"THE LORD'S BUSINESS"

4/09/00 - The Rev. Alan Jackson

SERMON

Today's lesson begins with the words, "While they were listening to this…" What were they listening to? They were listening to Jesus saying, "Today salvation has come to this house…" The setting for this parable, according to Luke, was a dinner party hosted by a man who was universally hated by his neighbors - a tax collector named Zaccheus. This pariah of polite Jewish society had just given his heart to the Lord and he had thrown all his resources in on the deal. Zaccheus seemed to understand intuitively that if you're going to give your heart to the Lord, the transaction really isn't complete unless you're willing to put your money where your heart is. 
 
So Jesus took advantage of this opportunity to teach his followers a lesson about investing whatever you have in the Lord's business. Keep in mind that in Luke's narrative, Jesus told this parable in Jericho, a city just twenty miles from Jerusalem. This would be Jesus' last opportunity to instruct his disciples before his triumphal entry into the Holy City on what would come to be known as Palm Sunday. And Jesus knew that before the coming week was spent, the King of kings would be despised and rejected, like Zaccheus; but he would also be crucified. So there's a hard edge to Luke's version of this parable you won't find in Matthew's version. Luke also notes that Jesus told them this parable because "the people thought that the kingdom of God was going to appear at once." 
 
Clearly the parable of the talents (in Matthew) and the parable of the ten minas (in Luke) are two versions of the same basic story. But Luke's version is tied to an actual piece of current history. When Herod the Great died, his kingdom was to be divided between Herod Antipas (who would govern Galilee), Herod Philip (who would rule northeast Palestine), and Archelaeus (who stood to inherit Judea). But the terms of the last will and testament of Herod the Great had to be ratified by Rome (which, after all, was the final authority). So, in order to rule Judea, Archelaeus went to Rome to persuade Caesar Augustus to appoint him king (as we're told in the opening lines of Luke's parable). 
 
But most everyone in Judea hated Archelaeus (and with very good reason). So a delegation of fifty men was sent to Rome to lobby against the appointment. But it didn't work. Archelaeus prevailed, he returned to Judea, and following the brutal example of his predecessor, Herod the Great, he executed the leaders of the opposition to consolidate his power (again, as we're told at the end of Luke's version). But Archelaeus did such a monumentally poor job of ruling Judea that eventually Rome was forced to replace him with a governor named Pontius Pilate. 
 
Now, most people listening to Jesus' parable that day would have had vivid memories of Archelaeus, the man who would be king. Little did they realize that the true and rightful King was about to have his claim challenged by the opposition and tried by a Roman judge as well. Even if they had premonitions at that point about such a confrontation, none of them could have imagined the turn of events that was about to unfold in the coming days. I want you to understand, then, that Luke's version of the story was colored by current events.
 
So unlike most of Jesus' parables, this story, at least the way Luke presents it, is more than a parable. It has an allegorical element as well. That is, it isn't just a story told to make a point; it alludes to specific people. And while Archelaeus and Jesus went through somewhat similar trials, they were nothing like each other, and the outcome of their stories was as different as day and night, heaven and hell. I remind you of this because we need to recognize where the parable ends and the allegory begins. And the heart of the parable is summed up with Jesus' words: "I tell you that to everyone who has, more will be given; but as for the one who has nothing, even what he has will be taken away." That may sound harsh, perhaps even cruel, but it's certainly true to life. 
 
For example, you're far more likely to succeed with a business if you begin with a substantial bankroll and far more likely to fail if you're undercapitalized. It's just as true with respect to our physical health. Mark Twain used to say that every time he felt like exercising he would lie down until the feeling passed. That may be good humor, but it's poor advice for keeping fit. Whatever good health we might have is likely to vanish if we don't exercise. It's a case of "use it or lose it." 
 
The parable is primarily concerned, then, not with how much we have, but with how well we use whatever we have. In the story, three of the ten servants are singled out to represent that truth. One servant uses his resources to turn a thousand percent profit while another makes five times his investment. They represent those who use what they have and to whom more is given. The third risks nothing and earns nothing. He stands for those from whom even what they have is taken away. 
 
The bottom line of the parable, as I said, may seem harsh, but it's true to life. Jesus seems to be saying that those who identify with him might be divided into two general groups: those whose lives are fruitful and those whose lives are not. And whether we're Christians or not, I think we would do well to ask if our lives are productive or not. 
 
