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SERMON
Stuart Briscoe tells the disarming story of a missionary who was home on furlough from Africa many years ago. After he had spoken to a church one day about his experiences, this missionary was approached by a matronly saint who gushed over him, "Oh, Dr. Jones, you must have a burning passion for those poor heathens!" The missionary said, "I beg your pardon?" The woman said, "I say, you must have a great faith to reach out to those poor benighted folk!" The man replied, "I've nothing of the sort!" The woman asked, "Well then, what on earth could have possessed you to go all that way to preach the Gospel to them?" The missionary replied, "Duty, Madam."
Our lesson from Luke 17 raises some interesting questions about why we do what we do as Christians. Whether we're acting like saints or sinners, we'd do well to examine our motives, because that is where we really get to the heart of the matter. Jesus began this set of teachings by saying, "Things that cause people to sin are bound to come…" That is to say: temptations will come along. Even if they lock their doors, pull their blinds, disconnect their phone and television and radio, people will inevitably be confronted with causes for offense, with provocation to sin. Which is just another way of saying that sin is never a private thing. Any time you and I transgress against our neighbors or ourselves, causing someone to sin, we commit a public offense. All sin is public; it tears at the fabric of the entire human race, as well as the Body of Christ.
"Things that cause people to sin are bound to come…" said Jesus. Then he added: "…but woe to that person through whom they come. It would be better for him to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around his neck than for him to cause one of these little ones to sin." What a gruesome thought. And yet every parent, every grandparent, understands that sentiment intuitively. I do, and it doesn't take much to get me worked up. All I have to do is think about my granddaughter, Emma, and I'd be inclined to say: "You can tempt me all you want. But you so much as lay a finger on that child, rob her of her innocence, and you'll wish that you'd never been born." It's easy for me to understand why our Lord seems so protective of his innocent ones. Little wonder that he added to those who were listening: "So watch yourselves."
You'll notice that he didn't specify the punishment for causing one of his innocent ones to sin. He simply said that by comparison, a watery suicide would be preferable. Whatever evil men do will come back to haunt them. But it's also quite clear here that he has not commissioned his disciples to mete out that punishment. "Vengeance is mine," says the Lord; and that's where that sort of punishment properly belongs.
But what happens when we're on the receiving end of someone's sin? Let's set aside the question of sin and punishment in general. What happens when we're the victims - when someone leads one of our little innocent ones astray? How then are we expected to behave? I suppose Jesus is telling us that, as Christians, we should just let them get away with it, content to say to them, "God will get you for this!"
Well, not exactly. But remember that Jesus invites us here to look within ourselves for the reasons why we do what we do as Christians. While it may be a rather unpopular notion, the fact is that, in most cases, however persuasive or aggravating or downright nasty they may be, other people are not ultimately responsible for how we act. We are. In most instances, circumstances do not compel us do anything. We decide to do what we do. Now, I know how easy it is to say, "He made me so angry!" But the cold reality is that, he may have behaved in a singularly obnoxious way, but I reacted to it with anger, and that anger was my choice.
And that's not only true of how we operate in the world out there. We function the same way when we're dealing with each other in the family of faith. One of us may sin, but how the rest of us respond is our choice. So Jesus gives us some profoundly practical guidance on how to deal with sin in the community of believers. But you'll notice that he has us begin by dealing with ourselves, by deciding beforehand how we will deal with the sinner. Jesus said that the operating principle should be: "If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him."
That's an interesting word - "rebuke." What sort of image does that word suggest? Is it the sort of thing you would do to a puppy that had just devoured your Bible? Would you rebuke him by saying in a withering voice, "Bad dog!"? If that is what "rebuke" means, we might assume Jesus is instructing us here that when a brother sins we should similarly upbraid or put down or otherwise humiliate him. The word "rebuke" could certainly have that connotation, particularly to the person who is being rebuked.
But the word epitimaw (epitimao) literally means to put something in its proper place, to give it its due weight or value. It's the same word that Luke uses in his account of the storm on the Sea of Galilee when he said that Jesus "rebuked" the wind and the waves and the storm subsided and everything was calm again. Obviously Jesus didn't stand there in the boat and cry out, "Bad wind! Naughty waves!" Seeing his disciples fearing for their lives, Jesus simply gave the wind and waves their due weight and value. He said to the elements, in effect, "You are not in control of their fate. I am." And as things were restored to their proper weight and value, Luke says that there came a remarkable peace - both on the lake and in the disciples' hearts.
Jesus said, "If your brother sins, rebuke him…" That is, restore things to their proper weight and value. If your brother sins, you owe it to him to set him straight - to put things in proper perspective. Remind him who's really in charge. I know that's sometimes not an easy thing to do. But letting an offender off the hook without setting him straight actually encourages him to repeat the offense. And that's true for sexual offenders, thieves, liars, gossips or promise-breakers. They're likely to continue until someone loves them enough to challenge them. That's what it means to rebuke.
Then he added, "…and if he repents, forgive him." I hardly need remind you that the word "repent" generally means to turn around - to literally "change one's mind." But in this case the word means a sincere effort to changes one's views and to come clean. This repentance refers specifically to the kind of change of mind and heart that is necessary for any substantial change of behavior. And here Jesus makes it clear that this sort of repentance is an essential part of the process of Christians being able to effect complete forgiveness.
