drivers, yet we are the one who gets pulled over. And we worship in a place where locks have been placed on kitchen cupboards….

            The world doesn’t always work the way we feel like it should. There are voices that yearn to be heard and desires that continue to go unmet.  We all know of parents who pray every day for their child – a child who is ill… or who is bullied… or who has chosen the wrong path. We are all faced with situations and relationships throughout the course of our lives that tempt us to lose faith and give up.

            But that’s where the persistent widow has something to teach us. She reminds us that despite everything, we can keep reaching out. We can reach out to God – we can hound God and trust God – and we can know that no matter what happens, we will never be alone.

We have an advocate in Jesus Christ who has promised to be with us to the end of the age. He calls us to pray always and never give up, and he assures us that the God of creation who loves and cares will never give up on us.

            So take heart! Stay in prayer!

God is with us and for us and will be forever!

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit – one God who hears all prayers, now and forever. Amen.

13 October 13 “The Gratitude of the Foreigners” Luke 17:11 – 19

 In a community on the margins of society differences become unimportant when compared to a common purpose, that of surviving. Class distinctions evaporate, positions of influence become insignificant, education, wealth, stature no longer count. All are one and in trouble.

 The Reverend Maggi Dawn tells the story of when she worked in central London with an organization that reached out to people living on the streets. For most, all she could offer was food, clean clothes, and a listening ear. But occasionally she met someone who wanted to find a new life.

 She ran a halfway house with a simple rule allowing a few folks at a time to relearn how to live indoors. Such a change is not easy; a few who came to live with her actually managed the long, difficult process of reintegration. But more than half gave up and returned to their life on the streets.

 Living closely with people many consider untouchable she learned more than she gave. One thing she never forgot was the way living on the margins leads folks to reinvent their social values.

 In a little community under a viaduct near the famous Portobello Road market she met an aristocrat who had inherited a vast country estate and been educated at one of the finest universities. The pressure of that life lead him to abandon his fortune. Now he walked the streets with just a few possessions in a shopping cart. His high-brow accent was the only hint of his past.

His best friend on the street was a working-class man from the poorest area of Glasgow. He had dropped out of the education system in his early teens and come to London seeking his fortune.

 The likelihood of these men becoming close friends in normal society was nil. But in the community under the viaduct, the Scotsman and the English Lord found that their differences were immaterial compared to their common purpose – surviving on the streets.

   Luke tells us this morning about such a community, surviving on the streets, living on the margins. There is a leper colony on the edge of a village between Samaria and Galilee. The people who live there where cast out by the rest of society.  We can only imagine the life they came from, the new bonds they have formed.

 In the story, Jesus is approached by ten who, in their desperation, cry out to him for help.  They heard he was a healer, so they sought him out. When they found him they called to him, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”

  Jesus immediately recognized their plight and their need. He knew the relief they were asking for and he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” They did not hesitate. They were obedient, and as they went they were made clean. The leprosy left them.

 Looking at the ten and hearing their plea, I wonder why Jesus sent them to the priests. He knew he would heal them, so why the priests?

 In first century Israel priests were given special duties. One such duty was to determine who was “clean” and who was not. Those found “not clean” were separated from the community. A skin disease like leprosy would  bring such banishment.  

  Jesus knew the priests were necessary if these ten were to be found “clean” again and have their lives restored. So he sends them, and they knew why. They must have run down the road.

  On the way, they were healed. With unimaginable joy, standing before the priest, free from their disease, they were restored to their communal relationship.

 Adding to the story, these folks with leprosy lived near a village on the border between Galilee and Samaria. Galilee and Samaria were two communities historically divided. Jews considered all Samaritans ethnically unclean, on the margin of acceptable society folk, leper or not.

  The healing from their disease then becomes something larger than life, something exceeding their wildest dreams; it wiped away their cultural divide. It restored their social value.

  All healed, outwardly of their leprosy and inwardly of their racial divide we can only imagine their excitement. They had been away from their normal lives a long time. I expect they were dancing in the streets.

 Then a surprise of sorts. One lone member of the original ten returned to Jesus to give praise to God. The others apparently rejoined society as quickly as possible. In the process they showed their true allegiance, which was to the world and not to Jesus, the one who had freed them.

 Jesus refers to this one who returned to give praise to God as a foreigner, as a Samaritan. It may be the others were Galileans, we do not know.  It was only to this Samaritan that Jesus said, “Your faith has made you well.”

  Perhaps Jesus was speaking of a different type of wellness. Perhaps Jesus meant that deeply woven prejudices and stereotypes are a much more serious malady than even leprosy – that our hearts, our souls can be far sicker than our bodies. Perhaps Jesus was more upset with a society that would accept healed lepers from Galilee, yet reject a healed Samaritan.

 Luke’s message is one that challenges our usual sense of discipleship. If we are to be faithful followers of Jesus Christ then we are to be followers on Jesus’ terms.  Jesus’ terms include his expectations of faith and belief and trust, his gifts of forgiveness, love, salvation, his call to a life of living for others. Jesus’ terms require duty, obligation, and responsibility.

