“Despising God’s Super Abundant Grace” (Jonah 3:10–4:11; Matthew 20:1-16)

Jonah 3:10–4:11
Matthew 20:1-16

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Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard —Rembrandt (1606-1669)

Pastor Tom Johnson, September 24, 2023

If you haven’t already done so, I would encourage you to sit down and read the book of Jonah. It’s four short chapters. It should only take you about 15 minutes to read. It’s a story written to make you laugh at the prophet and our pettiness and stinginess and laugh at God’s outrageous love for all people and all creation. God calls Jonah to preach against the people of Nineveh. But Jonah runs in the opposite direction. He gets swallowed by a great fish. Jonah runs because the Ninevites are guilty of terrible violence against the people of God. Jonah wants them to get what they deserve—for God to turn them to ash like Sodom and Gomorrah. When the Ninevites repent, God spares them. He has mercy on the Ninevite people—and the Ninevite animals. It makes Jonah angry. He is angry that God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love toward even this violent nation.

In our Gospel reading, Jesus tells a similar story of a landowner who hires workers for his vineyard early in the morning. They agree to work for the usual daily wage. But then the landowner goes out to hire more workers at different intervals during the day. Some of the workers only worked for the last hour.  At the end of the day, they line up to get paid. The landowner pays them all the same wage. Those who worked many hours and bore the heat of the day feel cheated. They are keeping score. God does not. And so they express their outrage. But the landowner reminds them that they agreed to the usual daily wage. He is free to be generous to the latecomers. And so they despise the landowners super abundant generosity and grace.

Both these stories remind us of a very important distinction between humans and God: what we think is fair does not always line up with what God thinks is fair. We want retributive justice. In other words, we want people to suffer the consequences of their wrongdoing. We want others to pay for their sins. We want others to earn the good they receive. That is the old way: retributive justice—people getting the punishment or stinginess they deserve. It does not change minds, hearts, or lives. We think it brings balance to the world. But God does not want the world to simply be fair. He wants everyone—and everything—to experience his bountiful and extravagant love. He does not want retributive justice but restorative justice. God wants our world to experience his lavish forgiveness. He wants us all to live by his exceeding mercy. He wants this world to overflow with his generous grace. He wants you and me to pay forward with his excelling love.

It says something about the human heart unmoved by the Holy Spirit: we actually can get angry with God when he extends his superabundant grace toward those we have deemed unworthy. We are actually playing God. And we are not that great at it. In fact, thanks be to God that God seems to often err on the side of grace and mercy. Thanks be to God that God is not who we sometimes want him to be. What would the world look like if we always got what we deserved for our shortcomings—the harm we do to others—our hardened hearts? What if God simply turned everyone to ash who deserves it? According Scripture, there would be no one left since “we all have sinned and fall short of God’s glory” (Rom 3:23).

That is what mercy is: God withholding the punishment we deserve.

What if God was as stingy as we are—only blessing us with what we have earned by way of faithful service to him? What if God kept score? We would likely have no blessings at all. Because “all our righteousness is filthy rags” (Isa 64:6). 

That is what grace is: God loving us and blessing us even when we do not deserve or have not earned it.

Several weeks ago I was at an installation at Our Savior Lutheran Church in the Bronx. One of the pastors there is a Suffolk county police chaplain. He received the news that 13 year old Anthony Stinson, who was hit by a police car, had died. The police chaplain’s heart broke for the young boy and his family. The chaplain’s heart also broke for the police officer under his care. She tragically was responsible for hitting him in her squad car. Anthony’s mother, Claudia, is crying out for justice. But it is not retributive justice she seeks. With a big crucifix behind her, she cries out for restorative justice. She questions why squad cars do not slow down at intersections. She will fight to put in an overpass at that intersection to prevent other tragic accidents. Leaning on her faith, this single mom relies on God to give her the strength to move forward after the loss of her only child. Several years ago, Anthony and his mom already decided to donate their organs. Claudia said Anthony had a big heart. In another move of restorative justice, Anthony’s big heart will go to one of the many children waiting for a heart transplant. 