It seems to me that the servant who refused to invest what he had could stand for all those low-profile people who go through life trying not to cause any discomfort or to break any rules or make any enemies. Now, that may sound like a noble ambition, but frankly it's impossible. Unless you become a total recluse, you simply cannot go through life without causing some problems. Thomas Carlyle said, "No man lives without jostling and being jostled. In all ways he has to elbow himself through the world, giving and receiving offense." If you can't accept that, there's something wrong with your thinking. Get help. 
 
Bruce Larson tells how the head of a psychiatric hospital once told him that a great number of his patients couldn't handle the fact that to live in this world you must do violence to others and to the world, either inadvertently or deliberately. It's going to happen. If you get a job, someone else doesn't get it. If you're valedictorian, that means someone else didn't make it. And while some vegetarians may be so because they find sacrificing animals offensive, they'll eat plants, they'll destroy trees for firewood. The idea that you can be alive, while using nothing and hurting no one, is not only psychologically unsound, it's contrary to the witness of Scripture. And yet there are those who will try. Sadly, they often end up losing even what they thought they were protecting. 
 
There is an alternative, however, according to the parable. There are those who prove to be faithful stewards. And Lord, I want to be in that number when the saints go marching in. The parable reminds us that everything that you and I are and have has been given to us in trust that we will invest it wisely in the Lord's business. More specifically, as Paul puts it in his first letter to the Corinthians, we are "servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God." 
 
Do you understand what it means to be "stewards of the mysteries of God?" It means that you and I have been entrusted with the amazing message that God loves the world so much that he humbled himself to live among us as one of us. "God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself," says Paul. That means that God loves us so much that he sacrificed himself to save us from the consequences of our own foolish choices. And he loves us so much that he has given us his Holy Spirit to live within us as a constant companion and guide so that we'll never have to face anything alone. Those are some of the mysteries of which we are stewards. Are we investing those truths in the lives of others, or are we wrapping them up and saving them for God only knows what? 
 
Are our lives as Christ's men and women productive or not? The powerful injunction of this parable is that we are to leave more behind than we found. If we don't try to do that, we've missed the message of the parable. As stewards of our own lives, are we increasing? We may have second thoughts about God's wisdom in choosing the likes of us to do his work. That's alright. That's not a problem. In fact, if we didn't have some misgivings about our ability to be about the Lord's business, we just might end up doing more harm than good for the sake of the Gospel. We're not the hope of glory. It's Christ in us, the hope of glory. 
 
While we're on the subject, let me ask this: Do we take seriously the fact that you and I are stewards of ourselves? If you are a Christian then you are someone in whom Christ lives. You may look frail and imperfect on the outside, but in that "earthen vessel," in that "cracked pot" there's a treasure. And Paul says that all creation is standing on tiptoe waiting to see if you and I, God's most extraordinary work, will claim our inheritance. Will we become those unique miracles God had in mind when he called us? 
 
Remember when they came to the Promised Land, the Israelites were afraid to step over the line. Because of their fear, they ended up wandering in the wilderness for forty more years. They didn't have to, but they refused to claim their inheritance. We can do the same thing. Because God has already invested his Spirit in us, you and I can claim the day. The Spirit of the living God is in us. But if we're going to be fruitful, we need to invest our lives, our jobs, our money, our security, our reputations. Otherwise we'll be needlessly wandering around in the wilderness. 
 
We are also stewards of the mysteries of the church, the Body of Christ. We are the family of God. Jesus says of those around us, "These are my brothers and sisters, my parents, my children." We can advertise to the world, "Everyone is welcome here." But every part of the Body of Christ, every congregation, has to own up to the fact that it is either increasing or decreasing. It is not enough to preserve the saints. As stewards of the mysteries of the Body of Christ, we need to be investing for the future so that there will be more loving, caring, support, mission and involvement for the next generation. 
 
One more thing. You and I are stewards of the world, and that is one of God's dearest and most perplexing mysteries. God in his grace has seen fit to place us here, rather than spiriting us off to some safe, antiseptic sanctuary where we wouldn't have to risk being contaminated. So rather than placing ourselves in an adversarial role with the world, let's not ever forget that God made the world; and God loved the world so much that Christ died to save it. If God thought the world was worth saving, it seems to me we have no business writing it off prematurely. In fact, we owe it to the world to give it our best because the world is his, and we belong to him.
  
The question facing us is simply this: will there be more justice, more compassion, more opportunity, more peace in the world because we have lived here for Christ? If you and I will commit ourselves to doing the Lord's business, we will be more tomorrow than we are today; personally, as members of the Body of Christ, and as servants of the world in his name. And by the grace of God, we will hear him say to us, "Well done, my good servant. Because you have been trustworthy in a very small matter, I will place you over much more." Lord, let it be.

amen