In other words, while offenders cannot unspill the milk, they can certainly help clean up the mess they've made. And while it's obviously impossible at times to know whether repentance is real, we can look for evidence. We can expect a truly repentant person to confess the wrong, offer no excuses for his sin, humbly ask forgiveness, and quietly accept the consequences. When that happens, Jesus said, you are to forgive.
Allow me one more note in passing on the subject of forgiveness. Forgiveness is a loving, voluntary cancellation of a debt; and it is to your advantage to do so. Because by forgiving your brother you effectively squelch your own desire to avoid him, a desire that would keep you from establishing any sort of loving, honest, growing relationship with him.
But understand this: when we forgive, that does not mean that we forget. In one of his books Kenneth Haugk, who founded the Stephen Ministry program, reminds us that "forgive and forget" is not a Christian concept. In fact, true forgiveness remembers. To forgive doesn't mean to be blind to the consequences of the forgiven sin - to pretend that it never happened. On the contrary, solid Christian love for a penitent thief or abuser of people or drugs or alcohol remembers where they've come from and exercises wise caution to avoid placing that person in a situation that will play to his weakness or endanger others.
"If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him." Now, that probably would have been accepted as reasonable teaching if our Lord had left the matter there. But then he added, "If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, 'I repent,' forgive him." Clearly that was too much for the disciples. They said to Jesus in response, "Increase our faith!" That is to say, "Lord, you're asking more than is humanly possible!" And of course they were quite correct.
William Barclay put it this way. He writes: "The Rabbis had a saying that if a man forgave another three times, he was a perfect man. The Christian standard takes the Rabbinic standard, doubles it and adds one. It is not a matter of calculated arithmetic. It simply means that the Christian standard of forgiveness must immeasurably exceed the best the world can achieve." In short, the Lord expects more of us than we can humanly deliver. No wonder the disciples said to Jesus, "Increase our faith!" But Jesus replied, "If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it will obey you."
Why did Jesus say that? Do you think our Lord was laying down a challenge; encouraging his disciples to test their own faith by pulling off a little horticultural magic? Do you really suppose Jesus was saying to them, in effect, "If you men had any faith at all you could work amazing miracles. Well, let's see how much faith you really do have. Tell that mulberry tree over there to uproot itself and let's see what happens." Do you think that's what Jesus was saying to his disciples - that the litmus test of your faith is your ability to work miracles?
Well, let me ask you this: Have you ever tried it? I haven't. I have never once had the audacity to tell a tree to transplant itself. Oh, there have been times when I've toyed with the idea, of course, because I know what Jesus said would happen, and frankly the idea fascinates me. But I've never been quite able to bring myself to tell a tree to take a hike. And do you know why? It's because I'm afraid. If I really believed that Jesus meant his statement to be taken literally, I'm afraid that if I tried it, and the tree refused to budge, I would be left wondering if I had any real faith at all. And I wouldn't want to risk that. What about you?
How do you read Jesus' words there? When our Lord said, "If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can tell this mulberry tree to be uprooted and planted in the sea..." was he challenging his disciples to see if they had any faith at all? I don't think so. I think he was telling his disciples that when they asked for more faith they were looking for the wrong solution altogether to their dilemma.
Jesus had told his disciples that if they wanted to have a part in the kingdom, he expected them, if necessary, to forgive a penitent brother as many as seven times in one day. Well, when the disciples saw the kinds of ethical demands Jesus was laying on them, they immediately assumed that what they really needed more than anything else was more faith. So that's what they asked for.
But Jesus told them, in effect, "You're looking for the solution in the wrong place. You ask for more faith, but faith isn't the issue here. In fact, you don't know what to do with the faith you already have. You need to understand that your ability to meet the standards of behavior in the kingdom of God does not depend on how much faith you have. It never has and it never will. Why? Because if you had enough faith to do everything I require of you, you wouldn't need me."
Then Jesus illustrated this teaching with a little parable. Suppose a servant came in from working in the fields all day. As he came through the door he congratulated himself on being such a remarkably faithful servant. In fact he knew he was such a faithful servant he half expected his master to say, "You've had a hard day. Why don't you put your feet up and let me fix you a little something to eat." Then, having painted that ridiculous picture, Jesus asked his disciples: Should that servant expect preferential treatment simply because he had faithfully executed all his responsibilities? In fact, does his great faithfulness give him any right to presume on the goodness of his master? Of course not!
Then Jesus turned to his disciples and said, "So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, 'We are unworthy servants; we've only done our duty.'" Jesus was saying to his disciples, just as surely as he says to you and me: "You don't need any more faith. Just do what I've told you is right. That's all I expect of you. And when you fail (and you will fail) I'll help you pick up the pieces." Brothers and sisters, it is essential that you and I understand that it is the Lord's faithfulness, and not our faith, that saves us. When it comes to being fit for life in the kingdom of God, Jesus has never required great faith of anyone. What he expects of us is obedience. It's that simple.
And so we've come full-circle, back to the story of the missionary with whom we began this little study. Take wisdom from his words and make it your own. So that if, one day, some admirer should happen to compliment you on your "great faith," you might have the good grace to reply, "Great faith? It's nothing of the sort. I was simply doing my duty." |
