Above and Beyond

Our Gospel reading this morning seems to be a random collection of various items about faith sandwiched between two significant teaching events—namely, the parable of the rich man and Lazarus just before today’s text and the healing of the ten lepers, which is the text next Sunday. So it could reasonably be asked what this disjointed array of faith items Luke relates is designed to achieve:

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Sermon

Our text seems to be a random miscellany of various items about faith sandwiched between two significant teaching events—namely, the parable of the rich man and Lazarus just before the text and the healing of the ten lepers just after the text. So it could reasonably be asked what this disjointed panoply of faith items Luke relates is designed to achieve:

a. Not causing little ones to stumble (vv 1–2).

b. Forgiving a brother seven times (vv 3–4).

c. Increasing faith (v 5).

d. Mustard seed dynamics (v 6).

e. The unworthy servants who only do their duty (vv 7–10).

If you think about it, it really represents our lives. A lot goes on everyday in our lives, seemingly disconnected, but really connected, or is it? So today we are going to talk about how our (1). Lives Are a Random Sequence of Circumstances; and how (2). this Reminds us that we unworthy servants; But (3). One Random Circumstance Gives Order to Our Lives.

It’s quite obvious that Luke offers some rather poignant lessons just before our text, in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus—teaches that we should listen to the WORD, that is, Moses and the prophets and the One who has risen from the dead—and just after our text, with the incident of the ten lepers and only one, a Samaritan, returning to offer thanks, with the implication that we should do the same; returning here each week to give thanks for all that our Lord has done for us. However, the material in between these two lessons seems to be, at best, a disjointed collection of faith items calling for a variety of responses.

Surely this piecemeal sequence of items needs to be sorted out and commented on. But the even more profound truth is that the challenges of life and daily faith do not come to us in prepackaged lessons and stories like the rich man and Lazarus or the ten lepers. On the contrary, the challenges of life and daily faith come before us in random miscellaneous fashion all the time. Our lives—like the text—are quite often a seemingly random sequence of circumstances that call for us to go above and beyond. Just as the phrase “We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty,” spoken by the servant in our text (v 10), implies that “worthiness” requires us to go above and beyond, so do the random circumstances of life.

In fact, if we look carefully at the text, it seems that the intensity of commitment called for progresses exponentially:

a. Do not cause children to stumble—it sounds relatively easy — guard and watch our lives so that we do not scandalize others.

b. Forgive our peers unceasingly—more challenging, Divine assistance needed.

c. Pitiful measure of faith—clearly only God can increase it.

d. Yet, a mustard seed is asserted to be greater than our faith—that’s how impossibly far we have to go.

e. Finally, we worked and slaved all day, only to be reminded, “You only did your duty.” Our efforts are totally futile!

Wow! What a calling! In comparison to the two bookend lessons of listening to the Word and returning to give thanks, the above-and-beyond calling of our text is more than intimidating! It is, without doubt, absolute humiliation.

The calling of our text—if we were to try to fulfill the obligations—is incredible. Even more exacerbating is that even if we did fulfill the obligations, our evaluation must be (can you believe it?) “We have only done what was our duty.”

The calling of our text—if we were to try to fulfill the obligations—is incredible. Even more exacerbating is that even if we did fulfill the obligations, our evaluation must be (can you believe it?), “We have only done what was our duty.”

The list we just mentioned suggests the imagery of a game of dodge-ball: We’re in the center of a ring, and people are pummeling us with balls from all sides. Just when we’ve been nailed from this way, we get it from that. It gets worse—then worse yet. That’s what’s really going on in our text. We are being challenged intellectually, as we are in daily life, to sort through all the items in the universe of faith, not sequentially and in organized fashion, but in what seems to be a disordered and unpredictable manner.

That’s challenging for people who want order in their lives; yet, at the end of the day all we can do is confess that:

And isn’t that exactly what Christ promised? “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it” ().

Today’s Old Testament Reading from Habakkuk reiterates a similar vision of the daily life. Habakkuk says, “Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise” (1:3). And in ch 2, he says, “I will take my stand at the watchpost and station myself on the tower” (2:1). Presumably, Habakkuk is ready to go above and beyond so that the vision of the calling of the Lord is ever before him and he can, at least, declare, “We have only done what was our duty.”