 If we live our life the way everyone else does, we have missed Jesus’ point and we are like the nine who could not wait to get back to societies norms. If we desire to be like the one who returned to give thanks, we must live like no one else lives. No one else except Jesus, that is. 

 Clearly, living this way, living like Christ, has significant consequences.

 When we abandon the priestly approval of this world for approval of Jesus Christ we must love everyone. Especially when folk are not like us. When they are different.  When they belonging over there, away from us where we separate them because of fear, anger, hurt, or prejudice. None of which is the will of God.

 God’s revealed will for us is that we love our neighbor, that we live to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God. God’s revealed will is that we live the ten commandments where we shall have no other god before God, we shall not make for ourselves an idol, we shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord our God, we shall remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy, we shall honor our father and our mother, we shall not murder, we shall not commit adultery, we shall not steal, we shall not bear false witness against our neighbor, we shall not covet our neighbor’s house, wife, male or female slave, or donkey, or anything that belongs to our neighbor.

  When we come to him, Jesus would ask, where are our boundaries to the will of God, boundaries that we resist crossing? Do we not love as we should? Do we not seek justice for all? Do we not extend Christian kindness as we ought? Do we, in our pride, not walk humbly with our God?

 The people with leprosy were sent by Jesus to see the priest. On their way they were healed from their disease. Their affliction that separated them from society, their boundary, was taken away. They were restored to the will of God, yet only one returned to give thanks and praise. Jesus asks him, where are the other nine? He could not answer. Perhaps they returned to Galilee and were welcomed home.

 Jesus offers nothing less. He welcomes us back home and then waits for us to show our faithfulness.

 Are we to be like the foreigner, the one truly on the edge of society, the outcast, the forlorn? He alone realized his complete freedom from leprosy and from his marginalization. He alone walked away from prejudice.

 His faith in the will of God made him well. It was God’s will that he accept Jesus’ invitation and by God’s will, he came to follow. Not to his earthly home, but to God’s kingdom home.

 That is what God does for us. When we have faith in his son, Jesus, and come to follow him, he heals those who accept him in all sorts of ways. He heals us here, on the inside, in our hearts and he heals us out here, in this earthly place, in what we say or do. 

We are therefore not like those other nine who wandered aimlessly, thinking the world will make them well. Our way is different. Our way is towards Jesus Christ because our faith has made us well. And because we are made well we will always live differently, we will always have that soft place in our hearts to include all people in the good news of the gospel.

 Ours is a common purpose filled with good news that tells us about a freedom where an aristocrat can be best friends with a man from the tenements, and they can live in the holy margin as followers of Jesus Christ.

 It is to that holy margin we pray we will live forever.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.  

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06 October 2013 “Increase Our Faith” Luke 17:5-10

  Supersize this, mega size that. We have been on this bigger is better kick for some time now. SUV’s, homes, office buildings, cars, planes, boats. You name it and we have been able to make it ginormous.

  The major of New York City recently tried one simple downsizing law taking ginormous away and was rebuffed. He tried to limit the size of a carbonated drink for health reasons and the courts got involved. Ginormous is alive and well in New York City.

 We Americans often equate ginormous with prosperity and success.

 A Time magazine survey taken last year found that a majority of the people asked agreed that God wants us to be financially prosperous. This view is part of what is called the “prosperity gospel” where more is good.

 The prosperity gospel is a religious belief found among “tens of thousands” of Christians centered on the notion that God provides material prosperity for those God favors. It teaches that Jesus blesses believers with material riches. But, it misses the point that Jesus himself never lived in prosperity.

 It seems from our gospel reading this morning even the apostles were not immune to these notions of more and bigger making us prosperous. An apostle said to Jesus, “Increase our faith?”

 Why not, we may ask. We have mega sized everything else; we preach or desire to preach and live a prosperity gospel. Why not supersize our faith? Is the apostle to think we can simply ask Jesus to mega size our faith and he will?

  Simply answered, Jesus will not. Jesus is opposed to any increasing or mega sizing of faith this way. As a matter of fact, he seems to say that the opposite of an increase is what we should ask for. Instead Jesus says, smaller is better; even faith as small as a mustard seed is better.

 Bigger, it seems, creates the desire for even bigger. The mustard seed, on the other hand, grows from a small seed to a proportion larger than imaginable. Faith the size of such a seed will therefore grow to a proportion out of this world. Isn’t that the point?

 Growth out of this world is one promise of our Christian faith. It is partnered with an amazing wonder at the mystery of God’s grace that will produce such abundance in the first place. Asking for faith the size of a mustard seed is what we should be praying for.

  So Jesus offers his help and asks, “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, come here at once and take your place at the table?”

 Jesus knew his apostles would understand the economics of work. Be it with a hired hand, a servant, or a slave. That person is doing what they are being paid or obligated to do and they are not finished until they are finished.