All this points to our Savior’s big heart. While facing his own unjust death, he did not send out his angelic army for retribution, but cried out for restoration. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And to the condemned one next to him, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” 

“God meant it for good” (Genesis 50:15-21)

Genesis 50:15-21

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Pastor Tom Johnson, September 17, 2023

Staci slammed the door—shutting out her brother Brad’s angry and hurtful words—leaving him in thick silence. All he sees now was her name on her bedroom door—Staci with an “i” dotted by a circle. The silence is quickly ambushed by the screaming and nagging thought Brad has—that he should knock on that door—immediately—and say, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” An hour passes. Brad and Staci are still not talking. The scraping and banging of forks at the dinner table is deafening. A week passes. Brad goes off to college—the silence only occasionally being interrupted by superficial conversation at Thanksgiving and family picnics on the Fourth of July. Years pass. Brad moves across the country. The silence between Brad and Staci is now only interrupted by the annual Christmas card—with the solitary name “Staci” written in ink ending in an “i” dotted by a circle. Decades pass. Decades of silence between them. The silence not peace but the lack of peace. All is quiet—that is, until three o’clock one snowy Friday morning when the phone rings…

The news wakes up our wounded child. For Joseph and his brothers, the news of their father’s death wakes up their wounded child. Loss has a way of doing that—stirring up old memories and opening up old wounds. It’s times like these that pain and resentment surface—stuff that we thought was buried and forgotten. Old thoughts resurface like “Joseph was always daddy’s favorite!” “Joseph was always a well-dressed spoiled brat—when we were kids in our father Jacob’s house in his multicolored tunic and now in Pharaoh’s house in royal garb. And what about Joseph? You’ll remember that Joseph’s brothers threw him into the ditch and sold him into slavery. You’ll remember that it was because of his slavery in Egypt that he was falsely accused of trying to violate Potiphar's wife and was thrown into prison. Joseph had his own painful memory and resentment to deal with. “Because of you, brothers, I was sold into slavery, spent years in prison, and almost lost my life and my faith.” The silence is finally broken. We know the years of silence is not peace because all this stuff resurfaces at Jacob’s death.

Like Joseph and his brothers, we can buy into the lie that time heals all wounds—the lie that silence is the same as forgiving and forgetting. We buy into the lie that the slammed doors of our teenage years will not impact the rest of our lives. We buy into the lie that an unforgiving spirit has no impact on our daily lives. We buy into the lie that guilt and shame will fade away on its own. When his brothers ask for forgiveness, Joseph weeps. He weeps. Is it the news of his father’s death? Is it because his own painful memories? Are they tears of compassion for his brothers because they carried the burden of guilt, shame, and fear of retaliation all these years? We’re not told. I think Joseph wept because of all of those things—all of the above. As Jesus says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Joseph knows godly sorrow. Through salty tears, Joseph runs to that place he learned to run when he was experiencing his darkest hours. Joseph runs to the loving, merciful, and gracious arms of God, his heavenly Father. 

Joseph speaks some of the most powerful words of good news in the Bible: “As for you, you meant evil against me but God meant it for good.” Joseph speaks out of his faith in a forgiving, loving, and merciful God. Joseph reminds us God has a plan to use even the bad stuff in our lives. Joseph reminds us that God even uses evil meant for our destruction. Joseph reminds us that God forgives our sin so we can forgive one another—even decades-old, dysfunctional, and destructive family behavior. He reminds us of the God who has a plan for our good. God leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. God even uses the unjust, gruesome, and evil death of His Son for the forgiveness, life, and salvation of the world. Joseph’s words remind us that God breaks the deafening silence. God melts away the bitterness, the pain, the guilt, the anger—with a word of reconciliation: “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good.” 

Only the love of God through his Son Jesus Christ can heal the wounded child within all of us. And since God has forgiven us a lifetime of sin—a debt that we could never repay—so we ought to forgive the nickels and dimes of our sins against each other. And, as Christ reminds us, we should forgive from our heart—a heart filled with gratitude and faith in God’s forgiveness and a heart filled with compassion for those weighed down with guilt and shame. 

The story ends with forgiveness, peace, and reconciliation with him and one another—or rather, that is how our story begins. It begins with our godly sorrow over sin so that we can see and participate in the redemption of Christ. This may lead us to finally pick up the phone and speak words of comfort—or write that note of reconciliation—or lead us to have that conversation that breaks years of silence with a good word. Just as Joseph finally broke the silence:  “As for you, you meant evil against me but God meant it for good.” We siblings and humans have all wronged each other. But in the midst of the pain, guilt, and chaos, God has a plan—a plan of forgiveness, life, reconciliation, and true peace. “As for you, you meant evil against me but God meant it for good.”