Our Epistle enhances the imagery and challenge from a more gentle and domestic perspective—a father (Paul) to a son (Timothy)—but nonetheless an equally intense one because Paul writes to Timothy, “Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord [presumably in all the circumstances of daily life], nor of me his prisoner, but share in suffering for the gospel by the power of God, who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began” ().

Life is quite often a random collection of various items about faith sandwiched in between family, friends, career, acquaintances, and life in general. So where does that leave us? Right where our text ends: unworthy. We are unworthy. When in the course of human events—our daily events—we throw up our hands and say, “It makes no sense!” “Life makes no sense!” “What am I to do?” “I can’t handle it!” it only reminds us—and it should remind us—that we are totally unworthy. We certainly can’t captain our own ship if we can’t even chart the waters of the pond in our own backyards. “So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’”

Life is quite often a random collection of various items about faith sandwiched in between family, friends, career, acquaintances, and life in general. So where does that leave us? Right where our text ends: unworthy. We are unworthy. When in the course of human events—our daily events—we throw up our hands and say, “It makes no sense!” “Life makes no sense!” “What am I to do?” “I can’t handle it!” it only reminds us—and it should remind us—that we are totally unworthy. We certainly can’t captain our own ship if we can’t even chart the waters of the pond in our own backyards. “So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’ ”

But,

But one seemingly random circumstance gives order to all the random miscellany of our lives.

“Will any one of you who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep say to him when he has come in from the field, ‘Come at once and recline at table’?” (v 7). No, none of us if we had servants ever would. But one who had a whole universe of servants did. He did say, “Let me serve you. Let me spread a whole banquet table before you. Though you are indeed unworthy servants, let me, the Master, nevertheless be your slave.”

Try making sense out of that random circumstance. It makes none. Nothing quite like it has ever happened in any other sphere of life. There’s no precedent for it. There’s no logical order to it. And yet it is the one truth that gives order to all the random miscellany of our lives. Now, suddenly, everything else makes sense! The disorder, the unachievable over-and-aboves that life demands, that show us how unworthy we are, serve a purpose. They bring us to depend solely on the Master who served us. He served us by entering our chaotic, sin-disordered world. He served us by taking off his lordly robes and tying a towel around his waist. He served us by being plucked, stripped, beaten, by giving his life into death on a cross. He served us by forgiving us not seven times a day but seventy-times-seven times. He served us by giving us the one thing, the One, in whom we can have faith. He served us by seating us at the heavenly banquet even if our faith in him is nothing but a grain of mustard seed. He served us by giving us a taste of that banquet again this morning.

Try making sense out of that random circumstance. It makes none. Nothing quite like it has ever happened in any other sphere of life. There’s no precedent for it. There’s no logical order to it. And yet it is the one truth that gives order to all the random circumstances of our lives. Now, suddenly, everything else makes sense! The disorder, the unachievable over-and-aboves that life demands, that show us how unworthy we are, serve a purpose.

Now, suddenly, everything else makes sense! The disorder, the unachievable over-and-aboves that life demands, that show us how unworthy we are, serve a purpose. They bring us to depend solely on the Master who served us. He served us by entering our chaotic, sin-disordered world. He served us by taking off His Royal robes and tying a towel around his waist. He served us by being plucked, stripped, beaten, by giving his life into death on a cross. He served us by forgiving us not seven times a day but seventy-times-seven times. He served us by giving us the one thing, the One, in whom we can have faith. He served us by seating us at the heavenly banquet even if our faith in him is nothing but a grain of mustard seed. He served us by giving us a taste of that banquet again this morning.

They bring us to depend solely on the Master who served us. He served us by entering our chaotic, sin-disordered world. He served us by taking off His Royal robes and tying a towel around his waist. He served us by being plucked, stripped, beaten, by giving his life into death on a cross. He served us by forgiving us not seven times a day but seventy-times-seven times. He served us by giving us the one thing, the One, in whom we can have faith. He served us by seating us at the heavenly banquet even if our faith in Him is nothing but a grain of mustard seed. And, He serves us by giving us a taste of that banquet again this morning.

Christ Jesus, our Master, has gone way over and above for us, his unworthy servants, and that sorts out all the randomness that makes life so confounding.

Above and Beyond

Life: A Random Sequence of Circumstances.

We Are Unworthy Servants.

One Random Circumstance Gives Order to Our Lives.

What Makes No Sense

—the Master Going Above and Beyond to Serve His Unworthy Servants—

Makes Sense of Everything.