For their labor they receive room and board, health insurance, vacation time, sick leave, stuff like that. They are compensated for their work. When the work is done, then feasting begins. The worker in this parable is to do exactly what is expected, no less, no more. They do not expect special treatment and none is given.

 We also have in the parable the image of a laborer who does only the minimum required. Actually, they might even have an attitude thrown in. They may have resented having to do even the minimum of work. The land owner seems to sense this attitude and says, ‘No resting now. Prepare my supper, put on you apron, serve me. You will get no special treatment from me.”

 This may seem to be a harsh answer to the apostle’s question.  We may have liked the request, “Lord, increase my faith.” Like them, we know Jesus has the power to do amazing things. We know about his miracles, turning water into wine, feeding thousands from just a little food, healing the sick, raising the dead. We have heard him say time and time again “Your faith has made you well.” So, why not? Jesus, increase our faith. Then we too will have miracles in our lives.

 But, Jesus senses we may be expecting special treatment. He senses we may expect a short cut. He senses we may have an attitude. As one who himself serves, Jesus wants us to remember, from the very beginning there were no short cuts. Our faith is about full relationships and a full commitment.

 The relationship part may seem easy enough. To be in a relationship with Jesus is to know his story, to know his teaching, to heed his call to come and follow him. It is to accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior and to spend time with him in prayer and study and worship and service. It is to love him.

 But what about the commitment part? What might that mean and cost, and for how long. How long will we be required to be of service to our Lord? How long are we to be committed? Surely not forever! Surely there is a short cut. Let’s just ask.

 Jesus tells us about the servant to make sure we understand that asking for short cuts is not how we increase our faith. No, we do not just show up on Sundays and wait to be served. Hello my name is Jesus and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with an appetizer, an increase in your faith?

 No, no appetizers here. Jesus does not wait on us. Jesus does not owe us faith, or grace, or love, or anything. When we are in a relationship where we feel we are owed something we are not really in a faithful relationship are we? A faithful relationship requires a great degree of selflessness. We become smaller than our largely ego driven selves in a successful relationship, not larger.

 When we grudgingly go through the motions in a relationship we become calculating and wonder how we can get the upper hand. I believe Jesus wants us to know, this is not the sort of relationship we will have in the Kingdom. To be sure, God’s children aim to do God’ will. But they do it with a gladness of heart, in a spirit of love, and gratitude.

 Do not be confused, Jesus is not advocating for a smaller faith, just a different faith, one not of this world. He asks, “Who among you if he has a servant plowing or tending sheep, will say to him when he comes in from the field, come at once and recline at table. We will not say this to the one working for us. His reward will be a wage, an earned wage. Will he not rather say to him, prepare my supper, and dress up properly so you can wait on me until I finish eating and drinking.” That is the way of this world.

But Jesus has a special invitation for us for a different world. He invites us to his table, this table. He says, “Come to me you who are weary and heavy laden. Come and recline with me at table.”

 It is to this table, this kingdom table that we are invited. Where we will find his body and his blood shed for us for the remission of our sins. Our reward is no wage. Our reward is to spend our time with Jesus in the heavenly kingdom. Both here and there.

 Oh, be sure, Jesus will be the one tending to us at table. He will be the role model for us. He will be the role model of faithful servant hood. He will be the role model that teaches us how we are to be as servants to God and to one another. The model for how we are to act, how we are to live, how we are to have our being in relationship with Jesus.

 But remember, there is no shortcut to the Lord’s Table. Jesus is the servant whose example and gracious relationship with his followers captures and upholds our service. Our service is to him as Lord.

 Following Christ, therefore, gives us authority to serve as he served, not to lord over others. Our truth this morning is as believers and followers of Jesus Christ there is no need for desperate quests for increased faith.

 But there will be a journey of sorts. It will be a life long journey for a different faith. A faith where God’s spirit works through us making all things possible. A faith sustained right here in this church family. Here where we can be confident in the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit and here where the kingdom of our Lord is growing.

  Kaye Gibbon is a writer who tells the story of four generations of women who have learned the lessons of life.  The truth they all understand is that life deals us a different hand than we had hope for. Less than we might think we deserve. So by grace alone we must learn to live with diminished expectations and compromised dreams.

 Yet, we discover that life is found in whatever gifts are given. In acts of kindness we had no right to expect, in lasting friendships, in causes undertaken for no reason other than they are right and good, or in helping another that was not undertaken for reward.  These are the places real joy and real fullness and real satisfaction is grounded.

  For in this life we are grounded and blessed by the grace of God. Then as Christ Jesus walks with us, strengthening each of us in our own ways with increased faith, we become the salt for the earth, the light on the hill, the seed in the world for hope and joy.

 We become the mustard seed, the mighty servant of the Lord, bringing shalom; peace and wholeness, the increase that is beyond this world.

 A ginormous increase like no other. Supersize that!

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.  

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