“Soul Friends” (Matthew 18:15-20)

Matthew 18:15-20

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Pastor Tom Johnson, September 10, 2023

Jesus’ words in Matthew 18 are about conflict in the church. His words are some of the most practical words in all his teaching ministry. I want St. Luke to be a Matthew 18 church. I want to be a Matthew 18 pastor. Jesus gives step by step instructions how to confront others when they sin against us. It’s genius. It works.

Ken Sande, the founder of peacemaking ministries says that conflict is like the 1970’s bumper sticker “crap happens.” Conflict happens. Why will it inevitably happen? Because the world is made up entirely of sinners. 8.1 billion sinners. So the church should have no conflict, right? Yes it should not. But we are both saints and simultaneously sinners. So conflict will happen right here at St. Luke even though. I still think you are a very lovely group of people. But here is the punchline Sande gives: “Every conflict is an opportunity to glorify God.”

Jesus tells us how to engage in conflict. No matter the outcome it will, in one way or another, bring glory to God and love to our neighbor. The ancient Celtic church had a name for such a person who relates to others as Jesus instructed: soul friend. Provers 18:24 says, “A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” .

Have you ever had a soul friend? We may have hurt this person. We may have betrayed this person. We may may have gossiped about or maligned this person. We may have embarrassed this person. We may have neglected this person. But though we sinned against them—in spite of it all—they still rise up to be our soul friend. Instead of embarrassing us back, gossiping, or maligning us, they prayerfully seek an opportunity to pull us aside and have a private word. They care about our reputation. They want to preserve our honor and dignity as a creature created in the image of God and as a fellow follower of Jesus. They protect us by keeping the conversation just between the two of us. No eavesdroppers. No one to report back to. Just the soul friend, you, and God know. Though they have been hurt, the soul friend does not let their pain kill their kindness. They know that hurt people hurt. They assume we are like all people—children of God but still wounded children—bearing the physical and emotional  scars of a broken world. This is empathy—in their prayerful imagination, they put their foot into our shoe before they speak a word to us. Theirs is a heart of wisdom and kindness—the fruit of the Spirit. They want us to be the best version of ourselves.

When they tell you our fault—where we have gone wrong, it is not out of anger, retaliation, or resentment. It is because they care. We know it took courage and boldness. The tone of their voice, body language, and gentle approach tell us so. They have not come to win an argument against us. They have come to win us as a friend.  Proverbs 27:6 says, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy.” Betrayal, the kiss of Judas. Faithful, the wounds of Christ. If we refuse to listen, a soul friend will not give up on us. It’s not just the things you may have said or done now that are of concern but our soul. So they must go to one or two other soul friends. 

These soul friends are not there to take just one side—but all sides. They are not there to point out a winner and loser. They are there to make sure all sides win—to prayerfully win each other as soul friends of Jesus. If we  refuse to listen to them, the stakes go higher because now it must go to the church. It is now not an isolated incident but one that could fester and poison the entire community. Christ calls us not to tolerate toxicity in his Church. If we are still unwilling to see how we could be wrong, or if we are incapable of the kind of self-reflection or self-awareness to see how we are poisoning the lives around us, Jesus instructs the soul friend to treat us as a Gentile and a tax-collector.

This is one of the great punchlines in Matthew’s Gospel. For who was Matthew before Jesus called him to be one of his disciples? A tax-collector. And what do tax-collectors and Gentiles have in common? They are for whom Christ died and rose again from the dead. And how did Jesus treat Gentiles and tax-collectors? Really well. Did he treat them with contempt and condemn them? No, he came to deliver them out of the slavery of sin. Remember that Jesus did not come to seek the righteous but sinners. 

The soul friend must conclude that we have to go back to Christian preschool and learn about the love of Jesus and how to be a good friend to others. And do you know what every preschooler calls each other at St. Luke? Friend. 

Jesus gives us a vision of what it is to have a soul friend. He also gives us each a vision of how to become a soul friend to others. Can you think of anyone in your life that you could be a soul friend to? Has someone ticked you off? Has someone slighted or snubbed you? I know it will be difficult to be a soul friend to Long Island drivers as they whiz past you at 85 miles per hour. But is there someone who needs your healing rebuke? Someone who needs you to pull them aside and help them see how sacred and how nurturing of a community that Christ has called us to be? It can’t always be the pastor. You may be it. The Holy Spirit may be tapping on your shoulder and whispering in your ear: “I’m calling you to be my agent of reconciliation, healing, and peace–to be a soul friend to others.”